Settlers of the Marsh by Frederick Philip Grove Page B

Lund over to the old man’s …
    The morning went by; they stacked a few loads in the field; by eleven o’clock they were ready to go; both had their racks filled again.
    When they reached Ellen’s yard, the girl stepped out of the house. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Come in and rest.” Her manner was that of a man to two friends.
    A thought struck Niels. He spoke to Sigurdsen.
    â€œEllen!” He was surprised at the ease with which her name came from his lips. “How if we pitched these loads off? We’d have three racks. To-night we could each take a load of your hay home.”
    â€œWhy,” Ellen said. “I hadn’t thought of that. It would save time, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œSure,” Niels said. “Where do you want it?”
    â€œIn the loft,” Ellen called from the door.
    I N THE MEADOW , a quarter of a mile north-west of the yard, Niels proposed that Ellen and the old man should stay on the rack while he pitched to them .
    Ellen objected.
    â€œGet up there,” Niels laughed. “I’ll keep you busy.”
    And when she obeyed, he pitched as he had never pitched before. The load was up in record time.
    Niels stood leaning on his fork and shook the sweat from his head, laughing.
    Ellen, too, laughed. She was flushed with exertion. It was very hot.
    â€œYou take the load home and pitch it off on the yard,” she said. “So you have a rest.”
    â€œRest, nothing!” he replied. “We want to get five or six loads in at least. You take it home. Meanwhile we’ll get the next load up.”
    The third load Sigurdsen drove. Niels pitched again.
    â€œYou are as good as a man,” he praised the girl.
    â€œI can load,” she said. “I’m no good at pitching.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t do it. That is a man’s work.”
    â€œBut you said I was as good as a man.”
    Both laughed. The hay was in cocks . With every forkful
    Niels lifted such a load as left only gleanings where the pile had been.
    The girl’s eyes widened in admiration of his strength. He, feeling it, was childishly happy in his exertions.
    Sigurdsen returned; and again Niels was urged to take a load home. Again he declined. But this time he proposed to fill the three racks and to take them home in a body so they would be able to stack properly and to round off the top in case it should rain. Again it was done as he suggested.
    The sun was sinking. The old man began to show signs of wear.
    â€œNow we’ll fill up for the last time,” Niels said. “To-morrow we’ll be back. You’ll have nine loads tonight. As many to-morrow and once again, and your hay will be in.”
    When they returned, Ellen invited them for supper. But the old man declined. “Unload and feed … soon dark.”
    â€œWell,” she said when they were ready to go, “I am sure I am grateful. How much do I owe you folks?”
    â€œHm …” Sigurdsen began, much embarrassed.
    Niels laughed. “I haven’t been working for wages. I’ve been working for the fun of it …”
    Ellen frowned. “But that isn’t right …”
    â€œOh, let a man do something for you once in a while,” Niels said lightly. “Come and help us to-morrow. We’ll get a load more.”
    Laughingly Ellen consented.
    N EXT DAY , however, when Ellen appeared in their meadow, Niels absolutely refused to let her work. “I’ll pitch three loads,” he said. “And then we’ll stack. The next three loads go to your place. You take the first one home and get dinner. Then there’s an odd load at night; you haul it; to Amundsen’s to-day; to my place to-morrow.”
    This was a deeply laid scheme of his to get her to look at his house …
    T HE SUN was touching the horizon when they emerged from the bridge on the Marsh, next day, and parted from Sigurdsen who turned to the