From somewhere out of the night came a low rumbling sound that rose and fell, accompanied by a steady throb-throb as though some monster were breathing fast and deep; far up the road they could see a slender streamer of sparks drifting with the wind.
Minutes passed. The rumbling became louder, and now they could hear the clatter of heavy gears running loose, on the downhill grade. Suddenly they saw, illuminated by the sparks, three plumes of steam climb into the air, and came the wild, high shriek of a steam whistle, once, twice, thrice.
“Good God,” exclaimed Grahame, “it’s a threshing outfit calling for water.”
There could be no doubt whatever. It was a threshing rig coming down the road that passed their house. Could it be possible that someone was coming to help them? The thought came to Grahame and Jane at the same time, but it seemed too wildly impossible to mention. They could see plainly now, for the engine was almost abreast of the house, and behind it came the great bulk of a separator, lumbering along with its gaunt arms outlined against the sky, while still farther back was the low squat body of the cook-car, followed by an extra water tank and then a long line of horses and racks stretching away into the gloom.
When the engine was almost to the gate, Grahame reached out and grasped his wife’s hand. In a moment they would know, and they dared not breathe. The front of the boiler was even with the gate. It was passing. Then when their last wild hope seemed about to be dashed to the ground, the engine swung in a wide turn and came straight toward them. The house seemed to tremble on its foundation, and the exhaust echoed shrilly from the empty hayloft. Now the big machine was passing beneath their window. The fire door clanged; a lurid glow lit up the engine’s platform; and Jane caught a momentary glimpse of the man at the throttle: it was Ironheart the thankless.
Jane lighted a lantern and made ready to do her part, and there was much to do. She must leave John alone while she rode about the neighborhood to notify the men who had promised to help. She was nearly ready when a knock sounded at the door and she opened it to find a young man on the threshold.
“Is this Mrs. Grahame?” he inquired. At Jane’s nod, he continued:
“The boss told me to say that he had made all the arrangements and you will have nothing to do. We have all had supper, and the cook-car will be here for breakfast.”
“Thank you very much, and thank Mr. Kinear for me,” replied Jane. “And please tell him I will have teams here to take the grain and—”
“I was supposed to tell you about that too,” he broke in. “The boss sent his car down here ahead and notified everybody that we should start at daybreak. He has two trucks himself, and there are two more working with the rig, so he thought that maybe, as long as Mr. Grahame won’t be able to do much work this winter, he had better send the flax right to the elevator from the machine, leaving only what you will want for seed here. Good night,” he said, and turned to go, then came back again: “Another thing, I was to tell you that if enough teams turned up to help on the long haul, he is going to thresh right here in the yards so you can have the straw for feed and for windbreak this winter.”