200 WHEAT AND WOMAN 



o'clock came, half-past, one o'clock, and no sign of 

 hayrack or men. I climbed on to the stable roof, 

 but could see no glimpse of them, and as my brother 

 was born on the keynote of punctuality, I made up 

 my mind that they had met with an accident, and 

 set out on the side-trail to seek their remains. 

 I met them a short distance up the trail. My 

 brother wore his best expression of resignation. 

 Hardwick minor was a little flushed. 



" Where have you been ? " I shouted. " I felt 

 sure you were dead, or something of the kind. 

 What a ripping load ! " 



" Load ! " said my brother bitterly. " It was a 

 respectable load when we turned to come home. 

 I cleared out that big slough near John McLeay's 

 pasture fence, and, fool that I was, I trusted the 

 lines to Hardwick for a moment as we pulled out 

 of the slough, and the horses wouldn't have made 

 a mistake had he left them alone, but as it was just 

 as we came up the incline the whole outfit pitched 

 over." 



I couldn't help laughing, and Hardwick joined in 

 the mirth. 



" It's all very well for you who weren't there," 

 said my brother, " or for Hardwick, who saw what 

 was coming, and fell clear on the right side ; but it 

 is no joke being buried under a ton and a half of 

 hay within an inch of the pitch- fork." 



" Beastly experience," I acknowledged. " Come 

 and dine." It takes an Englishman to put up a ton 

 and a half load of hay on the Canadian prairie, and 

 if a Canadian had been looking on he would 

 have qualified his Englishman with the usual 

 colouring. 



