“Now we’ll go over to the fence,” said Grandpa, lifting him down, “and watch how the grass is cut. That saw-thing is the knife, and you must never go near a mowing machine unless you can see the knife sticking up. Little boys and dogs, and even men, can be very easily hurt if they are careless and don’t watch the knife.”
So Grandpa and Mr. Sites and Sunny Boy sat on the fence and Bruce lay down at their feet, while Mr. Hatch rode on the mowing machine round and round the field. The fat white horses did not hurry in the least, but a wide light green path marked where the grass was being cut. Grandpa explained that when the sun had dried this grass it was called hay, and that Peter and Paul liked it to eat and to make their beds of in the winter. He promised Sunny Boy that he should help rake the hay the next afternoon.
Whr-rr! purred the mowing machine as Mr. Hatch turned and the fat white horses came toward them.
“Whoa!” the horses stopped suddenly.
Up came the long saw-knife, and Mr. Hatch jumped down from his seat and bent over, looking at something on the ground.
“He’s found something,” said Mr. Sites to Grandpa. “Wonder if it is—”
“Hey, Sunny! Sunny Boy! Oh, Sunny Boy!” Mr. Hatch waved his big straw hat wildly. “Come and see what I’ve got. Make Bruce stay there.”
“I’ll hold Bruce,” said Mr. Sites. “You two go on over. I’ll bet a cookie I know what he’s found.”
Sunny Boy raced over the meadow, dragging Grandpa by the hand. Mr. Hatch had looked very near, but it was a very wide meadow if you tried to run across it.
“Hurry,” sputtered Sunny Boy, red in the face with the excitement and heat.