"Clear as a bell overhead," Deacon Williams said.
But Jack Dunlap, Sarah's hand, said, "Nobody travels that way."
Long before dawn the noise of the melting water could be heard running with musical tinkle under the ice. The ponds crashed and boomed in long reverberating explosions, as the sinking water heaved it up and let it fall with crackling roar; flights of ducks flashed over, cackling breathlessly as they scurried straight into the north.
Deacon and Sarah arrived early and took possession, for Sarah was to have the eighty which included the house. They were busy getting things ready for the partition. The Deacon, assisted by Jack, the hired man, was busy hauling the machinery out of the shed into the open air, while Sarah and a couple of neighbors' girls, with skirts tucked up and towels on their heads, were scouring up pots and pans and dusting furniture in the kitchen.
The girls, strong and handsome in their unsapped animal vigor, enjoyed the innocent display of their bare arms and petticoats.
People from Sand Lake passing by wondered what was going on. Gideon Turner had the courage to pull up and call out, for the satisfaction of his wife:—
"What's going on here this fine morning?"
"Oh, we're goin' to settle up the estate!" said Sarah. "Why! how de do, Mrs. Turner?"
"W'y, it's you, is it, Serry?"
"Yes; it's me,—what they is left of me. I been here sence six o'clock. I'm getting things ready for the division. Deacon Williams is the ex-ecutor, you know."