Fruits of the Earth by Frederick Philip Grove Read Free Book Online Page A

and three years old, crossed from the house to the open door of the barn, plying their little legs as fast as they could and holding each other by their hands. Three teams, sixteen horses in all–for Bill and Nicoll worked with six horses each, while Abe drove his “crack” team, four full-blooded Percherons–crowded around the water trough north of the barn. Abe left them and entered behind the children.
    The two little boys were in the first stall opposite the door, south of the driveway, a stall never used except to drop hay into from above. Abe began to take oats to the various stalls.
    But as boys will do, Charlie and Jim ran to the door every now and then, to scamper back to the protection of the stall, crowing.
    They were on such a run when the first horses entered: a cunning mare with colt at foot. “Watch out!” Abe shouted.
    The children jumped into safety; and the mare ran successively into several stalls to stick her nose into the feed-boxes. This was a trick of hers to steal a mouthful of oats here or there while the other horses filed in; but every time Abegave a lusty shout; and, tossing her head and slipping on the planking, she backed out again. The children laughed at her antics.
    Abe was still carrying oats into the various stalls, greeted wherever he went by impatient whinnyings and the thuds of shifting feet, when Bill and Nicoll entered and distributed the hay. The feeding done, Bill climbed by the ladder into the loft to throw down enough hay for the evening’s feeding. This was a special delight for the boys, who allowed themselves to be buried as each forkful came down.
    â€œBill!” Abe called when there was enough hay.
    â€œYah?”
    â€œLook into the bin and see how much oats is left.”
    The answer came shortly: “Not much. A bushel or so.”
    â€œWe better fill up to-night before we quit,” Nicoll said.
    That was it! If all helpers were like Nicoll, it would not be bad. Bill would never have suggested working overtime to fill up a feed bin that was running low. The feed was there, in the granary….
    Abe picked up Jim, the smaller one of the boys, and put him on his shoulder; Charlie reached for his hand. And, with a nod to the other men, he strode off to the house, frowning.
    He always frowned when he went to the house while Nicoll was there. He resented it that Ruth had suggested Nicoll might take his dinner at Bill’s. At first Abe had flatly refused to agree to such an arrangement; but Ruth had made their meals so uncomfortable that he had broached the matter to Nicoll who had at once consented. “I quite understand. It’s all right.”
    What was the matter with Ruth? Much was the matter.
    Immediately after dinner Abe rose from table and returned to the yard, where Nicoll joined him. Nicoll never got tired of admiring that barn of Abe’s; but he did so with hispeculiar smile which seemed on the point of turning from admiration into irony.
    â€œI’ve often wondered,” he said, making futile attempts at using a straw by way of a toothpick, “whether this sort of thing pays.”
    â€œWhat sort of thing?”
    â€œBuying more and more land. Working with hired help.”
    â€œDoes it pay to farm? Seems to me that is the question.”
    â€œI don’t think it is. While you do your own work, farming is bound to pay. It has paid since the world began. You make better wages for your labour than anywhere else and remain your own master.”
    â€œI’m hanged,” Abe said, “if I’ll work for a dollar a day. That’s all I pay you. There must be some profit over.”
    â€œYou pay more than the wages. You need two ploughs instead of one; or three or four. You feed two or three teams instead of one. You pay more in taxes. And–Oh, well, it’s all right when you hire a neighbour with time to spare. But when it comes to what you call a hired man! He won’t work so