So Milton crowded back the tears that came into his eyes, and would not let his uncle see how childish he was.
A spectator riding along the road would have remarked upon the lovely setting for this picturesque scene--the low swells of prairie, shrouded with faint, misty light from the unclouded sky, the flaming colors of the trees, the faint sound of cow-bells, and the cheery sound of the machine.

But to be a tourist and to be a toiler in a scene like this are quite different things.
They were anxious to finish the setting by noon, and so the feeder was crowding the cylinder to its limit, rolling the grain in with slow and apparently effortless swaying from side to side, half-buried in the loose yellow straw.

But about eleven o'clock the machine came to a stand, to wait while a broken tooth was being replaced, and Milton fled from the terrible dust beside the measuring-spout, and was shaking the chaff out of his clothing, when he heard a high, snappy, nasal voice call down from the straw-pile.

A tall man, with a face completely masked in dust, was speaking to Mr.Jennings: "Say, young man, I guess you'll haf to send another man up here.

It's poorty stiff work f'r two; yes, sir, poorty stiff." "There, there! I thought you'd cry 'cavy,'" laughed Mr.Jennings.