Hills of the Shatemuc | Page 3

the whip through his fingers;
"what did you do it for?"
"He, he! -- I didn't know but what it was you, Will."
For all answer, the ox-whip was laid about Sam's legs, with the zest of
furious indignation; a fury there was no standing against. It is true,
Rufus's frame was no match for the hardened one of Mr. Doolittle,
though he might be four or five years the elder of the two boys; but the
spirit that was in him cowed Sam, in part, and in part amused him. He
made no offer to return the blows; he stood, or rather jumped, as the
whip slung itself round his legs, crying out,
"Lay it on, Will! -- Lay it on! Hi -- That's right -- Tuck it on, Will! --"
Till Will's arm was tired; and flinging away from them, in a towering
passion still, he went up the hill after his oxen. Sam rubbed his legs.
"I say, Governor, we're quits now, ben't we?" he said in a sort of mock
humble good-humour, as Winthrop was about to follow his brother.

"Yes, yes. Be off with yourself!"
"I wish it had ha' been 'tother one, anyhow," muttered Sam.
Not a word passed between the brothers about either the ducking or the
flagellation. They spoke not but to their oxen. Rufus's mouth was in the
heroic style yet, all the way up the hill; and the lips of the other only
moved once or twice to smile.
The day was sultry, as it had promised, and the uphill lay of the ground
made the ploughing heavy, and frequent rests of the oxen were
necessary. Little communication was held between the ploughmen
nevertheless; the day wore on, and each kept steadily to his work and
seemingly to his own thoughts. The beautiful scene below them, which
they were alternately facing and turning their backs upon, was too well
known even to delay their attention; and for the greater part of the day
probably neither of them saw much beyond his plough and his furrow.
They were at work on a very elevated point of view, from which the
channel of the river and the high grounds on the other side were
excellently seen. Valley there was hardly any; the up-springing walls of
green started from the very border of the broad white stream which
made its way between them. They were nowhere less than two hundred
feet high; above that, moulded in all manner of heights and hollows;
sometimes reaching up abruptly to twelve or fourteen hundred feet, and
sometimes stretching away in long gorges and gentle declivities, -- hills
grouping behind hills. In Summer all these were a mass of living green,
that the eye could hardly arrange; under Spring's delicate marshalling
every little hill took its own place, and the soft swells of ground stood
back the one from the other, in more and more tender colouring. The
eye leapt from ridge to ridge of beauty; not green now, but in the very
point of the bursting leaf, taking what hue it pleased the sun. It was a
dainty day; and it grew more dainty as the day drew towards its close
and the lights and shadows stretched athwart the landscape again. The
sun-touched lines and spots of the mountains now, in some places,
were of a bright orange, and the shadows between them deep neutral
tint or blue. And the river, apparently, had stopped running to reflect.

The oxen were taking one of their rests, in the latter part of the day, and
Winthrop was sitting on the beam of his plough, when for the first time
Rufus came and joined him. He sat down in silence and without so
much as looking at his brother; and both in that warm and weary day
sat a little while quietly looking over the water; or perhaps at the little
point of rest, the little brown spot among the trees on the promontory,
where home and mother and little baby sister, and the end of the day,
and the heart's life, had their sole abiding-place. A poor little shrine, to
hold so much!
Winthrop's eyes were there, his brother's were on the distance. When
did such two ever sit together on the beam of one plough, before or
since! Perhaps the eldest might have seen nineteen summers, but his
face had nothing of the boy, beyond the fresh colour and fine hue of
youth. The features were exceedingly noble, and even classically
defined; the eye as beautiful now in its grave thoughtfulness as it had
been a few hours before in its fire. The mouth was never at rest; it was
twitching or curving at the corners now with the working of some
hidden cogitations. The frame of the younger