i6 Next to the Ground 



length with blossoming branches. They did 

 not stand upright, but curled and writhed them- 

 selves together, swelling as high as the knee. 

 The plough could not begin to bury them, 

 and though the weed-bar ripped through them 

 savagely, Joe had to stop every little while, 

 turn the share half on edge, and free it with 

 his heel, from the mass of gathered stems. 



Once a humble bee stung the heel, but so 

 slightly it smarted only a very little bit. Once 

 too a green garter-snake made him shudder by 

 wriggling out of the tangle across his bare foot. 

 That made him think seriously of putting on 

 his boots, but he decided to risk it until he 

 took the mules to water. He would take 

 them to the creek, and thus have a chance to 

 see how Slow Pete was getting on. The 

 creek-road ran through the grass land, cutting 

 it into nearly equal halves. His father was 

 there, watching the outlander, who had come 

 around preaching the gospel of subsoiling, and 

 ready to prove his faith by works. He had 

 a plough of the pattern he wanted to sell, also 

 an ox-team to pull it. The Major had struck 

 a contingent bargain with him, to subsoil five 

 acres, and lose his work, and his selling 

 chances, unless the crop next year was 

 heavier on the subsoiled plot than on the 

 ground merely surface-broken. 



The sun began to blister. It shone so hot 



