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whiskers are not like my father's. They don't begin until where his cheeks and chin end. He has his old clay pipe in his mouth, but there is n't any smoke coming out. I know my father will be glad of that. He does n't like tobacco smoke. My mother says that the way he talks about it is just dreadful, and he must be careful and not talk that way when there are smokers around.

Uncle Anthony knows my father does n't like tobacco smoke. He takes his pipe out and holds it up and laughs. He says: "You need n't be 'fraid, Si. 'T ain't loaded. It went out half an hour ago, and I'm too shif'less to fill it ag'in."

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My father and Uncle Anthony talk a great deal about York State and early times and raisings and the crops. Aunt Phoebe and my mother knit, and talk about preserves and calico and what the neighbors say and do.

"You need n't be 'fraid, Si. 'T ain't loaded""

Uncle Anthony puts the pipe back in his mouth. Part of the time he sucks through it, and part of the time he breathes through his nose. It is so loud we can all

hear it.

After a while Uncle Anthony says: "See here, Si, see here, why don't ye let me come over in the mornin' an' cut that other patch o' wheat for ye? I hate to see ye workin' that way. I tell ye, you jest let me take your old mares, so 's Milt can keep on with my work, an' I 'll be glad to cut it fer ye, an' 't won't cost ye a cent. I'd like to do it."

My mother says, "There, now, ain't that fine?"

My father says: "Well, Anthony, to tell you the honest truth, that's just what I come over for, to see if you would n't help me out. But o' course you'll have to take something for it."

Uncle Anthony's house smells different from ours. It always makes me think of tobacco, but it smells of apples and cooked things, too. My mother tells me our house smells, too, only we are so used to it we don't notice. There is a big map on the wall, and the musket that Milt had in the war.

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We hear Uncle Anthony say very slowly, and laughing a little, "Well, 'y gad! ef you women folks ain't always a-wantin' somethin', an' it 's 'most always some wood." Then he says: "Well, you need n't be so 'fraid I'll fergit it. I ain't never yit, have I?"

Aunt Phoebe says: "No, I don't know as ye have. But I'm always afraid ye will." She says, "I'll light your lantern for ye."

We go into our front yard. My father says: "I declare, I don't see how she c'n stan' it. Never has more 'n enough wood for the next meal ahead."

My mother says: "Nor I. But they seem to get along all right, though."

My father always has a whole year's wood ahead.

Before we go in we hear Uncle Anthony's saw. It goes very slowly. We know it is an oak stick, with lots of splinters, because it snorts so.

III

PETE is just getting through cradling around the piece. He has to do that so the wheat will not be trampled and wasted when Uncle Anthony goes around the first time with the reaper.

My brother is raking and binding. He

tosses the bundles off to one side, where the horses will not step on them. When he gets as far as the cherry-tree he stops. There are a few cherries left away up in the top. He boosts me, and I get them for him. He gives me some.

It is another hot day. My brother shows me how red he is under the arms and the way the blisters are coming out on his hands. He says: "To-night I'm going to put plantain-leaves under my arms. They always take the soreness out." He puts a handful of green leaves in his hat.

I hear Uncle Anthony coming across the road with the reaper. I can tell without looking, because I can hear the wheels on the hard ground. They make a sort of rolling, clanking sound that I like.

I run out to watch him come. The rakes of the reaper have long wooden teeth. It is a self-raker. One of the rakes stands straight up, and makes me think of a person. It looks as if it had a nose and mouth. The others all slant in different ways. They make me think of people, too. They lean over, and look as if they were held by the feet and were stiff all the way up.

Uncle Anthony has a long whip. He keeps saying, "Gee dap! Gee dap!" Once in a while he touches one of the old mares a little bit. When he turns in from the road, the wheels make a clicking sound on the grass.

Uncle Anthony drives along the asparagus row and up to the corner of the wheat. He gets off, and goes around with the oilcan. He has his old clay pipe between his teeth, and I can hear him breathe through his nose. The pipe is almost black in some places. I can smell the smoke. The air is hot and still. It seems as if the pipe and the smoke were what made it so hot.

Uncle Anthony's hat is old and black and stained, a great deal like the pipe. He has n't shaved for quite a few days.

He gets into the seat and takes the whip and says: "Gee dap! G' long!" The old mares take another bite at the wheat-heads, and switch their tails and start. The sickle begins to clip. The rake that has been standing up straight makes a sudden turn with its face, and bows to me. The next rake comes up and stands straight, and turns its face in the same way, and then bows just like the other one. They

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IV

My father and my brother stand leaning on their rakes. They watch Uncle Anthony go by with the reaper.

keep going around and around, only the fourth one always sweeps all the wheat off the platform and leaves it in a nice pile for them to bind. The other rakes just come down and push the heads of the wheat over so that it falls on the platform. They don't sweep it off. They act as if they meant to sweep it off, but they always turn their faces to one side just when you think they are going to.

I follow along behind, watching the rakes come up and go down. They act so much like people that I almost feel like saying something to them.

