rength of his good right arm put forth, he brought it down. The
CRASH, CRASH, CRASH could have been heard far through the still air;
for it is the office of those dull blades to hack their way as through
a bundle of dead rods.

A little later he stopped abruptly, with silent inquiry turning his
face to the sky: a raindrop had fallen on his hand. Two or three drops
struck his face as he waited. It had been very cold that morning, too
cold for him to come out to work. Though by noon it had moderated, it
was cold still; but out of the warmer currents of the upper atmosphere,
which was now the noiseless theatre of great changes going forward
unshared as yet by the strata below, sank these icy globules of the
winter rain. Their usual law is to freeze during descent into the
crystals of snow; rarely they harden after they fall, covering the
earth with sleet.

David, by a few quick circular motions of the wrist, freed his left
hand from the half-broken hemp, leaving the bundle trailing across the
brake. Then he hurried to the heap of well-cleaned fibre: that must not
be allowed to get wet. The dog leaped out and stood to one side,
welcoming the end of the afternoon labor and the idea of returning
home. Not many minutes were required for the hasty baling, and David
soon rested a moment beside his hemp, ready to lift it to his
shoulders. But he felt disappointed. There lay the remnant of the
shock. He had worked hard to finish it before sunset Would there not
still be time?

The field occupied one of the swelling knolls of the landscape; his
brake was set this day on the very crown of a hill. As he asked himself
that question, he lifted his eyes and far away through the twilight,
lower down, he saw the flash of a candle already being carried about in
the kitchen. At the opposite end of the house the glow of firelight
fell on the window panes of his father's and mother's room. Even while
he observed this, it was intercepted: his mother thus early was closing
the shutters for the night.

Too late! He gave up the thought of finishing his shock, recollecting
other duties. But he remained in his attitude a few moments; for the
workman has a curious unconscious habit of taking a final survey of the
scene of his labor before quitting it. David now glanced first up at
the sky, with dubious forethought of to-morrow's weather. The raindrops
had ceased to fall, but he was too good a countryman not to foresee
unsettled conditions. The