It was easy for Jose to work with the new short-handled hoe Antonio had bought for him. Yet at the end of the day his arms and wrists were so tired that he could scarcely draw the bow across the violin. Many an evening the bow dropped from his hand as he fell asleep, heavy-eyed after being all day in the open air. As soon as the young maize-stalks were strong enough to stand the flow of water, the oxen were set to work at the _nora_ and streams of water began running down through the fields. The dry season had commenced. There was day after day of bright, unclouded sunshine. Then came the thinning of the crops, to make the strong stalks grow stronger, and to give food for the cattle. Working with his bare feet two or three inches deep in the warm, moist soil, Jose felt as if he were a part of this great, growing, beautiful world. The strength of the earth seemed to come into him with the air he breathed. He was taller and more sturdy: he no longer looked like the slim slip of a boy of six or seven months ago. Early in June the crops had grown to their limit. Their turning to a yellow color showed the ripening. It would soon be time for cutting down the first crop of barley, oats, rye and wheat, and to make ready for a second sowing. The flax had already been taken up, and had been steeped or soaked in water for more than a week. Now, well-dried in the sun, it must be broken and scutched by hand, or taken to some mill to be finally made ready for spinning. Antonio decided that he would carry the flax to Guimarães, where there were good mills, instead of having his mother and sisters do the work at home. Besides, he wanted to buy some new seeds for the second sowing. "Would you like to take a holiday with me to-morrow?" he asked Jose on the evening before St. Antonio's day. "Yes. Where? To Guimarães?" Jose replied quickly. "How did you guess, little brother?" "Because last autumn, when we went on a holiday, you said you would take me to Guimarães when we went away again." "We will start early to-morrow. We will take the oxen, because I am going to carry the flax to the mill." "It is good to have the holiday on St. Antonio's day. Because you have that name, the day should be your holiday, Antonio." CHAPTER IX ON ST. ANTONIO'S DAY "--in my soul is naught but gayety." --_Antonio Ferreira._ FOR the first time in all his life, Jose was to see Guimarães, the old city where Portugal's hero king, Affonso Henriquez, was born in 1109, the great warrior who made of Portugal a united country.