So we began in fine spirits. I was delighted with the favourable
beginning of my enterprise; there is nothing which so draws men
together as their employment at a common task.

Ben was a lad some fifteen years old-very stout and stocky, with
a fine open countenance and a frank blue eye--all boy. His nose
was as freckled as the belly of a trout. The whole situation,
including the prospect of help in finishing a tiresome job,
pleased him hugely. He stole a glimpse from time to time at me
then at his father. Finally he said:

"Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad."

"I'll show you," I said, "how we used to drop potatoes when I was
a boy."

And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the
pieces fairly fly.

"We old fellows," I said to the father, "must give these young
sprouts a lesson once in a while."

"You will, will you?" responded the boy, and instantly began to
drop the potatoes at a prodigious speed. The father followed with
more dignity, but with evident amusement, and so we all came with
a rush to the end of the row.

"I guess that beats the record across THIS field!" remarked the
lad, puffing and wiping his forehead. "Say, but you're a good