THE STORY OF A PLOUGH i6i 



" Well, I haven't paid for the mower and rake," 

 I said. 



The Massey-Harris agent arrived the next day 

 and solemnly assured me the plough would work. 



" He don't know no more about ploughs than a 

 baby," gibed Roddy McMahon, after his departure. 

 " But I guess you've had to pay for it, and I must 

 try and work it all right. It ain't so bad on the 

 level, but get on to the hills and she won't cut an 

 inch." 



I wrote to Mr. McGusty, and expressed my 

 opinion clearly. A week after Roddy McMahon 

 came back with the information that he had seen 

 him in the Fort, and had given him his mind 

 about it. 



" And did you tell him that it was utterly useless 

 to do decent work with, and that he must write 

 to the Massey-Harris people about it at once ? " 

 I asked. 



" I did that. And I told him what I thought 

 myself, good and plain." 



" And what had he to say for himself ? " I asked, 

 fully prepared to enjoy the story of Dick McGusty's 

 humiliation, and forgetting, I am afraid for the 

 moment, the frequent friendliness and good advice 

 I had received from him. 



" He said : ' I guess we have all of us had to 

 learn in this country, Roddy. She'll learn.' " 



That year there were only twenty-five acres of 

 summer-fallow to cultivate, and by hook or crook 

 Roddy McMahon turned them twice. But the 

 next year there was heavy work for the sulky plough, 

 and the Englishman who was working for me asked 

 me to come and prove for myself the utter impossi- 



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