8 Next to the Ground 



other there was a gate leading into the old 

 grass. Slow Pete kept on to the gate, dron- 

 ing a dismal hymn as he went. Dan and 

 Joe struck across the clover almost as soon 

 as they were inside the bars. Dan was to 

 plough in the pea-ground — still he thought 

 it the part of wisdom to see that Joe got 

 started right. But Joe motioned him back : 

 " I know what I 'm doin'," he said. " Be- 

 sides, I shan't feel like I earn that new gun 

 Marse Major 's goin' to buy me, if my work 

 makes you lose time." 



" Aye, yi ! little boss ! But don't you go 

 holler fer me, 'ceptin' you drives right slap 

 in er yaller jacket's nes'," Dan said, grinning 

 broadly as he turned back. He was munch- 

 ing a hunk of cold corn-bread. None of 

 them had waited for breakfast. The cool of 

 the morning was too precious. Each had a 

 runlet full of water slung at his back. Dan 

 and Joe had filled their hat-crowns with fresh 

 dewy leaves, but Slow Pete had stuck to his 

 everyday red head-rag. All of them wore 

 boots. Ploughing is nothing like so tiresome 

 to either man or beast barefoot, as when they 

 go shod. Fresh sun-warm earth seems to give 

 back electric strength to the foot that treads 

 it naked. But fallowers seldom dare go bare- 

 foot. Snakes abound in the clover. So do 

 stinging things — humble bees, yellow-jackets 



