The late frost that Rob had dreaded had struck the flat only the week before, and a general lack of water for the second crop would make hay very scarce and high. The foothill ranches, being on the slope, had more or less escaped the frost, and Rob's alfalfa had not been touched. Looking at it now, swaying quietly as the sea at full tide and crested with its foam of purple bloom, it was hard to realize that there were miles of parched foothill range near by, where cattle wandered, searching every mouthful of grass.
"That hay will be just right to cut on the Fourth," he said, when at last he dropped wearily on the porch step.
"On the Fourth! The prairie's supreme holiday! I thought the entire valley went fishing on the Fourth," said Harry.
"I don't believe it will this year. Every one that's got any hay at all will cut it the minute it's ready. Robinson intends to cut a few days later than I do, and he's going to let me have his mower first, so I've got to work anyhow."
"Well, if we've got to work, let's celebrate with a big dinner. How would that appeal to a haying crew? Ice cream, chicken fricassee, cherry pie. I thought so!"
Rob smacked his lips and grinned broadly. "Doesn't sound as if you'd get much fun out of it, though," he said, "cooking for a bunch of haymakers."
"Don't worry. The prospect of company well repays the cookery. I mean to have the women folks, too, and the children."
The dinner party now became their chief interest. First Harry, then Rob, thought of some detail that would contribute to its perfecting, and the two worked like a couple of children building a sand castle. On counting the number of expected guests, they found that they could scarcely seat them all at table at once in the house; but Rob had lumber on hand for extra cattle sheds, and from that he built under the balm trees a table of goodly size and two benches.
The day that Rob went over for the mower Harry cleaned the house. Even if they did dine outside, the house must be flawlessly neat. It was nearly five o'clock when at last Harry scrubbed her way out of the door and down the porch steps. Behind her the cabin twinkled like a new pan, and, when she had shaken out the mop, she stretched her arms and sighed with satisfaction.
Then suddenly she wheeled round and listened. Somewhere down toward the creek a gun had spoken faintly.