Tim felt in his soul the day of
battle could not be delayed past this season; indeed, it might come any
day. The very thought of it made his slight body quiver and his heart
beat so quickly as almost to choke him.
To the turnip field hied Haley's men, Perkins and Webster leading the
way, Tim and Cameron bringing up the rear.
"You promised to show me how to do it, Tim," said Cameron. "Remember I
shall be very slow."
"Oh, shucks!" replied Tim, "turnip-hoeing is as easy as rollin' off a
log if yeh know how to do it."
"Exactly!" cried Cameron, "but that is what I don't. You might give me
some pointers."
"Well, you must be able to hit what yeh aim at."
"Ah! that means a good eye and steady hand," said Cameron. "Well, I can
do billiards some and golf. What else?"
"Well, you mustn't be too careful, slash right in and don't give a rip."
"Ah! nerve, eh!" said Cameron. "Well, I have done some Rugby in my
day--I know something of that. What else? This sounds good."
"Then you've got to leave only one turnip in one place and not a weed;
and you mustn't leave any blanks. Dad gets hot over that."
"Indeed, one turnip in each place and not a weed," echoed Cameron. "Say!
this business grows interesting. No blanks! Anything else?" he demanded.
"No, I guess not, only if yeh ever git into a race ye've got to keep
goin' after you're clear tuckered out and never let on.
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