by most of the young fellows, for Will had been going to Rock
River to school for some years, and there was a little feeling of
jealousy on the part of those who pretended to sneer at the
"seminary chaps like Will Hannan and Milton Jennings."

Dingrnan came up. "Will, I guess you'd better go on the stack with
Ed."

"All ready. Hurrah, there!" said David in his soft but resonant bass
voice that always had a laugh in it. "Come, come, every sucker of
yeh git hold o' something. All ready!" He waved his hand at the
driver, who climbed upon his platform. Everybody scrambled into
place.

"Chk, chk! All ready, boys! Stiddy there, Dan! Chk, chkl All ready,
boys! Stiddy there, boys! All ready now!" The horses began to
strain at the sweeps. The cylinder began to hum.

"Grab a root there! Where's my band cutter? Here, you, climb on
here!" And David reached down and pulled Shep Watson up by the
shoulder with his gigantic hand.

Boo-oo-oom, Boo-woo-woo-oom-oom-ow-owm, yarryarr! The
whirling cylinder boomed, roared, and snarled as it rose in speed.
At last, when its tone became a rattling yell, David nodded to the
pitchers, rasped his hands together, the sheaves began to fall from
the stack, the band cutter, knife in hand, slashed the bands in
twain, and the feeder with easy majestic motion gathered them
under his arm, rolled them out into an even belt of entering wheat,
on which the cylinder tore with its frightful, ferocious snarl.