The old mares are slow. Uncle Anthony flicks them, and says: "Gee dap! G' 'long there!" They shake their heads and switch their tails, but they don't hurry. He shakes the lines and says a little louder: "Gee dap! G' 'long, consarn ye! Come, what 're ye doin' there?" He keeps saying it all the time.

The old mares get so slow that sometimes the sickle almost stops. Uncle Anthony hits one of them harder, and says louder than ever: "Gee dap! Come! 'Y gad all fish-hooks! I never see nothing like it. Git along there!"

The old mares switch their tails worse than ever and move just a little faster. Uncle Anthony keeps on. He says: "Well, I jings! I thought my team was as slow as they inade 'em, but this here one beats 'em. G' 'long, confound ye!"

My brother says, "It 's a good deal better than the dropper, ain't it?"

I know what he means. Uncle Anthony used to have a dropper that he fastened to his old mower. When enough wheat got on, he tripped something, and the dropper. left the wheat right there in a heap. But they had to have a good many to bind, or the heaps would be in the way next time around. They used to have a good deal to say about keeping ahead of the machine.

My father says: "Yes, and it's better than the reel, too. It saves one man." With a reel, some one has to sit on a seat down behind and keep pulling the

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He keeps saying, 'Gee dap! Gee dap!'"

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My brother begins to bind again. He pulls the bundle together with the rake"

wheat off with a rake as fast as there is enough for a bundle.

Uncle Anthony stops to oil up. My father comes. He waits until Uncle Anthony is through, and then says, "Well, Anthony, how much do you think it'll thrash this year?"

Uncle Anthony looks at the field of wheat, then he looks at the bundles. He says, "Jes let me heft one o' them bundles first, will ye?"

My father picks up a bundle and hands it to him. Uncle Anthony lifts it up and lets it down two or three times; then he takes it by the middle. The heads go down as if they were heavy. Then he crushes a wheat-head in his hand and blows the chaff away and looks at the kernels.

He says: "Well, it's a pretty good stand o' straw an' it's well filled an' it 's plump.

My brother begins to bind again. He pulls the bundle together with the rake and picks out a nice, straight handful of wheat and takes hold it near the heads with his left hand. He sticks the fingers of his right hand through the straws near the other hand and gives it a quick twist. When I see it again, it is twice as long, only there are butts at both ends instead of at one. Then he takes the band in his right hand, and stoops over and puts his arms around the bundle. He draws the band tight, turns one end around the other, tucks both ends in under the band, and tosses it to one side. Then he drags the rake across the place and along over the stubble to the next bundle.

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"I see now that he was
calling to me"

I would n't be s'prised if it run as much as twenty-fi' bushel' this year an' A quality."

I try to make a band, but I can't. My father says: "If you want to help some, you might carry some of the bundles together, so they'll be ready to set up. Put ten or so in a place."

I get ten together. I have to carry one at a time, and it takes quite a while. I begin on another ten, but I don't finish. I go and follow the reaper some more.

After a while my brother takes a rest and teaches me how to make a band. I I make two or three bundles, but I have to make them only half as big as the others. I can't get my arms around, and I can't draw hard enough to get the ends of the band together. And then the butts are stiff, and I can't get them under. I go and follow Uncle Anthony again.

V

I HEAR Uncle Anthony call out something. I am watching the rakes go up and come down, and the sickle makes a good deal of noise. I hear him call out again. I look up at him. I see now that he was calling to me.

Uncle Anthony is pointing with his whip over into the wheat. He calls out again. He says: "Look a' there! Look a' there!"

He calls so loud this time that the old mares notice it. They stop. They always do that when they hear any one begin to talk. It makes Uncle Anthony mad. He jerks the lines and swings the whip and yells: "Git along there! Who told you to stop? 'Y gad all fish-hooks! ef them ol' mares don't beat anythin' I ever seen. Gee dap!"

The old mares almost run for three or four steps. The reaper buzzes, and the rakes turn and bow in a great hurry.

Soon Uncle Anthony begins to look and point again. I walk on my toes, and look over into the wheat as far as I can. I can see the heads trembling in a sort of path. It makes me think of water running.

He

Uncle Anthony stops at a corner. says: "D' ye notice the tops o' the wheat? I bet ye they's a rabbit in there. You want to be on the watch. He'll run out when we come to finish. If he 's a little one, maybe you c'n ketch 'im."

I follow around and around. Every little while Uncle Anthony points with the whip, and I see the wheat-heads trembling again.

Pretty soon there are only a few rounds left. Once I think I can see something gray in there.

At last Uncle Anthony says, "Well, this time 'll fetch 'im, mos' likely." There is only a little three-cornered patch left.

I run first on one side and then on the other. All of a sudden the rabbit jumps out, and goes scurrying off toward the brush. His tail is white, like a bunch of cotton, and goes bobbing up and down. His ears slant back. I run after him as hard as I can. He is n't very big yet. I can run as fast as he can, only he keeps going in different directions.

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My brother lies still a little while. Then he tells me to hold down on one side of the wheat

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