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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1679-0.txt b/1679-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8aebb5e --- /dev/null +++ b/1679-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8731 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hiram The Young Farmer, by Burbank L. Todd + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hiram The Young Farmer + +Author: Burbank L. Todd + +Posting Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1679] +Release Date: March, 1999 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER + +By Burbank L. Todd + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER I. THE CALL OF SPRING + +CHAPTER II. AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + +CHAPTER III. A DREARY DAY + +CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD + +CHAPTER V. THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + +CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + +CHAPTER VII. HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + +CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + +CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN IS MADE + +CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + +CHAPTER XI. A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + +CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + +CHAPTER XIII. THE UPROOTING + +CHAPTER XIV. GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + +CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE BREWS + +CHAPTER XV. ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + +CHAPTER XVII. MR. PEPPER APPEARS + +CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD + +CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY + +CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + +CHAPTER XXI. THE WELCOME TEMPEST + +CHAPTER XXII. FIRST FRUITS + +CHAPTER XXIII. TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + +CHAPTER XXIV. “CORN THAT'S CORN” + +CHAPTER XXV. THE BARBECUE + +CHAPTER XXVI. SISTER'S TURKEYS + +CHAPTER XXVII. RUN TO EARTH + +CHAPTER XXVIII. HARVEST + +CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + +CHAPTER XXX. ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + +CHAPTER XXXI. “MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD” + +CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + +CHAPTER XXXIII. “CELERY MAD” + +CHAPTER XXXIV. CLEANING UP A PROFIT + +CHAPTER XXXV. LOOKING AHEAD + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE CALL OF SPRING + +“Well, after all, the country isn't such a bad place as some city folk +think.” + +The young fellow who said this stood upon the highest point of the Ridge +Road, where the land sloped abruptly to the valley in which lay the +small municipality of Crawberry on the one hand, while on the other open +fields and patches of woodland, in a huge green-and-brown checkerboard +pattern, fell more easily to the bank of the distant river. + +Dotted here and there about the farming country lying before the youth +as he looked westward were cottages, or the more important-looking +homesteads on the larger farms; and in the distance a white church spire +behind the trees marked the tiny settlement of Blaine's Smithy. + +A Sabbath calm lay over the fields and woods. It was mid-afternoon of +an early February Sunday--the time of the mid-winter thaw, that false +prophet of the real springtime. + +Although not a furrow had been turned as yet in the fields, and the snow +lay deep in some fence corners and beneath the hedges, there was, after +all, a smell of fresh earth--a clean, live smell--that Hiram Strong had +missed all week down in Crawberry. + +“I'm glad I came up here,” he muttered, drawing in great breaths of +the clean air. “Just to look at the open fields, without any brick and +mortar around, makes a fellow feel fine!” + +He stretched his arms above his head and, standing alone there on the +upland, felt bigger and better than he had in weeks. + +For Hiram Strong was a country boy, born and bred, and the town stifled +him. Besides, he had begun to see that his two years in Crawberry had +been wasted. + +“As a hustler after fortune in the city I am not a howling success,” + mused Hiram. “Somehow, I'm cramped down yonder,” and he glanced back +at the squalid brick houses below him, the smoky roofs, and the ugly +factory chimneys. + +“And I declare,” he pursued, reflectively, “I don't believe I can stand +Old Dan Dwight much longer. Dan, Junior, is bad enough--when he is +around the store; but the boss would drive a fellow to death.” + +He shook his head, now turning from the pleasanter prospect of the +farming land and staring down into the town. + +“Maybe I'm not a success because I don't stick to one thing. I've had +six jobs in less'n two years. That's a bad record for a boy, I believe. +But there hasn't any of them suited me, nor have I suited them. + +“And Dwight's Emporium beats 'em all!” finished Hiram, shaking his head. + +He turned his back upon the town once more, as though to wipe his +failure out of his memory. Before him sloped a field of wheat and +clover. + +It had kept as green under the snow as though winter was an unknown +season. Every cloverleaf sparkled and the leaves of wheat bristled like +tiny spears. + +Spring was on the way. He could hear the call of it! + +Two years before Hiram had left the farm. He had no immediate relatives +after his father died. The latter had been a tenant-farmer only, and +when his tools and stock and the few household chattels had been sold +to pay the debts that had accumulated during his last illness, there was +very little money left for Hiram. + +There was nobody to say him nay when he packed his bag and started for +Crawberry, which was the metropolis of his part of the country. He had +set out boldly, believing that he could get ahead faster, and become +master of his own fortune more quickly in town than in the locality +where he was born. + +He was a rugged, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall, but +sturdy and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done a man's +work before he left the farm. + +Hiram's hands were calloused, he shuffled a bit when walked, and his +shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow handles since +he had been big enough to bridle his father's old mare. + +Yes, the work on the farm had been hard--especially for a growing boy. +Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had. + +Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has in store for +most country boys who cut loose from their old environment, Hiram Strong +felt to-day as though he must get back to the land. + +“There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium will +never get me anywhere,” he thought, turning finally away from the open +country and starting down the steep hill. + +“Why, there are college boys working on our street cars here--waiting +for some better job to turn up. What chance does a fellow stand who's +only got a country school education? + +“And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry--fun that +doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more than enough to +pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a new suit of overalls +and a pair of shoes occasionally. + +“No, sir!” concluded Hiram. “There's nothing in it. Not for a fellow +like me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm--and I wish I was +there now.” + +He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner at his +boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he had nothing to +look forward to as he returned but the stuffy parlor of Mrs. Atterson's +boarding house, the cold supper in the dining-room, which was attended +in a desultory fashion by such of the boarders as were at home, and then +a long, dull evening in his room, or bed after attending the evening +service at the church around the corner. + +Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house +table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks about Mrs. +Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his +class, or the grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid, or the +inane monologue of Old Lem Camp. + +And Mrs. Atterson herself--good soul though she was--had gotten on Hiram +Strong's nerves, too. With her heat-blistered face, near-sighted eyes +peering through beclouded spectacles, and her gown buttoned up hurriedly +and with a gap here and there where a button was missing, she was the +typically frowsy, hurried, nagged-to-death boarding house mistress. + +And as for “Sister,” Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and +maid-of-all-work---- + +“Well, Sister's the limit!” smiled Hiram, as he turned into the street, +with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. “I believe Fred +Crackit has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps Sister instead of a +cat--so there'll be something to kick.” + +The half-grown girl--narrow-chested, round shouldered, and sallow--had +been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity institution. “Sister,” as +the boarders all called her, for lack of any other cognomen, would have +her yellow hair in four attenuated pigtails hanging down her back, and +she would shuffle about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old +shoes---- + +“By Jove! there she is now,” exclaimed the startled youth. + +At the corner of the street several “slices” of the brick block had +been torn away and the lot cleared for the erection of some business +building. Running across this open space with wild shrieks and spilling +the milk from the big pitcher she carried--milk for the boarders' tea, +Hi knew--came Mrs. Atterson's maid. + +Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present “pigtails,” + bounded a boy of about her own age--a laughing, yelling imp of a boy +whom Hiram knew very well. + +“That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the town!” + he said to himself. + +The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few +people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more or less +noise. + +Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk and told +Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, yelling to her to +“Get up!” and yanking as hard as he could on the braids. + +“Here! that's enough of that!” called Hiram, stepping quickly toward the +two. + +For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears. + +“Be off with you!” commanded Hiram. “You've plagued the girl enough.” + +“Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!” returned Dan, Junior, grabbing at +Sister's hair again. + +Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him around. + +“You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister,” he said, quietly. “No, you +don't!” he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. “You'll stop right +here.” + +“Lemme be, Hi Strong!” bawled the other, when he found he could not +easily jerk away. “It'll be the worse for you if you don't.” + +“Just you wait until the girl is home,” returned Hiram, laughing. It was +an easy matter for him to hold the writhing Dan, Junior. + +“I'll fix you for this!” squalled the boy. “Wait till I tell my father.” + +“You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth,” laughed Hi. + +“I'll fix you,” repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a vicious kick +at his captor. + +Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended--under Hi's kneecap--the +latter certainly would have been “fixed.” But the country youth was too +agile for him. + +He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and then gave +him a backward thrust which sent the lighter boy spinning. + +Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path was +a puddle several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, staggered +back, tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed full length into +it. + +“Oh, oh!” he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he scrambled +out. “I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll catch it for this!” + +“You'd better run home before you catch cold,” said Hiram, who could not +help laughing at the young rascal's plight. “And let girls alone another +time.” + +To himself he said: “Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much more +in bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this escapade of his +precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, Junior, says. + +“Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for another job +in a very few days.” + + + +CHAPTER II. AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + +When you came into “Mother” Atterson's front hall (the young men +boarders gave her that appellation in irony) the ghosts of many ancient +boiled dinners met you with--if you were sensitive and unused to the +odors of cheap boarding houses--a certain shock. + +He was starting up the stairs, on which the ragged carpet threatened to +send less agile persons than Mrs. Atterson's boarders headlong to +the bottom at every downward trip, when the clang of the gong in the +dining-room announced the usual cold spread which the landlady thought +due to her household on the first day of the week. + +Hiram hesitated, decided that he would skip the meal, and started up +again. But just then Fred Crackit lounged out of the parlor, with Mr. +Peebles following him. Dyspeptic as he was, Mr. Peebles never missed a +meal himself, and Crackit said: + +“Come on, Hi-Low-Jack! Aren't you coming down to the usual feast of +reason and flow of soul?” + +Crackit thought he was a natural humorist, and he had to keep up his +reputation at all times and seasons. He was rather a dissipated-looking +man of thirty years or so, given to gay waistcoats and wonderfully knit +ties. A brilliant as large as a hazel-nut--and which, in some lights, +really sparkled like a diamond--adorned the tie he wore this evening. + +“I don't believe I want any supper,” responded Hiram, pleasantly. + +“What's the matter? Got some inside information as to what Mother +Atterson has laid out for us? You're pretty thick with the old girl, +Hi.” + +“That's not a nice way to speak of her, Mr. Crackit,” said Hi, in a low +voice. + +The other boarders--those who were in the house-straggled into the +basement dining-room one after the other, and took their places at the +long table, each in his customary manner. + +That dining-room at Mother Atterson's never could have been a cheerful +place. It was long, and low-ceiled, and the paper on the walls was +a dingy red, so old that the figure on it had retired into the +background--been absorbed by it, so to speak. + +The two long, dusty, windows looked upon an area, and were grilled half +way up by wrought-iron screens which, too, helped to shut out the light +of day. + +The long table was covered by a red figured table cloth. The “castors” + at both ends and in the middle were the ugliest--Hiram was sure--to be +found in all the city of Crawberry. The crockery was of the coarsest +kind. The knives and forks were antediluvian. The napkins were as coarse +as huck towels. + +But Mrs. Atterson's food--considering the cost of provisions and the +charge she made for her table--was very good. Only it had become a habit +for certain of the boarders, led by the jester, Crackit, to criticise +the viands. + +Sometimes they succeeded in making Mrs. Atterson angry; and sometimes, +Hiram knew, she wept, alone in the dining-room, after the harumscarum, +thoughtless crowd had gone. + +Old Lem Camp--nobody save Hiram thought to put “Mr.” before the old +gentleman's name--sidled in and sat down beside the country boy, as +usual. He was a queer, colorless sort of person--a man who never looked +into the face of another if he could help it. He would look all around +Hiram when he spoke to him--at his shoulder, his shirtfront, his hands, +even at his feet if they were visible, but never at his face. + +And at the table he kept up a continual monologue. It was difficult +sometimes for Hiram to know when he was being addressed, and when poor +Mr. Camp was merely talking to himself. + +“Let's see--where has Sister put my napkin--Oh! here it is--You've been +for a walk, have you, young man?--No, that's not my napkin; I didn't +spill any gravy at dinner--Nice day out, but raw--Goodness me! can't I +have a knife and fork?--Where's my knife and fork?--Sister certainly has +forgotten my knife and fork.--Oh! Here they are--Yes, a very nice day +indeed for this time of year.” + +And so on. It was quite immaterial to Mr. Camp whether he got an answer +to his remarks to Hiram, or not. He went on muttering to himself, all +through the meal, sometimes commenting upon what the others said at the +table--and that quite shrewdly, Hiram noticed; but the other boarders +considered him a little cracked. + +Sister smiled sheepishly at Hiram as she passed the tea. She drowned +his tea with milk and put in no less than four spoonfuls of sugar. But +although the fluid was utterly spoiled for Hiram's taste he drank it +with fortitude, knowing that the girl's generosity was the child of her +gratitude; for both sugar and milk were articles very scantily supplied +at Mother Atterson's table. + +The mistress herself did not appear. Now that he was down here in the +dining-room, Hiram lingered. He hated the thought of going up to his +lonely and narrow quarters at the top of the house. + +The other boarders trailed out of the room and up stairs, one after +another, Old Lem Camp being the last to go. Sister brought in a dish of +hot toast between two plates and set it at the upper end of the table. +Then Mrs. Atterson appeared. + +Hiram knew at once that something had gone wrong with the boarding +house mistress. She had been crying, and when a woman of the age of Mrs. +Atterson indulges in tears, her personal appearance is never improved. + +“Oh, that you, Hi?” she drawled, with a snuffle. “Did you get enough to +eat?” + +“Yes, Mrs. Atterson,” returned the youth, starting to get up. “I have +had plenty.” + +“I'm glad you did,” said the lady. “And you're easy 'side of most of +'em, Hiram. You're a real good boy.” + +“I reckon I get all I pay for, Mrs. Atterson,” said her youngest +boarder. + +“Well, there ain't many of 'em would say that. And they was awful +provokin' this noon. That roast of veal was just as good meat as I could +find in market; and I don't know what any sensible party would want +better than that prune pie. + +“Well! I hope I won't have to keep a boarding house all my life. It's a +thankless task. An' it ties a body down so. + +“Here's my uncle--my poor mother's only brother and about the only +relative I've got in the world--here's Uncle Jeptha down with the grip, +or suthin', and goodness knows if he'll ever get over it. And I can't +leave to go and see him die peaceable.” + +“Does he live far from here?” asked Hiram, politely, although he had no +particular reason for being interested in Uncle Jeptha. + +“He lives on a farm out Scoville way. He's lived there most all his +life. He used to make a right good living off'n that farm, too; but it's +run down some now. + +“The last time I was out there, two years ago, he was just keepin' along +and that's all. And now I expect he's dying, without a chick or child +of his own by him,” and she burst out crying again, the tears sprinkling +the square of toast into which she continued to bite. + +Of course, it was ridiculous. A middle-aged woman weeping and eating +toast and drinking strong boiled tea is not a romantic picture. But as +Hiram climbed to his room he wished with all his heart that he could +help Mrs. Atterson. + +He wasn't the only person in the world who seemed to have got into +a wrong environment--lots of people didn't fit right into their +circumstances in life. + +“We're square pegs in round holes--that's what we are,” mused Hiram. +“That's what I am. I wish I was out of it. I wish I was back on the +farm.” + + + +CHAPTER III. A DREARY DAY + +Daniel Dwight's Emporium, the general store was called, and it was in a +very populous part of the town of Crawberry. Old Daniel was a driver, he +seldom had clerks enough to handle his trade properly, and nobody could +suit him. As general helper and junior clerk, Hiram Strong had remained +with the concern longer than any other boy Daniel had hired in years. + +When the