The next thing I knew, Hudson bellowed, “All hands out!” My eyes snapped open just in time to see Paco leap to his feet, his blanket flying in mid-air, and a pitchfork clutched in his hands, but Hudson was nowhere in sight. Paco said he’d never come as far as the corner of the barn, but shouted before he got there, and turned back. There was no doubt that he planned to work that day, for it couldn’t have been later than quarter-past-four. “Well?” Doc asked, as much as to say, “Are we going to work or not?” “Let’s go do it,” I told the fellows, “but stay away from Hudson, and don’t blow up if he yells at you. If he wants to start trouble, let him start it with me; I’m the one he’s mad at.” A lamp was lit in the kitchen, and as we went to the windmill to wash we could see Hudson eating at the table. He came out and headed for the barn just as we finished washing. Breakfast was on the table, the door to the next room stood slightly ajar, and the house was deathly still.
