h, swish and swing! When Dick led I have a picture
of him in my mind's eye--his wiry thin legs, one heel lifted at each
step and held rigid for a single instant, a glimpse of pale blue socks
above his rusty shoes and three inches of whetstone sticking from his
tight hip-pocket. It was good to have him there whether he led or
followed.

At each return to the orchard end of the field we looked for and found a
gray stone jug in the grass. I had brought it up with me filled with
cool water from the pump. Dick had a way of swinging it up with one
hand, resting it in his shoulder, turning his head just so and letting
the water gurgle into his throat. I have never been able myself to reach
this refinement in the art of drinking from a jug.

And oh! the good feel of a straightened back after two long swathes in
the broiling sun! We would stand a moment in the shade, whetting our
scythes, not saying much, but glad to be there together. Then we would
go at it again with renewed energy. It is a great thing to have a
working companion. Many times that day Dick and I looked aside at each
other with a curious sense of friendliness--that sense of friendliness
which grows out of common rivalries, common difficulties and a common
weariness. We did not talk much: and that little of trivial matters.

"Jim Brewster's mare had a colt on Wednesday."

"This'll go three tons to the acre, or I'll eat my shirt."

Dick was always about to eat his shirt if some particular prophecy of
his did not materialize.

"Dang it all," says Dick, "the moon's drawin' water."

"Something is undoubtedly drawing it," said I, wiping my dripping face.

A meadow lark sprang up with a song in the adjoining field, a few heavy
old bumblebees droned in the clover as we cut it, and once a frightened
rabbit ran out, darting swiftly under the orchard fence.

So the long forenoon slipped away. At times it seemed endless, and yet
we were surprised when we heard the bell from the house (what a sound it
was!) and we left our cutting in the middle of the field, nor waited for
another stroke.

"Hungry, Dick?" I asked.

"Hungry!" exclaimed Dick with all the eloquence of a lengthy oration
crowded into one word.

So we drifted through the orchard, and it was good to see the house with
smoke in the kitchen chimney, and the shade of the big maple where it
rested upon the porch. And not far from the maple we could see our
friendly pump with the moist boards of the well-c