And the Yeah, Welcome back everyone to 1001 Classic Short Stories and Tales.

This is your host, John Hagdorn.

Today, a great short story by Willicather.

This is from her book collection called

The Troll Garden and Selected Stories. The title of today's story is On the Divide.

The title of today's story is On the Divide. Near Rattlesnake Creek on the side of a little draw stood Canute's Shady.

North, East, south stretched the level Nebraska plain of long rest red grass that undulated constantly in the wind.

To the west, the ground was broken and rough, and a narrow strip of timber wound along the turbid muddy little stream that had scarcely

ambition enough to crawl over its black bottom. If it had not been for the few stunted cottonwoods

and elms that grew along its banks, Knut would have shot himself years ago.

The Norwegians are a timber-loving people, and if there is even a turtle pond with a few plum bushes

around it, they seem irresistibly drawn toward it.

As to the Jante itself, Canute had built it without aid of any kind.

For when he first squatted along the banks of Rattlesnake Creek,

there was not a human being within 20 miles.

It was built of logs split in halves.

The chinks stopped with mud and plaster.

The roof was covered with earth and was supported by one gigantic beam carved in the shape of a round arch.

It was almost impossible that any tree had ever grown in that shape.

The Norweians used to say that canoeed a tick in the log across his knee and bent it into the shape you wished. There were two rooms, or rather there was one room, with a partition made of ash saplings interwoven and bound together like big straw basket work.

In one corner there was a cook stove, rusted and broken.

In the other a bed made of unplained planks and poles.

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