"No, but you wanted ten dollars, though."
"Oh, well, I'll cut it out if you can't afford to pay that much. I'm goin' over, anyway, when I git through with this hay, an' if ye'll give us a hand I'll take ye along."
"Sure, I'll help you," was the ready response.
"Did ye ever do any hayin'?"
"Never did. But there's nothing to learn about it, is there? Just tell me what to do."
"Ye kin mow away. Scoot along an' climb up that ladder, an' stow away fer all ye'r worth."
Abner chuckled to himself as he headed Jerry for the barn. "I was goin' to put this in the empty bay," he mused, "but since I've these two love-sick fellers here I might as well finish that other mow. It ought to hold another load or two with close packin'. Guess Billy'll find it's the hottest place he was ever in. Stiddy, there, Jerry."
With a rush the horse surged the load into the barn, and at once Abner picked up his fork and started to work. Royden was in his place to receive the hay as it was handed up. He understood the work, and found it easy to toss it back to Billy. To the latter, however, it was something new, and the heat of the loft was oppressive. The perspiration poured down his face, and at times he felt that he would smother, as he struggled with the hay, stowing it into every corner, and tramping it down. When at length the hay was unloaded and he climbed down the ladder he was a pitiable sight to behold. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his face a fiery hue, and steaming wet, while his immaculate clothes were clinging to his body as if he had been plunged into the river.
"Fer heaven's sake! What's the matter with ye?" Abner asked, as Billy dropped into the bottom of the waggon.
The only reply of the exhausted man was a series of moans, as he lay there panting and gasping for breath. Abner backed the horse and waggon out of the barn, and when the cool air fanned Billy's face he began to revive.