early Monday morning rush was over, and there was moment's +breathing space, Hiram went to the door to re-arrange the trays of +vegetables which were his particular care. Hiram had a knack of making +a bank of the most plebeian vegetable and salads look like the +display-window of a florist. + +Now the youth looked out upon a typical city street, the dwellings +on either side being four and five story tenement houses, occupied by +artisans and mechanics. + +A few quarreling children paddled sticks, or sailed chip boats, in the +gutters. + +“Come on, now! Get a move on you, Hi!” sounded the raucous voice of +Daniel Dwight the elder, behind him in the store. + +Hiram went at his task with neither interest nor energy. + +All about him the houses and the street were grimy and depressing. It +had been a gray and murky morning; but overhead a patch of sky was as +blue as June. He suddenly saw a flock of pigeons wheeling above the +tunnel of the street, and the boy's heart leaped at the sight. + +He longed for freedom. He wished he could fly, up, up, up above the +housetops and the streets, like those feathered fowl. + +He knew he was stagnating here in this dingy store; the deadly sameness +of his life chafed him sorely. + +“I'd take another job if I could find one,” he muttered, stirring up the +bunches of yellowing radish leaves and trying to make them look fresh. +“And Old Daniel is likely to give me a chance to hunt a job pretty +sudden--the way he talks. But if Dan, Junior, told him what happened +yesterday, I wonder the old gentleman hasn't been after me with a sharp +stick.” + +From somewhere--out of the far-distant open country where it had been +breathing all night the quivering pines, and brown swamps, and the +white and gray checkered fields that would soon be upturned by the +plowshares--a vagrant wind wandered into the city street. + +The lingering, but faint perfume wafted here from God's open world to +die in this man-made town inspired in the youth thoughts and desires +that had been struggling within him for expression for days past. + +“I know what I want,” said Hiram Strong, aloud. “I want to get back to +the land!” + +The progress of the day was not inducive to a hopeful outlook for +Hiram. When closing time came he was heartily sick of the business of +storekeeping, if he never had been before. + +And when he dragged himself home to the boarding house, he found the +atmosphere there as dreary as the street itself. The boarders were +grumpy and Mrs. Atterson was in a tearful state again. + +Hiram could not stay in his room. It was a narrow, cold place at the end +of the back hall at the top of the house. There was a little, painted +bureau in it, one leg of which had been replaced by a brick, and the +little glass was so blue and blurred that he never could see in it +whether his tie was straight or not. + +There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed. When the +bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he could not get the +door open. Had there ever been a fire at Atterson's at night, Hiram's +best chance for escape would have been by the window. + +So this evening, to kill the miserable stretch of time until sleep +should come to him, the boy went out and walked the streets. + +Two things had saved Hiram Strong from getting into bad company on these +evening rambles. One was the small amount of money he earned, and the +other was the naturally clean nature of the boy. The cheap amusements +which lured on either hand did not attract him. + +But the dangers are there in every city, and they lurk for every boy in +a like position. + +The main thoroughfare in this part of the town where Hiram boarded +was brightly lighted, gaudy electric signs attracting notice to cheap +picture shows, catch-penny arcades, cheap jewelry stores, and the ever +present saloons and pool rooms. + +It looked bright, and warm, and lively in many of these places; but the +country-bred boy was cautious. + +Now and then a raucous-voiced automobile shot along the street; the +electric cars made their usual clangor, and there was still some +ordinary traffic of the day dribbling away into the side streets, for it +was early in the evening. + +Hiram was about to turn into one of these side streets on his way back +to Mrs. Atterson's. Turning the corner was a handsome span of horses +attached to a comfortable but mud-bespattered carriage. It was plainly +from the country. + +The light at the corner of the street shone brightly into the carriage. +Hiram saw a well-built man in a gray greatcoat and slouch hat, holding +the reins over the backs of the spirited horses. + +Beside him sat a girl. She could have been no more than twelve or +fourteen--not so old as Sister, by a year or two. But how different she +was from the starved-looking, boarding house slavey! + +She was framed in furs--rich, gray and black furs that muffled her +from top to toe, only leaving her brilliant, dark little face with its +perfect features shining like a jewel in its setting. + +She was talking laughingly to the big man beside her, and he was looking +down at her. Perhaps this was why he did not see what lay just ahead--or +perhaps the glare of the street light blinded him, as it must have the +horses, as the equipage turned into the darker side street. + +But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry of +warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by the bridle +and pull both the high-steppers around. + +There was an excavation--an opening for a water-main--in this street. +The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, or malicious +boys had stolen it. + +Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation and +even now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over the edge of +the hole, and for the minute it was doubtful whether Hiram had saved the +occupants of the carriage by his quick action, or had accelerated the +catastrophe. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD + +Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and sturdy +withal, the excited horses would have broken away from him and the +carriage would certainly have gone into the ditch. + +But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be broken, +although the horses plunged and struck fire from the stones of the +street with their shoes. He dragged them forward, the carriage pitched +and rolled for a moment, and then stood upright again, squarely on its +four wheels. + +“All right, lad! I've got 'em!” exclaimed the gentleman in the carriage. + +He had a hearty, husky sort of voice--a voice that came from deep down +in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there was no quiver +of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in peril was much less +disturbed by the incident than was Hiram himself. + +Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now Hiram +heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses: + +“That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again.” + +The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened team with +one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big coat with the +other. + +“He certainly has got some muscle, that lad,” announced the gentleman. +“Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town again?” + +“I work at Dwight's Emporium,” replied Hiram, rather diffidently. + +“All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like. +I'll surely look you up.” + +He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped +nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage +rolled swiftly by him. + +The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, but +missed the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the street and the +shadow hid it completely from the boy's gaze. + +Had there been a lantern nearby, as there should have been, Hiram would +have taken it to search for the lost card. For he felt suddenly as +though Opportunity had brushed past him. + +The man in the carriage evidently lived out of town. He might be a +prosperous farmer. And, being a farmer, he might be able to give Hiram +just the sort of job he was looking for. + +The card, of course, would have put Hiram in touch with the man. And he +seemed like a hearty, good-natured individual. + +“And the girl--his daughter--was as pretty as a picture,” thought Hiram, +as he turned wearily toward the boarding house. “Well! I don't know that +I'll ever see either of them again; but if I could learn that man's name +and address I'd certainly look him up.” + +So much did this thought disturb him that he was up an hour earlier than +usual the next morning and hurried to work by the way of the excavation +in the street where the incident had occurred. + +But he could not find the card, although he got down into the ditch to +search for it. The loose sand, perhaps, rattling down from the sides of +the excavation during the night, had buried the bit of pasteboard, and +Hiram went on to Dwight's Emporium more disheartened than ever. + +The work there went worse that morning. Old Daniel Dwight drove the +young fellow from one task to another. The other clerks got a minute's +time to themselves now and then; but the proprietor of the store seemed +to have his keen eyes on Hiram continually. + +There was always a slow-up in the work about ten o'clock, and Hiram had +a request to make. He asked Old Daniel for an hour off. + +“An hour off--with all this work to do? What do you mean, boy?” roared +the proprietor. “What do you want an hour for?” + +“I've got an errand,” replied Hiram, quietly. + +“Well, what is it?” snarled the old man, curiously. + +“Why--it's a private matter. I can't tell you,” returned the youth, +coolly. + +“No good, I'll be bound--no good. I don't see why I should let you off +an hour----” + +“I work many an hour overtime for you, Mr. Dwight,” put in Hiram. + +“Yes, yes; that's all right. That's the agreement. You knew you'd have +to when you came to work at the Emporium. Stick to your contract, boy.” + +“Then why don't you stick to yours?” demanded the youth, boldly. + +“Eh! Eh! What do you mean by that?” cried Mr. Dwight, glaring at Hiram +through his spectacles. + +“I mean that when I came to work for you seven months ago, you promised +that, if I suited after six months, you would raise my wages. And you +haven't done so,” said the young fellow, firmly. + +For a moment the proprietor of the Emporium was dumb. It was true. He +had promised just that. He had got the boy cheaper by so doing. But +never before had he hired a boy who stayed as long as six months, so he +had never had to raise his wages. + +“Well, well!” + +He stammered for a moment; then a shrewd thought came to his mind. +He actually smiled. When Mr. Dwight smiled it was worse than when he +didn't. + +“I told you that if you suited me I'd raise your pay, did I?” he +snarled. “Well, you don't suit me. You never have suited me. Therefore, +you get no raise, young man.” + +Hiram was not astonished; he was only indignant. Another boy might have +expressed his anger by flaring up and tendering his resignation on the +spot. + +But Hiram had that fear of debt in his breast which is almost always a +characteristic of the frugal, country-bred person. He had saved little. +He had no prospect of another job. And every Saturday night he was +expected to pay Mrs. Atterson three dollars and a half. + +“At any rate, Mr. Dwight,” he said, quietly, after a minute's silence, +“I want an hour to myself this morning.” + +“And I'll dock ye ten cents for it,” declared the old man. + +“You can do as you like about that,” returned Hiram, and he walked into +the back room, took off his apron, and got into his coat. + +He had it in mind to go to the big market, where the farmers drove in +from out of town, and see if he could meet one of his old neighbors, +or anybody else who could tell him of prospect of work for the coming +season. It was early yet for farmers to be looking for extra hands; but +Hiram hoped that he might see something in prospect for the future. He +had made up his mind that, if possible, he would not take another job in +town. + +“And I can see pretty plainly that I've got about through at the +Emporium,” he thought, as he approached the open space devoted by the +City of Crawberry to a market for the truckmen and farmers who drove in +with their wares from the surrounding country. + +At this time of day the bustle of market was over. The farmers would +have had their breakfasts in the little restaurants which encircled the +market-place, or would be preparing to drive home again. The hucksters +and push-cart merchants were picking up “seconds” and lot-ends of +vegetables for their trade. The cobbles of the market-place was a litter +of cabbage leaves, spilled sprouts, spoiled potatoes, and other refuse. + +Hiram walked about, looking for somebody whom he knew; but most of the +faces around the market were strange to him. Several farmers he spoke to +about work; but they were not hiring hands, so, when his hour was up, he +went back to the Emporium, more despondent than before. + + + +CHAPTER V. THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + +By chance that evening Hiram got home to his boarding house in good +season. The early boarders--“early birds” Crackit always termed +them--had not yet sat down to the long table in the dingy dining-room. + +Indeed, the supper gong had not been pounded by Sister, and some of the +young men were grouped impatiently in the half-lighted parlor. + +Through the swinging door into the steaming kitchen Hiram saw a huge +black woman waddling about the range, and heard her husky voice berating +Sister for not moving faster. Chloe only appeared when a catastrophe +happened at the boarding-house--and a catastrophe meant the removal of +Mrs. Atterson from her usual orbit. + +“She's gone to the funeral. That Uncle Jeptha of hern is dead,” + whispered Sister in Hiram's ear when she put his soup in front of him. + +“Ah-ha!” observed Mr. Crackit, eyeing Hiram with his head on one side, +“secrets, eh? Inside information of what's in the pudding sauce?” + +Nothing went right at the boarding-house during the next two days. And +for Hiram Strong nothing seemed to go right anywhere! + +He demanded--and got the permission, with another ten-cent tax--another +hour off to visit the market. But he found nobody who would hire a boy +at once. Some of the farmers doubted if he knew as much about farm-work +as he claimed to know. He was, after all, a boy, and some of them would +not believe that he had even worked in the country. + +Affairs at the Emporium were getting strained, too. Daniel Dwight was as +shrewd a man as the next one. He saw plainly that his junior clerk was +getting ready--like the many who had gone before him--for a flitting. + +He knew the signs of discontent, although Hiram prided himself on doing +his work just as well as ever. + +Then, there was a squabble with Dan, Junior. The imp was always +underfoot on Saturdays. He was supposed to help--to run errands, and +take out in a basket certain orders to nearby customers who might be in +a hurry. + +But usually when you wanted the boy he was in the alley pitching buttons +with loafing urchins of his own kind--“alley rats” his father angrily +called them--or leading a predatory gang of the same unsavory companions +in raids on other stores in the neighborhood. + +And Dan, Junior “had it in” for Hiram. He had not forgiven the bigger +boy for pitching him into the puddle. + +“An' them was my best clo'es, and now maw says I've got to wear 'em just +the same on Sunday, and they're shrunk and stained,” snarled the younger +Dan, hovering about Hiram as the latter re-dressed the fruit stand +during a moment's let-up in the Saturday morning rush. “Gimme an +orange.” + +“What! At five cents apiece?” exclaimed Hiram. “Guess not. Go look in +the basket under the bench; maybe there's a specked one there.” + +“Nope. Dad took 'em all home last night and maw cut out the specks and +sliced 'em for supper. Gimme a good orange.” + +“Ask your father,” said Hiram. + +“Naw, I won't!” declared young Dwight, knowing very well what his +father's answer would be. + +He suddenly made a grab for the golden globe on the apex of Hiram's +handsomest pyramid. + +“Let that alone, Dan!” cried Hiram, and seized the youngster by the +wrist. + +Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned, and +kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange from his +hand when Mr. Dwight came to the door. + +“What's this? What's this?” he demanded. “Fighting, are ye? Why don't +you tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?” + +At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs. He was a +good actor. + +“I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram,” cried “Mr. Dwight, +That's what I've a mind to do.” + +“I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?” suggested Hiram, +scornfully. + +“You can come in and git your money right now, young man,” said the +proprietor of the Emporium. “Dan! let them oranges alone. And don't you +go away from here. I'll want you all day to-day. I shall be short-handed +with this young scalawag leaving me in the lurch like this.” + +It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He had part +of his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work for Daniel Dwight +any longer. + +The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile of +money already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that he had +intended quarreling with Hiram and getting rid of him at this time, +for he had the young fellow's wages figured up to t hat very hour--and +twenty cents deducted for the two hours Hiram had had “off.” + +“But that isn't fair. I'm willing to work to the end of the day. I ought +to get my wages in full for the week, save for the twenty cents,” said +Hiram mildly. + +To tell the truth, now that he had lost his job--unpleasant as it had +been--Hiram was more than a little troubled. He was indeed about to be +cast adrift. + +“You'll git jest that sum, and not a cent more,” declared Mr. Dwight, +sharply. “And if you start any trouble here I'll call in the officer on +the beat--yes, I will! I don't know but I ought to deduct the cost of +Dan, Junior's, spoiled suit, too. He says you an' he was skylarkin' on +Sunday and that's how he fell into the water.” + +Hiram had no answer to make to this. What was the use? He took the +money, slipped it into his pocket, and went out. + +He did not linger around the Emporium. Nor was he scarcely out of sight +when a man driving a span of handsome bay horses halted his team before +the store, jumped out, and went in. + +“Are you the proprietor of Dwight's Emporium?” asked the man in the +gray coat and hat, in his hearty tones. “You are? Glad to meet you! I'm +looking for a young man who works for you.” + +“Who's that? What do you want of him?” asked Dan, Senior, doubtfully, +and rubbing his hand, for the stranger's grip had been as hearty as his +voice. + +The other laughed in his jovial way. “Why, to tell the truth, I don't +know his name. I didn't ask him. He's not much more than a boy--a sturdy +youngster with a quick way with him. He did me a service the other +evening and I wanted to see him.” + +“There ain't any boy working here,” snapped Mr. Dwight. “Them's all +the clerks I got behind the counter--and there ain't one of 'em under +thirty, I'll be bound.” + +“That's so,” admitted the stranger. “And although it was so dark I could +not see that fellow's face, and I didn't ask his name, I am sure he was +young.” + +“I jest discharged the only boy I had--and scamp enough he was,” snarled +Mr. Dwight. “If you were looking for him, you'd have been sorry to find +him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a policeman to git him off +the premises.” + +“What--what?” + +“That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy you +want--but you won't get no good of him when you find him. And I've no +idea where he's to be found now,” and the old man turned his back on the +man in the gray coat and went into his office. + +The stranger climbed back into his buggy and took up the lines again +with a preoccupied headshake. + +“Now, I promised Lettie,” he muttered, “that I'd find out all about that +boy--and maybe bring him home with me. Funny that man gave his such +a bad character. Wish I could have seen the lad's face the other +night--that