do or say, yet I was determined upon the attack.

Neither father nor son saw me until they had nearly reached the
end of the field.

"Step lively, Ben," I heard the man say with some impatience;
"we've got to finish this field to-day."

"I AM steppin' lively, dad," responded the boy, "but it's awful
hot. We can't possibly finish to-day. It's too much."

"We've got to get through here to-day," the man replied grimly;
"we're already two weeks late."

I know just how the man felt; for I knew well the difficulty a
farmer has in getting help in planting time. The spring waits
for no man. My heart went out to the man and boy struggling there
in the heat of their field. For this is the real warfare of the
common life.

"Why," I said to myself with a curious lift of the heart, "they
have need of a fellow just like me."

At that moment the boy saw me and, missing a step in the rhythm
of the planting, the father also looked up and saw me. But
neither said a word until the furrows were finished, and the
planters came to refill their baskets.

"Fine afternoon," I said, sparring for an opening.