Also a cloud of dust and thin, flying streams of chaff enveloped Lenore.

The high stalks of barley, in wide sheets, fell before the cutter upon an apron, to be carried by feeders into the body of the machine.

The straw, denuded of its grain, came out at the rear, to be dropped, while the grain streamed out of a tube on the side next to Lenore, to fall into an open sack.

It made a short shift of harvesting.
Lenore liked the even, nodding rhythm of the plodding horses, and the way Bill threw a pebble from a sack on his seat, to hit this or that horse not keeping in line or pulling his share.

Bill's aim was unerring.
He never hit the wrong horse, which would have been the case had he used a whip.