They've got the chance of tryin' on that ten acres of wheat on my west fifty. If they can do it in a day they can have it."

"They wouldn't take it," answered Ben regretfully. "They can do it, fast enough."

Then the "Old King" quite lost patience. "Now, Ben, shut up! You're a blowhard! Why, I'd bet any man the whole field against $50 that it can't be done."

"I'll take you on that," said Alec Murray.

"What?" The "Old King" was nonplussed for a moment.

"I'll take that. But I guess you don't mean it."

But the "Old King" was too much of a sport to go back upon his offer.

"It's big odds," he said. "But I'll stick to it. Though I want to tell you, there's nearer twelve acres than ten."

"I know the field," said Alec. "But I'm willing to risk it. The winner pays the wages. How long a day?" continued Alec.

"Quit at six."

"The best part of the day is after that."

"Make it eight, then," said the "Old King." "And we'll bring it off on Monday. We're thrashing that day, but the more the merrier."

"There's jest one thing," interposed Ben, "an' that is, the boys mustn't know about this."

"Why not?" said Alec. "They're dead game."

"Oh, d.i.c.k'd jump at it quick enough, but Barney wouldn't let 'im risk it. He's right careful of that boy."

After full discussion next Sabbath morning by those who were loitering, after their custom, in the churchyard waiting for the service to begin, it was generally agreed that the "Old King" with his usual shrewdness had "put his money on the winning horse." Even Alec Murray, though he kept a bold face, confided to his bosom friend, Rory Ross, that he "guessed his cake was dough, though they would make a pretty big stagger at it."

"If d.i.c.k only had Barney's weight," said Rory, "they would stand a better chance."

"Yes. But d.i.c.k tires quicker. An' he'll die before he drops."

"But ten acres, Alec! And there's more than ten acres in that field."

"I know. But it's standing nice, an' it's lighter on the knoll in the centre. If I can only get them goin' their best clip--I'll have to work it some way. I'll have to get Barney moving. d.i.c.k's such an ambitious little beggar he'd follow till he bust. The first thing," continued Alec, "is to get them a good early start. I'll have a talk with Ben."

As a result of his conversation with Ben it was hardly daylight on Monday morning when Mrs. Boyle, glancing at her clock, sprang at once from her bed and called her sons.

"You're late, Barney. It's nearly six, and you have to go to Morrison's to-day. Here's Ben with the horses fed."

"Why, mother, it's only five o'clock by my watch."

"No, it's six."

Upon comparison Ben's watch corresponded with the clock. Barney concluded something must be wrong and routed d.i.c.k up, and with such good purpose did they hasten through breakfast that in an hour from the time the boys were called they were standing in the field waiting for Ben to begin the day's work.

After they had been binding an hour Alec Murray appeared on the field.

"I'm going to shock," he announced. "They've got men enough up at the thrashing, an' the 'Old King' wants to get this field in shock by to-morrow afternoon so he can get it thrashed, if you hustlers can get it down by then." Alec was apparently in great spirits. He brought with him into the field a breezy air of excitement.

"Here, Ben, don't take all day oiling up there. I guess I'm after you to-day, remember."

"Guess yeh'll wait till it's tied, won't yeh?" said Ben, who thoroughly understood Alec's game.

"Don't know 'bout that. I may have to jump in an' tie a few myself."

"Don't you fret yourself," replied d.i.c.k. "If you shock all that's tied to-day you'll need to hang your shirt on the fence at night."

"Keep cool, d.i.c.k, or you'll be leavin' Barney too far behind. You tie quicker than him, I hear."

"Oh, I don't know," said d.i.c.k modestly, though quite convinced in his own mind that he could.

"d.i.c.k's a little quicker, ain't he?" said Alec, turning to Barney.

"Oh, he's quick enough."

"Did you never have a tussle?" inquired Alec, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a couple of sheaves in each arm and setting them in their places in the shock with a quick swing, then stepping off briskly for others.

"No," said Barney shortly.

"I guess he didn't want you to hurt yourself," he suggested cunningly to d.i.c.k. "When a fellow isn't very strong he's got to be careful." This was d.i.c.k's sensitive point. He was not content to do a man's work in the field, but he was miserable unless he took first place.

"Oh, he needn't be afraid of hurting me," he said, taking Alec's bait.

"I've worked with him all harvest and I'm alive yet." Unconsciously d.i.c.k's pace quickened, and for the next few minutes Barney was left several sheaves behind.

"He's just foolin' with you, d.i.c.k," jeered Alec. "He wouldn't hurt you for the world."

Unconsciously by his hustling manner and by his sly suggestion of superiority now to one and again to the other, he put both boys upon their mettle, and before they were aware they were going at a racing pace, though neither would acknowledge that to the other. Alec kept following them close, almost running for his sheaves, flinging a word of encouragement now to one, now to the other, shouting at Ben as he turned the corners, and by every means possible keeping the excitement at the highest point. But he was careful not to overdrive his men. By a previous arrangement and without serious difficulty he had persuaded Teenie Ross, who had come to a.s.sist the Morrison girls at the threshing, to bring out a lunch to the field at ten o'clock. For half an hour they sat in the long gra.s.s in the shade of a maple tree eating the lunch which d.i.c.k at least was beginning to feel in need of. But not a minute more did Alec allow.

"I'm going to catch you fellows," he said, "if I've to take off my shirt to do it."

d.i.c.k was quick to respond and again set off at full speed. But the grain was heavier than Alec had counted upon, and when the noon hour had arrived he estimated that the grain was not more than one-third down. A full hour and a half he allowed his men for rest, cunningly drawing them off from the crowd of threshers to a quiet place in the orchard where they could lie down and sleep, waking them when time was up that there should be no loss of a single precious moment. As they were going out to the field Alec suggested that instead of coming back for supper at five, according to the usual custom, they should have it brought to them in the field.

"It's a long way up to the house," he explained, "and the days are getting short." And though the boys didn't take very kindly to the suggestion, neither would think of opposing it.

But in spite of all that Alec and Ben could do, when the threshers knocked off work for the day and sauntered down to the field where the reaping was going on, it looked as if the "Old King" were to win his bet.

"Keep out of this field!" yelled Alec, as the men drew near; "you're interferin' with our work. Come, get out!" For the boys had begun to take it easy and chatting with some of them.

"Get away from here, I tell you!" cried Alec. "You line up along the fence and we'll show you how this thing should be done!"

Realizing the fairness of his demand, the men retired from the field.

The long shadows of the evening were falling across the field. The boys were both showing weariness at every step they took. Alec was at his wit's end. The grain was all cut, but there was still a large part of it to bind. He determined to take the boys into his confidence. He knew all the risk there was in this step. Barney might refuse to risk an injury to his brother. It was Alec's only chance, however, and walking over to the boys, he told them the issue at stake.

"Boys," he said, "I don't want you to hurt yourselves. I don't care a dern about the money. I'd like to beat 'Old King' Morrison and I'd like to see you make a record. You've done a big day's work already, and if you want to quit I won't say a word."

"Quit!" cried d.i.c.k in scorn, kindling at Alec's story. "What time have we left?"