“I don't know, Dick,” said Barney, hesitating.
“Come along! I can stand it and I know you can.” And off he set again at racing pace and making no attempt to hide it.
In half an hour there were still left them, taking two swaths apiece, the two long sides and the two short ends.
“You can't do it, boys,” said Alec regretfully. “Let 'er go.”
“Yes, boys,” cried the “Old King,” who, with the crowd, had drawn near, “you've done a big day's work. You'll hurt yourselves. You've earned double pay and you'll get it.”
“Not yet,” cried Dick. “We'll put in the half hour at any rate. Come on, Barney! Never mind your rake!”
His face looked pale and worn, but his eyes were ablaze with light, and but for his pale face there was no sign of weariness about him. He flung away his rake and, snatching up a band, kicked the sheaf together, caught it up, drew, tied, and fastened it as with one single act.
“We'll show them waltz time, Barney,” he called, springing toward the next sheaf. “One”—at the word he snatched up and made the band, “two”—he passed the band around the sheaf, kicking it at the same time into shape, “three”—he drew and knotted the band, shoving the end in with his thumb. After him went Barney. One—two—three! and a sheaf was done. One—two—three! and so from sheaf to sheaf. It took them fifteen minutes to go down the long side. Dick, who had the inside, finished and sprang to his place at the outer side.
“Get inside!” shouted Barney, “let me take that swath!”
“Come along!” replied Dick, tying his sheaf.