The Lakeland evening telegram., 1916-07-22

i @@N~~~N
He manages to stick it out until noon
when the horses are to be unhitched.
watered and fed. Then he gets to
eat. The way he slows away food
surprises even himself.
"The first afternoon is harder than
the morning. Hot, dry. leg weary and
disguised he drags his way through
the day wondering If it ever will come
night. The sun becomes red ball in
the western sky and he looks forward
to turning out on the next round.
"But in this he is disappointed.
The farmer on the header never looks
at the sun. He keeps on until Old
Sol is below the horizon and the poor
green hand can hardly scramble from
one barge to another. He aches in
every limb and the sweat has soaked
his clothing. Where it has dried on
his shirt there are rims of white pow
der which rub his flesh.
"The underclothing long ago was
discarded. Wheat boards filed it like
pin cushion and he no longer could
stand it. Heat has caused his body
to break out and itch horribly. His
hands are blistered under the gloves
Dirt has collected on his legs until
he longs for the bath tub at home.
when in desperation he hopes that
the farmer will keep on working all
might he hears the command: Whoa
The bewhiskered farmer looks to-
wards the west and calculates that
it is about time to unhitch.
"The tired boy scrambles out of
the header barge and at an order
from the farmers shuffles over to the
horses hittched to the header. He
must take care of three or perhaps
four of them. The tired beasts smell
of wheat and dust but the poor green
hand is too far gone to turn up his
nose at the odors. He gets those
horses unhitched some way and af-
ter helping the farmer let down the
grain elevator and loosen the canvas
he climbs on the back of one of the
gentle horses and starts towards the
farm house perhaps half mile away.
"The ride hurts him. 1t is no easy
thing to share the back of a horse
with set of harness. The backband
has habit of pinching ones leg but
at last the farmyard is reached.
II there is water to pump the poor
boy has to work the pump handle.
This is piling agony upon agony but
'at last he finishes and trudges to-
wards the barn to take off harness,
feed and curry perhaps.
Then to the house pump for a
wash after which comes supper with
flies and mosquitoes trying to share
1t with you. : The seasoned hands
joke the boy about his awkward at
tempts at running the business end
of a pitchfolk in header barge
bouncing over plowed ground. He is
too tired and hungry to parry their
jokes.
"Just as soon as supper is over he
hunts his bed. Maybe it is in stuffy
upstairs room or perhaps it is out in
the hayloft In either event there
are things that keep him awake. The
house is hot up next to the roof and
there are all kinds of noises that
crate on his ears in the haybarn.
There are too many mosquitoes to
sleep out doors and the dust from the
hay is bad. But finally his tired mus.
cles overpower his wearied brain
and he falls into fitful slumber.
Time to get up bellows the farm.
er from the pitch darkness of the re-
gions below.
With q muffied moan the green
hand rolls over in bed. Can he ever
get up? he asks himself. Every bone
in his body aches. His eyes are half
closed with wax and he is OH SO
sleepy.
"But he does get up some way and
through another bitter day plods
along. When he thinks that he can
not lift another fork load of wheat
he begins to get his second wind
and gradually the soreness disap-
pears.
HE no longer cares for the jolts
Of the header barge. the jokes Of his
companions nor the hard bed. The
only thing that he cannot get used to
is the internal hours that the farm
ers keeps.
It is a wonder the old man
doesn't meet himself going to bed
some of these mornings he says to
a fellow creature Of the field.