102 THE OPEN AIB. 



tea. He ate little, and the tea slipped from his hot 

 tongue like water from the bars of a grate; his 

 tongue was hke the heated iron the housemaid tries 

 before using it on the linen. As the reaping-machine 

 went about the gradually decreasing square of corn, 

 narrowing it by a broad band each time, the wheat 

 fell flat on the short stubble. Koger stooped, and, 

 gathering sufficient together, took a few straws, 

 knotted them to another handful as you might tie 

 two pieces of string, and twisted the band round 

 the sheaf. He worked stooping to gather the wheat, 

 bending to tie it in sheaves ; stooping, bending — 

 stooping, bending, — and so across the field. Upon 

 his head and back the fiery sun poured down the 

 ceaseless and increasing heat of the August day. 

 His face grew red, his neck black; the drought of 

 the dry ground rose up and entered his mouth and 

 nostrils, a warm air seemed to rise from the earth 

 and fill his chest. His body ached from the ferment 

 of the vile beer, his back ached with stooping, his 

 forehead was bound tight with a brazen band. They 

 brought some beer at last ; it was like the spring in 

 the desert to him. The vicious liquor — ''a hair of 

 the dog that bit him" — sank down his throat, 

 grateful and refreshing to his disordered palate as 

 if he had drunk the very shadow of green boughs. 

 Good ale would have seemed nauseous to him at that 

 moment, his taste and stomach destroyed by so many 

 gallons of this. He was ''pulled together," and 

 worked easier; the slow hours went on, and it was 

 luncheon. He could have borrowed more food, but 

 he was content instead with a screw of tobacco for 

 his pipe and his allowance of beer. 