would have told the story. + +“Well,” and he dismissed the matter with a sigh, for he was busy man, +“if he's got my card, and he is out of a job, perhaps he'll look me up. +Then we'll see.” + + + +CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + +“I've sure got plenty of time now to look for a job,” observed Hiram +Strong when he was two blocks away from Dwight's Emporium. “But I +declare I don't know where to begin.” + +For his experience in talking with the farmers around the market had +rather dashed Hiram's hope of getting a place in the country at once. It +was too early in the season. Nor did it look so much like Spring as it +had a week ago. Already Hiram had to turn up the collar of his rough +coat, and a few flakes of snow were settling on his shoulders as he +walked. + +“It's winter yet,” he mused. “If I can't get something to do in the +city for a few weeks to tide me over, I'm afraid I shall have to find a +cheaper place to board than at Mother Atterson's.” + +After half an hour of strolling from street to street, however, Hiram +decided that there was nothing in that game. He must break in somewhere, +so he turned into the very next warehouse. + +“Want a job? I'll be looking for one myself pretty soon, if business +isn't better,” was the answer he got from the first man he approached. + +But Hiram kept at it, and got short answers and long answers, pleasant +ones and some that were not so pleasant; but all could be summed up in +the single monosyllable: + +“No!” + +“I certainly am a failure here in town,” Hiram thought, as he walked +through the snow-blown streets. “How foolish I was ever to have come +away from the country. + +“A fellow ought to stick to the job he is fitted for--and that's sure. +But I didn't know. I thought there would be forty chances in town to one +in the country. + +“And there doesn't seem to be a single chance right now. Why, I'll have +to leave Mrs. Atterson's, if I can't find a job before next week is out! + +“This mean old town is over-crowded with fellows like me looking for +work. And when it comes to office positions, I haven't a high-school +diploma, nor am I fitted for that kind of a job. + +“I want to be out of doors. Working in a stuffy office wouldn't suit me. +Oh, as a worker in the city I am a rank failure, and that's all there is +about it!” + +He went home to supper much more tired than he would have been had he +done a full day's work at Dwight's Emporium. Indeed, the job he had lost +now loomed up in his troubled mind as much more important than it had +seemed when he had desired to change it for another. + +Mother Atterson was at home. She hadn't more than taken off her bonnet, +however, and had had but a single clash with Chloe in the kitchen. + +“I smelled it burnin' the minute I set my foot on the front step!” + she declared. “You can't fool my nose when it comes to smelling burned +stuff. + +“Well, Hiram,” she continued, too full of news to remark that he was at +home long before his time, “I saw the poor old soul laid away, at least. +I wish now I'd got Chloe in before, and gone to see Uncle Jeptha before +he was in his coffin. + +“But I didn't think I could afford it, and that's a fact. We poor folks +can't have many pleasures in this world of toil and trouble!” added +the boarding house mistress, to whom even the break of a funeral, or a +death-bed visit, was in the nature of a solemn amusement. + +“And there the old man went and made his will years ago, unbeknownst to +anybody, and me bein' his only blood relation, as you might say, though +it was years since I seen him much, but he remembered my mother with +love,” and she began to wipe her eyes. + +“Poor old man! And me with a white-faced cow that I'm afraid of my life +of, and an old horse that looks like a moth-eaten hide trunk we to +have in our garret at home when I was a little girl, and belonged to my +great-great-grandmother Atterson---- + +“And there's a mess of chickens that eat all day long and don't lay an +egg as far as I could see, besides a sow and a litter of six pigs that +squeal worse than the the switch-engine down yonder in the freight +yard---- + +“And they're all to be fed, and how I'm to do it, and feed the boarders, +too, I don't for the life of me see!” finished Mrs. Atterson, completely +out of breath. + +“What do you mean?” cried Hiram, suddenly waking to the significance of +the old lady's chatter. “Do you mean he willed you these things?” + +“Of course,” she returned, smoothing down her best black skirt. “They +go with the house and outbuildings--`all the chattels and appurtenances +thereto', the will read.” + +“Why, Mrs. Atterson!” gasped Hiram. “He must have left you the farm.” + +“That's what I said,” returned the old lady, complacently. “And what I'm +to do with it I've no more idea than the man in the moon.” + +“A farm!” repeated Hiram, his face flushing and his eyes beginning to +shine. + +Now, Hiram Strong was not a particularly handsome youth, but in his +excitement he almost looked so. + +“Eighty acres, so many rods, and so many perches,” pursued Mrs. +Atterson, nodding. “That's the way it reads. The perches is in the +henhouse, I s'pose--though why the description included them and not the +hens' nests I dunno.” + +“Eighty acres of land!” repeated Hiram in a daze. + +“All free and clear. Not a dollar against it--only encumbrances is the +chickens, the cow, the horse and the pigs,” declared Mrs. Atterson. “If +it wasn't for them it might not be so bad. Scoville's an awfully nice +place, and the farm's on an automobile road. A body needn't go blind +looking for somebody to go by the door occasionally. + +“And if it got so bad here finally that I couldn't make a livin' keeping +boarders,” pursued the lady, “I might go out there and live in the old +house--which isn't much, I know, but it's a shelter, and my tastes are +simple, goodness knows.” + +“But a farm, Mrs. Atterson!” broke in Hiram. “Think what you can do with +it!” + +“That's what I'd like to have, you, or somebody else tell me,” exclaimed +the old lady, tartly. “I ain't got no more use for a farm than a cat has +for two tails!” + +“But--but isn't it a good farm?” queried Hiram, puzzled. + +“How do I know?” snapped the boarding house mistress. “I wouldn't know +one farm from another, exceptin' two can't be in exactly the same spot. +Oh! do you mean, could I sell it?” + +“No----” + +“The lawyer advised me not to sell just now. He said something about the +state of the real estate market in that section. Prices would be better +in a year or two. And then, the old place is mighty run down.” + +“That's what I mean,” Hiram hastened to say. “Has it been cropped to +death? Is the soil worn out? Can't you run it and make something out of +it?” + +“For pity's sake!” ejaculated the good lady, “how should I know? And I +couldn't run it--I shouldn't know how. + +“I've got a neighbor-woman in the house just now to 'tend to things--and +that's costin' me a dollar and a half a week. And there'll be taxes to +pay, and--and--Well, I just guess I'll have to try and sell it now and +take what I can get. + +“Though that lawyer says that if the place was fixed up a little and +crops put in it would make a thousand dollars' difference in the selling +price. That is, after a year or two. + +“But bless us and save us” cried Mrs. Atterson, “I'd be swamped with +expenses before that time.” + +“Mebbe not,” said Hiram Strong, trying to repress his eagerness. “Why +not try it?” + +“Try to run that farm?” cried she. “Why, I'd jest as lief go up in one +o' those aeroplanes and try to run it. I wouldn't be no more up in the +air then than I would be on a farm,” she added, grimly. + +“Get somebody to run it for you--do the outside work, I mean, Mrs. +Atterson,” said Hiram. “You could keep house out there just as well as +you do here. And it would be easy for you to learn to milk----” + +“That whitefaced cow? My goodness! I'd just as quick learn to milk a +switch-engine!” + +“But it's only her head that looks so wicked to you,” laughed Hiram. +“And you don't milk that end.” + +“Well--mebbe,” admitted Mrs. Atterson, doubtfully. “I reckon I could +make butter again--I used to do that when I was a girl at my aunt's. And +either I'd make those hens lay or I'd have their dratted heads off! + +“And my goodness me! To get rid of the boarders--Oh, stop your talkin', +Hi Strong! That is too good to ever be true. Don't talk to me no more.” + +“But I want to talk to you, Mrs. Atterson,” persisted the youth, +eagerly. + +“Well, who'd I get to do the outside work--put in crops, and 'tend 'em, +and look out for that old horse?” + +Hiram almost choked. This opportunity should not get past him if he +could help it! + +“Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what I can +do,” he cried. “Let me run the farm for you!” + +“Why--why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?” demanded +his landlady, in wonder. + +“Other farms pay; why not this one?” rejoined Hiram, sententiously. “Of +course,” he added, his native caution coming to the surface, “I'd want +to see the place--to look it over pretty well, in fact--before I made +any agreement. And I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no chance +of both you and me making something out of it I should tell you so.” + +“But--but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going out +there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday.” + +“I'll take the early train Monday morning,” said the youth, promptly. + +“But what will they say at the store? Mr. Dwight----” + +“He turned me off to-day,” said Hiram, steadily. “So I won't lose +anything by going out there. + +“I tell you what I'll do,” he added briskly. “I won't have any too much +money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be out there at +Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, it's probable. + +“So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I should +pay you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own expenses out +there at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all well and good.” + +Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on to +survey the boy's earnest face. + +“Do you mean to say you can run a farm, Hi Strong?” she asked. + +“I do,” and he smiled confidently at her. + +“And make it pay?” + +“Perhaps not much profit the first season; but if the farm is fertile, +and the marketing conditions are right, I know I can make it pay us both +in two years.” + +“I've got a little money saved up. I could sell the house in a week, for +it's always full and there are always lone women like me with a little +driblet of money to exchange for a boarding house--heaven help us for +the fools we are!” Mrs. Atterson exclaimed. + +“And I expect you could raise vegetables enough to part keep us, Hi, +even if the farm wasn't a great success?” + +“And eggs, and chickens, and the pigs, and milk from the cow,” suggested +Hiram. + +“Well! I declare, that's so,” admitted Mrs. Atterson. “I'd been lookin' +on all them things as an expense. They could be made an asset, eh?” + +“I should hope so,” responded Hiram, smiling. + +“And I could get rid of these boarders--My soul and body!” gasped +the tired woman, suddenly. “Do you suppose it's true, Hi? Get rid of +worryin' about paying the bills, and whether the boarders are all going +to keep their jobs and be able to pay regularly--And the gravy! + +“Hiram Strong! If you can show me a way out of this valley of +tribulation I'll be the thankfullest woman that you ever seen. It's a +bargain. Don't you pay me a cent for this coming week. And I shouldn't +have taken it, anyway, when you're throwed out of work so. That's a +mighty mean man, that Daniel Dwight. + +“You go right ahead and look that farm over. If it looks good, you come +back and we'll strike a bargain, I know. And--and--Just to think +of getting rid of this house and these boarders!” and Mrs. Atterson +finished by wiping her eyes again vigorously. + + + +CHAPTER VII. HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + +Hiram Strong was up betimes on Monday morning--Sister saw to that. She +rapped on his door at four-thirty. + +Sometimes Hiram wondered when the girl ever slept. She was still +dragging about the kitchen or dining-room when he went to bed, and she +was first down in the morning--even earlier than Mrs. Atterson herself. + +The boarding house mistress was not intentionally severe with Sister; +but the much harassed lady had never learned to make her own work easy, +so how should she be expected to be easy on Sister? + +Once or twice Hiram had talked with the orphan. Sister had a dreadful +fear of returning to the “institution” from which Mrs. Atterson had +taken her. And Sister's other fearful remembrance was of an old woman +who beat her and drank much gin and water. + +Not that she had been ill-treated at the institution; but she had been +dressed in an ugly uniform, and the girls had been rough and pulled her +“pigtails” like Dan, Junior. + +“Once a gentleman came to see me,” Sister confided to Hiram. “He was +a lawyer gentleman, the matron told me. He knew my name--but I've +forgotten it now. + +“And he said that somebody who once belonged to me--or I once belonged +to them--had died and perhaps there would be some money coming to me. +But it couldn't have been the old woman I lived with, for she never had +only money enough for gin! + +“Anyhow, I was glad. I axed him how much money--was it enough to treat +all the girls in the institution one round of ice-cream soda, and he +laffed, he did. And he said yes--just about enough for that, if he could +get it for me. And I ran away and told the girls. + +“I promised them all a treat. But the man never came again, and by and +by the big girls said they believed I storied about it, and one night +they came and dragged me out of bed and hung me out of the window by my +wrists, till I thought my arms would be pulled right out of the sockets. +They was awful cruel--them girls. But when I axed the matron why the +man didn't come no more, she put me off. I guess he was only +foolin',” decided Sister, with a sigh. “Folks like to fool me--like Mr. +Crackit--eh?” + +But Mrs. Atterson told Hiram, when he asked about Sister's meagre little +story, that the institution had promised to let her know if the lawyer +ever returned to make further inquiries about the orphan. Somebody +really had died who was of kin to the girl, but through some error the +institution had not made a proper record of her pedigree and the lawyer +who had instituted the search a seemed to have dropped out of sight. + +But Hiram was not troubled by poor Sister's private affairs upon this +Monday morning. It was the beginning of a new week, indeed, to him. He +had turned over a new leaf of experience. He hoped that he was pretty +near to the end of his harsh city existence. + +He hurried downstairs, long in advance of the other boarders, and Mrs. +Atterson served him some breakfast, although there was no milk for the +coffee. + +“I dunno where that plague o' my life, Sister's, gone,” sputtered the +old lady, fussing about, between dining-room and kitchen. “I sent her +out ten minutes ago for the milk. And if you want to get that first +train to Scoville you've got to hurry.” + +“Never mind the milk,” laughed the young fellow. “The train's more +important this morning.” + +So he bolted the remainder of his breakfast, swallowed the black coffee, +and ran out. + +He arrived at Scoville while the morning was still young. It was not his +intention to go at once to the Atterson farm. There were matters which +he desired to look into in addition to judging the quality of the soil +on the place and the possibility of making it pay. + +He went to the storekeepers and asked questions about the prices paid +for garden truck. He walked about the town and saw the quality of +the residences, and noted what proportion of the townsfolk cultivated +gardens of their own. + +There was a big girls' boarding-school, and two small, but +well-patronized hotels. The proprietors of these each owned a farm; +but they told Hiram that it was necessary for them to buy much of their +table vegetables from city produce men, as the neighboring farmers did +not grow much. + +In talking with one storekeeper Hiram mentioned the fact that he was +going to look at the Atterson place with a view to farming it for its +new owner. When he walked out of the store he found himself accosted +by a lean, snaky-looking man who had stood within the store the moment +before. + +“What's this widder woman goin' to do with the farm old Jeptha left +her?” inquired the man, looking at Hiram slyly. + +“We don't know yet, sir, what we shall do with it,” the young fellow +replied. + +“You her son?” + +“No. I may work for her--can't tell till I've looked at the place.” + +“It ain't much to look at,” said the man, quickly. “I come near buying +it once, though. In fact--” + +He hesitated, still eyeing Hiram sideways. The boy waited for him to +speak again. He did not wish to be impolite; but he did not like the +man's appearance. + +“What do y' reckon this Mis' Atterson would sell for?” finally demanded +the man. + +“She has been advised not to sell--at present.” + +“Who by?” + +“Mr. Strickland, the lawyer.” + +“Humph! Mebbe I'd buy it--and give her a good price for it--right now.” + +“What do you consider a good price?” asked Hiram, quietly. + +“Twelve hundred dollars,” said the man. + +“I will tell her. But I do not think she would sell for that +price--nothing like it, in fact.” + +“Well, mebbe she'll feel different when she comes to think it over. +No use for a woman trying to run a farm. And if she has to pay for +everything to be done, she'll be in a hole at the end of the season. I +guess she ain't thought of that?” + +“It wouldn't be my place to point it out to her,” returned Hiram, +“coolly, if it were so, and I wanted to work for her.” + +“Humph! Mebbe not. Well, my name's Pepper. Mebbe I'll be out to see her +some day,” he said, and turned away. + +“He's one of the people who will discourage Mrs. Atterson,” thought +Hiram. “And he has an axe to grind. If I decide to take the job of +making this farm pay, I'm going to have the agreement in black and +white with Mrs. Atterson; for there will be a raft of Job's comforters, +perhaps when we get settled on the place.” + +It was late in the afternoon before Hiram was ready to start for the +farm itself. He had made some enquiries, and had decided to stop at a +neighbor's for overnight, instead of going to the house where a lone +woman had been left in charge by Mrs. Atterson. + +The Pollocks had been recommended to Hiram, and by leaving the road +within half a mile of the Atterson farm, and cutting across the fields, +he came into the dooryard of the Pollock place. A well-grown boy, not +much older than himself, was splitting some chunks at the woodpile. He +stopped work to gaze at the visitor with much curiosity. + +“From what they told me in town,” Hi said, holding out his hand with a +smile, “you must be Henry Pollock?” + +The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand. + +“That's what they call me--Henry Pollock--when they don't call me Hen.” + +“Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry,” laughed Hiram. “I don't +like to have my name cut off short, either. My name's Hiram Strong. So +if you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll always call you `Henry.'” + +“It's a go!” returned the other, shaking hands again. “You going to live +around here? Or are you jest visiting?” + +“I don't know yet,” confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. “You +see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place.” + +“That's right over yonder. You can see the roof if you stand up,” said +Henry, quickly. + +Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a +glimpse of the roof in question. + +“Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left it to?” + asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. “Or are you going to rent it?” + +“What do you think of renting it?” queried Hiram, showing that he had +Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another. + +“Well--it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old man +couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who farmed it +for him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell you!” + +“Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what I'll