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Updated: June 2, 2025
Huge mill, children flying kites, clouds, grain blown by wind, "The Windmill." Northwest corner, "Earth": Men high in trees and on ground, "The Fruit Pickers." Planting in Court: Tall Italian cypress before arches; orange trees; balled acacia; denseness of growth along colonnades; heavy and rank, suggesting tropical flora.
That day, to save the pickers' time, their bacon and corn pones were brought out to the field by wagon in wooden trays and buckets. There were three cotton-baskets filled with corn dodgers. Alston and Little Lizay sat not far apart while eating their dinners. "I reckon I's gittin' 'long tolerbul well ter-day," he said.
When night came not only Alston lingered, picking by moonlight, but Little Lizay; and this gave rise to much laughing among the other pickers, and to many coarse jokes. But to one who knew her secret it would have seemed piteous the girl's anxious face as the weighing proceeded, drawing on and on to Alston's basket and hers at the very end of the line.
Very soon Good Bird is ready and, with the cradle and bags strapped to her back, she starts for home. Other berry pickers loaded with fruit join her, and together they walk the trail that leads back to the camp. Nokomis is watching for the baby. She lifts the cradle and hangs it to the lodge pole. The little one is restless. She turns her head from side to side, her black eyes shining.
Such as these were drifting in early that they might be on the ground when pickers were wanted. They were the forerunners of the regular army. On his walk to West Ways, the farm Bolter lived on, Mount Dunstan passed two or three of these strays.
But Mount Dunstan knew that if he turned out Thorn and Fittle, whom no watching could wholly frustrate in their tricks, Under Mount Farm and Oakfield Rise would stand empty for many a year. But for his poverty Bolter would have been a good tenant enough. He was in trouble now because, though his hops promised well, he faced difficulties in the matter of "pickers."
Two automobiles carrying a sheriff's posse drove up to this meeting, and officials armed with guns and revolvers attempted to disperse the crowd and to arrest, on a John Doe warrant, Richard Ford, the apparent leader of the strike. In the ensuing confusion shooting began and some twenty shots were fired. Two pickers, a deputy sheriff, and the district attorney of the county were killed.
At other times they might pick and choose the chapters they read and talked about, but at worship time they read straight on, and in so doing fell on many a word of wonderful beauty, which the pickers and choosers might easily overlook. The last few verses of the chapter read that night were one of these, and quite new to one of the listeners, at least.
"Signorina Daphne," said Bertuccio, speaking slowly as to a child, "did you ever hear them tell of the maiden on the hills up here who was carried away by a god?" Daphne turned swiftly and tried to read his face. It was no less expressionless than usual. "No," she answered. "Tell me. I am fond of stories." They were climbing the winding road again, leaving the olive pickers behind.
But there was a sound of talking and of laughter, and the pickers, moving among the even lines in their gay rags, lent motley color to the picture. There was scarlet of waistcoat or of petticoat, blue and saffron of jacket and apron, and a blending of all bright tints in the kerchiefs above the hair.
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