Just then one of the eggs fell out of the hat and went off "pop" on
the floor.

Dave nearly upset the table, he rose so suddenly; and covering his nose
with one hand he made for the door; then he scowled back over his shoulder
at Joe. He utterly scorned his brother Joe. All of us deserted the table
except Dad--he stuck to his place manfully; it took a lot to shift HIM.

Joe must have had a fine nerve. "That's on'y one bad 'n'," he said,
taking the rest to the fireplace where the kettle stood. Then Dad, who
had remained calm and majestic, broke out. "Damn y', boy!" he yelled,
"take th' awful things outside--YOU tinker!" Joe took them out and tried
them all, but I forget if he found a good one.

Dad peered into the almost-empty water-cask and again muttered a short
prayer for rain. He decided to do no more grubbing that day, but to run
wire around the new land instead. The posts had been in the ground some
time, and were bored. Dave and Sarah bored them. Sarah was as good as
any man--so Dad reckoned. She could turn her hand to anything, from
sewing a shirt to sinking a post-hole. She could give Dave inches in arm
measurements, and talk about a leg! She HAD a leg--a beauty! It was as
thick at the ankle as Dad's was at the thigh, nearly.

Anyone who would know what real amusement is should try wiring posts.
What was to have been the top wire (the No. 8 stuff) Dad commenced to put
in the bottom holes, and we ran it through some twelve or fifteen posts
before he saw the mistake--then we dragged it out slowly and savagely; Dad
swearing adequately all the time.

At last everything went splendidly. We dragged the wire through panel