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TITLE: THE HARVESTER
AUTHOR: GENE STRATTON PORTER
EBOOK: E04673 (O'Briens Book Cellar)

THE
HARVESTER

BY
GENE STRATTON-PORTER

AUTHOR OF
A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST,
FRECKLES, ETC.

              THIS PORTION 
     OF THE LIFE OF A MAN OF TO-DAY
IS OFFERED IN THE HOPE THAT IN CLEANLINESS, 
   POETIC TEMPERMENT, AND MENTAL FORCE, 
          A LIKENESS WILL BE SEEN
                  TO
           HENRY DAVID THOREAU

CHAPTER                                           
I.     Belshazzar's Decision 
II.    The Effect of a Dream 
III.   Harvesting the Forest 
IV.    A Commission for the South Wind 
V.     When the Harvester Made Good 
VI.    To Labour and to Wait  
VII.   The Quest of the Dream Girl 
VIII.  Belshazzar's Record Point  
IX.    The Harvester Goes Courting  
X.     The Chime of the Blue Bells 
XI.    Demonstrated Courtship 
XII.   ``The Way of a Man with a Maid'' 
XIII.  When the Dream Came True 
XIV.   Snowy Wings  
XV.    The Harvester Interprets Life  
XVI.   Granny Moreland's Visit 
XVII.  Love Invades Science 
XVIII. The Better Man 
XIX.   A Vertical Spine 
XX.    The Man in the Background 
XXI.   The Coming of the Bluebird 

CHARACTERS

DAVID LANGSTON, A Harvester of the Woods.
RUTH JAMESON, A Girl of the City.
GRANNY MORELAND, An Interested Neighbour.
DR. CAREY, Chief Surgeon of the Onabasha Hospital.
MRS. CAREY, Wife of the Doctor.
DR. HARMON, Who Concludes to Leave the City.
MOLLY BARNET, A Hospital Nurse with a Heart.
HENRY JAMESON, A Trader Without a Heart.
ALEXANDER HERRON, Who Made a Concession.
MRS. HERRON, A Gentle Woman.
THE KENNEDYS, Philadelphia Lawyers.

The Harvester

CHAPTER I

BELSHAZZAR'S DECISION

``Bel, come here!''
The Harvester sat in the hollow worn in the
hewed log stoop by the feet of his father and
mother and his own sturdier tread, and rested his head
against the casing of the cabin door when he gave the
command.  The tip of the dog's nose touched the gravel
between his paws as he crouched flat on earth, with
beautiful eyes steadily watching the master, but he did
not move a muscle.

``Bel, come here!''

Twinkles flashed in the eyes of the man when he
repeated the order, while his voice grew more imperative as
he stretched a lean, wiry hand toward the dog.  The
animal's eyes gleamed and his sensitive nose quivered, yet
he lay quietly.

``Belshazzar, kommen Sie hier!''

The body of the dog arose on straightened legs and his
muzzle dropped in the outstretched palm.  A wind
slightly perfumed with the odour of melting snow and
unsheathing buds swept the lake beside them, and lifted
a waving tangle of light hair on the brow of the man, while
a level ray of the setting sun flashed across the water and
illumined the graven, sensitive face, now alive with keen
interest in the game being played.

``Bel, dost remember the day?'' inquired the Harvester.

The eager attitude and anxious eyes of the dog betrayed
that he did not, but was waiting with every sense alert
for a familiar word that would tell him what was
expected.

``Surely you heard the killdeers crying in the night,''
prompted the man.  ``I called your attention when the
ecstasy of the first bluebird waked the dawn.  All day
you have seen the gold-yellow and blood-red osiers, the
sap-wet maples and spring tracing announcements of her
arrival on the sunny side of the levee.''

The dog found no clew, but he recognized tones he
loved in the suave, easy voice, and his tail beat his sides
in vigorous approval.  The man nodded gravely.

``Ah, so!  Then you realize this day to be the most
important of all the coming year to me; this hour a solemn
one that influences my whole after life.  It is time for
your annual decision on my fate for a twelve-month.
Are you sure you are fully alive to the gravity of the
situation, Bel?''

The dog felt himself safe in answering a rising inflection
ending in his name uttered in that tone, and wagged
eager assent.

``Well then,'' said the man, ``which shall it be?  Do I
leave home for the noise and grime of the city, open an
office and enter the money-making scramble?''

Every word was strange to the dog, almost breathlessly
waiting for a familiar syllable.  The man gazed
steadily into the animal's eyes.  After a long pause he
continued:

``Or do I remain at home to harvest the golden seal,
mullein, and ginseng, not to mention an occasional hour
with the black bass or tramps for partridge and cotton-
tails?''

The dog recognized each word of that.  Before the
voice ceased, his sleek sides were quivering, his nostrils
twitching, his tail lashing, and at the pause he leaped up
and thrust his nose against the face of the man.  The
Harvester leaned back laughing in deep, full-chested
tones; then he patted the dog's head with one hand and
renewed his grip with the other.

``Good old Bel!'' he cried exultantly.  ``Six years you
have decided for me, and right----every time!  We are of
the woods, Bel, born and reared here as our fathers before
us.  What would we of the camp fire, the long trail, the
earthy search, we harvesters of herbs the famous chemists
require, what would we do in a city?  And when the sap
is rising, the bass splashing, and the wild geese honking
in the night!  We never could endure it, Bel.

``When we delivered that hemlock at the hospital
to-day, did you hear that young doctor talking about his
`lid'?  Well up there is ours, old fellow!  Just sky and clouds
overhead for us, forest wind in our faces, wild perfume in
our nostrils, muck on our feet, that's the life for us.  Our
blood was tainted to begin with, and we've lived here so
long it is now a passion in our hearts.  If ever you sentence
us to life in the city, you'll finish both of us, that's
what you'll do!  But you won't, will you?  You realize
what God made us for and what He made for us, don't
you, Bel?''

As he lovingly patted the dog's head the man talked and
the animal trembled with delight.  Then the voice of the
Harvester changed and dropped to tones of gravest
import.

``Now how about that other matter, Bel?  You always
decide that too.  The time has come again.  Steady now! 
This is far more important than the other.  Just to be
wiped out, Bel, pouf!  That isn't anything and it concerns
no one save ourselves.  But to bring misery into
our lives and live with it daily, that would be a
condition to rend the soul.  So careful, Bel!  Cautious
now!''

The voice of the man dropped to a whisper as he asked
the question.

``What about the girl business?''

Trembling with eagerness to do the thing that would
bring more caressing, bewildered by unfamiliar words
and tones, the dog hesitated.

``Do I go on as I have ever since mother left me,
rustling for grub, living in untrammelled freedom?  Do
I go on as before, Bel?''

The Harvester paused and waited the answer, with
anxiety in his eyes as he searched the beast face.  He
had talked to that dog, as most men commune with their
souls, for so long and played the game in such intense
earnest that he felt the results final with him.  The
animal was immovable now, lost again, his anxious eyes
watching the face of the master, his eager ears waiting
for words he recognized.  After a long time the man

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