do,” said +Hiram, slowly. “And of course I can't do that to-night. They told me in +town that sometimes you take boarders?” + +“In the summer we do,” returned Henry. + +“Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?” + +“Why, I reckon so--Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come right +in,” added Henry, hospitably, “and I'll ask mother.” + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + +The Pollocks proved to be a neighborly family--and a large one. As Henry +said, there was a “whole raft of young 'uns” younger than he was. They +made Hiram very welcome at the supper table, and showed much curiosity +about his personal affairs. + +But the young fellow had been used to just such people before. They were +not a bad sort, and if they were keenly interested in the affairs of +other people, it was because they had few books and newspapers, and +small chance to amuse themselves in the many ways which city people +have. + +Hiram slept with Henry that night, and Henry agreed to show the visitor +over the Atterson place the next day. + +“I know every stick and stone of it as well as I do ourn,” declared +Henry. “And Dad won't mind my taking time now. Later--Whew! I tell you, +we hafter just git up an' dust to make a crop. Not much chance for fun +after a week or two until the corn's laid by.” + +“You know all the boundaries of the Atterson farm, do you?” Hiram asked. + +“Yes, sir!” replied Henry, eagerly. “And say! do you like to fish?” + +“Of course; who doesn't?” + +“Then we'll take some lines and hooks along--and mother'll lend us a pan +and kettle. Say! We'll start early--'fore anybody's a-stir--and I bet +there'll be a big trout jumping in the pool under the big sycamore.” + +“That certain-sure sounds good to me!” cried Hiram, enthusiastically. + +So it was agreed, and before day, while the mist was yet rolling across +the fields, and the hedge sparrows were beginning to chirp, the two set +forth from the Pollock place, crossed the wet fields, and the road, and +set off down the slope of a long hill, following, as Henry said, near +the east boundary of the Atterson farm--the line running from the +automobile road to the river. + +It was a dull spring morning. The faint breeze that stirred on the +hillside was damp, but odorous with new-springing herbs. As Hiram +and Henry descended the aisle of the pinewood, the treetops whispered +together as though curious of these bold humans who disturbed their +solitude. + +“It doesn't look as though anybody had been here at the back end of old +Jeptha Atterson's farm for years,” said Hiram. + +“And it's a fact that nobody gets down this way often,” Henry responded. + +The brown tags sprung under their feet; now and then a dew-wet branch +swept Hiram's cheek, seeking with its cold fingers to stay his progress. +It was an enchanted forest, and the boy, heart-hungry from his two years +of city life, was enchanted, too! + +Hiram learned from talking with his companion that at one time the +piece of thirty-year-old timber they were walking through had been +tilled--after a fashion. But it had never been properly cleared, as the +hacked and ancient stumpage betrayed. + +Here and there the lines of corn rows which had been plowed when the +last crop was laid by were plainly revealed to Hiram's observing eye. +Where corn had grown once, it should grow again; and the pine timber +would more than pay for being cut, for blowing out the big stumps with +dynamite, and tam-harrowing the side hill. + +Finally they reached a point where the ground fell away more abruptly +and the character of the timber changed, as well. Instead of the stately +pines, this more abrupt declivity was covered with hickory and oak. The +sparse brush sprang out of rank, black mold. + +Charmed by the prospect, Hiram and Henry descended this hill and came +suddenly, through a fringe of brush, to the border of an open cove, or +bottom. + +At some time this lowland, too, had been cleared and cultivated; but now +young pines, quick-springing and lush, dotted the five or six acres of +practically open land which was as level as one's palm. + +It was two hundred yards, or more, in width and at the farther side +a hedge of alders and pussywillows grew, with the green mist of young +leaves upon them, and here and there a ghostly sycamore, stretching its +slender bole into the air, edged the course of the river. + +Hiram viewed the scene with growing delight. His eyes sparkled and +a smile came to his lips as he crossed, with springy steps, the open +meadow on which the grass was already showing green in patches. + +Between the line of the wood they had left and the breadth of the meadow +was a narrow, marshy strip into which a few stones had been cast, and on +these they crossed dry shod. The remainder of the bottom-land was firm. + +“Ain't this jest a scrumptious place?” demanded Henry, and Hiram agreed. + +At the river's edge they parted the bushes and looked down upon the +oily-flowing brown flood. It was some thirty feet broad and with the +melting of the snows in the mountains was so deep that no sign was +apparent here of the rocks which covered its bed. + +Henry led the way up the bank of the stream toward a huge sycamore that +leaned lovingly over the water. An ancient wild grape vine, its +butt four inches through and its roots fairly in the water, had a +strangle-hold upon this decrepit forest monarch, its tendrils reaching +the sycamore's topmost branch. + +Under the tree was a deep hole where flotsam leaves and twigs performed +an endless treadmill dance in the grasp of the eddy. + +Suddenly, while their gaze clung to the dimpling water, there was a +flash of a bronze body--a streak of light along the surface of the +pool--and two widening circles showed where the master of the hole had +leaped for some insect prey. + +“See him?” called Henry, but under his breath. + +Hiram nodded, but squeezed his companion's hand for silence. He almost +held his own breath for the moment, as they moved back from the pool +with the soundless step of an Indian. + +“That big feller is my meat,” declared Henry. + +“Go to it, boy!” urged Hiram, and set about preparing the camp. + +He cut with his big jack-knife and set up a tripod of green rods in a +jiffy, skirmished for dry wood, lit his fire, filled the kettle from the +river at a little distance from the eddy, and hung it over the blaze to +boil. + +Meanwhile Henry fished out a line and an envelope of hooks from an inner +pocket, cut a springy pole back on the hillside, rigged his line and +hook, and kicked a hole in the soft, rich soil until he unearthed a fat +angleworm. + +With this impaled upon the hook he cautiously approached the pool under +the sycamore and cast gently. The struggling worm sank slowly; the water +wrinkled about the line; but there followed no tug at the hook, although +Henry stood patiently for several moments. He cast again, and yet again, +with like result. + +“Ah, ba!” muttered Hiram, in his ear; “this fellow's appetite needs +tickling. He is being fed too well and turns up his nose at a common +earthworm, does he? Let me show you a wrinkle, Henry.” + +Henry drew the line ashore again and shook off the useless bait. + +“You're, not fishing,” Hiram continued with a grim smile. “You've just +been drowning a worm. But I'll show that old fellow sulking down below +there that he is no match this early in the spring for a pair of hungry +boys!” + +He recrossed the meadow, and the stepping stones, to the wood. He had +noticed a log lying in the path as he descended the hillside. With the +toe of his boot he kicked a patch of bark from the log, and thereby lay +bare the wavering trail of a busy grub. Following the trail he quickly +found the fat, juicy insect, which immediately took the earthworm's +place upon the hook. + +Again Henry cast and this time, before the grub even touched the surface +of the pool, the fish leaped and swallowed the tempting morsel, hook and +all! + +There was no playing of the fish on Henry's part. A quick jerk and the +gasping spotted beauty, a pound and a quarter, or more, in weight, lay +upon the sward beside the crackling fire. + +“Whoop-ee!” called Henry, excitedly. “That's Number One!” + +While Hiram dexterously scaled and cleaned the first trout, Henry caught +a couple more. Hiram brought forth, too, the coffee, salt and pepper, +sugar, a piece of fat salt pork and two table knives and forks. + +He raked a smooth bed in the glowing coals, sliced the pork thin, laid +some slices in the pan and set that upon the coals, where the pork began +to sputter almost at once. + +The water in the kettle was boiling and he made the coffee. Then he laid +the trout upon the pan with three slices of pork upon each, and sat +back upon his haunches beside Henry enjoying the delicious odor in +anticipation of the more solid delights of breakfast. + +They had hard crackers and with these, and drinking the coffee from +the kettle itself, when it was cool enough, the two boys feasted like +monarchs. + +“By Jo!” exclaimed Henry. “This beats maw's soda biscuit and fat meat +gravy!” + +But as he ate, Hiram's gaze traveled again and again across the +scrub-grown meadow. The lay of the land pleased him. The richness of the +soil had been revealed when they dug the earthworm. + +For thousands of years the riches of yonder hillside had been washing +down upon the bottom, and this alluvial was rich beyond computation. + +Here were several acres, the young farmer knew, which, however +over-cropped the remainder of Uncle Jeptha's land had been, could not be +impoverished in many seasons. + +“It's as rich as cream!” muttered he, thoughtfully. “Grubbing out these +young pines wouldn't take long. There's a heavy sod and it would have +to be ploughed deeply. Then a crop of corn this year, perhaps--late corn +for fear the river might overflow it in June. And then---- + +“Great Scot!” ejaculated Hiram, slapping his knee, “what wouldn't grow +on this bottom land?” + +“Yes, it's mighty rich,” agreed Henry. “But it's a long way from the +house--and then, the river might flood it over. I've seen water running +over this bottom two feet deep--once.” + +They finished the al fresco meal and Hiram leaped up, inspired by his +thoughts to brisker movements. + +“Whatever else this old farm has on it, I vow and declare,” he said, +“this five or six acres alone might be made to pay a profit on the whole +investment!” + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN IS MADE + +Henry showed Hiram the “branch”, a little stream flowing into the river, +which marked the westerly boundary of the farm for some ways, and they +set off up the steep bank of this stream. + +This back end of the farm--quite forty acres, or half of the whole +tract--had been entirely neglected by the last owner of the property for +a great many years. It was some distance from the house, for the farm +was a long and narrow strip of land from the highway to the river, and +Uncle Jeptha had had quite all he could do to till the uplands and the +fields adjacent to his home. + +They came upon these open fields--many of them filthy with dead weeds +and littered with sprouting bushes--from the rear. Hiram saw that the +fences were in bad repair and that the back of the premises gave every +indication of neglect and shiftlessness. + +Perhaps not exactly the latter; Uncle Jeptha had been an old man and +unable to do much active work for some years. But he had cropped certain +of his fields “on shares” with the usual results--impoverished soil, +illy-tilled crops, and the land left in a slovenly condition which +several years of careful tillage would hardly overcome. + +Now, although Hiram's father had been of the tenant class, he had farmed +other men's land as he would his own. Owners of outlying farms had been +glad to get Mr. Strong to till their fields. + +He had known how to work, he knew the reasons for every bit of labor +he performed, and he had not kept his son in ignorance of them. As they +worked together the father had explained to the son what he did, and why +he did it, The results of their work spoke for themselves, and Hiram had +a retentive memory. + +Mr. Strong, too, had been a great, reader--especially in the winter when +the farmer naturally has more time in-doors. + +Yet he was a “twelve months farmer”; he knew that the winter, despite +the broken nature of the work, was quite as valuable to the successful +farmer as the other seasons of the year. + +The elder Strong knew that men with more money, and more time for +experimenting than he had, were writing and publishing all the time +helps for the wise farmer. He subscribed for several papers, and read +and digested them carefully. + +Hiram, even during his two years in the city, had continued his +subscription (although it was hard to find the money sometimes) to two +or three of those publications that his father had most approved. And +the boy had read them faithfully. + +He was as up-to-date in farming lore now, if not in actual practise, as +he had been when he left the country to try his fortune in Crawberry. + +Beyond the place where the branch turned back upon itself and hid its +source in the thicker timber, Hiram saw that the fields were open on +both sides of this westerly line of the farm. + +“Who's our neighbor over yonder, Henry?” he asked. + +“Dickerson--Sam Dickerson,” said Henry. “And he's got a boy, Pete, no +older than us. Say, Hiram, you'll have trouble with Pete Dickerson.” + +“Oh, I guess not,” returned the young farmer, laughing. “Trouble is +something that I don't go about hunting for.” + +“You don't have to hunt it when Pete is round,” said Henry with a wry +grin. “But mebbe he won't bother you, for he's workin' near town--for +that new man that's moved into the old Fleigler place. Bronson's his +name. But if Pete don't bother you, Sam may.” + +“Sam's the father?” + +“Yep. And one poor farmer and mean man, if ever there was one! Oh, Pete +comes by his orneriness honestly enough.” + +“Oh, I hope I'll have no trouble with any neighbor,” said Hiram, +hopefully. + +They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to Mrs. Atterson's newly +acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the hog lot. She looked like a good +sow, and the six-weeks-old shoats were in good condition. In a couple of +weeks they would be big enough to sell if Mrs. Atterson did not care to +raise them. + +The shoats were worth six dollars a pair, too; he had inquired the day +before about them. There was practically eighteen dollars squealing in +that pen--and eighteen dollars would go a long way toward feeding the +horse and cow until there was good pasturage for them. + +These animals named were in the small fenced barnyard. In the fall and +winter the old man had fed a good deal of fodder and other roughage, and +during the winter the horse and cow had tramped this coarse material, +and the stable scrapings, into a mat of fairly good manure. + +He looked the horse and cow over with more care. It was a fact that +the horse looked pretty shaggy; but he had been used little during +the winter, and had been seldom curried. A ragged coat upon a horse +sometimes covers quite as many good points as the same quality of +garment does upon a man. + +When Hiram spoke to the beast it came to the fence with a friendly +forward thrust of its ears, and the confidence of a horse that has been +kindly treated and looks upon even a strange human as a friend. + +It was a strong and well-shaped animal, more than twelve years old, +as Hiram discovered when he opened the creature's mouth, but seemingly +sound in limb. Nor was he too large for work on the cultivator, while +sturdy enough to carry a single plow. + +Hiram passed him over with a satisfactory pat on the nose and turned +to look at the white-faced cow that had so terrified Mrs. Atterson. She +wasn't a bad looking beast, either, and would freshen shortly. Her calf +would be worth from twelve to fifteen dollars if Mrs. Atterson did not +wish to raise it. Another future asset to mention to the old lady when +he returned. + +The youth turned his attention to the buildings themselves--the barn, +the cart shed, the henhouse, and the smaller buildings. That famous old +decorating firm of Wind & Weather had contracted for all painting done +around the Atterson place for the many years; but the buildings were not +otherwise in a bad state of repair. + +A few shingles had been blown off the roofs; here and there a board was +loose. With a hammer and a few nails, and in a few hours, many of these +small repairs could be accomplished. And a coat or two of properly +mixed and applied whitewash would freshen up the whole place and--like +charity--cover a multitude of sins. + +Henry bade him good-bye now, they shook hands, and Hiram agreed to let +his new friend know at once if he decided to come with Mrs. Atterson to +the farm. + +“We can have heaps of fun--you and me,” declared Henry. + +“It isn't so bad,” soliloquized the young farmer when he was alone. +“There'd be time to put the buildings and fences in good shape before +the spring work came on with a rush. There's fertilizer enough in the +barnyard and the pig pen and the hen run--with the help of a few pounds +of salts and some bone meal, perhaps--to enrich a right smart kitchen +garden and spread for corn on that four acre lot yonder. + +“Of course, this land up here on the hill needs humus. If it has been +cropped on shares, as Henry says, all the enrichment it has received +has been from commercial fertilizers. And necessarily they have made the +land sour. It probably needs lime badly. + +“Yes, I can't encourage Mrs. Atterson to look for a profit in anything +this year. It will take a year to get that rich bottom into shape +for--for what, I wonder? Onions? Celery? It would raise 'em both. I'll +think about that and look over the market prospects more fully before I +decide.” + +For already, you see, Hiram had come to the decision that this old farm +could be made to pay. Why not? The true farmer has to have imagination +as well as the knowledge and the perseverance to grow crops. He must be +able in his mind's eye to see a field ready for the reaping before he +puts in a seed. + +He did not go to the house on this occasion, but after casually +examining the tools and harness, and the like, left by the old man, he +cut off across the upper end of the farm and gave the neglected open +fields of this upper forty a casual examination. + +“If she had the money to invest, I'd say buy sheep and fence these +fields and so get rid of the weeds. They've grown very foul through +neglect, and cultivating them for years would not destroy the weeds as +sheep would in two seasons. + +“But wire fencing is expensive--and so are good sheep to begin with. No. +Slow but sure must be our motto. I mustn't advise any great outlay of +money--that would scare her to death. + +“It will be hard enough for her to put out money all season long before +there are any returns. We'll go, slow,” repeated Hiram. + +But when he left the farm that afternoon he went swiftly enough to +Scoville and took the train for the not far distant city of Crawberry. +This was Tuesday evening and he arrived just about supper time at Mrs. +Atterson's. + +The reason for Hiram's absence, and the matter of Mrs. Atterson's legacy +altogether, had been kept from the boarders. And there was no time until +after the principal meal of the day was off the lady's mind for Hiram to +say anything to her. + +“She's a good old soul,” thought Hiram. “And if it's in my power to make +that farm pay, and yield her a competency for her old age, I'll do it.” + +Meanwhile he was not losing sight of the fact that there was something +due to him in this matter. He was bound to see that he got his +share--and a just share--of any profits that might accrue from the +venture. + +So, after the other boarders had scattered, and Mrs. Atterson had eaten +her own late supper, and Sister was swashing plates and knives and forks +about in a big pan of hot water in the kitchen sink, (between whiles +doing her best to listen at the crack of the door) the landlady and +Hiram Strong threshed out the project fully. + +It was not all one-sided; for Mrs. Atterson, after all, had been +bargaining all her life and could see the “main chance” as quickly as +the next one. She had not bickered with hucksters, chivvied grocerymen, +fought battles royal with butchers, and endured the existence of a Red +Indian