The truth was clear to his experienced eyes.
"You're drunk," he exclaimed disgustedly.
"Hoot, toot! Callum man," said Mackenzie in tones of grieved remonstrance, "how would you be saying that now?
Come away, or I will be taking the team myself." "Aw, go on!" replied Kalman contemptuously.

"Let me alone!" "Good boy," said Mackenzie with a paternal smile, waving the boy on his way while he betook himself to the bluff side and there supine, continued at intervals to direct the operation of harrowing.
The sun grew hot.

The cool morning breeze dropped flat, and as the hours passed the boy grew weary and footsore, travelling the soft furrows.

Mackenzie had long ceased issuing his directions, and had subsided into smiling silence, contenting himself with a friendly wave of the hand as Kalman made the turn.

The poor spiritless horses moved more and more slowly, and at length, coming to the end of the field, refused to move farther.
"Let them stand a bit, Callum boy," said Mackenzie kindly.
"Come and have a rest.