Any more irons in the fire? Ay, indeed, and all the
while hot and waiting. Bad weather has set in, and all the work ought to
be done at once. When we've finished threshing, there's the fresh straw to
be cut up and salted down in bins to keep it from rotting. That all? Not
by a long way: irons enough still glowing hot. Grindhusen and the maids
are pulling potatoes. Nils snatches the precious time after a couple of
dry days to sow a patch of rye and send the lad over it with the harrow.
Lars Falkenberg is still ploughing; he has given way altogether and turned
out a fine ploughman since the Captain and Fruen came back. When the
corn-land's too soft he ploughs the meadows; then, when sun and wind have
dried things a bit, he goes on to the corn-land again.
The work goes on steadily and well; in the afternoon the Captain himself
comes out to lend a hand. The last load of corn in being brought in.
Captain Falkenberg is no child at the work, big and strong he is, and with
the right knack of it.
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