1 82 WHEAT AND WOMAN 



him dig, and he seemed mightily pleased to hear it 

 said, although I begged him to take his ease and 

 look at the papers on the veranda or elsewhere, 

 after his long day on the land. 



But on Thursday down came the rains of June, 

 a day or so in advance, and in sheets, and with the 

 rain came ten tiny pigs in the open. Both men 

 brought in their teams, which I knew meant that 

 the rain would last. Roddy McMahon knows every 

 move in the game of shelter and will find it any- 

 where — under a horse, or a bush, or a wagon, but 

 he only comes in when it's all up. 



" I guess I'd best go down to the Fort and buck 

 wood for my missus," he said. " Pat here can do 

 all the chores." 



Pat rescued the small pigs and induced the mother 

 to follow him into a warm corner of the middle 

 stable. He showed me how to mix her food, and 

 then he put on his sheepskin coat and returned to 

 the digging of the flower-beds in spite of the 

 drenching rain. 



" Begorra, and isn't it just the rain itself that will 

 be getting it into the order of a fine seed-bed," he 

 explained. 



Steadily it fell for thirty-six hours, and I don't 

 know whether it was due to the long moist interval 

 between the acts, but when work was resumed on 

 Saturday things didn't seem to move so easily. 



" Pat and me best change teams this afternoon," 

 said Roddy McMahon. " Pat, he don't Hke Dick. 

 The work is a bit hard on Dick, and he won't go for 

 everybody, I guess." 



I felt a little disappointed. There was something 

 so awfully engaging about Dick. Only a few days 



