"That's a brave speech, such as I should have spoken at your age," said Joe. "Now I must limp back afore I'm stiff, and see what my daughter can do for me. I dare say a valiant bout of elbow grease on her part may stave off the worst. If you use 'Nicholson's embrocation'—-the strength they make it for hosses—it will often save the situation. Many a day when I've been bone-tired after working from dawn till moon-up, I've refreshed the joints with 'Nicholson's'—hoss strength."
He left them, going slowly and relying much upon his stick. Then, when he was out of ear-shot, Thomas spoke.
"What d'you think of that?" he asked.
"Did he do much work?"
"Pitched three forks of fern, or it might be four—not a darned one more."
"He's a clever old man, however."
"I never said he weren't," answered Palk. "He's the cleverest old man ever I saw. I'm only telling you us may find out he's too clever."
"We'll get the fern in anyway."
Mr. Stockman had sat down two hundred yards from them by the grassy track to the farm.
"He's waiting for me to give him a lift home," said Thomas.