Ploughing 29 



The outlander did not himself hold, the 

 plough — he had another man to do that. As 

 he scanned the plough-shank he said persuas- 

 ively : " Well, Major, what do you say to 

 that ? We 're letting in air and daylight at 

 least twenty inches down for you. Soil that 

 deep must be worth more than just a skim." 



" Maybe," Major Baker answered, with a 

 cautious smile; "but I can tell you more 

 about that when the crop is gathered next 

 year. I know you can easily have light soil 

 too deep for wheat." 



Notwithstanding, the Major did not under- 

 value the work of light and air. It was 

 knowledge of their worth which had made him 

 order ridge-and-furrow. Frost would creep 

 through the ridges, sweetening, melting, mel- 

 lowing them; air and sunlight would flood 

 the furrows and finish what the frost had be- 

 gun. Besides the old sward would die better 

 — partly from exposing its roots, partly from 

 smothering. So would the pestilential wild 

 growths, sassafras, saw-brier, and dewberry. 

 Every inch of turf was netted with them — 

 they made it so tough, indeed, the mules had 

 to rest and blow after every round. It was 

 thus that the patient oxen, never hasting, 

 never resting, kept up with them. 



The mules pacing down to water snorted 

 skittishly at sight of the ox-team. "You 



