In the hot early afternoon I saw the old man lying under a tree.

“What’s the matter?”

—­“too hot!”

“Where’s your whiskey now?”

—­“’tain’t the whiskey. That keeps a fellow up ... it’s because I’m old, not young, like you,” he contested stubbornly.

* * * * *

These men that I worked with were unimaginably ignorant.  One night we held a heated argument as to whether the stars were other worlds and suns, or merely lights set in the sky to light the world of men by ... which latter, the old man maintained, was the truth, solemnly asserting that the Bible said so, and that all other belief was infidelity and blasphemy.  So it was that, each evening, despite the herculean labour of the day, we drew together and debated on every imaginable subject....

* * * * *

On the third day of my employment by him, Bonton put me at the mouth of the separator, where the canvas ran rapidly in, carrying the bundles down into the maw of the machine.  My job was feeding the bundles to it ... up in the air in the back the threshed straw was kicked high, and the chaff whirled in dusty clouds ... from a spout in the side of the separator the threshed grain poured in an unending stream....

* * * * *

It was difficult to keep the horses from the straw stacks that the daily threshing built up.

Also Bonton speeded so terrifically that much of the grain was shot out into the straw....

One night three of the horses made their way to the straw and ate and gorged ... in the morning one of them was dead and the other two were foundered....

* * * * *

The cramps bothered me no more.

The boss came up to me and slapped me on the back.

“—­thought you’d sag under,” but, putting his hand on my back, “you’ve got powerful back muscles, though your arms and legs are like beanpoles ... a fellow never can tell about a man, till he’s tried out.”

* * * * *

After nearly a month of the work, Bonton began acting glum toward me....

“Gregory, I’m going to pay you off to-day!”

“—­pay me off to-day?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the matter? ain’t I working hard enough?”

“I’ve no fault to find with your work ... you’re a better worker than most of the men ... in fact they complain that you set too hard a pace at the separator....

“But you argue too much ... keep the men up o’ nights debating about things they never even considered before.  And it upsets them so, what with the arguing and the sleep they lose, that they ain’t up to the notch, next day.

“No, that’s the only fault I have to find in you,” he continued, as he counted out sixty dollars into my hand ... “but,” and he walked with me, disquieted to the road, “but if you’ll wait around till this afternoon, I’ll drive you back to town.”