"I must let the gang know," said Ned in high elation. "That is a pretty decent record." Reaching out he blew eight screeching calls. The threshers paused long enough to respond with a trio of husky cheers. Then back they went with a will to the grind.
"What a furiously busy gang you have, Ned," was Mary's ingenuous observation, her eyes on the lively sight. "You all work as if we are to have a two-foot fall of snow, during the night. Why this haste?"
Ned smiled peculiarly and was silent. Margaret came quickly to his relief. She was aware of the exact situation and entirely disapproved, but she knew Ned wished to hold the truth from Mary.
"The Valley Outfit have been rushing along at this breakneck speed for the whole of October," said Margaret. "They are gambling, Mary. The boys have a wager that they can pile up a record output for the month. The trial winds up to-morrow night. Ned Pullar and his vaunted Valley Gang are a company of very foolish gentlemen."
"There are exceptions in the case, I suspect," insinuated Mary. "Our little Miss Grant exempts all tall, good-looking separator men. Hum!"
Ned laughed.
"Were it not for the dust," said he, "I would take you girls over for a chat with our rather handsome fellow. I have a hunch, however, that Margaret would scarcely enjoy it."
"What? The handsome fellow?" posed Mary mischievously.
"No. The dust," replied Ned.
"It is a little matter," agreed Margaret.