k flew away. The boy got up and climbed listlessly into
the cultivator seat. The tugs straightened and the horses walked again
into the corn. One of the team, however, a heavy, powerful bay, lagged
continually, at times almost stopping.

The cultivator slid sidewise, and the blades tore the corn out by the
roots. The boy jerked the reins, slapping them over the horse's back.
"Get along there, Jim!" he called. Jim pulled evenly for a moment, then
lagged again. In sudden violence of anger, the boy pulled cruelly at the
horse's mouth, cursing in low, abrupt sentences. The horse stopped, the
blades slipped, again tearing up a hill of corn. From sheer rage the boy
was silent, then he jumped from the cultivator, and gathering the slack
of the reins, hit the horse about the head with all his might. His face
was dry and white, his eyes blazing. As he continued to strike the
horse, he found expression.

"You damn, lazy brute, you! I'll show you who's running this job--you
or me!" His words came sharply, in gasps, between blows. Then he cursed
again; cursed the work and the horse. Fine lines of fatigue showed in
his face. At last he stopped. A slight color had come to his cheeks.
For a moment he watched the horse, which stood with muscles moving in
quivering ripples of pain and fear; then he walked soberly back and
climbed upon the cultivator seat. The horses moved on. They walked
evenly now, starting at any movement of the boy, who stared steadily
at the swiftly moving ground, two red spots still burning through the
tan of his cheeks.

They went once across the field. On the return, the boy stopped
impetuously by the road and jumping down from the seat walked to the
horse he had beaten. The horse quivered and shied toward its mate. The
boy stroked its neck.

"Whoa, Jim! Whoa, boy!" he repeated.

He hesitated a moment, then went across the road to the meadow and
picked an armful of young tufts of clover. He fed it to the horses, a
handful at a time. They ate eagerly, all trace of fear gone as they
reached out their necks for the young grass. Over the boy's face passed
a conflict of expressions. At one time the cheeks were soft, and a
boyish look lay in his eyes. Then came a strange, dry expression, as
of age, which formed tense lines about his mouth; but as he climbed up
to the seat of the cultivator, the softer expression remained.

The horses were beginning to draw at the tugs when the boy heard a horse
galloping on the