amidst allied foes for two decades without having her wits ground +to a razor edge. + +On the other hand, Hiram Strong, although a boy in years, had been his +own master long enough to take care of himself in most transactions, and +withal had a fund of native caution. They jotted down memoranda of the +points on which they were agreed, which included the following: + +Mrs. Atterson, as “party of the first part”, agreed to board Hiram until +the crops were harvested the second year. In addition she was to pay +him one hundred dollars at Christmas time this first year, and another +hundred at the conclusion of the agreement--i. e., when the second +year's crop was harvested. + +Beside, of the estimated profits of the second year's crop, Hiram was +to have twenty-five per cent. This profit was to be that balance in the +farm's favor (if such balance there was) over and above the actual cost +of labor, seed, and such purchased fertilizer or other supplies as were +necessary. Mrs. Atterson agreed likewise to supply one serviceable horse +and such tools as might be needed, for the place was to be run as “a +one-horse farm.” + +On the other hand Hiram agreed to give his entire time to the farm, to +work for Mrs. Atterson's interest in all things, to make no expenditures +without discussing them first with her, and to give his best care and +attention generally to the farm and all that pertained thereto. Of +course, the old lady was taking Hiram a good deal on trust. But she had +known the boy almost two years and he had been faithful and prompt in +discharging his debts to her. + +But it was up to the young fellow to “make good.” He could not expect +to make any profit for his employer the first year; but he would be +expected to do so the second season, or “show cause.” + + +When these matters were all discussed and the little memorandum +signed, Hiram Strong, in his own room, thought the situation over very +seriously. He was facing the biggest responsibility that he had obliged +to assume in his whole life. + +This was no boyish job; it was man's work. He had put his hand to an +agreement that might influence his whole future, and certainly would +make or break his credit as a trustworthy youth and one of his word. + +During these past days Hiram had determined to “get back to the soil” + and to get back to it in a business-like way. He desired to make good +for Mrs. Atterson so that he might some time have the chance to make +good for somebody else on a bigger scale. + +He did not propose to be “a one-horse farmer” all his days. + + + +CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + +On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's hands. On +Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at it. They came again +on Thursday and again on Friday. + +Friday being considered an “unlucky” day they did not bind the bargain; +but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers of the house were +to take possession in a week. Not until then were the boarders informed +of Mother Atterson's change of circumstances, and the fact that she was +going to graduate from the boarding house kitchen to the farm. + +After all, they were sorry--those light-headed, irresponsible young +men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, who could +not easily remember some special kindness that marked the old lady's +intercourse with him. + +As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had changed +hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild gabble of voices, +over the supper table that night. Crackit led the chorus. + +“It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many cattle to +the highest bidder. Ungrateful--right down ungrateful, I call it,” he +declared. “What do you say, Feeble?” + +“It is particularly distasteful to me just now,” complained the invalid. +“When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at just the right +temperature,” and he took a sip of that innocent beverage. “Don't you +suppose we could prevail upon the old lady to renig?” + +“She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of the time +she stays,” declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. “She's got +nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and leave--after she +gets hers.” + +“That's always the way,” feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. “Just as soon as I +really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, something happens.” + +Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly ten +years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place. + +The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism for the +mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said nothing whatever; +even his usual mumblings to himself were not heard. + +He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table when +all the others had departed. + +Mrs. Atterson started into the dining-room with her own supper between +two plates when she saw the old man sitting there despondent in looks +and attitude, his head resting on one clawlike hand, his elbow on the +soiled table cloth. + +He did not look up, nor move. The mistress glanced back over her +shoulder, and there was Sister, sniffling and occasionally rubbing her +wrist into her red eyes as she scraped the tower of plates from the +dinner table. + +“My soul and body!” gasped Mother Atterson, almost dropping her supper +on the floor. “There's Sister--and there's Old Lem Camp! Whatever will I +do with 'em?” + +Meanwhile Hiram Strong had already left for the farm on the Wednesday +previous. The other boarders knew nothing about his agreement with +Mother Atterson; he had agreed to go to the place and begin work, and +take care of the stock and all, “choring for himself”, as the good lady +called it, until she could complete her city affairs and move herself +and her personal chattels to the farm. + +Hiram bore a note to the woman who had promised to care for the Atterson +place, and money to pay her what the boarding-house mistress had agreed. + +“You can 'bach' it in the house as well as poor old Uncle Jeptha did, I +reckon,” this woman told the youth. + +She showed him where certain provisions were--the pork barrel, ham and +bacon of the old man's curing, and the few vegetables remaining from the +winter's store. + +“The cow was about gone dry, anyway,” said the woman, Mrs. Larriper, who +was a widow and lived with her married daughter some half-mile down the +road toward Scoville, “so I didn't bother to milk her. + +“You'll have to go to town to buy grain, if you want to feed her up--and +for the chickens and the horse. The old man didn't make much of a crop +last year--or them shiftless Dickersons didn't make much for him. + +“I saw Sam Dickerson around here this morning. He borrowed some of the +old man's tools when Uncle Jeptha was sick, and you'll have to go after +'em, I reckon. + +“Sam's the best borrower that ever was; but he never can remember to +bring things back. He says it's bad enough to have to borrow; it's too +much to expect the same man to return what he borrows. + +“Now, Mrs. Dickerson,” pursued Mrs. Larriper, “was as nice a girl before +she married--she was a Stepney--as ever walked in shoe-leather. And I +guess she'd be right friendly with the neighbors if Sam would let her. + +“But the poor thing never gits to go out--no, sir! She's jest tied to +the house. They lost a child once--four year ago. That's the only time +I remember of seeing Sarah Stepney in church since the day she was +married--and she's got a boy--Pete--as old as you be. + +“Now, on the other side o' ye there's Darrell's tract, and you won't +have no trouble there, for there ain't a house on his place, and he lets +it lie idle. Waiting for a rise in price, I 'spect. + +“Some rich folks is comin' in and buying up pieces of land and making +what they calls 'gentlemen's estates' out o' them. A family named +Bronson--Mr. Stephen Bronson, with one little girl--bought the Fleigler +place only last month. + +“They're nice folks,” pursued this amiable but talkative lady, “and +they don't live but a mile or so along the Scoville road. You passed the +place--white, with green shutters, and a water-tower in the back, when +you walked up.” + +“I remember it,” said Hiram, nodding. + +“They're western folk. Come clear from out in Injiany, or Illiny, or +the like. The girl's going to school and she ain't got no mother, so her +father's come on East with her to be near the school. + +“Well, I can't help you no more. Them hens! Well, I'd sell 'em if I was +Mis' Atterson. + +“Hens ain't much nowadays, anyhow; and I expect a good many of those are +too old to lay. Uncle Jeptha couldn't fuss with chickens, and he didn't +raise only a smitch of 'em last year and the year before--just them that +the hens hatched themselves in stolen nests, and chanced to bring up +alive. + +“You better grease the cart before you use it. It's stood since they +hauled in corn last fall. + +“And look out for Dickerson. Ask him for the things he borrowed. You'll +need 'em, p'r'aps, if you're goin' to do any farmin' for Mis' Atterson.” + +She bustled away. Hiram thought he had heard enough about his neighbors +for a while, and he went out to look over the pasture fencing, which was +to be his first repair job. He would have that ready to turn the cow and +her calf into as soon as the grass began to grow. + +He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half workshop +in Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a pair of wire +cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. + +With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which was +likewise the pasture fence on the west side, between Mrs. Atterson's and +Dickerson's. + +Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire. In other places +the wires had sagged and were loose. The claw-hammer fixed these like +a charm. Slipping the wire into the claw, a single twist of the wrist +would usually pick up the sag and make the wire taut again at that +point. + +He drove a few staples, as needed, as he walked along. The pasture +partook of the general conformation of the farm--it was rather long and +narrow. + +It had grown to clumps of bushes in spots, and there was sufficient +shade. But he did not come to the water until he reached the lower end +of the lot. + +The branch trickled from a spring, or springs, farther east. It made +an elbow at the corner of the pasture--the lower south-west corner--and +there a water-hole had been scooped out at some past time. + +This waterhole was deep enough for all purposes, and was shaded by a +great oak that had stood there long before the house belonging to Jeptha +Atterson had been built. + +Here Hiram struck something that puzzled him. The boundary fence crossed +this water-hole at a tangent, and recrossed to the west bank of the +outflowing branch a few yards below, leaving perhaps half of the +water-hole upon the neighbor's side of the fence. + +Some of this wire at the water-hole was practically new. So were the +posts. And after a little Hiram traced the line of old postholes which +had followed a straight line on the west side of the water-hole. + +In other words, this water-privilege for Dickerson's land was of recent +arrangement--so recent indeed, that the young farmer believed he could +see some fresh-turned earth about the newly-set posts. + +“That's something to be looked into, I am afraid,” thought Hiram, as he +moved along the southern pasture fence. + +But the trickle of the branch beckoned him; he had not found the +fountain-head of the little stream when he had walked over a part of the +timbered land with Henry Pollock, and now he struck into the open woods +again, digging into the soil here and there with his heavy boot, marking +the quality and age of the timber, and casting-up in his mind the +possibilities and expense of clearing these overgrown acres. + +“Mrs. Atterson may have a very valuable piece of land here in time,” + muttered Hiram. “A sawmill set up in here could cut many a hundred +thousand feet of lumber--and good lumber, too. But it would spoil the +beauty of the farm.” + +However, as must ever be in the case of the utility farm, the house was +set on its ugliest part. The cleared fields along the road had nothing +but the background of woods on the south and east to relieve their +monotony. + +On the brow of the steeper descent, which he had noted on his former +visit to the back end of the farm, he found a certain clearing in the +wood. Here the pines surrounded the opening on three sides. + +To the south, through a break in the wooded hillside, he obtained a +far-reaching view of the river valley as it lay, to the east and to the +west. The prospect was delightful. + +Here and there, on the farther bank of the river, which rose less +abruptly there than on this side, lay several cheerful looking +farmsteads. The white dwellings and outbuildings dotted the checkered +fields of green and brown. + +Cowbells tinkled in the distance, for the weather tempted farmers to let +their cattle run in the pastures even so early in the season. A horse +whinnied shrilly to a mate in a distant field. + +The creaking of the heavy wheels of a laden farm-cart was a mellow sound +in Hiram's ears. Beyond a fir plantation, high on the hillside, the +sharply outlined steeple of a little church lay against the soft blue +horizon. + +“A beauty-spot!” Hiram muttered. “What a site for a home! And yet people +want to build their houses right on an automobile road, and in sight of +the rural mail box!” + +His imagination began to riot, spurred by the outlook and by the nearer +prospect of wood and hillside. The sun now lay warmly upon him as he sat +upon a stump and drank in the beauty of it all. + +After a time his ear, becoming attuned to the multitudinous voices +of the wood, descried the silvery note of falling water. He arose and +traced the sound. + +Less than twenty yards away, and not far from the bluff, a vigorous +rivulet started from beneath the half-bared roots of a monster beech, +and fell over an outcropping boulder into a pool so clear that sand +on its bottom, worked mysteriously into a pattern by the action of the +water, lay revealed. + +Hiram knelt on a mossy rock beside the pool, and bending put his lips +to the water. It was the sweetest, most satisfying drink, he had imbibed +for many a day. + +But the morning was growing old, and Hiram wanted to trace the farther +line of the farm. He went down to the river, crossed the open meadow +again where they had built the campfire the morning before, and found +the deeply scarred oak which stood exactly on the boundary line between +the Atterson and Darrell tracts. + +He turned to the north, and followed the line as nearly as might be. The +Darrell tract was entirely wooded, and when he reached the uplands +he kept on in the shadowy aisles of the sap-pines which covered his +neighbor's property. + +He came finally to where the ground fell away again, and the yellow, +deeply-rutted road lay at his feet. The winter had played havoc with the +automobile track. + +The highway was unfenced and the bank dropped fifteen feet to the beaten +path. A leaning oak overhung the road and Hiram lingered here, lying +on its broad trunk, face upward, with his hat pulled over his eyes to +shield them from the sunlight which filtered through the branches. + +This land hereabout was beautiful. The boy could appreciate the beauty +as well as the utility of the soil. It was so pleasing to the eye that +he wished with all his heart it had been his own land he had surveyed. + +“And I'll not be a tenant farmer all my life, nor a farm-foreman, as +father was,” determined the boy. “I'll get ahead. If I work for the +benefit of other people for a few years, surely I'll win the chance in +time to at last work for myself.” + +In the midst of his ruminations a sound broke upon his ear--a jarring +note in the peaceful murmur of the woodland life. It was the thud of a +horse's hoofs. + +Not the sedate tunk-tunk of iron-shod feet on the damp earth, but +an erratic and rapid pounding of hoof-beats which came on with such +startling swiftness that Hiram sat up instantly, and craned his neck to +see up the road. + +“That horse is running away!” gasped the young farmer, and he swung +himself out upon the lowest branch of the leaning tree which overhung +the carttrack, the better to see along the highway. + + + +CHAPTER XI. A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + +There was no bend in the highway for some distance, but the overhanging +trees masked the track completely, save for a few hundred yards. The +horse, whether driven or running at large, was plainly spurred by +fright. + +Into the peacefulness of this place its hoof-beats were bringing the +element of peril. + +Lying prostrate on the sloping trunk, Hiram could see much farther up +the road. The outstretched head and lathered breast of a tall bay horse +leaped into view, and like a picture in a kinetoscope, growing larger +and more vivid second by second, the maddened animal came down the road. + +Hiram could see that the beast was not riderless, but it was a moment +or two--a long-drawn, anxious space of heart-beaten seconds--ere he +realized what manner of rider it was who clung so desperately to the +masterless creature. + +“It's a girl--a little girl!” gasped Hiram. + +She was only a speck of color, with white, drawn face, on the back of +the racing horse. + +Every plunge of the oncoming animal shook the little figure as though +it must fall from the saddle. But Hiram could see that she hung with +phenomenal pluck to the broken bridle and to the single horn of her +side-saddle. + +If the horse fell, or if she were shaken free, she would be flung to +instant death, or be fearfully bruised under the pounding hoofs of the +big horse. + +The young farmer's appreciation of the peril was instant; unused as he +was to meeting such emergency, there was neither panic nor hesitancy in +his actions. + +He writhed farther out upon the limb of the leaning oak until he was +direct above the road. The big bay naturally kept to the middle, for +there was no obstruction in its path. + +To have dropped to the highway would have put Hiram to instant +disadvantage; for before he could have recovered himself after the drop +the horse would have been upon him. + +Now, swinging with both legs wrapped around the tough limb, and his left +hand gripping a smaller branch, but with his back to the plunging brute, +the youth glanced under his right armpit to judge the distance and the +on-rush of the horse and its helpless rider. + +He knew she saw him. Swift as was the steed's approach, Hiram had seen +the change come into the expression of the girl's face. + +“Clear your foot of the stirrup!” he shouted, hoping the girl would +understand. + +With a confusing thunder of hoofbeats the bay came on--was beneath +him--had passed! + +Hiram's right arm shot out, curved slightly, and as his fingers gripped +her sleeve, the girl let go. She was whisked out of the saddle and the +horse swept on without her. + +The strain of the girl's slight weight upon his arm lasted but a moment, +for Hiram let go with his feet, swung down, and dropped. + +They alighted in the roadway with so slight a jar that he scarcely +staggered, but set the girl down gently, and for the passing of a breath +her body swayed against him, seeking support. + +Then she sprang a little away, and they stood looking at each +other--Hiram panting and flushed, the girl with wide-open eyes out of +which the terror had not yet faded, and cheeks still colorless. + +So they stood, for fully half a minute, speechless, while the thunder of +the bay's hoofs passed further and further away and finally was lost in +the distance. + +And it wasn't excitement that kept the boy dumb; for that was all over, +and he had been as cool as need be through the incident. But it +was unbounded amazement that made him stare so at the slight girl +confronting him. + +He had seen her brilliant, dark little face before. Only once--but that +one occasion had served to photograph her features on his memory. + +For the second time he had been of service to her; but he knew +instantly--and the fact did not puzzle him--that she did not recognize +him. + +It had been so dark in the unlighted side street back in Crawberry the +evening of their first meeting that Hiram believed (and