“One minute and a half, boys, if you can stand it!” cried Alec, as they reached the last corner. “One minute and a half, and we win!”
There remained five sheaves on the outer of Barney's two swaths, two on the inner of Dick's. In all, nine for Barney, six for Dick. The sheaves were comparatively small. Springing at this swath, Barney doubled the first two, the second two, the third two, and putting the last three together swung in upon Dick's swath where there were two sheaves left.
“Don't you touch it!” gasped Dick angrily.
“How's the time, Alec?” panted Barney.
“Half a minute.”
Before he spoke, Dick flung himself on his last two sheaves, crying, “Out of the way there!” snatched his band, passing it around the sheaf, tied it, flung it over his shoulder, and stood with his hands on his knees, his breath coming in sobbing gasps.
For a few minutes the men went wild. Barney stepped to Dick's side, and patting him on the shoulder, said, “Great man, Dick! But I was a fool to let you!”
“That's what you were!” cried the “Old King,” slapping Dick on the back, “but there's the greatest day's work ever done in these parts. The wheat's yours,” he said, turning to Alec, “but begad! I wish it was goin' to them that won it!”
“An' that's where it is going,” said Alec, “every blamed sheaf of it, to Ben's gang.”
“We'll take what's coming to us,” said Barney shortly.