In a couple of hours Tom returned, reporting that he had found, in a bend of the creek just below us, a large bottom that would afford us all the hay we would want.
"Now, men," he said as he unsaddled and turned out the bronco, "we've got lots to do that's pressing us, and, as the wolf poisoning and beaver trapping ain't pressing and won't suffer any loss by waiting a few days, I've been thinking that we'd better let the pelts go for a while and put in all our time at haymaking and digging till we get everything made snug for cold weather."
Tom's suggestion seemed so reasonable that we agreed with him and decided to let the pelts alone for a while.
Tom got his scythe out of the wagon and "hung" it and then went down to the timber to make a couple of wooden hay-forks. When he had returned from the timber with his wooden forks he remarked as he sat down and began whittling the prongs to points and otherwise smoothing them up with his knife:
"While I was at it I cut a lot of poles for a hay frame to put on top of the wagon-box to haul hay on; and I also cut some poles to lay on the ground under our freight when we unload the wagon."
Later in the day we unloaded the wagon, piling the contents on the poles inside the sideboards, which we had taken off together, leaving the bows on them. After the goods were thus piled up the wagon-sheet was stretched over the bows and securely tied down and the load was thus protected from the weather.
Tired and very hungry after our hard day's work, we devoured our supper and, after agreeing to devote the next day to digging and haymaking, were soon sound asleep.
After breakfast next morning Tom shouldered the scythe and his rifle and set out for the hay-field.
When we had cleared away the breakfast dishes Jack chose the pick-and-shovel work and was soon making the dirt fly out of the hole on the other side of the ravine, while I set to making a hay frame of crossed poles on top of the wagon-box, notched and lashed together and held in place by strips of rawhide cut from the skin on the yearling buffalo quarters. Now and then on the still morning air, although about a mile away, we could hear the "whick-whack" as Tom whetted his scythe.
At nine o'clock Jack went to the hay-field to help Tom, while I put on the dinner, to which I called them by flag at noon. In the afternoon they returned to their haymaking, and by evening they had a nice lot of hay in cocks which would do to haul and stack next day. After finishing the hay frame I worked at digging in the dugout.