So the next morning the horses were hitched to the mowing machine, and Peter drove out to the meadow. The plumy heads of the tall timothy swayed on their slender stalks as they bowed before the breeze that swept over the meadow, making it look in the sunshine like the rippling surface of a quiet lake. [Illustration: Mowing the meadow.] It seemed a pity to cut it down, but Peter thought only of the fine hay it would make, as he drove around the meadow again and again, each time coming nearer the center. No sound broke the stillness but the "click, click" of the sharp knives, at the touch of which the tall grass quivered a moment and then fell. In the afternoon Donald rode the rake, to which one of the horses, strong and steady, was hitched. The horse knew his business. He needed no direction from Donald as up and down the meadow he went, with slow and even steps. Donald sat on the small round seat, his hand grasping the lever by which he raised and lowered the long curved teeth of the rake that gathered up the hay and dropped it in long rows called windrows. Mr. Leonard and Frank followed with their pitchforks, and piled the windrows into big round cocks. The sun shone hot and clear. A strong, dry south wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the sweet smell of the newly mown hay. The second day Mr. Leonard rode the machine while Peter and Frank opened the hay that had been cocked the day before, so that it would be nicely dried. By noon it was all cut. The next day they raked it up for the last time and began to stow it away in the big haymows in the barn, where the very smell of it would make the horses hungry. "Susie and I are coming out to help this afternoon," said Uncle Robert, as, after a short rest in the cool porch, the haymakers, started for the meadow again. "We'll take all the help we can get," replied Mr. Leonard. "I am afraid it is going to rain," said Uncle Robert, as he started a little later with Susie for the hayfield. "The barometer has fallen since morning." "But, uncle," said Susie, "I don't see any clouds." [Illustration: Raking and cocking hay.] "Watch, and you'll see them before long," returned Uncle Robert. "What is that in the west now?" "It looks like the beginning of a cloud," said Susie. Mr. Leonard, Peter, and Frank were loading the hay into a big wagon, while Donald raked after them. "There's a shower coming," said Uncle Robert, pointing toward the west. All paused and looked at the bank of clouds just coming into sight along the western horizon. The air was still and sultry. Great beads of perspiration rolled down the faces of the haymakers. "It's going to rain, sure," shouted Mr. Leonard, "and we must hurry or this fine hay will be spoiled. Harness up the horses to the other hayrack, Frank and Donald--be quick!" The boys did not need urging. They felt the need, and ran to the barn. "Bring some extra pitchforks!" shouted their father after them.