Willows, but it was no easy matter. They had to be perfectly tight or
they would slip and fall in a heap each time they were raised, and it
seemed at length that the boys would be forced to the impropriety of
using hay wire, when they heard a low grunt, and turning, saw William
Raften standing with his hands behind him as though he had watched
them for hours.

The boys were no little startled. Raften had a knack of turning up at
any point when something was going on, taking in the situation fully,
and then, if he disapproved, of expressing himself in a few words of
blistering mockery delivered in a rich Irish brogue. Just what view
he would take of their pastime the boys had no idea, but awaited with
uneasiness. If they had been wasting time when they should have been
working there is no question but that they would have been sent with
contumely to more profitable pursuits, but this was within their
rightful play hours, and Raften, after regarding them with a searching
look, said slowly: "Bhoys!" (Sam felt easier; his father would have
said "_Bhise_" if really angry.) "Fhat's the good o' wastin' yer
time" (Yan's heart sank) "wid Willow withes fur a job like that? They
can't be made to howld. Whoi don't ye git some hay woire or coord at
the barrun?"

The boys were greatly relieved, but still this friendly overture might
be merely a feint to open the way for a home thrust. Sam was silent.
So Yan said, presently, "We ain't allowed to use anything but what the
Indians had or could get in the woods."

"An' who don't allow yez?"

"The rules."