The older people felt it less. They practically said,
with a sigh of pathetic resignation:
"Well, I don't expect ever to see these things now.."
A casual observer would have said, "What a pleasant bucolic-this
little surprise party of welcome!" But Howard with his native ear
and eye had no such pleasing illusion. He knew too well these
suggestions of despair and bitterness. He knew that, like the smile
of the slave, this cheerfulness was self-defense; deep down was
another self.
Seeing Grant talking with a group of men over by the kitchen door,
he crossed over slowly and stood listening. Wesley Cosgrove-a
tall, rawboned young fellow with a grave, almost tragic face-was
saying:
"Of course I ain't. Who is? A man that's satisfied to live as we do is
a fool."
"The worst of it is," said Grant without seeing Howard, a man can't
get out of it during his lifetime, and l don't know that he'll have any
chance in the next-the speculator'll be there ahead of us."
The rest laughed, but Grant went on grily:
"Ten years ago Wes, here, could have got land in Dakota pretty
easy, but now it's about all a feller's life's worth to try it. I tell you
things seem shuttin' down on us fellers.
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