Back in the 1930’s my family had moved to Beaver Valley, in the Caribbo, B.C. Money was in very short supply… like about nil most of the time. Barter and trade was what got us through, I guess.
Labour was traded for the big jobs where you needed help, like at haying time.
My brother, Clendon, was part of the hay crew on Neil Roberson’s ranch. There was no Mrs. Robertson. I have no idea what had happened to her. There were two daughters, one sixteen and the other about ten. The men of the hay crew took turns cooking breakfast for them all.
This day it was my brother’s turn, and he was making pancakes. He decided to play a joke on the other guys. He cut out circles of brown paper. Then he would put pancake batter on the griddle, lay a piece of paper on it, then top it with more batter. He thought this would be hilarious when the guys started eating and found the paper.
After they had cleaned up all the pancakes, Clendon was afraid to tell them what he had done… so the joke was on him!