"Well?"
"Well, when you dig for gold you have to go it blind. It may be there and it may not. Oftener not, and you have all your digging for nothing."
"So you do here, sometimes, when the droutht or too much rain has ruined the potato crop," retorted Jed. "I guess it's about an even thing, Will."
"Maybe so. But I guess dad wouldn't let us go West."
"Probably not. Come on, we'll do ten more rows each, and then it will be time to go home to supper. My! But I'm glad this day will soon be over! It's been a scorcher!"
It had been very hot, and the unclouded sun, beating down on the two lads in the cornfield, seemed to fairly be trying to shrivel them up.
"I'm done!" exclaimed Jed at length, as he reached the end of the tenth row, which he had set as his "stent."
"So'm I," added his brother a minute later. "Come on, Pete. You're moving slow on account of the run you had this morning. Hark! What's that, Jed?"
"Sounded like thunder."
The two brothers listened a moment. Off in the west there was a dull rumble, where some copper-colored clouds had gathered.