reapers. The sun climbed the vault of the sky and the heat grew fierce; the wind fell still, and the barley stalks grew quiet, no movement left in them, standing erect in utter calm with their whitening heads and golden stems. A great scattered gap had opened in the barley and was widening still. The bare patch was covered with a little green clover that had been sown with the barley, and it was dotted with the sheaves, which the blazing sun was turning white. Through the clamor of the arguing people ran the regular crunching sound of the reaping-hooks.

Before noon Bodkin had reaped half his strip. A stone had been set in the middle of the dividing line, and when Bodkin reached it he lifted it in his hand, stood upright, and shouted: "Here is the proof that never was a man born on the island of Inverara with the skill of Johnny Bodkin." The crowd gathered on the wall answered him with cheers, but big-bodied Kate Considine waved a boot over her head in glee and shouted in her harsh, mannish voice: "The day is still young, Bodkin, you man of soft flesh!" The crowd burst into roars of laughter, and Bodkin seethed with rage but made no answer, for he was not quick of wit. As for Gill and his wife, they paid her no heed and never lifted their eyes from the reaping.

Bodkin's wife was the first to go and fetch the midday meal. She came with a can full of cold tea and a whole cake of white flour baked in the oven and cut into large pieces, each piece drenched in butter. She had with her also four eggs boiled until they had turned to stone.

Bodkin and his wife had no children, and so they could live a life of ease — at any rate a life far better than that of the other peasants. Bodkin flung down his hook and devoured three of the

eggs greedily, while his wife — no less hungry than he — devoured the fourth. Then Bodkin set about eating the bread and butter and drinking the cold tea with a speed no less than the speed with which he had reaped the barley. It took him and his wife exactly two minutes and three-quarters to finish off all that great quantity of food and drink. Gallagher, the doctor, timed them as he stood on the coast road, seized as he was with intense curiosity. And no sooner had they finished their food than they resumed work with the same violence and frenzy.

Considine had come level with Bodkin at the very moment Bodkin resumed work; and instead of resting to take the meal, he and his wife ate according to the old custom handed down among the peasants of Inverara in contests of this kind. Kate fed her husband a cake of oatmeal spread with butter, and from time to time she handed him the can of tea, and he would pause to swallow a draught. Thus he was still nearly level with Bodkin when he finished his meal. The excitement of the onlookers grew when they saw such resolve in Considine, and some began to say he would win the race.

But no one paid any attention to Gill and his wife; yet they did not stop to eat, and they were drawing ever nearer to their rivals. They were still some distance behind, but they seemed to be keeping their strength and vigor, while weariness had begun to show on Bodkin, his heavy meal having shackled his vigor, and while it grew plain that Considine had begun to empty his quiver of its hoarded strength. When they reached the stone at the halfway mark, Gill quietly laid down his hook and told his wife to bring the food. She fetched it from the wall: a cake of oatmeal spread with butter and a bottle of fresh

milk with a measure of oatmeal in the bottom of it. They ate unhurriedly, then rested a while. People began to jeer at them when they saw them resting, but the two paid them no heed. After nearly twenty minutes they rose to resume work. A shout of mockery and derision went up, and a decrepit old man cried: "You are a disgrace to my name, Michael." Michael answered: "Calm yourself, father; the race is not over yet." Then he spat on his palms and gripped his hook once more.

Then indeed, truth be told, agitation and excitement reached their height, for Gill and his wife resumed work at great speed. Their movements were still as mechanical and regular as before, but they had doubled their speed, or nearly so. People began to shout at them, and the notables began to lay wagers. Feeling had not run so high before, since it had been taken for granted that Bodkin would win, he having drawn so far ahead. But now there appeared what threatened Bodkin's supremacy. True, he was still a long stretch ahead of Gill, but it became plain that fatigue had settled upon him; his hook began to miss stroke after stroke, and its head kept catching in the ground. The sweat was pouring from Bodkin, and he began to look behind him at Gill, furious at the shouting of the people.

Shortly before four o'clock Considine's strength gave out and he fell to the ground utterly spent, so that they had to carry him to the wall. A crowd gathered around him, and the clergyman, Mr. Robertson, gave him a draught of brandy from

his flask, which brought back his senses. He tried to return to the work but could not rise. His wife said angrily: "Stay here — you are done for. I will carry on the work myself."