"Oh, Cliff! I had the most terrifying dreams last night, in which you were, some way, always mixed up," said Maud wearily; "and although I can't remember anything distinctly, I am so nervous that I shiver even yet."
"So, madam, you feed the hungry harvester on Cold Shudder, garnished with scrambled Night-mare," said Bob, with a glance of contempt at the bacon and early potatoes, of which even his ravenous appetite was now weary. Then, as he broke an egg that was shockingly overdone, he added spitefully: "Why did you _boil_ your door-knobs?"
"I spent a weary, restless night, also," said Mrs. Warlow, ignoring Robbie's sarcasm. "I was so vaguely uneasy about you, Clifford, that I shall object to your staying alone at the corral hereafter."
"Alone, nothing!" said Rob. "I guess, by the way he goes fishing about of late, he will soon find some one to keep him company," he added, with a knowing giggle, at which Clifford tried to look unconcerned, while Maud and her mother exchanged pleased and amused glances.
After breakfast Clifford drove the header to the wheat-field, which soon presented an animated and busy scene. The great machine was pushed by four horses, which were guided by young Warlow, who stood behind on a small platform, and steered the ponderous reaper with one hand, while with the other he held the lines. The elevator carried the heads of wheat into a large wagon, which ran, barge-like, beside where a busy loader arranged the load, until, towering like a hay-stack, the wagon would hold no more. Then it was driven away to the rick-yard by the careful driver, being succeeded by another team with military precision. The flapping of the canvas elevator, and the rolling waves of wheat, rippled and tossed by the summer breeze, made a scene that recalled a sail on the sea; all of which was as gratifying to Clifford's sense of the picturesque as the prospect for gain was encouraging.
When the evening came twenty acres of the heavy grain was stacked in six trim ricks at the edge of the field. A square of golden straw remained standing, to be either burned at the end of harvest, or turned under by the plows to further enrich the soil. Ten more days of such labor would be necessary, however, to finish the Warlow harvest, and no doubt long before that time the picturesque side of the operation will be appreciated best by those who view it at a safe distance.