He promptly led the way and the crowd moved back quickly to the blower. Reaching into the straw pile Smithers drew out a coal shovel. His voice was indignant as he said:
"Here's what I caught in five minutes at the mouth of that blower."
The men crowded round. Cleaning the straws away he disclosed a layer of plump yellow grains covering the bottom of the shovel. As the sight met his eye McClure gave an involuntary start and his face grew dark. His voice was mollifying, however, when he spoke.
"That looks pretty bad, Smithers," said he quietly. "But you just happened to catch a shoal of grain thrown over on a bunch of straw. I'll bet you ten to one we haven't thrown over five bushels in the last three days."
But Smithers stood firm.
"You can't pull the wool here, McClure," was the menacing retort. "There is a heap of my stuff going over and you quit. Easy Murphy gave me a line on Grant's yield and he's beating me bad. My crop's as good as Grant's and you know it. Haul your Outfit off my farm."
Smithers was determined. For a moment McClure was silent. Then he spoke in an appeasing tone.
"I don't want to quit this job right now," said he. "I'll tell you what I'll do. Let me finish this run in my own way and if your yield doesn't equal Grant's I'll make up the shortage and not charge you a sou for your threshing. Is that square?"
Smithers turned the matter over deliberately.
"Make it law," said he shrewdly, "and I'll hook up with you."