ued
Cameron, "don't worry."

His words caught the boy at a critical moment, for Perkins' yell and
his fresh exhibition of speed had shaken the lad's nerve. But Cameron's
voice steadied him, and, quickly responding, Tim settled down again into
his old style, while Perkins was still in the lead, but slashing wildly.

"Fine work, Tim," said Cameron quietly, "and you can do better yet." For
a few paces he walked behind the boy, steadying him now and then with
a quiet word, then, recognising that the crisis of the struggle was at
hand, and believing that the boy had still some reserve of speed and
strength, he began to call on him.

"Come on, Tim! Quicker, quicker; come on, boy, you can do better!" His
words, and his tone more than his words, were like a spur to the boy.
From some secret source of supply he called up an unsuspected reserve
of strength and speed and, still keeping up his clean cutting finished
style, foot by foot he drew away from Perkins, who followed in the rear,
slashing more wildly than ever. The race was practically won. Tim was
well in the lead, and apparently gaining speed with every click of his
hoe.

"Here, you fellers, what are yeh hashin' them turnips for?" It was
Haley's voice, who, unperceived, had come into the field. Tim's reply
was a letting out of his last ounce of strength in a perfect fury of
endeavour.

"There--ain't--no--hashin'--on this--drill--Dad!" he panted.

The sudden demand for careful work, however, at once lowered Perkins'
rate of speed. He fell rapidly behind and, after a few moments of
further struggle, threw down his hoe with a whoop and called out,
"Quitting time, I guess," and, striding after Tim, he caught him by the
arms and swung him round clear off the ground.

"Here, let me go!" gasped the boy, kicking, squirming, and trying to
strike his antagonist with his hoe.

"Let the boy go!" said Cameron. The tone in his voice arrested Perkins'
attention.

"What's your business?" he cried, with an oath, dropping the boy and
turning fiercely upon Cameron.

"Oh, nothing very much, except that Tim's my candidate in this race and
he mustn't be interfered with," replied Cameron in a voice still quiet
and with a pleasant smile.

Perkins was white and panting; in a moment more he would have hurled
himself at the man who stood smiling quietly in his face. At this
critical moment Haley interposed.

"What's the row, boys?" he enquired, recognising that something serious
wa