Meanwhile he spike-harrowed the potato patch, running cross-wise of the rows to break the crust and keep down the quick-springing weed seeds. The early peas were already above ground and when they were two inches high Hiram ran his 14-tooth cultivator--or "seed harrow" as it is called in some localities--close to the rows so as to throw the soil toward the plants, almost burying them from sight again. This was to give the peas deeprootage, which is a point necessary for the quick and stable growth of this vegetable.
In odd moments Hiram had cut and set a few posts, bought poultry netting in Scoville, and enclosed Mrs. Atterson's chicken-run. She had taken his advice and sent for eggs, and already had four hens setting and expected to set the remainder of the of the eggs in a few days.
Sister took an enormous interest in this poultry-raising venture. She "counted chickens before they were hatched" with a vengeance, and after reading a few of the poultry catalogs she figured out that, in three years, from the increase of Mother Atterson's hundred eggs, the eighty-acre farm would not be large enough to contain the flock.
"And all from five dollars!" gasped Sister. "I don't see why everybody doesn't go to raising chickens--then there'd be no poor folks, everybody would be rich-- Well! I expect there'd always have to be institutions for orphans--and boarding houses!
The new-springing things from the ground, the "hen industry" and the repairing and beautifying of the outside of the farmhouse did not take up all their attention. There were serious matters to be discussed in the evening, after the others had gone to bed, 'twixt Hiram and his employer.
There was the five or six acres of bottom land--the richest piece of soil of the entire eighty. Hiram had not forgotten this, and the second Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole family had attended service at a chapel less than half a mile up the road, he had urged Mrs. Atterson to walk with him through the timber to the riverside.
"For the Land o' Goshen!" the ex-boarding house mistress had finally exclaimed. "To think that I own all of this.Why, Hi, it don't seem as if it was so. I can't get used to it.And this timber, you say, is all worth money? And if I cut it off, it will grow up again---""In thirty to forty years the pine will be worth cutting again--and some of the other trees," said Hiram, with a smile.
"Well! that would be something for Sister to look forward to," said the old lady, evidently thinking aloud. "And I don't expect her folks--whoever they be--will ever look her up now, Hiram.""But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would have avery valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage--valuable for almost any crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the sun," said the young farmer, ignoring the other's observation.
"Well, well! it's wonderful," returned Mrs. Atterson.
But she listened attentively to what he had to say about clearing the bottom land, which was a much more easily accomplished task, as Hiram showed her. It would cost something to put the land into shape for late corn, and so prepare it for some more valuable crop the following season.
"Well, nothing ventured, nothing have!" Mrs. Atterson finally agreed. "Go ahead--if it won't cost much more than what you say to get the corn in. I understand it's a gamble, and I'm taking a gambler's chance. If the river rises and floods the corn in June, or July, then we get nothing this season?""That is a possibility," admitted Hiram.
"Go ahead," exclaimed Mother Atterson. "I never did know that there was sporting blood in me; but I kinder feel it risin', Hi, with the sap in the trees. We'll chance it!"Occasionally Hiram had stepped down to the pasture and squinted across to the water-hole. The grass was not long enough yet to turn the cow into the field, so he was obliged to make these special trips to the pasture.
He had seen nothing of the Dickersons--to speak to, that is--since his trouble with Pete. And, of a sudden, just before dinner one noon, Hiram took a look at the pasture and beheld a figure seemingly working down in the corner.
Hiram ran swiftly in that direction. Half-way there he saw that it was Pete, and that he had deliberately cut out a panel of the fence and was letting a pair of horses he had been plowing with, drink at the pool, before he took them home to the Dickerson stable.
Hiram stopped running and recovered his breath before he reached the lower corner of the pasture. Pete saw him coming, and grinned impudently at him.
"What are you doing here, Dickerson?" demanded the young farmer, indignantly.
"Well, if you wanter keep us out, you'd better keep up your fencesbetter," returned Pete. "I seen the wires down, and it's handy---" "You cut those wires!" interrupted Hiram, angrily.
"You're another," drawled Pete, but grinning in a way to exasperate the young farmer.
"I know you did so."
"Wal, if you know so much, what are you going to do about it?" demanded the other. "I guess you'll find that these wires will snap 'bout as fast as you can mend 'em. Now, you can put that in your pipe an' smoke it!""But I don't smoke." Hiram observed, growing calm immediately. There was no use in giving this lout the advantage of showing anger with him.
"Mr. Smartie!" snarled Pete Dickerson. "Now, you see, there's somebody just as smart as you be. These horses have drunk there, and they're going to drink again.""Is that your father yonder?" demanded Hiram, shortly. "Yes, it is.""Call him over here."
"Why, if he comes over here, he'll eat you alive! " cried Pete, "laughing. You don't know my dad.""I don't; but I want to," Hiram said, calmly. "That's why you'd better call him over. I have got pretty well acquainted with you, and the rest of your family can't be any worse, as I look at it. Call him over," and the young farmer stepped nearer to the lout.
"You call him yourself!" cried Pete, beginning to back away, for he remembered how he had been treated at his previous encounter with Hiram.
