Part 22

“He's just foolin' with you, Dick,” jeered Alec. “He wouldn't hurt you for the world.”

Unconsciously by his hustling manner and by his sly suggestion of superiority now to one and again to the other, he put both boys upon their mettle, and before they were aware they were going at a racing pace, though neither would acknowledge that to the other. Alec kept following them close, almost running for his sheaves, flinging a word of encouragement now to one, now to the other, shouting at Ben as he turned the corners, and by every means possible keeping the excitement at the highest point. But he was careful not to overdrive his men. By a previous arrangement and without serious difficulty he had persuaded Teenie Ross, who had come to assist the Morrison girls at the threshing, to bring out a lunch to the field at ten o'clock. For half an hour they sat in the long grass in the shade of a maple tree eating the lunch which Dick at least was beginning to feel in need of. But not a minute more did Alec allow.

“I'm going to catch you fellows,” he said, “if I've to take off my shirt to do it.”

Dick was quick to respond and again set off at full speed. But the grain was heavier than Alec had counted upon, and when the noon hour had arrived he estimated that the grain was not more than one-third down. A full hour and a half he allowed his men for rest, cunningly drawing them off from the crowd of threshers to a quiet place in the orchard where they could lie down and sleep, waking them when time was up that there should be no loss of a single precious moment. As they were going out to the field Alec suggested that instead of coming back for supper at five, according to the usual custom, they should have it brought to them in the field.

“It's a long way up to the house,” he explained, “and the days are getting short.” And though the boys didn't take very kindly to the suggestion, neither would think of opposing it.

But in spite of all that Alec and Ben could do, when the threshers knocked off work for the day and sauntered down to the field where the reaping was going on, it looked as if the “Old King” were to win his bet.

“Keep out of this field!” yelled Alec, as the men drew near; “you're interferin' with our work. Come, get out!” For the boys had begun to take it easy and chatting with some of them.

“Get away from here, I tell you!” cried Alec. “You line up along the fence and we'll show you how this thing should be done!”

Realizing the fairness of his demand, the men retired from the field. The long shadows of the evening were falling across the field. The boys were both showing weariness at every step they took. Alec was at his wit's end. The grain was all cut, but there was still a large part of it to bind. He determined to take the boys into his confidence. He knew all the risk there was in this step. Barney might refuse to risk an injury to his brother. It was Alec's only chance, however, and walking over to the boys, he told them the issue at stake.

“Boys,” he said, “I don't want you to hurt yourselves. I don't care a dern about the money. I'd like to beat 'Old King' Morrison and I'd like to see you make a record. You've done a big day's work already, and if you want to quit I won't say a word.”

“Quit!” cried Dick in scorn, kindling at Alec's story. “What time have we left?”

“We have till eight o'clock. It's now just seven.”

“Come on then, Barney!” cried Dick. “We're good for an hour, anyway.”

“I don't know, Dick,” said Barney, hesitating.

“Come along! I can stand it and I know you can.” And off he set again at racing pace and making no attempt to hide it.

In half an hour there were still left them, taking two swaths apiece, the two long sides and the two short ends.

“You can't do it, boys,” said Alec regretfully. “Let 'er go.”

“Yes, boys,” cried the “Old King,” who, with the crowd, had drawn near, “you've done a big day's work. You'll hurt yourselves. You've earned double pay and you'll get it.”

“Not yet,” cried Dick. “We'll put in the half hour at any rate. Come on, Barney! Never mind your rake!”

His face looked pale and worn, but his eyes were ablaze with light, and but for his pale face there was no sign of weariness about him. He flung away his rake and, snatching up a band, kicked the sheaf together, caught it up, drew, tied, and fastened it as with one single act.

“We'll show them waltz time, Barney,” he called, springing toward the next sheaf. “One”--at the word he snatched up and made the band, “two”--he passed the band around the sheaf, kicking it at the same time into shape, “three”--he drew and knotted the band, shoving the end in with his thumb. After him went Barney. One--two--three! and a sheaf was done. One--two--three! and so from sheaf to sheaf. It took them fifteen minutes to go down the long side. Dick, who had the inside, finished and sprang to his place at the outer side.

“Get inside!” shouted Barney, “let me take that swath!”

“Come along!” replied Dick, tying his sheaf.

“Fifteen minutes left, boys! I believe you're going to do it!” At this Ben gave a yell.

“They're goin' to do it!” he shouted, stumping around in great excitement.

“Double up, Dick!” cried Barney, carrying one sheaf to the next and tying them both together. Dick followed Barney's example, but here his brother's extra strength told in the race. Close after them came the crowd, Alec leading them, watch in hand, all yelling.

“Two minutes for that end, boys!” cried Alec, as they reached the corner. “You're goin' to do it, my hearties! You're goin' to do it!” They had thirteen minutes in which to bind a side and an end.

“They can't do it, Alec,” said the “Old King.” “They'll hurt themselves. Call them off!”