Dick was quick to respond and again set off at full speed. But the grain was heavier than Alec had counted upon, and when the noon hour had arrived he estimated that the grain was not more than one-third down. A full hour and a half he allowed his men for rest, cunningly drawing them off from the crowd of threshers to a quiet place in the orchard where they could lie down and sleep, waking them when time was up that there should be no loss of a single precious moment. As they were going out to the field Alec suggested that instead of coming back for supper at five, according to the usual custom, they should have it brought to them in the field.
“It's a long way up to the house,” he explained, “and the days are getting short.” And though the boys didn't take very kindly to the suggestion, neither would think of opposing it.
But in spite of all that Alec and Ben could do, when the threshers knocked off work for the day and sauntered down to the field where the reaping was going on, it looked as if the “Old King” were to win his bet.
“Keep out of this field!” yelled Alec, as the men drew near; “you're interferin' with our work. Come, get out!” For the boys had begun to take it easy and chatting with some of them.
“Get away from here, I tell you!” cried Alec. “You line up along the fence and we'll show you how this thing should be done!”
Realizing the fairness of his demand, the men retired from the field. The long shadows of the evening were falling across the field. The boys were both showing weariness at every step they took. Alec was at his wit's end. The grain was all cut, but there was still a large part of it to bind. He determined to take the boys into his confidence. He knew all the risk there was in this step. Barney might refuse to risk an injury to his brother. It was Alec's only chance, however, and walking over to the boys, he told them the issue at stake.
“Boys,” he said, “I don't want you to hurt yourselves. I don't care a dern about the money. I'd like to beat 'Old King' Morrison and I'd like to see you make a record. You've done a big day's work already, and if you want to quit I won't say a word.”
“Quit!” cried Dick in scorn, kindling at Alec's story. “What time have we left?”
“We have till eight o'clock. It's now just seven.”
“Come on then, Barney!” cried Dick. “We're good for an hour, anyway.”