As fast as the timbers were laid they covered them, tamping the earth over them firmly and leaving a very slight ridge through the field. Snaking the logs across the field did not damage the wheat much, for Hiram made the driver of the horses follow a single path—that of the main ditch—both coming and going.
The man Hiram had hired to cut the timber was very dexterous with the axe, but after the first day he raised decided objections to working in the half-burned area. He was smutted from head to foot and looked like a charcoal burner.
"I am sorry," the young farm manager told him, "if you find the work different from what you supposed it to be. I told you plainly enough what I wanted you for."
"Let some of the other fellows take their turn in that patch, and I'll do a little digging. That's clean work," said the man.
"No. I hired you because I was told you were a good axman. I hired the other men for ditching. You can chop better than you can ditch, and the others can use a spade better than an axe; I want the most I can get for my money."
"Well, I suppose that's fair enough," agreed the man grudgingly. "But what my wife will say when she sees this jumper will be a plenty."
He was in no better mood the second day; and that afternoon Hiram saw Adam Banks stroll along the road and go upon the burned-over piece to speak to the woodchopper. There was not so much tree cutting done during the next hour, and it vexed the young farm manager.
"It seems, as Mr. Bronson suggested, that I am bound to have trouble with that fellow, whether I hire him or not," Hiram reflected.
CHAPTER XIII
WHEAT