I was sitting against a straw stack, trying to get some
shade. My wagon was n't going out first, and somehow I felt the heat awful
that day. The sun was so hot like it was going to burn the world up. After
a while I see a man coming across the stubble, and when he got close I see
it was a tramp. His toes stuck out of his shoes, and he had n't shaved for
a long while, and his eyes was awful red and wild, like he had some
sickness. He comes right up and begins to talk like he knows me already.
He says: 'The ponds in this country is done got so low a man could n't
drownd himself in one of 'em.'
"I told him nobody wanted to drownd themselves, but if we did n't have
rain soon we'd have to pump water for the cattle.
"'Oh, cattle,' he says, 'you'll all take care of your cattle! Ain't you
got no beer here?' I told him he'd have to go to the Bohemians for beer;
the Norwegians did n't have none when they thrashed. 'My God!' he says,
'so it's Norwegians now, is it? I thought this was Americy.'
"Then he goes up to the machine and yells out to Ole Iverson, 'Hello,
partner, let me up there. I can cut bands, and I'm tired of trampin'. I
won't go no farther.'
"I tried to make signs to Ole, 'cause I thought that man was crazy and
might get the machine stopped up. But Ole, he was glad to get down out of
the sun and chaff--it gets down your neck and sticks to you something awful
when it's hot like that.
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