They caught the old
man in the midriff.... I heard a sliding about and swearing ... the next
moment he was in a heap, on the ground ... on the other side of the
waggon.
"What th' hell did ye do that for?"
I looked innocent. "Do what?"
--"soak me in the guts with three bundles to onct an' knock me off'n the
top of the load?"
"Ever since morning you've been kidding me and telling me I went too
slow for you.... I thought I'd speed up a bit."
After surveying me scornfully for a minute, he mutely reascended the
load, and we finished the job in silence together....
We laboured on after sunset till the full moon swung over the tree-tops.
* * * * *
Usually they did not use the cook-shack much ... it was used while on
the road from one wheat farm to another. Usually the farmers' wives and
daughters in the valleys and on the hillsides vied with each other as to
heaping food before the threshers ... every morning saw mountains of
pancakes ... bacon ... eggs ... ham ... beefsteak ... we laboured like
giants, ate like hogs, slept like senseless stocks.
I climbed to my bed in the haymow that first night. It was chill enough
for the use of my blanket.
I drowsed off, to wake with a jump of all my body from a dream that a
giant was pressing down on me, that he had my legs doubled up over me
and was breaking them into my breast.
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