Part 31 (1/2)

”Let me try that,” said Cameron, and, putting forth his strength, he brought the axe down fairly upon the stick with such force that the instrument sh.o.r.e clean through the knot and sank into the log below.

”Huh! that's a cracker,” said Tim with ungrudging admiration. ”All you want is knack. I'll slab it off and you can do the knots,” he added with a grin.

As the result of this somewhat unequal division of labor, there lay in half an hour a goodly pile of fire wood ready for the cooking. It caught Haley's eye as he came in to breakfast.

”I say, Missus, that's a bigger pile than you've had for some time.

Guess my new man ain't so slow after all.”

”Huh!” puffed his wife, waddling about with great agility, ”it was Tim that done it.”

”Now, Ma, ye know well enough he helped Tim, and right smart too,” said the daughter, but her mother was too busy getting breakfast ready for the hungry men who were now performing their morning ablutions with the help of a very small basin set upon a block of wood outside the kitchen door to answer.

There were two men employed by Haley, one the son of a Scotch-Canadian farmer, Webster by name, a stout young fellow, but slow in his movements, both physical and mental, and with no further ambition than to do a fair day's work for a fair day's pay. He was employed by the month during the busier seasons of the year. The other, Perkins, was Haley's ”steady” man, which means that he was employed by the year and was regarded almost as a member of the family. Perkins was an Englishman with fair hair and blue eyes, of fresh complexion, burned to a clear red, clean-cut features, and a well knit, athletic frame. He was, as Tim declared, a terror to work; indeed, his fame as a worker was well established throughout the country side. To these men Cameron was introduced as being from Scotland and as being anxious to be initiated into the mysteries of Canadian farm life.

”Glad to see you!” said Perkins, shaking him heartily by the hand.

”We'll make a farmer of you, won't we, Tim? From Scotland, eh? Pretty fine country, I hear--to leave,” he added, with a grin at his own humour. Though his manner was pleasant enough, Cameron became conscious of a feeling of aversion, which he recognised at once as being as unreasonable as it was inexplicable. He set it down as a reflection of Tim's mental att.i.tude toward the hired man. Perkins seized the tin basin, dipped some water from the rain barrel standing near, and, setting it down before Cameron, said:

”Here, pile in, Scotty. Do they wash in your country?”

”Yes,” replied Cameron, ”they are rather strong on that,” wondering at the same time how the operation could be performed successfully with such a moderate supply of water. After using a second and third supply, however, he turned, with hands and face dripping, and looked about for a towel. Perkins handed him a long roller towel, black with dirt and stiff with grease. Had his life depended upon it Cameron could not have avoided a shuddering hesitation as he took the filthy cloth preparatory to applying it to his face.

”'Twon't hurt you,” laughed Perkins. ”Wash day ain't till next week, you know, and this is only Wednesday.” Suddenly the towel was s.n.a.t.c.hed from Cameron's hands.

”Gimme that towel!” It was the girl, with face aflame and eyes emitting blue fire. ”Here; Mr. Cameron, take this,” she said.

”Great Jerusalem, Mandy! You ain't goin' to bring on a clean towel the middle of the week?” said Perkins in mock dismay. ”Guess it's for Mr.

Cameron,” he continued with another laugh.

”We give clean towels to them that knows how to use 'em,” said Mandy, whisking wrathfully into the house.

”Say, Scotty!” said Perkins, in a loud bantering tone, ”guess you're makin' a mash on Mandy all right.”

”I don't know exactly what you mean,” said Cameron with a quick rising of wrath, ”but I do know that you are making a beastly cad of yourself.”

”Oh, don't get wrathy, Scotty!” laughed Perkins, ”we're just having a little fun. Here's the comb!” But Cameron declined the article, which, from its appearance, seemed to be intended for family use, and, proceeding to his room, completed his toilet there.

The breakfast was laid in the kitchen proper, a s.p.a.cious and comfortable room, which served as living room for the household. The table was laden with a variety and abundance of food that worthily sustained the reputation of the Haleys of being ”good feeders.” At one end of the table a large plate was heaped high with slices of fat pork, and here and there disposed along its length were dishes of fried potatoes, huge piles of bread, hot biscuits, plates of b.u.t.ter, pies of different kinds, maple syrup, and apple sauce. It was a breakfast fit for a lord, and Cameron sat down with a pleasurable antic.i.p.ation induced by his early rising and his half hour's experience in the fresh morning air with the wood pile. A closer inspection, however, of the dishes somewhat damped the pleasure of his antic.i.p.ation. The food was good, abundant, and well cooked, but everywhere there was an utter absence of cleanliness.

The plates were greasy, the forks and knives bore the all too evident remains of former meals, and everywhere were flies. In hundreds they swarmed upon the food, while, drowned in the gravy, cooked in the potatoes, overwhelmed in the maple syrup, buried in the b.u.t.ter, their ghastly carca.s.ses were to be seen. With apparent unconcern the men brushed aside the living and picked out and set aside the remains of the dead, the unhappy victims of their own greed or temerity, and went on calmly and swiftly with their business. Not a word was spoken except by Cameron himself, who, constrained by what he considered to be the ordinary decencies of society, made an effort to keep up a conversation with Mr. Haley at the head of the table and occasionally ventured a remark to his wife, who, with Mandy, was acting as a waiter upon the hungry men. But conversation is a social exercise, and Cameron found himself compelled to abandon his well meant but solitary efforts at maintaining the conventions of the breakfast table. There was neither time nor occasion for conversation. The business of the hour was something quite other, namely, that of devouring as large a portion of the food set before them as was possible within the limits of time a.s.signed for the meal. Indeed, the element of time seemed to be one of very considerable importance, as Cameron discovered, for he was still picking his way gingerly and carefully through his pork and potatoes by the time that Perkins, having completed a second course consisting of pie and maple syrup, had arrived at the final course of bread and b.u.t.ter and apple sauce.

”Circulate the b.u.t.ter!” he demanded of the table in general. He took the plate from Cameron's hand, looked at it narrowly for a moment, then with thumb and forefinger drew from the b.u.t.ter with great deliberation a long dun-coloured hair.

”Say!” he said in a low voice, but perfectly audible, ”they forgot to comb it this morning.”

Cameron was filled with unspeakable disgust, but, glancing at Mrs.

Haley's face, he saw to his relief that both the action and the remark had been unnoticed by her. But on Mandy's face he saw the red ensign of shame and wrath, and in spite of himself he felt his aversion towards the ever-smiling hired man deepen into rage.

Finding himself distanced in his progress through the various courses at breakfast, Cameron determined to miss the intermediate course of pie and maple syrup and, that he might finish on more even terms with the others, proceeded with bread and b.u.t.ter and apple sauce.

”Don't yeh hurry,” said Mrs. Haley with hearty hospitality. ”Eat plenty, there's lots to spare. Here, have some apple sauce.” She caught up the bowl which held this most delicious article of food.