It was a dramatic spectacle. As
soon as a sheep was shorn, the shearer ran with the fleece in his
hand to Luigo, threw it down on a table, received his five-cent
piece, dropped it in his pocket, ran to the pen, dragged out another
sheep, and in less than five minutes was back again with a second
fleece. The shorn sheep, released, bounded off into another pen,
where, light in the head no doubt from being three to five pounds
lighter on their legs, they trotted round bewilderedly for a moment,
then flung up their heels and capered for joy.
It was warm work. The dust from the fleeces and the trampling
feet filled the air. As the sun rose higher in the sky the sweat
poured off the men's faces; and Felipe, standing without shelter on
the roof, found out very soon that he had by no means yet got back
his full strength since the fever. Long before noon, except for sheer
pride, and for the recollection of Juan Canito's speech, he would
have come down and yielded his place to the old man. But he was
resolved not to give up, and he worked on, though his face was
purple and his head throbbing.
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