made a showing thus far with which Isom could find
no fault, Joe tucked the snath of his scythe under his arm and set out
for that part of the orchard which lay beyond the hill, out of sight of
the barn and house, and from that reason called the "lower orchard" by
Isom, who had planted it with his own hand more than thirty years ago.

There noble wine-sap stretched out mighty arms to fondle willow-twig
across the shady aisles, and maidenblush rubbed cheeks with Spitzenberg,
all reddening in the sun. Under many of the trees the ground was as bare
as if fire had devastated it, for the sun never fell through those
close-woven branches from May to October, and there no clover grew. But
in the open spaces between the rows it sprang rank and tall, troublesome
to cut with a mower because of the low-swinging, fruit-weighted limbs.

Joe waded into this paradise of fruit and clover bloom, dark leaf and
straining bough, stooping now and then to pick up a fallen apple and try
its mellowness with his thumb. They were all hard, and fit only for
cider yet, but their rich colors beguiled the eye into betrayal of the
palate. Joe fixed his choice upon a golden willow-twig. As he stood
rubbing the apple on his sleeve, his eye running over the task ahead of
him in a rough estimate of the time it would require to clean up the
clover, he started at sight of a white object dangling from a bough a
few rods ahead of him. His attention curiously held, he went forward to
investigate, when a little start of wind swung the object out from the
limb and he saw that it was a woman's sun-bonnet, hanging basket-wise by
its broad strings. There was no question whose it was; he had seen the
same bonnet hanging in the kitchen not three hours before, fresh from
the ironing board.

Joe dropped his apple unbitten, and strode forward, puzzled a bit over
the circumstance. He wondered what had brought Ollie down there, and
where she was then. She never came to that part of the orchard to gather
wind-falls for the pigs--she was not gathering them at all during Isom's
absence, he had relieved her of that--and there was nothing else to call
her away from the house at that time of the day.

The lush clover struck him mid-thigh, progress through it was difficult.
Joe lifted his feet like an Indian, toes turned in a bit, and this
method of walking made it appear as if he stalked something, for he
moved without noise.

He had dropped his scythe with the apple, his