edge and swore. “Well, look at the mouths I have to feed, you lazies!”
he shouted. “Keep at the work. Don't be idling around. In two weeks
it'll be too late for planting and then you can rest. Now every plant
we set will help to save us from ruin. Keep at the job. Don't be idling
around.”
In the spring of his second year in Bidwell, Hugh went often in the
evening to watch the plant setters at work in the moonlight on the
French farm. He did not make his presence known but hid himself in
a fence corner behind bushes and watched the workers. As he saw the
stooped misshapen figures crawling slowly along and heard the words of
the old man driving them like cattle, his heart was deeply touched and
he wanted to protest. In the dim light the slowly moving figures of
women appeared, and after them came the crouched crawling men. They
came down the long row toward him, wriggling into his line of sight like
grotesquely misshapen animals driven by some god of the night to the
performance of a terrible task. An arm went up. It came down again
swiftly. The three-cornered hoe sank into the ground. The slow rhythm
of the crawler was broken. He reached with his disengaged hand for the
plant that lay on the ground before him and lowered it into the hole the
hoe had made. With his fingers he packed the earth about the roots of
the plant and then again began the slow crawl forward. There were four
of the French boys and the two older ones worked in silence. The younger
boys complained. The three girls and their mother, who were attending
to the plant dropping, came to the end of the row and turning, went away
into the darkness. “I'm going to quit this slavery,” one of the younger
boys said. “I'll get a job over in town. I hope it's true what they say,
that factories are coming.”
The four young men came to the end of the row and, as Ezra was not in
sight, stood a moment by the fence near where Hugh was concealed. “I'd
rather be a horse or a cow than what I am,” the complaining voice went
on. “What's the good being alive if you have to work like this?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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