Ed Kinney had
scaled the highest stack, and stood ready to throw the first sheaf.
The sun, lighting him where he stood, made his fork handle gleam
like dull gold. Cheery words, jests, and snatches of song
everywhere. Dingman bustled about giving his orders and placing
his men, and the voice of big Dave McTurg was heard calling to
the men as they raised the long stacker into place:
"Heave-ho, there! Up she rises!"
And, best of all, Will caught a glirnpse of a smiling girl face at the
kitchen window that made the blood beat m his throat.
"Hello, Will!" was the general greeting, given with some constraint
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.
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