was glad) that +neither she nor her father would recognize him as the boy who had kept +their carriage from going into the open ditch. + +And he had played rescuer again--and in a much more heroic manner. +This was the daughter of the man whom he had thought to be a prosperous +farmer, and whose card Hiram had lost. + +He had hoped the gentleman might have a job for him; but now Hiram was +not looking for a job. He had given himself heartily to the project of +making the old Atterson farm pay; nor was he the sort of fellow to show +fickleness in such a project. + +Before either Hiram or the girl broke the silence--before that silence +could become awkward, indeed--there started into hearing the ring of +rapid hoofbeats again. But it was not the runaway returning. + +The mate of the latter appeared, and he came jogging along the road, +very much in hand, the rider seemingly quite unflurried. + +This was a big, ungainly, beak-nosed boy, whose sleeves were much too +short, and trousers-legs likewise, to hide Nature's abundant gift to him +in the matter of bone and knuckle. He was freckled and wore a grin that +was not even sheepish. + +Somehow, this stolidity and inappreciation of the peril the girl had so +recently escaped, made Hiram feel sudden indignation. + +But the girl herself took the lout to task--before Hiram could say a +word. + +“I told you that horse could not bear the whip, Peter!” she exclaimed, +with wrathful gaze. “How dared you strike him?” + +“Aw--I only touched him up a bit,” drawled the youth. “You said you +could ride anything, didn't you?” and his grin grew wider. “But I see ye +had to get off.” + +Here Hiram could stand it no longer, and he blurted out: + +“She might have been killed! I believe that horse is running yet----” + +“Well, why didn't you stop it?” demanded the other youth, “impudently. +You had a chance.” + +“He saved me,” cried the girl, looking at Hiram now with shining eyes. +“I don't know how to thank him.” + +“He might have stopped the horse while he was about it,” growled the +fellow, picking up his own reins again. “Now I'll have to ride after +it.” + +“You'd better,” said the little lady, sharply. “If father knew that +horse had run away with me he would be dreadfully put out. You hurry +after him, Peter.” + +The lout never said a word in reply, but his horse carried him swiftly +out of sight in the wake of the runaway. Then the girl turned again to +Hiram and the young farmer knew that he was being keenly examined by her +bright black eyes. + +“I am very sure father will not keep him,” declared the girl, looking at +Hiram thoughtfully. “He is too careless--and I don't like him, anyway. +Do you live around here?” + +“I expect to,” replied Hiram, smiling. “I have just come. I am going to +stay at this next house, along the road.” + +“Oh! where the old gentleman died last week?” + +“Yes. Mrs. Atterson was left the place by her uncle, and I am going to +run it for her.” + +“Oh, dear! then you've got a place to work?” queried the little lady, +with plain disappointment in her tone. “I am sure father would like to +have you instead of Peter.” + +But Hiram shook his head slowly, though still smiling, + +“I'm obliged to you,” he said; “but I have agreed to stop with Mrs. +Atterson for a time.” + +“I want father to meet you just the same,” she declared. + +She had a way about her that impressed Hiram with the idea that she +seldom failed in getting what she wanted. If she was not a spoiled +child, she certainly was a very much indulged one. + +But she was pretty! Dark, petite, with a brilliant smile, flashing +eyes, and a riot of blue-black curls, she was verily the daintiest and +prettiest little creature the young farmer had ever seen. + +“I am Lettie Bronson,” she said, frankly. “I live down the road toward +Scoville. We have only just come here.” + +“I know where you live,” said Hiram, smiling and nodding. + +“You must come and see us. I want you to know father. He's the very +nicest man there is, I think.” + +“He came all the way East here so as to live near my school--I go to the +St. Beris school in Scoville. It's awfully nice, and the girls are very +fashionable; but I'd be too lonely to live if daddy wasn't right near me +all the time. + +“What is your name?” she asked suddenly. + +Hiram told her. + +“Why! that's a regular farmer's name, isn't it--Hiram?” and she +laughed--a clear and sweet sound, that made an inquisitive squirrel that +had been watching them scamper away to his hollow, chattering. + +“I don't know about that,” returned the young farmer, shaking his +head and smiling. “I ought by good rights to be 'a worker in brass', +according to the Bible. That was the trade of Hiram, of the tribe of +Naphtali, who came out of Tyre to make all the brass work for Solomon's +temple.” + +“Oh! and there was a King Hiram, of Tyre, too, wasn't there,” cried +Lettie, laughing. “You might be a king, you know.” + +“That seems to be an unprofitable trade now-a-days,” returned the young +fellow, shaking his head. “I think I will be the namesake of Hiram, the +brass-smith, for it is said of him that he was 'filled with wisdom and +understanding' and that is what I want to be if I am going to run Mrs. +Atterson's farm and make it pay.” + +“You're a funny boy,” said the girl, eyeing him furiously. +“You're--you're not at all like Pete--or these other boys about +Scoville.” + +“And that Pete Dickerson isn't any good at all! I shall tell daddy all +about how he touched up that horse and made him run. Here he comes now!” + +They had been walking steadily along the road toward the Atterson house, +and in the direction the runaway had taken. Pete Dickerson appeared, +riding one of the bays and leading the one that had been frightened. + +The latter was all of a lather, was blowing hard, and before the horses +reached them, Hiram saw that the runaway was in bad shape. + +“Hold on!” he cried to the lout. “Breathe that horse a while. Let him +stand. He ought to be rubbed down, too. Don't you see the shape he is +in?” + +“Aw, what's eatin' you?” demanded Pete, eyeing the speaker with much +disfavor. + +The horse, when he stopped, was trembling all over. His nostrils were +dilated and as red as blood, and strings of foam were dripping from his +bit. + +“Don't let him stand there in the shade,” spoke Hiram, more “mildly. +He'll take a chill. Here! let me have him.” + +He approached the still frightened horse, and Pete jerked the +bridle-rein. The horse started back and snorted. + +“Stand 'round there, ye 'tarnal nuisance!” exclaimed Pete. + +But Hiram caught the bridle and snatched it from the other fellow's +hand. + +“Just let me manage him a minute,” said Hiram, leading the horse into +the sunshine. + +He patted him, and soothed him, and the horse ceased trembling and his +ears pricked up. Hiram, still keeping the reins in his hand, loosened +the cinches and eased the saddle so that the animal could breathe +better. + +There were bunches of dried sage-grass growing by the roadside, and the +young farmer tore off a couple of these bunches and used them to wipe +down the horse's legs. Pretty soon the creature forgot his fright and +looked like a normal horse again. + +“If he was mine I'd give him whip a-plenty--till he learned better,” + drawled Pete Dickerson, finally. + +“Don't you ever dare touch him with the whip again!” cried the girl, +stamping her foot. “He will not stand it. You were told----” + +“Aw, well,” said the fellow, “'I didn't think he was going to cut up as +bad as that. These Western horses ain't more'n half broke, anyway.” + +“I think he is perfectly safe for you to ride now, Miss Bronson,” said +Hiram, quietly. “I'll give you a hand up. But walk him home, please.” + +He had tightened the cinches again. Lettie put her tiny booted foot in +his hand (she wore a very pretty dark green habit) and with perfect ease +the young farmer lifted her into the saddle. + +“Good-bye--and thank you again!” she said, softly, giving him her free +hand just as the horse started. + +“Say! you're the fellow who's going to live at Atterson's place?” + observed Pete. “I'll see you later,” and he waved his hand airily as he +rode off. + +“So that's Pete Dickerson, is it?” ruminated Hiram, as he watched the +horses out of sight. “Well, if his father, Sam, is anything like him, we +certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!” + + + +CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + +That afternoon Hiram hitched up the old horse and drove into town. + +He went to see the lawyer who had transacted Uncle Jeptha Atterson's +small business in the old man's lifetime, and had made his will--Mr. +Strickland. Hiram judged that this gentleman would know as much about +the Atterson place as anybody. + +“No--Mr. Atterson never said anything to me about giving a neighbor +water-rights,” the lawyer said. “Indeed, Mr. Atterson was not a man +likely to give anything away--until he had got through with it himself. + +“Dickerson once tried to buy a right at that corner of the Atterson +pasture; but he and the old gentleman couldn't come to terms. + +“Dickerson has no water on his place, saving his well and his rights on +the river. It makes it bad for him, I suppose; but I do not advise Mrs. +Atterson to let that fence stand. Give that sort of a man an inch and +he'll take a mile.” + +“But what shall I do?” + +“That's professional advice, young man,” returned the lawyer, “smiling. +But I will give it to you without charge. + +“Merely go and pull the new posts up and replace them on the line. If +Dickerson interferes with you, come to me and we'll have him bound over +before the Justice of the Peace. + +“You represent Mrs. Atterson and are within her rights. That's the best +I can tell you.” + +Now, Hiram was not desirous of starting any trouble--legal or +otherwise--with a neighbor; but neither did he wish to see anybody take +advantage of his old boarding mistress. He knew that, beside farming +for her, he would probably have to defend her from many petty annoyances +like the present case. + +So he bought the wire he needed for repairs, a few other things that +were necessary, and drove back to the farm, determined to go right ahead +and await the consequences. + +Among his purchases was an axe. In the workshop on the farm was a fairly +good grindstone; only the treadle was broken and Hiram had to repair +this before he could make much headway in grinding the axe. Henry +Pollock lived too far away to be called upon in such a small emergency. + +Being obliged to work alone sharpens one's wits. The young farmer had to +resort to shifts and expedients on every hand, as he went along. + +The day before, while wandering in the wood, he had marked several white +oaks of the right size for posts. He would have preferred cedars, of +course; but those trees were scarce on the Atterson tract--and they +might be needed for some more important job later on. + +When he came up to the house at noon to feed the stock and make his own +frugal meal in the farm house kitchen, the posts were cut. After dinner +he harnessed the horse to the farm wagon, and went down for the posts, +taking the rolls of wire along to drop beside the fence. + +The horse was a steady, willing creature, and seemed to have no tricks. +He did not drive very well on the road, of course; but that wasn't what +they needed a horse for. + +Driving was a secondary matter. + +Hiram loaded his posts and hauled them to the pasture, driving inside +the fence line and dropping a post wherever one had rotted out. + +Yet posts that had rotted at the ground were not so easy to draw out, as +the young farmer very well knew, and he set his wits to work to make the +removal of the old posts easy of accomplishment. + +He found an old, but strong, carpenter's horse in the shed, to act as +a fulcrum, and a seasoned bar of hickory as a lever. There was never +an old farm yet that didn't have a useful heap of junk, and Hiram had +already scratched over Uncle Jeptha's collection of many years' standng. + +He found what he sought in a wrought iron band some half inch in +thickness with a heavy hook attached to it by a single strong link. +He fitted this band upon the larger end of the hickory bar, wedging it +tightly into place. + +A short length of trace chain completed his simple post-puller. And he +could easily carry the outfit from place to place as it was needed. + +When he found a weak or rotting post, he pulled the staples that held +the strands of wire to it and and then set the trestle alongside the +post. Resting the lever on the trestle, he dropped the end link of the +chain on the hook, looped the chain around the post, and hooked on with +another link. Bearing down on the lever brought the post out of the +ground every time. + +With a long-handled spade Hiram cleaned out the old holes, or enlarged +them, and set his new posts, one after the other. He left the wires to +be tightened and stapled later. + +It was not until the next afternoon that he worked down as far as the +water-hole. Meanwhile he had seen nothing of the neighbors and neither +knew, nor cared, whether they were watching him or not. + +But it was evident that the Dickersons had kept tabs on the young +farmer's progress, for, he had no more than pulled the posts out of +the water-hole and started to reset them on the proper line, than the +long-legged Pete Dickerson appeared. + +“Hey, you!” shouted Pete. “What are you monkeying with that line fence +for?” + +“Because I won't have time to fix it later,” responded Hiram, calmly. + +“Fresh Ike, ain't yer?” demanded young Dickerson. + +He was half a head taller than Hiram, and plainly felt himself safe in +adopting bullying tactics. + +“You put them posts back where you found 'em and string the wires again +in a hurry--or I'll make yer.” + +“This is Mrs. Atterson's fence,” said Hiram, quietly. “I have made +inquiries about the line, and I know where it belongs.” + +“No part of this water-hole belongs on your side of the fence, +Dickerson, and as long as I represent Mrs. Atterson it's not going to be +grabbed.” + +“Say! the old man gave my father the right to a part of this hole long +ago.” + +“Show your legal paper to that effect,” promptly suggested Hiram. “Then +we will let it stand until the lawyers decide the matter.” + +Pete was silent for a minute; meanwhile Hiram continued to dig his hole, +and finally set the first post into place. + +“I tell you to take that post out o' there, Mister,” exclaimed Pete, +suddenly approaching the other. “I don't like you, anyway. You helped +git me turned off up there to Bronson's yesterday. If you wouldn't have +put your fresh mouth in about the horse that gal wouldn't have knowed +so much to tell her father. Now you stop foolin' with this fence or I'll +lick you.” + +Hiram Strong's disposition was far from being quarrelsome. He only +laughed at first and said: + +“Why, that won't do you any good in the end, Peter. Thrashing me won't +give you and your father the right to usurp rights at this water-hole. + +“There was very good reason, as I can see, for old Mr. Atterson refusing +to let you water your stock here. In time of drouth the branch probably +furnished no more water than his own cattle needed. And it will be the +same with my employer.” + +“You'd better have less talk about it, and set back them posts,” + declared Pete, decidedly, laying off his coat and pulling up his shirt +sleeves. + +“I hope you won't try anything foolish, Peter,” said Hiram, resting on +his shovel handle. + +“Huh!” grunted Pete, eyeing him sideways as might an evil-disposed dog. + +“We're not well matched,” observed Hiram, quietly, “and whether you +thrashed me, or I thrashed you, nothing would be proved by it in regard +to the line fence.” + +“I'll show you what I can prove!” cried Pete, and rushed for him. + +In a catch-as-catch-can wrestle Pete Dickerson might have been able +to overturn Hiram Strong. But the latter did not propose to give the +long-armed youth that advantage. + +He dropped the spade, stepped nimbly aside, and as Pete lunged past +him the young farmer doubled his fist and struck his antagonist solidly +under the ear. + +That was the only blow struck--that and the one when Pete struck the +ground. The bigger fellow rolled over, grunted, and gazed up at Hiram +with amazement struggling with the rage expressed in his features. + +“I told you we were not well matched, Peter,” spoke Hiram, calmly. “Why +fight about it? You have no right on your side, and I do not propose to +see Mrs. Atterson robbed of this water privilege.” + +Pete climbed to his feet slowly, and picked up his coat. He felt of his +neck carefully and then looked at his hand, with the idea evidently that +such a heavy blow must have brought blood. But of course there was none. + +“I'll tell my dad--that's what I'll do,” ejaculated the bully, at +length, and he started immediately across the field, his long legs +working like a pair of tongs in his haste to get over the ground. + +But Hiram completed the setting of the posts at the water-hole without +hearing further from any member of the Dickerson family. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE UPROOTING + +These early Spring days were busy ones for Hiram Strong. The mornings +were frosty and he could not get to his fencing work until midforenoon. +But there were plenty of other tasks ready to his hand. + +There were two south windows in the farmhouse kitchen. He tried to keep +some fire in the stove there day and night, sleeping as he did in Uncle +Jeptha's old bedroom nearby. + +Before these two windows he erected wide shelves and on these he set +shallow boxes of rich earth which he had prepared under the cart shed. +There was no frost under there, the earth was dry and the hens had +scratched in it during the winter, so Hiram got all the well-sifted +earth he needed for his seed boxes. + +He used a very little commercial fertilizer in each box, and planted +some of the seeds he had bought in Crawberry at an agricultural +warehouse on Main Street. + +Mrs. Atterson had expressed the hope that he would put in a variety of +vegetables for their own use, and Hiram had followed her wishes. When +the earth in the boxes had warmed up for several days he put in the +long-germinating seeds, like tomato, onions, the salads, leek, celery, +pepper, eggplant, and some beet seed to transplant for the early garden. +It was too early yet to put in cabbage and cauliflower. + +These boxes caught the sun for a good part of the day. In the afternoon +when the sun had gone, Hiram covered the boxes with old quilts and did +not uncover them again until the sun shone in the next morning. He had +decided to start his early plants in this way because he hadn't the time +at present to build frames outside. + +During the early mornings and late afternoons, too, he began to make the +small repairs around the house and outbuildings. Hiram was handy with +tools; indeed, a true farmer should be a good mechanic as well. He must +often combine carpentry and wheelwrighting and work at the forge, with +his agricultural pursuits. Hiram was something better than a “cold-iron +blacksmith.” + +When it came to stretching the wire of the pasture fence he had to +resort to his inventive powers. There are plenty of wire stretchers that +can be purchased; but they cost money. + +The young farmer knew that Mrs. Atterson had no money to waste, and he +worked for her just as he would have worked for himself. + +One man working alone cannot easily stretch wire and make a good job +of it without some mechanism to help him. Hiram's was simple and easily +made. + +A twelve-inch section of perfectly round post, seven or eight inches +through, served as the drum around which to wind the wire, and two +twenty-penny nails driven into the side of the drum, close together, +were sufficient to prevent the wire from slipping. + +To either end of the drum Hiram passed two lengths of Number 9 wire +through large screweyes, making a double loop into which the hook of a +light timber chain would easily catch. Into one end of the drum he drove +a headless spike, upon which the hand-crank of the grindstone fitted, +and was wedged tight. + +In using this ingenious wire stretcher, he stapled his wire to post +number one, carried the length past post number two, looped the chain +around post number three, having the chain long enough so that he might +tauten the wire and hold the crankhandle steady with his knee or left +arm while he drove