Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1900-05-05

u Coupic VI lll'lulSlllNc klluccS funllnaS-
ing about and winged one of them
with his first shot. y long chase over
the drying furroYs of the previous
days blowing secured the bird
Going back he had several more
shots at the blackhir,lS. which seemed
to grow bol,lCr and hungricr as the
day advanced. He seldom missed
them and in one instance killed two at
one shot, the bullet striking one bird Il
Slancing blow on the neck and winging
second bird in the bunch.
The blowing grew more and more
tedious as the day heightened out. and
the boy was never hungricr in his life
He had brought his dinner along. with
a bottle of milk to wash it down, and
he could tell pretty well from the sun
when noontime came. From his line
of burrows he could see his uncle toll
ing across and back, never stopping for
anything, brown figure in the brown
stretches of upturned earth.
He made up his mind that plowin:
was desperately monotonous work and
that to plow Il straight furrow was
llIil tilIlt from lOUS
practice. lie had stake stuck up for
his benefit at each end of the j Id. but
his plow either wabblcd or thy mules
"wee-wawcd' frightfully. for before
noOntime came he found it necessary
to lift the plow up and cash down Ger
tain inlctS and rStuarics of land which
had not been cut on account of the per-
.Sit ,,f h,
the sun had swung into line for about
12:3O lie had come to the conclusion
that all Il boy needed to plOw well with
was Il pair of iron legs and Il knowl-
edge of how to draw n furrow straight.
He unhitChcd the team with some diff
Guilty and gave them feed of oats on
the bottom of the sack. Then he got
out his own dinner of bread and but
ter, meat and pickles. and fell on it
like famiSh"d coyote. He was very
tired. The dirt had got into his finger
nails, crcpt into his curly brown hair,
grimcd his neck. filled his ears and en-
bittercd his boyiSh soul. His curiosity
was thoroughly satisfied He had be-
come Satiatcd with the exercise; he
wanted to hunt.
However. he remembered that it
would be cowardly to give up until
night. So he started in to hitch ND the
mules again after taking Il decent rest.
Fortunately he could do this without
having to summon his uncle, and he
congratulated himself on being able to
hitch and unhitch a team. The pl0w
IN, J,;,
once more the burden of hanging on to
a pair of slippery plow handles with a
couple of energetic mules Stridng
along in front was begun. The black
birds and kildccS, allurcd by the feast
of pale grubS and salmon tinted fish
worms. came again to the burrows. but
the boy only took a shot now and then.
He was doggcGly. sullcnly, silently
plugging along in the furrow. with the
sand gritting between his teeth He
wouldn't offer to plow again for Uncle
Tom. Uncle Tom knew what he was
talking about when he said il was
hard wCrk and dirty work until YOU
got used to it. Well he didn't want to
get used to it. that was all. What was
tiihI Si'iH ibpul ttlS getting uScu 10
being skinned? Whoa. Jimmy; back.
you old yellow crate. you.
At sundOwn and not until he saw
Uncle Tom turn for the house did the
boy give over. But he had seen the
error of his way. Flowing wasn't what
1t was cracked up to be. There were
too many sand burs and roots and
crooked burrows and dirt and wrench
es and backachcs about it. There was
too much work about it. Why, when
you saw man who was used to it you
could believe that he might strap him.
self t" plOw and go to sleep on the
Job. l.,l for a new beginner at the
business it was like Jordan "a hard
road to travel"
Uncle Tom smiled at the grimy. duS-
ty figure of his nephew as he met him
at the house. How'd you like the
plOwing:' he inquired quiZZically.
The boy took nine blackbir1s and
three kildees from his pockets and.
holding them up. said, II like that part
of it. Uncle Tom. and all the rest
didn't like worth n ent."-Chicago
Record