But hardly had they
touched the ground when from the farmhouse a man came running in his
shirtsleeves, his lower limbs being garbed in overalls and knee-boots.
On his chin was a goatee, and as he drew closer they saw that his face
was thin and hatchet shaped and anything but agreeable.
"You git out of thar! You git out of thar!" he kept shouting as he came
along, stumbling over the stubble, for the field had been newly reaped.
"Why, what's the matter? We're not hurting anything," objected Roy;
"surely you don't mind our occupying the field for an hour or so till
the storm blows over?"
"I daon't, hey? Wa'al, I do, by heck. I own all the way daown and all
the way up frum this farm, and thet's ther law."
"If we didn't have these ladies with us we'd be only too glad to leave
your field," rejoined Jimsy, "but you can see for yourself a nasty storm
is coming up."
"What bizness hes gals riding round in them sky-buggies," stormed the
farmer; "ef any darter uv mine did it I'd lock her up on bread an'
water, by Jim Hill.
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