(Suspenders filartin Quanbeck, ’29 The sun was already sinking when the first hay-rack came thundering down the road to the completely lighted farmhouse where Dena Sommers struggled over a hot stove, frying steak for the threshers. They were always hungry, these threshers. They would gorge... Show more(Suspenders filartin Quanbeck, ’29 The sun was already sinking when the first hay-rack came thundering down the road to the completely lighted farmhouse where Dena Sommers struggled over a hot stove, frying steak for the threshers. They were always hungry, these threshers. They would gorge themselves at the table and go Ofllt again, com— plaining to each other about the food. Ta'ble manners was something beyond their ken. Take old Suspenders, for instance. They called him Suspenders because he had the most remark- able pair that any of the crew had ever been privileged to see—all tied together and rein- forced With twine, Whipcord, and haywire. And still Suspenders seemed to be always on the verge of losing his trousers. Not that Suspen- ders cared. Having lived so long in imminent peril, he was inured to it. Yes, take Old Sus- penders as an example. “Then he approached the table, he seemed in desperate haste. Hun- ger or something keener drove him. With his left hand he would grab the nearest chair; with his right he would deftly grasp the meat plat- ter; all in one motion he would sit down, help himself to meat, and begin the operation of eating. Dena realized that they were hungry. She made all possible allowances. But how could hunger drive a man who had already eaten more than she could eat in a week, to slice his liberal piece of apple pie into two somewhat equal parts and send them, one after the other, to the place where they were forever lost—— powerless to do more than cause a slight at- tack of indigestion? And how she had slaved over that pie! How could they complain about the food when they didn’t even stop to taste it? It was a wonder they weren’t all sick the way they ate. They} were all like that—every last one of them. Up from the table even in the act of gulping down the last piece of pie! She wished heartily that her brother had not come out to the farm. But he had been so eager, and her uncle had been so badly in need of a man. He was a thrifty man, was Adam Sommers, and running the rig short-handed was a waste that he could avoid. She wondered how Gene fared. He had worked since noon now. His uncle had helped him hitch up then, for Gene knew nothing about farm work. And he, only sixteen and small for his age, was working out there among those uncivilized hobos. Since her aunt had died two months before, Dena had kept house for her uncle, but this was her first experience with a threshing crew. They had 'been there for two days now and just that noon her uncle had predicted four more days. She “hated the thought of it. The clatter of the wash basins reminded Dena that supper would soon have to be ready. These fellows did not stand upon formalities. As soon as one had finished washing—and it took but an instant for old Bakken—he would pro- ceed to the table. And there they had no pa- tience with—nor, indeed, any expectation of— delay. Bakken was an old Norwegian, some- where in the early fifties. He did everything with extreme care; it was remarked that even at the table he was slow oftentimes cutting his meat before devouring it. At the wash ba- sin too he exercised the greatest caution and nicety of judgment—never washing those fea- tures whose cleanness was not necessary to a sanitary handling of the food, or which could not be reached conveniently, such as the ears and neck. Windy was now holding forth by the wash stand (which Dena had set outside for the sake of safety and convenience), and to judge by the frequent bursts of laughter, had an appre- ciative audience: “I was comin’ in with my horses, and there strewed across the whole bloomin’ barn was pieces 0’ harness. The kid was sweatin’ away, takin’ everything apart. He had unhooked well-nigh everything but the lbellyband, I guess, and that was under the big bavy’s hind Show less
