Part 30 (2/2)

”If the shower will hold off ten minutes, I do believe the boys will have the rest of the hay safe in the c.o.c.k,” observed Father Brighthopes.

”How they work!”

The shower did hold off wonderfully. Mark and Mr. Royden threw on the remainder of the windrow, making a large, unshapely load.

With a feeling of triumph, the farmer saw the horses start at a quick pace for the stack.

”The rain is coming!” said the jockey, glancing at a dark fringe of showers dropped from the thunder-clouds over the woods.

”It must come, then!” returned Mr. Royden. ”We can pitch enough on the stack, though, to make it shed rain, I hope. The rest of the load we will run right into the barn.”

The farmer sprang to a stone-heap, where he had left his coat, seized it, and threw it over the old clergyman's shoulders.

”Walk fast,” cried he, ”and you will get to the barn before the shower.”

”A little rain won't hurt me, if I keep at work,” replied Father Brighthopes. ”I'll stay and help the boys.”

Mr. Royden remonstrated in vain. A cry from Mark called his attention from the old man.

”That load will be off!”

The farmer uttered an exclamation of impatience. The great bulk of hay, thrown on in such haste, and trampled down without much regard to shape or order by the boys, was reeling over the side of the rick. James, enc.u.mbered with the reins, scrambled to the left as fast as he could, to keep the balance, calling upon Sam to do the same. But the latter was too busily engaged in tying a straw around a large horse-fly to heed the danger.

Mark and Mr. Royden ran to steady the load with their forks; but suddenly one of the wagon-wheels fell into a little hollow, and they had scarcely time to escape from the avalanche, as it plunged over them, and settled like a cloud upon the ground.

About a third of the load remained on the wagon, which fortunately did not upset; and James had skilfully managed, not only to stop the horses, but to avoid falling off, when the great bulk went over. Not so with Sam. Deep buried in the soft bed he had made, he was too late to save himself, when he discovered the reality of the danger. It was lucky he did not fall upon Mark's fork. As it was, he came down easily, with a very small portion of the load under him, and a very large portion sweeping down upon him. He was quite buried from sight; but in a moment his head appeared amid the billows of hay, and he floundered upon the firm ground.

Sam hardly knew what had taken place. At first he stared about him, looking at the wagon, and its contents on the ground; then he examined the straw, which he still held firmly clasped in his right hand.

”Thunder and broomsticks!” cried he, ”if the darned old load an't off!

and I've lost my horse-fly!”

Everybody else, except this thoughtless lover of mischief, who witnessed the disaster, expected to see Mr. Royden thrown into a violent pa.s.sion.

Father Brighthopes feared that his patience could not hold out. But the irritable farmer had not exercised his temper during the week to no purpose. He astonished everybody by his coolness.

”So much for being in a hurry,” said he. ”I ought not to have expected such a load to ride across the lot. Now let us be more deliberate, and do well what we do at all. There's no use of crying for an accident that cannot be helped.”

He and Mark took hold, and threw on enough hay to bind what was left on the rick; and James drove on, just as a sharp shower was commencing. It grew very dark, and they topped off the stack in the rain. But the clouds acted very capriciously. After sifting a little water, they wheeled away to the south, where the rain could be seen streaking down over the woods. But there was no more of it on the meadow for some time; and when at last it began to come down in volleys, the stack was secured, the hay left in the field was thrown up in shapely c.o.c.ks, the load which had fallen off was once more on the rick and going into the barn, the horses on a keen trot; and the laborers, shouldering their rakes, were hastening from the field.

Mr. Royden was never in better humor than when he found the old clergyman, somewhat heated, and perspiring freely, wrapped up in his great mantle, in the kitchen corner, prattling with George and Willie, who had just come home from school.

XXV.

A STREAM OF PEACE.

Since Monday, Hepsy had been quite unwell. She had lost her appet.i.te, of late; and although she seemed more cheerfully resigned to her unhappy lot than ever before, it was easy to perceive that continually she had to struggle with some great pain.

<script>