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"Come, lads, keep it up!" said Tit, and ran on ahead almost at a

trot.

"Get along, get along!" said the old man, hurrying after him and

easily overtaking him, "I'll mow you down, look out!"

And young and old mowed away, as though they were racing with one

another. But however fast they worked, they did not spoil the

grass, and the rows were laid just as neatly and exactly. The

little piece left uncut in the corner was mown in five minutes.

The last of the mowers were just ending their rows while the

foremost snatched up their coats onto their shoulders, and

crossed the road towards Mashkin Upland.

The sun was already sinking into the trees when they went with

their jingling dippers into the wooded ravine of Mashkin Upland.

The grass was up to their waists in the middle of the hollow,

soft, tender, and feathery, spotted here and there among the

trees with wild heart's-ease.