The Doctor Part 11

"Boyle and Fallows--or Fallows and Boyle, I guess it will be. Ben's starting with us Monday morning."

"Nonsense, laddie. There will be no reaping for Ben this year, I doubt, poor fellow; and, besides, I will be needing him for myself."

"Yes. But I am in earnest, mother. Ben is to drive the reaper for us.

He can sit on the reaper half a day, you know. At least, his doctor here says so. And he will keep us busy."

"If I cawn't keep the two of you a-humpin', though you are some pumpkins at bindin', I hain't worth my feed."

"But, Barney," remonstrated his mother, "is he fit to go about that machine? Something might happen the lad."

"I don't think there is any danger, mother. And, besides, we will be at hand all the time."

"And what will two lads like you do following the machine all day? You will only be hurting yourselves."

"You watch us, mother," cried d.i.c.k. "We'll be after Ben like a dog after a c.o.o.n."

"Indeed," said his mother. "I have heard that it takes four good men to keep up to a machine. It was no later than yesterday that Mr. Morrison's Sam was telling me that they had all they could do to follow up, the whole four of them."

"Huh!" grunted d.i.c.k scornfully, "I suppose so. Four like Fatty Morrison and that gang of his!"

"Hush, laddie. It is not good to be speaking ill of your neighbours,"

said his mother.

"It's not speaking ill to say that a man is fat. It's a very fine compliment, mother. Only wish someone could say the same of me."

"Indeed, and you would be the better of it," replied his mother compa.s.sionately, "with your bones sticking through your skin!"

It was with the spring crop that Ben Fallows began his labours; and much elevated, indeed, was he at the prospect of entering into partnership with the Boyle boys, who were renowned for the very virtues which poor Ben consciously lacked and to which, in the new spirit that was waking in him, he was beginning to aspire. For the weeks spent under Barney's care and especially in the atmosphere of the Mill household had quickened in Ben new motives and new ambitions. This Barney had noticed, and it was for Ben's sake more than for their own that the boys had a.s.sociated him with them in their venture of taking harvesting contracts. And as the summer went on they found no reason to regret the new arrangement. But it was at the expense of long days and hard days for the two boys following the reaper, and often when the day's work was done they could with difficulty draw their legs home and to bed. Indeed, there were nights when d.i.c.k, hardly the equal of his brother in weight and strength, lay sleepless from sheer exhaustion, while Barney from sympathy kept anxious vigil with him. Morning, however, found them stiff and sore, it is true, but full of courage and ready for the renewal of the long-drawn struggle which was winning for them not only very substantial financial profits, but also high fame as workers. The end of the harvest found them hard, tough, full of nerve and fit for any call within the limit of their powers. It was Ben who furnished the occasion of such a call being made upon them. A rainy day found him at the blacksmith shop with the Mill team waiting to be shod. The shop was full of horses and men. A rainy day was a harvest day for the blacksmith. All odd jobs allowed to acc.u.mulate during the fine weather were on that day brought to the shop.

Ben, with his crutch and his wooden leg, found himself the centre of a new interest and sympathy. In spite of the sympathy, however, there was a disposition to chaff poor Ben, whose temper was brittle, and whose tongue took on a keener edge as his temper became more uncertain.

Withal, he had a little man's tendency to brag. To-day, however, though conscious of the new interest centring in him, and though visibly swollen with the importance of his new partnership with the Boyle boys, he was exhibiting a dignity and self-control quite unusual, and was, for that very reason, provocative of chaff more pungent than ordinary.

Chief among his tormenters was Sam Morrison, or "Fatty" Morrison, as he was colloquially designated. Sam was one of four sons of "Old King"

Morrison, the richest and altogether most important farmer in the district. On this account Samuel was inclined to a.s.sume the bl.u.s.tering manners of his portly, pompous, but altogether good-natured father, the "Old King." But while bl.u.s.ter in the old man, who had gained the respect and esteem that success generally brings, was tolerated, in Sammy it became ridiculous and at times offensive. The young man had been entertaining the a.s.sembled group of farmers and farm lads with vivid descriptions of various achievements in the harvest field on the part of himself or some of the members of his distinguished family, the latest and most notable achievement being the "slashing down and tying up" of a ten-acre field of oats by the four of them, the "Old King" himself driving the reaper.

