Next the brothers visited the grape-vats. The wide, shallow tubs were full of trodden grapes. For several days Jose with Joanna, and Malfada to help sometimes, had carefully removed the green and decayed grapes from the huge purple clusters they had gathered, and had thrown the good grapes into the vats. Jose and the girls had trodden these grapes with their bare feet. Now the juice was running from the vats through the troughs and the strainers in rich crimson streams into caskets set upon slabs of granite outside. This is the way that port, the wine for which Portugal is famed, is made throughout the country.
Antonio stood looking out over the maize field and vineyard, of about an acre, beyond the flower gardens. It was surrounded by poplar trees. Upon the trees hung grape-vines, heavy with fruit.
"We must gather more grapes to-day, Jose. I will help, and together we will tread the wine-press." Antonio's quick eyes saw that only a small part of the grapes had been taken from the vines. They must make the most of the vineyard crop.
Beyond the grape-vats was the _eira_, or threshing-floor, made of granite slabs set close together, and beyond the _eira_, a small barn and storehouse.
The _eira_ was well open to sun and wind. Piled high at one side were stacks of maize-stalks, full of unhusked ears. The farm-work was behindhand at this harvest time: it had been more than Jose and his two sisters could do. Yet they had bravely tried.
The oxen's inquiring looks had reminded Jose that the day's watering of the gardens and fields ought to begin.
"Let me take the oxen out to-day, Antonio, please," Jose said, when his brother would have gone ahead with the work. Jose knew that his part as leader would soon be ended. Hard as the care had been, he felt more than half sorry to give it up to Antonio.
The obedient oxen came forth under the yoke and the high, carved head-board. With the long ox-goad Jose guided them, Antonio following, to the wide terrace at the left side of the house, where a well was sunk into a deep spring, which had a supply of water that never failed. Jose fastened the oxen to the _nora_, the old-time water-wheel.
Round and round the oxen went, in a wide circle, under trellises covered with vines. Their moving carried power to an endless chain which was set a few feet apart with buckets. These buckets, sent dipping in turn down into the well, brought up water from its depths. Half of it was spilled by the way. But enough was saved to make a plentiful stream which flowed off to the thirsty gardens and fields below.