O Pioneers!

In eleven long years John Bergson had made but little impression upon the wild land he had come to tame.

queerly shaped old man, with a thick, powerful body set on short bow-legs.

"Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks in this country, that have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years."

It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich,

The trouble is you almost have to marry a man before

live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released.

For the first time, perhaps, since that land emerged from the waters of geologic ages, a human face was set toward it with love and yearning. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious.

There are women who spread ruin around them through no fault of theirs, just by being too beautiful, too full of life and love. They can't help it. People come to them as people go to a warm fire in winter.

She had felt as if her heart were hiding down there, somewhere, with the quail and the plover and all the little wild things that crooned or buzzed in the sun.