Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/29

 song. He never tired of the verses which the old Chinaman was forever muttering meditatively, scarcely conscious that the boy was listening to him.

For the first time in his life the soil had not brought comfort to Jethro Trent. Even after Ardell's death, he had found a sort of peace from toiling in the fields. So had it been when his father died. But now in this supreme moment, the soil failed him. It was a traitor that turned from him when he needed it most Of course it was a momentary hallucination but he thought of it as a huge monster from which he wished to escape. It was an octopus that had sucked for years at his blood until he was a dried, broken, colorless man. And now