He lay down again, and after the anger, the tears came. Then John did an extraordinary thing. When he stooped to arrange the plaid over his friend, he kissed him on his lips and on his closed eyelids. Then he rose and turned his back upon him.
While he stood thus the rain began to fall, the first drops of a summer shower, which promised to be a heavy one. What was to be done now? Where were they to find shelter? John ran up the hill to the other side of the grove and looked northward toward the threatening clouds, and down over a wide landscape, which even the glooming clouds could not make otherwise than fair. There were fields of grass and grain stretching as far as the eye could reach. There were men at work among the hay, piling high the long wagons, in haste to get it to shelter before the rain came on. A white farmhouse, half hidden by trees, stood near, and great barns with doors wide open, waiting for the coming of the wagons. It did not need a minute for John to take all this in, and in another he was speeding down the hill and over the meadow with his friend in his arms, nor did he pause till he had laid him in one of the barns on a bed of fragrant hay.
“I must go back for the plaid and the basket,” said he; and stooping down, he added gently: “My lad, if any one should ask your name, mind that you are Willie Bain.”
He came back as a great load of hay drew up at the barn door.
“Drive right in under cover, Sam,” said the farmer, who followed. “I expect we’ll have to leave it here. We can’t unload in time to do much more. Hurry up and cock up as much of the rest as you can. If it had only held up another hour!”
The man slid down from the load and made for the field.
“Well how, it begins to look as though it might hold up,” soliloquised the farmer. “I ’most wish I had let him stay. Halloo, Sam!”
But Sam was out of hearing by this time, though he was not making the greatest possible haste to the field.
“Perhaps I might help you to unload,” said John from the dimness of the barn floor. The farmer did not hesitate a second.
“I don’t know who you be, but I expect you are to be trusted to pitch the hay back as fast as I pitch it down. Go ahead.”