Plodding teams and machines, marshaled in careful order, were advancing in echelon through the grain, which melted away before them. Behind each, bowed, bare-armed figures set up the flung-out sheaves, which rose in ranks that now lengthened reassuringly fast. The still air was filled with the sounds of a strenuous activity; the crackle of the stubble, the rasp and tinkle of the knives, and the rustle of falling grain. Already there was a wide gap, which extended while he gazed at it, bitten out of one corner of the golden oblong. Along its indented edges the arms of the binders whirled and gleamed, half-buried in yellow straw, through which, as most of them were new, he caught odd glimpses of streaks of flaring vermilion and harshest green, while the dull blue garments and bronzed skin of the men who moved on stooping showed against the sweep of ochre and coppery hues. It was a medley of vivid color and a blending of stirring sound, and the jaded man forgot his aches and weariness as he gazed. The crop he had despaired of reaping was falling fast before his eyes.
Then he saw that his own team was leading, and there was only one figure struggling with the sheaves behind it. In another moment it became apparent that the man in the saddle was waving to him, and he set off at a run. When he reached the grain one of his companions glanced at him reproachfully.
"See where that binder's got?" he grumbled. "We went in first, but though I've most pulled my arms off they're crowding right on top of us with the next Hunter team. Do you want the boys to put it on us that we can't keep ahead of them?"
Thorne saw that the team of the following binder was very close behind, and that a wide strip of stubble strewed with fallen sheaves, which had accumulated in his absence, divided him and his companion from the machine that belonged to him.
"Well," he said with a cheerful laugh, "there's a good deal to pull up, but it has to be done."
They set about it vigorously, and drew away foot by foot from the men behind. Thorne had toiled hard before, but now he felt that he could do half as much again. After all, the grim courage of the forlorn hope provides a feebler animus than the thrill of victory. At length, however, his companion turned to him with a gasping expostulation.
"I guess you have me beat," he exclaimed. "We'll hook Jim off the binder and put you on instead. I'll own up I'd rather have him along with me just now."
They made the change, and Thorne contrived to drive a little faster than the other man had done. Hunter's men could not let him draw too far ahead, and everywhere the effort grew tenser still. Nobody objected when, as the supper hour drew near, Hunter said that since the days were shortening fast they would go on until dark fell before they made the meal, instead of working afterward. Still, as the time slipped by, a man here and there drew his belt tighter or stopped a moment to straighten his aching back, and by degrees the horses moved more and more slowly amid the falling grain. The clatter of the binders grew less insistent, there were halts to oil or tighten something now and then; and at last, when all the great plain was growing dim, it was with relief that the men desisted when Hunter called to them. He and Thorne loosed their teams, and the latter looked uneasy when they walked toward the house together.
"There's a thing that only struck me a few minutes ago, and I'm rather troubled about it," he confessed. "The boys have worked hard enough already without being set to making flapjacks and cooking their supper, while I really don't know how I'm to tide over breakfast to-morrow."
Hunter laughed.