He hesitated a moment, then went across the road to the meadow and picked an armful of young tufts of clover. He fed it to the horses, a handful at a time. They ate eagerly, all trace of fear gone as they reached out their necks for the young grass. Over the boy's face passed a conflict of expressions. At one time the cheeks were soft, and a boyish look lay in his eyes. Then came a strange, dry expression, as of age, which formed tense lines about his mouth; but as he climbed up to the seat of the cultivator, the softer expression remained. The horses were beginning to draw at the tugs when the boy heard a horse galloping on the road behind him. He looked back. One of the neighbor boys, Bill Symonds, was riding furiously down the hill. The boy turned quickly about in the seat as if he had not seen Bill and tried to hurry the horses. What did Bill want, anyway? It was like him to blunder along when he wasn't wanted! His big, greasy face shaded by the long hair falling unkempt over his forehead had always made the boy dislike Bill. He tightened the reins. "Hey, Frank, wait a minute!" Bill slid awkwardly from the colt's back. The boy twisted the reins about the levers and turned in the seat. "How are you, Bill," he answered without animation. Bill tied the colt, a bay, to the willows. "Well, what do you think of my new colt?" He came closer and lounged forward against the fence. "I broke him in myself--all alone, too! Now, that was a job, Lord! You ought t' seen him buckin' an' standin' on his hind legs!" They were silent for a moment. Bill amused himself by flinging clods at the colt, which jumped wildly each time one struck him, his body quivering, his eyes white and distended. After a few clods Bill turned to the boy. "I guess maybe I'll be leavin' soon." The boy looked up quickly. "Yep. I'm goin' off to my brother's ranch in Dakota. I'm gettin' tired of the work here--it's too hard. It's work, work, work all the time with a little while for eatin' and sleepin'. All summer you c'n work your head off and then in winter you can lay off for a couple of months and don't know what to do." The boy looked out over the fields. Even Bill could go away. The heavy, flabby cheeks, from which the small eyes peered inquisitively, disgusted the boy. Bill picked up another bit of turf and threw it so that the colt jumped wildly, pulling the young willows almost to the ground. The boy turned to Bill, his face flushed. "Say--if you want to stay around here you got to cut out firing stones at that colt. You'll never get 'im tame that way--you thick-headed fool!" Bill stood quiet for a moment. The boy saw an expression of incredulous surprise on Bill's face. Then it became brick-red. He did not wait for Bill to answer but started the horses.