"Yes, sir!" shouted Sammy. "And Joe, he took the last sheaf right off that table! You bet!"

"How many of you?" asked Ben sharply.

"Just four," replied Sammy, turning quickly at Ben's unexpected question.

"How many shocking?" continued Ben, with a judicial air.

"Why, none, you blamed gander! An' kep' us humpin', too, you bet!"

"I guess so," grunted Ben, "from what I've seed."

Sam regarded him steadfastly. "And what have you 'seed,' Mr. Fallows, may I ask?" he inquired with fine scorn.

"Seed? Seed you bindin', of course."

"Well, what are ye hootin' about?" Sam was exceedingly wroth.

"I hain't been talking much for the last hour." In moments of excitement Ben became uncertain of his h's. "I used to talk more when I wasn't so busy, but I hain't been talkin' so much this 'ere 'arvest. We hain't had time. When we're on a job," continued Ben, as the crowd drew near to listen, "we hain't got time fer talkin', and when we're through we don't feel like it. We don't need, to."

A general laugh of approval followed Ben's words.

"You're right, Ben. You're a gang of hustlers," said Alec Murray. "There ain't much talkin' when you git a-goin'. But that's a pretty good day's work, Ben, ten acres."

Ben gave a snort. "Yes. Not a bad day's work fer two men." He had no love for any of the Morrisons, whose near neighbours he was and at whose hands he had suffered many things.

"Two men!" shouted Sammy. "Your gang, I suppose you mean."

Suddenly Ben's self-control vanished. "Yes, by the jumpin' Jemima!" he cried, facing suddenly upon Sam. "Them's the two, if yeh want to know.

Them's binders! They don't stop, at hevery corner to swap lies an' to see if it's goin' to ran. They keep a-workin', they do. They don't wait to cool hoff before they drink fer fear they git foundered, as if they was 'osses, like you fellers up on the west side line there." Ben threw his h's recklessly about. "You hain't no binders, you hain't. Yeh never seed any."

At this moment "King" Morrison himself entered the blacksmith shop.

"h.e.l.lo, Ben! What's eatin' you?" he exclaimed.

Ben grew suddenly quiet. "Makin' a bloomin' ha.s.s of myself, I guess," he growled.

"What's up with Benny? He seems a little raised," said the "Old King,"

addressing the crowd generally.

"Oh, blowin' 'bout his harvestin' gang," said his son Sam.

"Well, you can do a little blowin' yourself, Sammy."

"Guess I came by it natcherly n'ough," said Sam. He stood in no awe of his father.

"Blowin's all right if you can back it up, Sammy. But what's the matter, Benny, my boy? We're all glad to see you about, an' more'n that, we're glad to hear of your good work this summer. But what are they doin' to you?"

"Doin' nothin'," broke in Sam, a little nettled at the "Old King's"

kindly tone toward Ben. "He's blowin' round here to beat the band 'bout his gang."

"Well, Sam, he's got a right to blow, for they're two good workers."

"But they can't bind ten acres a day, as Ben blows about."

"Well, that would be a little strong," said the "Old King." "Why, it took my four boys a good day to tie up ten acres, Ben."

"I'm talkin' 'bout binders," said Ben, in what could hardly be called a respectful tone.

"Look here, Ben, no two men can bind ten acres in a day, so just quit yer blowin' an' talk sense."

"I'm talkin' 'bout binders," repeated Ben stubbornly.

"And I tell you, Ben," replied the "Old King," with emphasis, "your boys--and they're good boys, too--can't tie no ten acres in a day.