the holding staple in post number two. And so repeat, +ad infinitum. + +After he had made this wire-stretcher the young fellow got along +famously upon his fencing and could soon turn his attention to other +matters, knowing that the cattle would be perfectly safe in the pasture +for the coming season. + +The old posts he collected on the wagon and drew into the dooryard, +piling them beside the woodshed. There was not an overabundant supply +of firewood cut and Hiram realized that Mrs. Atterson would use +considerable in her kitchen stove before the next winter, even if she +did not run a sitting room fire for long this spring. + +Using a bucksaw is not only a thankless job at any time, but it is no +saving of time or money. There was a good two-handed saw in the shed and +Hiram found a good rat-tail file. With the aid of a home-made saw-holder +and a monkey wrench he sharpened and set this saw and then got Henry +Pollock to help him for a day. + +Henry wasn't afraid of work, and the two boys sawed and split the old +and well-seasoned posts, and some other wood, so that Hiram was enabled +to pile several tiers of stove-wood under the shed against the coming of +Mrs. Atterson to her farm. + +“If the season wasn't so far advanced, I could cut a lot of wood, draw +it up, and hire a gasoline engine and saw to come on the place and saw +us enough to last a year. I'll do that next winter,” Hiram said. + +“That's what we all ought to do,” agreed his friend. + +Henry Pollock was an observing farmer's boy and through him Hiram gained +many pointers as to the way the farmers in that locality put in their +crops and cultivated them. + +He learned, too, through Henry who was supposed to be the best farmer +in the neighborhood, who had special success with certain crops, and who +had raised the best seedcorn in the locality. + +It was not particularly a trucking community; although, since Scoville +had begun to grow so fast and many city people had moved into that +pleasant town, the local demand for garden produce had increased. + +“It used to be a saying here,” said Henry, “that a bushel of winter +turnips would supply all the needs of Scoville. But that ain't exactly +so now. + +“The stores all want green stuff in season, and are beginning to pay +cash for truck instead of only offering to exchange groceries for the +stuff we raise. I guess if a man understood truck raising he could make +something in this market.” + +Hiram decided that this was so, on looking over the marketing +possibilities of Scoville. + +There was a canning factory which put up string beans, corn, and +tomatoes; but the prices per hundred-weight for these commodities did +not encourage Hiram to advise Mrs. Atterson to try and raise anything +for the canneries. A profit could not be made out of such crops on a +one-horse farm. + +For instance, the neighboring farmers did not plant their tomato seeds +until it was pretty safe to do so in the open ground. The cannery did +not want the tomato pack to come on until late in August. By that time +the cream of the prices for garden-grown tomatoes had been skimmed by +the early truckers. + +The same with sweet corn and green beans. The cannery demanded these +vegetables at so late a date that the market-price was generally low. + +These facts Hiram bore in mind as he planned his season's work, and +especially the kitchen garden. This latter he planned to be about two +acres in extent--rather a large plot, but he proposed to set his rows +of almost every vegetable far enough apart to be worked with a horse +cultivator. + +Some crops--for instance onions, carrots, and other “fine stuff”--must +be weeded by hand to an extent, and if the soil is rich enough rows +twelve or fifteen inches apart show better results. + +Between such rows a wheelhoe can be used to good advantage, and that +was one tool--with a seed-sowing combination--that Hiram had told Mrs. +Atterson she must buy if he was to practically attend to the whole farm +for her. Hand-hoeing, in both field and garden crops, is antediluvian. + +Thus, during this week and a half of preparation, Hiram made ready for +the uprooting of Mrs. Atterson from the boarding house in Crawberry to +the farm some distance out of Scoville. + +The good lady had but one wagon load of goods to be transferred from +her old quarters to the new home. Many of the articles she brought were +heirlooms which she had stored in the boarding house cellar, or articles +associated with her happy married life, which had been shortened by her +husband's death when he was comparatively a young man. + +These Mrs. Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday morning, +and she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside the driver +herself and riding with him all the way. + +The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two spinster +ladies had already taken possession, and had served breakfast to the +disgruntled members of Mother Atterson's family. + +“You'll be back again,” prophesied Mr. Crackit, shaking the old lady by +the hand. “And when you do, just let me know. I'll come and board with +you.” + +“I wouldn't have you in my house again, Fred Crackit, for two farms,” + declared the ex-boarding house keeper, with asperity. + +“I hope you told these people about my hot water, Mrs. Atterson,” + croaked Mr. Peebles, from the step, where he stood muffled in a shawl +because of the raw morning air. + +“If I didn't you can tell 'em yourself,” returned she, with +satisfaction. + +And so it went--the good-byes of these unappreciative boarders selfish +to the last! Mother Atterson sighed--a long, happy, and satisfying +sigh--when the lumbering wagon turned the first corner. + +“Thanks be!” she murmured. “I sha'n't care if they don't have a driblet +of gravy at supper tonight.” + +Then she shook herself and stared straight ahead. On the very next +corner--she had insisted that none of the other people at the house +should observe their flitting--stood two figures, both forlorn. + +Old Lem Camp, with a lean suit-case at his feet, and Sister with a +bulging carpetbag which she had brought with her months before from the +charity institution, and into which she had stuffed everything she owned +in the world. + +Their faces brightened perceptibly when they beheld Mrs. Atterson +perched high beside the driver on the load of furniture and bedding. The +driver drew in his span of big horses and the wheels grated against the +curb. + +“You climb right in behind, Mr. Camp,” said the good lady. “There's room +for you up under the canvas top--and I had him spread a mattress so't +you can take it easy all the way, if you like. + +“Sister, you scramble up here and sit in betwixt me and this man. And do +look out--you're spillin' things out o' that bag like it was a Christmas +cornucopia. Come on, now! Toss it behind us, onto them other things. +There! we'll go on--and no more stops, I hope, till we reach the farm.” + +But that couldn't be. It was a long drive, and the man was good to his +team. He rested them at the top of every hill, and sometimes at the +bottom. They had to stop two hours for dinner and to “breathe 'em,” as +the man said. + +At that time Mother Atterson produced a goodsized market basket--her +familiar companion when she had hunted bargains in the city--and it was +filled with sandwiches, and pickles, and crackers, and cookies, and +a whole boiled fowl (fowl were cheaper and more satisfying than the +scrawny chickens then in market) and hard-boiled eggs, and cheese, with +numbers of other less important eatables tucked into corners of the +basket to “wedge” the larger packages of food. + +The four picnicked in the sun, with the furniture wagon to break the +keen wind, passing around hot coffee in a can, from hand to hand, the +driver having built a campfire to heat the coffee beside the country +road. + +But after that stop--for they were well into the country now--there was +no keeping Sister on the wagon-seat. She had learned to drop down and +mount again as lively as a cricket. + +She tore along the edge of the road, with her hair flying, and her hat +hanging by its ribbons. She chased a rabbit, and squirrels, and picked +certain green branches, and managed to get her hands and the front of +her dress all “stuck up” with spruce gum in trying to get a piece big +enough to chew. + +“Drat the young'un!” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “I can see plainly +I'd never ought to brought her, but should have sent her back to the +institution. She'll be as wild as Mr. March's hare--whoever he was--out +here in the country.” + +But Old Lem Camp gave her no trouble. He effaced himself just as he had +at the boarding house supper table. He seldom spoke--never unless he was +spoken to; and he lay up under the roof of the furniture wagon, whether +asleep, or no, Mrs. Atterson could not tell. + +“He's as odd as Dick's hat-band,” the ex-boarding house mistress +confided to the driver. “But, bless you! the easiest critter to get +along with--you never saw his beat. If I'd a house full of Lem Camps to +cook for, I'd think I was next door to heaven.” + +It was dusk when they arrived in sight of the little house beside the +road in which Uncle Jeptha Atterson had lived out his long life. Hiram +had a good fire going in both the kitchen and sitting room, and the +lamplight flung through the windows made the place look cheerful indeed +to the travelers. + +“My soul and body!” croaked the good lady, when she got down from the +wagon and Hiram caught her in his arms to save her from a fall. “I'm as +stiff as a poker--and that's a fact. But I'm glad to get here.” + +Hiram's amazement when he saw Sister and Old Lem Camp was only expressed +in his look. He said nothing. The driver of the wagon backed it to the +porch step and then took out his team and, with Hiram's help, led them +to the stable, fed them, and bedded them down for the night. He was to +sleep in one of the spare beds and go back to town the following day. + +Mother Atterson took off her best dress, slipped into a familiar old +gingham and bustled around the kitchen as naturally as though she had +been there all her life. + +She fried ham and eggs, and made biscuit, and opened a couple of tins of +peaches she had brought, and finally set before them a repast satisfying +if not dainty, and seasoned with a cheerful spirit at least. + +“I vum!” she exclaimed, sitting down for the first time in years “at the +first table.” “If this don't beat Crawberry and them boarders, I'm crazy +as a loon. Pour the coffee, Sister--and don't be stingy with the milk. +Milk's only five cents a quart here, and it's eight in town. But, +gracious, child! sugar don't cost no less.” + +Old Lem Camp sat beside Hiram, as he had at the boarding-house table. He +had scarcely spoken since his arrival; but now, under cover of the talk +of Mother Atterson, the driver of the furniture van, and Sister, he +began one of his old-time monologues: + +“Old, old--nothing to look forward to--then the prospect opens up--just +like light breaking through the clouds after a storm--let's see; I want +a piece of bread--bread's on Sister's side--I can reach it--hum! no +Crackit to-night--fool jokes--silly fellow--ah! the butter--Where's the +butterknife?--Sister's forgotten the butter-knife--no! here 'tis--That +woman's an angel--nothing less--an angel in a last season's bonnet and a +shabby gown--Hah! practical angels couldn't use wings--they'd be in the +way in the kitchen--ham and eggs--gravy--fit for gods to eat--and not to +worry again where next week's victuals are to come from!” + +Hiram noted all the old mail said, and the last phrase enlightened him +immensely as to why Old Lem Camp was so “queer.” That was the trouble +on the old man's mind--the trouble that had stifled him, and made him +appear “half cracked” as the boarding-house jester and Peebles had said. + +Lem Camp, too old to ever get another job in the city, had for five +years been worrying from day to day about his bare existence. And +evidently he saw that bogie of the superannuated disappearing in the +distance. + +After the truck driver had gone to bed, and Camp himself, and Sister had +fallen asleep over the last of the dish-wiping, Mother Atterson confided +in Hiram, to a degree. + +“Now, this gal can be made useful. She can help me in the house, and she +can help outside, too. + +“She's a poor, unfortunate creature--I know and humbly is no name for +her looks! But mebbe we can send her to the school nearby, and she ought +to get some color in her face if she's out o' doors some--and some flesh +on her skinny body. + +“I don't know as I could get along without Sister,” ruminated Mother +Atterson, shaking her head. + +“And as for Lem Camp--bless you! he won't eat more'n a fly, and who else +would give him houseroom? Why, Hiram, I just had to bring him with me. +If I hadn't, I'd felt just as conscience-stricken as though I'd moved +and left a cat behind in an empty house!” + + + +CHAPTER XIV. GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + +Mother Atterson had breakfast the next morning by lamplight, because the +truckman wanted to make an early start. + +Hiram had already begun early rising, however, for the farmer who does +not get up before the sun in the spring needs must do his chores at +night by lantern-light. The eight-hour law can never be a rule on the +farm. + +But Sister was up, too, and out of the house, running as wild as a +rabbit. Hiram caught her in the barnyard trying to clamber on the cow's +back to ride her about the enclosure. Sister was afraid of nothing that +lived and walked, having all the courage of ignorance. + +She found that she could not in safety clamber over the pig-lot fence +and catch one of the shoats. Old Mother Hog ran at her with open mouth +and Sister came back from that expedition with a torn frock and some new +experience. + +“I never knew anything so fat could run,” she confided to Hiram. “Old +Missus Poundly, who lived on our block, and weighed three hundred +pounds, couldn't run, I bet!” + +Mr. Camp was not disturbed by Mrs. Atterson, but was allowed to sleep as +long as he liked, while she kept a little breakfast hot for him and the +coffeepot on the back of the stove. + +The old lady became interested at once in all Hiram had done toward +beginning the spring work. She learned about the seed in the window +boxes (some of them were already breaking the soil) about watering them +and covering them properly and immediately took those duties off Hiram's +hands. + +“If Sister an' me can't do the light chores around this place and leave +you to 'tend to the bigger things, then we ain't no good and had better +go back to the boarding house,” she announced. + +“Oh, Mis' Atterson! You wouldn't go back to town, would you?” pleaded +Sister. “Why, there's real hens--and a cow that will give milk bimeby, +Hi says--and a horse that wiggles his ears and talks right out loud when +he's hungry, for I heard him--and pigs that squeal and run, an' they're +jest as fat as butter----” + +“Well, to stay here we've all got to work, Sister,” declared her +mistress. “So get at them dishes now and be quick about it. +There's forty times more chores to do here than there was back in +Crawberry--But, thanks be! there ain't no gravy to worry about.” + +“And there ain't no boarders to make fun of me,” said Sister, +thoughtfully. Then, she announced, after some rumination: “I like pigs +better than I do boarders Mis' Atterson.” + +“Well, I should think you would!” exclaimed that lady, tartly. “Pigs has +got some sense.” + +Hiram laughed at this. “You'll find the pigs demanding gravy, just the +same--and very urgent about it they are, too,” he told them. + +But he was glad to give the small chores over into their hands, and went +to work immediately to prepare for putting in the early crops. + +He had already cleared the rubbish off the piece of ground selected +for the garden, and had burned it. He hauled out stable manure from +the barnyard and gave an acre and a half of this piece of land a good +dressing. + +The other half-acre was for early potatoes, and he wished to put the +manure in the furrow for them, so did not top dress that strip of land. +The frost was pretty well out of the ground by now; but even if some +remained, plowing this high, well-drained piece would do no harm. +Beside, Hiram was eager to get in early crops. + +It was a still, hazy morning when he geared the old horse to the plow +and headed him into the garden piece. He had determined to plow the +entire plot at once, and instead of plowing “around and around” had +paced off his lands and started in the middle, plowing “gee” instead of +“haw”. + +This system is a bit more particular, and hard for the careless plowman; +but it overcomes that unsightly “dead-furrow” in the middle of a field +and brings the “finishing-furrow” on the edge. This insures better +surface drainage and is a more scientific method of tillage. + +The plow was rusty and the point was not in the very best condition; but +after the first few rounds the share was cleaned off, and it began to +slip through the moist earth and roll it over in a long, brown ribbon +behind him. + +Hiram Strong clung to the plow handles, a rope-rein in each hand, and +watched the plow and the horse and the land ahead with an eye as keen as +that of a river-pilot. + +As the strip of turned earth grew wider and longer Sister ran out to see +him work. She watched the plow turn the mulch into the furrow and lay +the brown, greasy mold upon it, with wide-open eyes. + +“Why!” cried she, “wouldn't it be nice if we could go right along with +a plow and bury our past like that--cover everything mean and nasty +up, and forget it! That institution they put me in--and the old woman +I lived with before that, who drank so much gin and beat me--and the +boarders--and that boy who used to pull my braids whenever he met me--My +that would be fine!” + +“I reckon that is what Life does do for us,” returned Hiram, +thoughtfully, stopping at the end of the furrow to mop his brow and let +the old horse breathe. “Yes, sir! Life plows all the experience under, +and it ought to enrich our future existence, just as this stuff I'm +plowing under here will decay and enrich the soil.” + +“But the plow don't turn it quite under in spots,” said Sister, with +a sigh. “Leastways, I can't help remembering the bad things once in a +while.” + +There were certain other individuals who found out very soon that Hiram +was plowing, too. Those were the hens. There were not more than fifteen +or twenty of the scrubby creatures, and they began to follow the plow +and pick up grubs and worms. + +“I tell you one thing that I've got to do before we put in much,” Hiram +told the ex-boarding house mistress at noon. + +“What's that, Hi? Don't go very deep down into my pocket, for it won't +stand it. After paying my bills, and paying for moving out here, I ain't +got much money left--and that's a fact!” + +“It won't cost much, but we've got to have a yard for the hens. Hens and +a garden will never mix successfully. Unless you enclose them you might +as well have no garden in that spot where I'm plowing.” + +“There warn't but five eggs to-day,” said Mrs. Atterson. “Mebbe we'd +better chop the heads off 'em, one after the other, and eat 'em.” + +“They'll lay better as it grows warmer. That henhouse must be fixed +before next winter. It's too draughty,” said Hi. “And then, hens can't +lay well--especially through the winter--if they haven't the proper kind +of food.” + +“But three or four of the dratted things want to stay on the nest all +the time,” complained the old lady. + +“If I was you, Mrs. Atterson,” Hiram said, soberly, “I'd spend five +dollars for a hundred eggs of well-bred stock. + +“I'd set these hens as fast as they get broody, and raise a decent flock +of biddies for next year. Scrub hens are just as bad as scrub cows. The +scrubs will eat quite as much as full-bloods, yet the returns from the +scrubs are much less.” + +“I declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Atterson, “a hen's always been just a hen +to me--one's the same as another, exceptin' the feathers on some is +prettier.” + +“To-night I'll show you some breeders' catalogs and you can think the +matter over as to what kind of a fowl you want,” said the young farmer. + +He went back to his job after dinner and kept steadily at work until +three o'clock before there came a break. Then he saw a carriage drive +into the yard, and a few moments later a man In a long gray coat came +striding across the lot toward him. + +Hiram knew the gentleman at once--it was Mr. Bronson, the father of +the girl he had saved from the runaway. To tell the truth, the boy +had rather wondered about his non-appearance during the days that +had elapsed. But now he came with hand held out, and his first words +explained the seeming omission: + +“I've been away for more than a week, my boy, or I should have seen you +before. You're Hiram Strong, aren't you--the boy my little girl has been +talking so much about?” + +“I don't know how much Miss Lettie has been talking about me,” laughed +Hiram. “Full and plenty, I expect.” + +“And small blame to her,” declared Mr. Bronson. “I won't waste time +telling you how grateful I am. I had just time to turn that boy of +Dickerson's off before I was called away. Now, my lad, I want you to +come and work for me.” + +“Why, much as I might like to, sir, I couldn't do that,” said Hiram. + +“Now, now! we'll fix it somehow. Lettie has set her heart on having you +around the place. + +“You're the second young man I've been after whom I was sure would suit +me, since we moved on to the old Fleigler place. The first fellow I +can't find; but don't tell me that I am going to be disappointed in you, +too.” + +“Mr. Bronson,” said Hiram, gravely, “I'm sorry to say 'No.' A little +while ago I'd have been delighted to take up with any fair offer you +might have made me. But I have agreed with Mrs. Atterson to run her +place for two seasons.” + +“Two years!” exclaimed Mr. Bronson. + +“Yes, sir. Practically. I must put her on her feet and make the old farm +show a profit.” + +“You're pretty young to take such responsibility upon your shoulders, +are you not?” queried the gentleman, eyeing him curiously. + +“I'm seventeen. I began to work with my father as soon as I could lift +a hoe. I love farm work. And I've passed my word to stick to Mrs. +Atterson.” + +“That's the old lady up to the house?