"Has any one died, Bob?" asked his grandfather, as soon as he got near enough to be heard.
"Why?" asked Bob smiling.
"Well, I saw many rigs going down the road as we came by the Wallace farm. One or two of them, I thought, came out of our lane."
"No," said Bob, "no one's dead, but," with a wave of his hand toward the newly plowed field, "the old method of plowing with horse flesh passed away this afternoon."
"I noticed, Bob, as soon as I came around the bend in the road that the field was plowed, and I was going to ask you about it. How did you get it done so quickly? Were some of the neighbors over here with their teams helping you?"
"No," said Bob, "come here a minute and I'll show you something," and he took his grandfather, who had alighted from the buggy, over to the wagon shed in which the tractor stood.
"Where'd that come from?" asked his grandfather, looking at it curiously. "Has Joe gone and bought a tractor, too?"
"No, not yet," laughed Bob, "but I guess he will when he gets back and sees how much work it can do."
"They must cost a lot of money, Bob," said his grandfather.
"Not as much as you might think," replied Bob, using the phrase he heard Mr. Patterson use in talking to the farmers that afternoon. "Not when you take into account how much they can do."