4 THE DIAL feet. That was bad enough, but when I saw old Suspenders in the next stall, I held my breath. Yessir, I thought sure them suspend- ers was goin’ to go; there sure was a mighty strain on ’em. He was all doubled up like a jack-knife to keep from bustin’ apart.” Wizened, old Windy ’s... Show more4 THE DIAL feet. That was bad enough, but when I saw old Suspenders in the next stall, I held my breath. Yessir, I thought sure them suspend- ers was goin’ to go; there sure was a mighty strain on ’em. He was all doubled up like a jack-knife to keep from bustin’ apart.” Wizened, old Windy ’s unmusical treble pealed out in what was undoubtedly meant to be an expression of mirth. No one laughed more heartily than he at his stories. The “kid” was Gene, Dena knew, and she wondered whether she should run over to help him. Just then she heard his voice outside the window by the wash stand. Windy was questioning him. “How’d you come out? Get ’em all hung up?” “Yeh.” It was Gene’s voice. Supper was the same as rusual, except that there was some merriment at Gene’s expense. Even Suspenders took time out to give vent to a few, lusty guffaws, and old Bakken’s stolid fa-ce once almost broke into a smile. Dena was up early the next morning—long before the crew stirred from their bunks in the hayloft. As she made fire in the kitchen stove, awakened Martha, her young assistant, and started preparations for breakfast, she could think only of the fact that she was dead tired and wonder what she would feel like by eve- ning. Presently before any one had appeared for breakfast, she heard the sputtering of the kerosene tractor and realized that the rig was being moved. The noise came nearer, and soon the tractor swung past the house at a good speed, turned to face the wind, and lined up with the separator. She was unwillingly a lit- tle thrilled by the 'prospect of seeing the outfit in action so near at hand. Gene was first at the breakfast table and proud of it. “I’m first man up to the machine this morn- ing,” he announced. He seemed quite to have forgotten the episode of the night before. After breakfast Dena watched the bundle wagons while they were being loaded. Old Bakken, she noticed, was careful as was his wont. He pitched the bundles into the rack one at a time, and, as the load slowly grew, he took particular precautions to keep the cen~ ter of the load filled, thus making a sharp ridge along the center. Working by the open window she could hear them talk to their horses. Suspenders was belaboring his horses with the fork handle. He was talking, mean- while, in no uncertain tones. The horses were apparently used to such treatment and moved forward at the same, slow, exasperating gait. “Jiminy,” he exclaimed, “wish the old plugs would pull a little harder than I push.” Hearing Windy yell at Bakken in his high- pitched voice, “Think it’s goin’ t’ rain?” she glanced at the sky involuntarily. It was clear and blue. Bakken’s more subdued tones came in reply, “No, why?” “Oh, I just noticed you were toppin’ off your load. She won’t take much rain now.” Bakken made no reply to this. Windy, true to the name his wordiness had earned him, was quite ready to speak of another’s delinquencies; not quite so ready to live up to his vocal standards. Thus now his load was not big enough to inspire awe in those who beheld it. As he turned at the end of the windrow, however, one front wheel struck a rock, the load swayed and went over, and Windy with it. He crawled out from among the bundles, nothing daunted, and launched into an obloquy 0n farmers who neg- lect to clear their fields of rocks. While his tongue was thus pleasantly engaged, he recov- ered his fork from the bundles and began the process of clearing the rack. From her point of vantage, Dena noticed with some amusement the effect of the incident on those who were in Windy’s vicinity: Tal- bot ’s man, a big Swede, left his horses and ap- proached, fork in hand, Gene ran up from the next windrow (Dena swelled with pride at that), and old Bakken turned in the middle of his row to avoid approaching so closely that aid would 'be expected from him. Show less
THE DIAL 5 The Swede set to work without a word. He never spoke when words were unnecessary. “Need some help?” queried Gene as he came up. “Yes. We got to get this rack up and get the bundles back on—sort of elevate it all back. Say, kid! You run over to the rig and get me the return elevator,... Show moreTHE DIAL 5 The Swede set to work without a word. He never spoke when words were unnecessary. “Need some help?” queried Gene as he came up. “Yes. We got to get this rack up and get the bundles back on—sort of elevate it all back. Say, kid! You run over to the rig and get me the return elevator, will you? The separator man has it.” “Sure.” Gene hurried off. At the rig the men seemed to sense that something was up as Gene approached, for