“An’ your’n, Alibee?”
“Never better.”
“We’re all well under way, then, an’ the grass’s in fair condition. Can we lay it by night, think you, Layn?”
“I guess so; but by King George, we’ve got ’o keep movin’, le’ me tell yer.”
“Alibee, can you stan’ it to keep ’er joggin’ all day long at this gait?”
“Thet’s what I come fur, I b’lieve, to do a day’s work with the rest on yer.”
There had been some sort of an understanding between Raner and Layn when driving to the landing, that Alibee, who was a loud boaster, should do such a day’s work as he had seldom done. It is easy, therefore, to see why Raner was so particular about assigning him the middle place. Raner and Layn were both excellent scythes-men, and with one to lead and the other to drive, Alibee must keep their pace all day.
Alibee, be it said, was not an energetic man. Some of his acquaintances called him a “blower.” Had he been hired to go to the Beach and take two men with him to cut a plot of grass, there would have been mowing done as a matter of course; but the day, nevertheless, would have passed easily enough. The bouts would have been short ones, with a spell of whetting at each end. There would have been halts here and there, while he looked to see how the grass lay ahead, and whether it was down much or tangled. And when such pretexts failed, Alibee would have found it encouraging to count just how many swaths had been cut, and calculate how many more remained to be done. At midday, too, a long nooning would have been taken, with likely a stroll to kill a mess of snipe. Let, however, a few months pass, and beach-haying become the topic of talk at a tavern gathering, and with what noisy bragging would Alibee recount what he and two others accomplished in two days last summer.
“There’s the first bout round,” remarked Raner, “an’ now whet up fur the next.”