nd
as Jimmy said, "It seemed as if the domn plum tree just rained
caterpillars." So they bided their time, and the signs prohibiting
trespass on all sides of their land were many and emphatic, and Mary
had instructions to ring the dinner bell if she caught sight of any
strangers.

The days grew longer, and the sun was insistent. Untold miles they
trudged back and forth across their land, guiding their horses, jerked
about with plows, their feet weighted with the damp, clinging earth,
and their clothing pasted to their wet bodies. Jimmy was growing
restless. Never in all his life had he worked so faithfully as that
spring, and never had his visits to Casey's so told on him. No matter
where they started, or how hard they worked, Dannie was across the
middle of the field, and helping Jimmy before the finish. It was always
Dannie who plowed on, while Jimmy rode to town for the missing bolt or
buckle, and he generally rolled from his horse into a fence corner, and
slept the remainder of the day on his return.

The work and heat were beginning to tire him, and his trips to Casey's
had been much less frequent than he desired. He grew to feel that
between them Dannie and Mary were driving him, and a desire to balk at
slight cause, gathered in his breast. He deliberately tied his team in
a fence corner, lay down, and fell asleep. The clanging of the supper
bell aroused him. He opened his eyes, and as he rose, found that Dannie
had been to the barn, and brought a horse blanket to cover him. Well as
he knew anything, Jimmy knew that he had no business sleeping in fence
corners so early in the season. With candor he would have admitted to
himself that a part of his brittle temper came from aching bones and
rheumatic twinges. Some way, the sight of Dannie swinging across the
field, looking as fresh as in the early morning, and the fact that he
had carried a blanket to cover him, and the further fact that he was
wild for drink, and could think of no excuse on earth for going to
town, brought him to a fighting crisis.

Dannie turned his horses at Jimmy's feet.

"Come on, Jimmy, supper bell has rung," he cried. "We mustn't keep Mary
waiting. She wants us to help her plant the sweet potatoes to-nicht."

Jimmy rose, and his joints almost creaked. The pain angered him. He
leaned forward and glared at Dannie.

"Is there one minute of the day whin you ain't thinkin' about my wife?"
he demanded, oh, so slowly, and so ugly!

Dannie m