noon
she replied that he was there , and began writing of him again in a careless sort of way , with the craft of woman already manifest in the change of front . Spring came again , and that ever-recurring miracle , the good green grass , sprang forth from its covering of ice and snow , up from its hiding-place in the dark , cold sod . Again the two men set to work ferociously at the seeding . Up early in the wide , sweet dawn , toiling through the day behind harrow and seeder , coming in at noon to a poor and badly cooked meal , hurrying back to the field and working till night , coming in at sundown so tired that one leg could hardly be dragged by the other -- this was their daily life . One day , as they were eating their supper of sour bread and canned beans , Gearheart irritatedly broke out : `` Ans , why do n't you git married ? It ` u 'd simplify matters a good ` eal if you should . ` Old Russ ' is no good . ''