they gathered and talked in low voices. Gene, how- ever, failcd to notice anything unusual. “Say,” he yelled at the separator man, “let’s have your return elevator, will you?” “Sure,” was the reply, “if you’ll take it off.” He pointed to the elevator box fastened diagonally across the side of the separator. There was a roar of laughter from those of the crew who had witnessed the incident, which was heard by Dena above the roar of the ma- chine. S‘he shrewdly conjectured that her Ibrother was the butt of the joke. She could not, of course, hear what was said. For a moment Gene was hot with resentment. Then he too saw the ludicrousness of the situa- tion and laughed. Wise was he to do so, for a threshing crew, like other men, appreciate a good sport. Nevertheless, there was a great deal of good-natured raillery. As Windy ’s load was rebuilt and the forenoon wore on, “bring the elevator” became the byword when- ever Gene was by. Suspenders said it often with great gusto and each time with an air of having thought of a startlingly original witti— cism. He slapped his thighs and was quite con- vulsed with mirth. The booms seemed to or- iginate somewhere in the abdominal cavity and, as they rolled upward, to gather momentum and intensity. The forenoon was a long one for Gene. He wondered whether the crew would ever forget the matter. Nor did the noon intermission seem to improve matters much, for Gene’s ad- venture of the forenoon served as table talk; and the possibilities of the subject seemed so far from giving out that it promised to serve as such for many days to come. Little by lit- tle, however, the twitting grew more endurable. As he brought in his second load in the after- noon without eliciting any smart remarks, Gene began to feel that the incident had either been forgotten or that the joke had lost its savor. Suspenders came in to the machine earlier than usual, for the field was almost cleared. “Seems like \Vindy is hauling bigger loads ’n usual, this afternoon,” he remarked, inno- cently. “That’s so,” agreed Gene. “Wonder what’s up?” 7 “Dunno,’ rejoined Suspenders. “Can’t be that he is still using the elevator?” There was a burst of laughter from those present—for Suspenders had taken care that the conversation should not be too private,— and, when it subsided, Gene stepped closer to Suspenders. “No,” he said. “You know what I think? I think he’s gotten a pair of fresh suspenders!” The roar of derisive laughter that greeted this remark was very gratifying to Gene, be- cause it showed that the men were with him. Suspenders rose to the occasion by emitting an appreciative chuckle. He had reason to be in good spirits, because an old flivver had just pulled up to the rig with Dena and the after- noon lunch. Those who are fortunate enough to be by the machine when the lunch comes— thus being assured of quick service and hot coffee—are seldom in (bad humor. Then, too, Suspenders was given an excellent opportunity to divert attention from himself. Bakken had just left the machine and was driving toward the farther end of the field at breakneck speed. This remarkable phenomenon soon attracted the attention of all. The explanation, however, was obvious. The field was almost cleared. In the western end were still two short rows of shocks. The Swede, with half a load, was just finishing up one of these; Bakken, intent upon Show less
6pilogue The orchestra has begun playing its overture. Instruments of many different tonal qualities and pitches have sounded the initial note. Some are perhaps too loud, others lack animation, and a few may be flat or sharp; but on the Whole, every one lha responded Willineg with an en- deavor... Show more6pilogue The orchestra has begun playing its overture. Instruments of many different tonal qualities and pitches have sounded the initial note. Some are perhaps too loud, others lack animation, and a few may be flat or sharp; but on the Whole, every one lha responded Willineg with an en- deavor toward excellence. Each section is striv- ing to create an effect of harmony, and to in- spire its auditors. So have our group of writers begun; but they must also praceed—ever co-operating, ever alert, and ever vibrant with the creative spirit. They must constantly pursue the vision of a more perfect expression—now adding grace to the softer, more subtle emotion, then soaring to inspired heights of power; but ever reaching out toward a more adequate realization of the beautiful and true. Abner Batalden Show less
