the length and breadth of America. Never had there been a break in the chain, a sign of weakness, until the blindness of Scobee. Then at last there was a Trent who was practically helpless. It was a terrible blow to Jethro. His was not the kind of grief that could be alleviated by reading cloying books of courage. There was only one thing to which he could turn in his trouble, the only thing he understood—the soil. If it failed him, then indeed would he be desolated. But how could it do aught else but fail? The soil can give life but it cannot give sight.
Nevertheless Jethro turned to the soil with vast energy. In work alone can man find forgetfulness, hard physical toil that breaks down one's strength and even blunts one's remembrance. Perhaps it would be better if man were created without memory, the past to be forgotten completely. After all one need not believe in past things.
Now more than ever, if that were possible, Jethro remained in the fields. He seldom
spoke to anyone. He worked alone. One of his
