"Shallow and frequent cultivation seems to be the rule around here," Orrin remarked. "Yes. And Mr. Turner tells me that only year before last he lost fifteen acres in one piece by the corn being knocked down in a big wind and hail storm just as it was silking. However, our cultivating is going awfully slow. I don't know but I shall have to get Mr. Bronson to furnish one of those three-horse hoes for next year, if I am really going to make a corn crop." This conversation was carried on while Hiram and Orrin were driving over to the pasture behind Jerry, and carrying with them a tub of salt for the cattle. Salting the cattle is always a Sunday job on the farm; but as a usual thing Hiram went to church before going to the pasture. They had got up too late on the morning after the tornado, however, to drive to the church service. It was only high noon when they came to the pasture gate. "I don't see that spotted yearling," Orrin said, as he climbed down to open the gate and the herd began to turn toward them. "He's usually right at the head of the bunch." "That red one with the crooked horn is missing, too," Hiram said, "I am afraid something has happened, Orrin." "Oh, they've just strayed away," said Post cheerfully. "Don't be worried." However, after the herd had come up and been counted and they found that four were missing, even Orrin acknowledged that there was reason for anxiety. They salted the young stock and then left Jerry to graze while they beat the pasture brush and the woods adjoining in search of the four missing animals. There was a plain path of the tornado's passing in this patch of wood. Several trees were uprooted and one huge forest monarch that had been struck by lightning years before and had stood dead and stripped of bark, had been snapped off at the butt. Under its heavy and sprawling limbs lay the four young steers, their backs broken by the weight of the fallen tree. "There lies a hundred dollars profit, as sure as you live, Orrin," Hiram Strong declared. "I hate to tell Mr. Bronson that. And look at that silo, too." "Don't worry," said the other, but looking grimly at the dead cattle. "You did not bring the wind, I should hope. And that silo isn't your business, either." Hiram, nevertheless, was much disturbed by the unfortunate accident. Mr. Bronson and Lettie came up to Sunnyside that afternoon. The loss of the young cattle was, of course, irreparable; but the owner of Sunnyside declared he would demand that Dolan and MacComb straighten up the silo and make it firm before the next wind. "Maybe I would have been wiser had I built the silo of cement, after all," he said to his young farm manager. "It is hard to know sometimes where real economy begins. 'Penny wise and pound foolish' is not my usual failing-- "How about your log drains, Hiram? That was another economy." "You ought to have seen the water spurting out of the drains after that big rain last night. Come down there and have a look now."