Farmer Boy Read Online Free PDF

Then he said:
    “Well, son, I'll leave you to figure it out.” And he went into the barn.
    Then Almanzo knew that he was really old enough to do important things all by himself.
    He stood in the snow and looked at the calves, and they stared innocently at him. He wondered how to teach them what “Giddap!” meant. There wasn't any way to tell them. But he must find some way to tell them:
    “When I say, 'Giddap!' you must walk straight ahead.”
    Almanzo thought awhile, and then he left the calves and went to the cows' feed-box, and filled his pockets with carrots. He came back and stood as far in front of the calves as he could, holding the rope in his left hand. He put his right hand into the pocket of his barn jumper. Then he shouted, “Giddap!” and he showed Star and Bright a carrot in his hand.
    They came eagerly.
    “Whoa!” Almanzo shouted when they reached him, and they stopped for the carrot. He gave each of them a piece, and when they had eaten it he backed away again, and putting his hand in his pocket he shouted:
    “Giddap!”
    It was astonishing how quickly they learned that “Giddap!” meant to start forward, and “Whoa!” meant to stop. They were behaving as well as grown-up oxen when Father came to the barn door and said:
    “That's enough, son.”
    Almanzo did not think it was enough, but of course he could not contradict Father.
    “Calves will get sullen and stop minding you if you work them too long at first,” Father said.
    “Besides, it's dinner-time.”
    Almanzo could hardly believe it. The whole morning had gone in a minute.
    He took out the bow-pins, let the bows down, and lifted the yoke off the calves' necks. He put Star and Bright in their warm stall. Then Father showed him how to wipe the bows and yoke with wisps of clean hay, and hang them on their pegs.
    He must always clean them and keep them dry, or the calves would have sore necks.
    In the Horse-Barn he stopped just a minute to look at the colts. He liked Star and Bright, but calves were clumsy and awkward compared with the slender, fine, quick colts. Their nostrils fluttered when they breathed, their ears moved as swiftly as birds. They tossed their heads with a flutter of manes, and daintily pawed with their slender legs and little hoofs, and their eyes were full of spirit.
    “I'd like to help break a colt,” Almanzo ven-tured to say.
    “It's a man's job, son,” Father said. “One little mistake'11 ruin a fine colt.”
    Almanzo did not say any more. He went soberly into the house.
    It was strange to be eating all alone with Father and Mother. They ate at the table in the kitchen, because there was no company today. The kitchen was bright with the glitter of snow outside. The floor and the tables were scrubbed bone white with lye and sand. The tin saucepans glittered silver, and the copper pots gleamed gold on the walls, the teakettle hummed, and the gerani-ums on the window-sill were redder than Mother's red dress.
    Almanzo was very hungry. He ate in silence, busily filling the big emptiness inside him, while Father and Mother talked. When they finished eating, Mother jumped up and began putting the dishes into the dishpan.
    “You fill the wood-box, Almanzo,” she said.
    “And then there's other things you can do.”
    Almanzo opened the woodshed door by the stove. There, right before him, was a new hand-sled!
    He could hardly believe it was for him. The calf-yoke was his birthday present. He asked:
    “Whose sled is that, Father? Is it—it isn't for me?”
    Mother laughed and Father twinkled his eyes and asked, “Do you know any other nine-year-old that wants it?”
    It was a beautiful sled. Father had made it of hickory. It was long and slim and swift-looking; the hickory runners had been soaked and bent into long, clean curves that seemed ready to fly.
    Almanzo stroked the shiny-smooth wood. It was polished so perfectly that he could not feel even the tops of the wooden pegs that held it together.
    There was a bar