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“But she wouldn't hold you to your bargain if she saw you could better +yourself, would she?” + +“She would not have to,” Hiram said, firmly, and he began to feel a +little disappointed in his caller. “A bargain's a bargain--there's no +backing out of it.” + +“But suppose I should make it worth her while to give you up?” pursued +Mr. Bronson. “I'll sound her a bit, eh? I tell you that Lettie has set +her heart on having you, as we cannot find another chap whom we were +looking for.” + +Now, Hiram knew that this referred to him; but he said nothing. Besides, +he did not feel too greatly pleased that the strongest reason for Mr. +Bronson's wishing to hire him was his little daughter's demand. It was +just a fancy of Miss Lettie's. And another day, she might have the fancy +to turn him off. + +“No, sir,” spoke Hiram, more firmly. “It is useless. I am obliged to +you; but I must stick by Mrs. Atterson.” + +“Well, my lad,” said the Westerner, putting out his hand again. “I am +glad to see you know how to keep a promise, even if it isn't to your +advantage. And I am grateful to you for turning that trick for my little +girl the other day.” + +“I hope you'll come over and see us--and I shall watch your work here. +Most of these fellows around here are pretty slovenly farmers in my +estimation; I hope you will do better than the average.” + +He went back across the field and Hiram returned to his plowing. The +young farmer saw the bay horses driven slowly out of the yard and along +the road. + +He saw the flutter of a scarf from the carriage and knew that Lettie +Bronson was with her father; but she did not look out at him as he +toiled behind the old horse in the furrow. + +However, there was no feeling of disappointment in Hiram Strong's +mind--and this fact somewhat surprised him. He had been so attracted by +the girl, and had wished in the beginning so much to be engaged by Mr. +Bronson, that he had considered it a mighty disappointment when he had +lost the Westerner's card. + +However, his apathy in the matter was easily explained. He had taken +hold of the work on the Atterson place. His plans were growing in his +mind for the campaign before him. His interest was fastened upon the +contract he had made with the old lady. + +His hand was, literally now, “to the plow”--and he was not looking back. + +He finished the piece that day, and likewise drew out some lime that he +had bought at Scoville and spread it broadcast upon all the garden patch +save that in which he intended to put potatoes. + +Although it is an exploded doctrine that the application of lime to +potato ground causes scab, it is a fact that it will aid in spreading +the disease. Hiram was sure enough--because of the sheep-sorrel on the +piece--that it all needed sweetening, but he decided against the lime at +this time. + +As soon as Hiram had drag-harrowed the piece he laid off two rows down +the far end, as being less tempting to the straying hens, and planted +early peas--the round-seeded variety, hardier than the wrinkled kinds. +These pea-rows were thirty inches apart, and he dropped the peas by hand +and planted them very thickly. + +It doesn't pay to be niggardly with seed in putting in early peas, at +any rate--the thicker they come up the better, and in these low bush +varieties the thickly growing vines help support each other. + +This garden piece--almost two acres--was oblong in shape. An acre is +just about seventy paces square. Hiram's garden was seventy by a hundred +and forty paces, or thereabout. + +Therefore, the young farmer had two seventy-yard rows of peas, or over +four hundred feet of drill. He planted two quarts of peas at a cost of +seventy cents. + +With ordinary fortune the crop should be much more than sufficient for +the needs of the house while the peas were in a green state, for being a +quick growing vegetable, they are soon past. + +Hiram, however, proposed putting in a surplus of almost everything he +planted in this big garden--especially of the early vegetables--for he +believed that there would be a market for them in Scoville. + +The ground was very cold yet, and snow flurries swept over the field +every few days; but the peas were under cover and were off his mind; +Hiram knew they would be ready to pop up above the surface just as soon +as the warm weather came in earnest, and peas do not easily rot in the +ground. + +In two weeks, or when the weather was settled, he proposed planting +other kinds of peas alongside these first two rows, so as to have a +succession up to mid-summer. + +Next the young farmer laid off his furrows for early potatoes. He had +bought a sack of an extra-early variety, yet a potato that, if left +in the ground the full length of the season, would make a good winter +variety--a “long keeper.” + +His potato rows he planned to have three feet apart, and he plowed the +furrows twice, so as to have them clean and deep. + +Henry Pollock happened to come by while he was doing this, and stopped +to talk and watch Hiram. To tell the truth, Henry and his folks were +more than a little interested in what the young farmer would do with the +Atterson place. + +Like other neighbors they doubted if the stranger knew as much about the +practical work of farming as he claimed to know. “That feller from +the city,” the neighbors called Hiram behind his back, and that is an +expression that completely condemns a man in the mind of the average +countryman. + +“What yer bein' so particular with them furrers for, Hiram?” asked +Henry. + +“If a job's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well, isn't it?” + laughed the young farmer. + +“We spread our manure broadcast--when we use any at all--for potatoes,” + said Henry, slowly. “Dad says if manure comes in contact with potatoes, +they are apt to rot.” + +“That seems to be a general opinion,” replied Hiram. “And it may be so +under certain conditions. For that reason I am going to make sure that +not much of this fertilizer comes in direct contact with my seed.” + +“How'll you do that?” “I'll show you,” said Hiram. + +Having run out his rows and covered the bottom of each furrow several +inches deep with the manure, he ran his plow down one side of each +furrow and turned the soil back upon the fertilizer, covering it and +leaving a well pulverized seed bed for the potatoes to lie in. + +“Well,” said Henry, “that's a good wrinkle, too.” + +Hiram had purchased some formalin, mixed it with water according to the +Government expert's instructions, and from time to time soaked his seed +potatoes two hours in the antiseptic bath. In the evening he brought +them into the kitchen and they all--even Old Lem Camp--cut up the +potatoes, leaving two or three good eyes in each piece. + +“I'd ruther do this than peel 'em for the boarders,” remarked Sister, +looking at her deeply-stained fingers reflectively. “And then, nobody +won't say nothin' about my hands to me when I'm passin' dishes at the +table.” + +The following day she helped Hiram drop the seed, and by night he had +covered them by running his plow down the other side of the row and +then smoothed the potato plat with a home-made “board” in lieu of a +land-roller. + +It was the twentieth of March, and not a farmer in the locality had yet +put in either potatoes, or peas. Some had not as yet plowed for early +potatoes, and Henry Pollock warned Hiram that he was “rushing the +season.” + +“That may be,” declared the young farmer to Mrs. Atterson. “But I +believe the risk is worth taking. If we do get 'em good, we'll get 'em +early and skim the cream of the local market. Now, you see!” + + + +CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE BREWS + +“Old Lem Camp,” as he had been called for so many years that there +seemed no disrespect in the title, was waking up. Not many mornings was +he a lie-abed. And the lines in his forehead seemed to be smoothing out, +and his eyes had lost something of their dullness. + +It was true that, at first, he wandered about the farmstead muttering +to himself in his old way--an endless monologue which was a jumble of +comment, gratitude, and the brief memories of other days. It took some +time to adjust his poor mind to the fact that he had no longer to +fear that Poverty which had stalked ever before him like a threatening +spirit. + +Gratitude spurred him to the use of his hands. He was not a broken +man--not bodily. Many light tasks soon fell to his share, and Mrs. +Atterson told Hiram and Sister to let him do what he would. To busy +himself would be the best thing in the world for the old fellow. + +“That's what's been the matter with Mr. Camp for years,” she declared, +with conviction. “Because he passed the sixty-year mark, and it was +against the practise of the paper company to keep employees on the +payroll over that age, they turned Lem Camp off. + +“Ridiculous! He was just as well able to do the tasks that he had +learned to do mechanically as he had been any time for the previous +twenty years. He had worked in that office forty years, and more, you +understand. + +“That's the worst thing about a corporation of that kind--it has no +thought beyond its 'rules.' Old Mr. Bundy remembered Lem--that's all. +If he hadn't so much stock in the concern they'd turn him off, too. I +expect he knows it and that's what softened his heart to Old Lem. + +“Now, let Lem take hold of whatever he can do, and git interested in +it,” declared the practical Mrs. Atterson, “and he'll show you that +there's work left in him yet. Yes-sir-ree-sir! And if he'll work in the +open air, all the better for him.” + +There was plenty for everybody to do, and Hiram would not say the old +man nay. The seed boxes needed a good deal of attention, for they were +to be lifted out into the air on warm days, and placed in the sun. And +Old Lem could do this--and stir the soil in them, and pull out the grass +and other weeds that started. + +Hiram had planted early cabbage and cauliflower and egg-plant in other +boxes, and the beets were almost big enough to transplant to the open +ground. Beets are hardy and although hair-roots are apt to form on +transplanted garden beets, the transplanting aids the growth in other +ways and Hiram expected to have table-beets very early. + +In the garden itself he had already run out two rows of later beets, the +width of the plot. Bunched beets will sell for a fair price the whole +season through. + +Hiram was giving his whole heart and soul to the work--he was wrapped up +in the effort to make the farm pay. And for good reason. + +It was “up to him” to not alone turn a profit for his employer, and +himself; but he desired--oh, how strongly!--to show the city folk who +had sneered at him that he could be a success in the right environment. + +Besides, and in addition, Hiram Strong was ambitious--very ambitious +indeed for a youth of his age. He wanted to own a farm of his own in +time--and it was no “one-horse farm” he aimed at. + +No, indeed! Hiram had read of the scientific farming of the Middle West, +and the enormous tracts in the Northwest devoted to grain and other +staple crops, where the work was done for the most part by machinery. + +He longed to see all this--and to take part in it. He desired the big +things in farming, nor would he ever be content to remain a helper. + +“I'm going to be my own boss, some day--and I'm going to boss other men. +I'll show these fellows around here that I know what I want, and when I +get it I'll handle it right!” Hiram soliloquized. + +“It's up to me to save every cent I can. Henry thinks I'm niggardly, +I expect, because I wouldn't go to town Saturday night with him. But I +haven't any money to waste. + +“The hundred I'm to get next Christmas from Mrs. Atterson I don't wish +to draw on at all. I'll get along with such old clothes as I've got.” + +Hiram was not naturally a miser; he frequently bought some little thing +for Sister when he went to town--a hair-ribbon, or the like, which he +knew would please the girl; but for himself he was determined to be +saving. + +At the end of his contract with Mrs. Atterson he would have two hundred +dollars anyway. But that was not the end and aim of Hiram Strong's +hopes. + +“It's the clause in our agreement about the profits of our second season +that is my bright and shining star,” he told the good lady more than +once. “I don't know yet what we had better put in next year to bring us +a fortune; but we'll know before it comes time to plant it.” + +Meanwhile the wheel-hoe and seeder he had insisted upon Mrs. Atterson +buying had arrived, and Hiram, after studying the instructions which +came with it, set the machine up as a seed-sower. Later, after the +bulk of the seeds were in the ground, he would take off the seeding +attachment and bolt on the hoe, or cultivator attachments, with which to +stir the soil between the narrower rows of vegetables. + +As he made ready to plant seeds such as carrot, parsnip, onion, salsify, +and leaf-beet, as well as spring spinach, early turnips, radishes and +kohlrabi, Hiram worked that part of his plowed land over again and again +with the spike harrow, finally boarding the strips down smoothly as +he wished to plant them. The seedbed must be as level as a floor, and +compact, for good use to be made of the wheel-seeder. + +When he had lined out one row with his garden line, from side to side of +the plowed strip, the marking arrangement attached to his seeder would +mark the following lines plainly, and at just the distance he desired. + +Onions, carrots, and the like, he put in fifteen inches apart, intending +to do all the cultivating of those extremely small plants with the +wheel-hoe, after they were large enough. But he foresaw the many hours +of cultivating before him and marked the rows for the bulk of the +vegetables far enough apart, as he had first intended, to make possible +the use of the horse-hoe. + +Meanwhile he spike-harrowed the potato patch, running cross-wise of the +rows to break the crust and keep down the quick-springing weed seeds. +The early peas were already above ground and when they were two inches +high Hiram ran his 14-tooth cultivator--or “seed harrow” as it is called +in some localities--close to the rows so as to throw the soil toward the +plants, almost burying them from sight again. This was to give the peas +deep rootage, which is a point necessary for the quick and stable growth +of this vegetable. + +In odd moments Hiram had cut and set a few posts, bought poultry netting +in Scoville, and enclosed Mrs. Atterson's chicken-run. She had taken his +advice and sent for eggs, and already had four hens setting and expected +to set the remainder of the of the eggs in a few days. + +Sister took an enormous interest in this poultry-raising venture. She +“counted chickens before they were hatched” with a vengeance, and after +reading a few of the poultry catalogs she figured out that, in three +years, from the increase of Mother Atterson's hundred eggs, the +eighty-acre farm would not be large enough to contain the flock. + +“And all from five dollars!” gasped Sister. “I don't see why everybody +doesn't go to raising chickens--then there'd be no poor folks, everybody +would be rich--Well! I expect there'd always have to be institutions for +orphans--and boarding houses!” + +The new-springing things from the ground, the “hen industry” and the +repairing and beautifying of the outside of the farmhouse did not take +up all their attention. There were serious matters to be discussed in +the evening, after the others had gone to bed, 'twixt Hiram and his +employer. + +There was the five or six acres of bottom land--the richest piece of +soil of the entire eighty. Hiram had not forgotten this, and the second +Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole family had attended +service at a chapel less than half a mile up the road, he had urged Mrs. +Atterson to walk with him through the timber to the riverside. + +“For the Land o' Goshen!” the ex-boarding house mistress had finally +exclaimed. “To think that I own all of this. Why, Hi, it don't seem as +if it was so. I can't get used to it. And this timber, you say, is all +worth money? And if I cut it off, it will grow up again----” + +“In thirty to forty years the pine will be worth cutting again--and some +of the other trees,” said Hiram, with a smile. + +“Well! that would be something for Sister to look forward to,” said +the old lady, evidently thinking aloud. “And I don't expect her +folks--whoever they be--will ever look her up now, Hiram.” + +“But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would have a +very valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage--valuable for almost any +crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the sun,” said the young +farmer, ignoring the other's observation. + +“Well, well! it's wonderful,” returned Mrs. Atterson. + +But she listened attentively to what he had to say about clearing the +bottom land, which was a much more easily accomplished task, as Hiram +showed her. It would cost something to put the land into shape for +late corn, and so prepare it for some more valuable crop the following +season. + +“Well, nothing ventured, nothing have!” Mrs. Atterson finally agreed. +“Go ahead--if it won't cost much more than what you say to get the corn +in. I understand it's a gamble, and I'm taking a gambler's chance. +If the river rises and floods the corn in June, or July, then we get +nothing this season?” + +“That is a possibility,” admitted Hiram. + +“Go ahead,” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “I never did know that there was +sporting blood in me; but I kinder feel it risin', Hi, with the sap in +the trees. We'll chance it!” + +Occasionally Hiram had stepped down to the pasture and squinted across +to the water-hole. The grass was not long enough yet to turn the cow +into the field, so he was obliged to make these special trips to the +pasture. + +He had seen nothing of the Dickersons--to speak to, that is--since his +trouble with Pete. And, of a sudden, just before dinner one noon, Hiram +took a look at the pasture and beheld a figure seemingly working down in +the corner. + +Hiram ran swiftly in that direction. Half-way there he saw that it was +Pete, and that he had deliberately cut out a panel of the fence and was +letting a pair of horses he had been plowing with, drink at the pool, +before he took them home to the Dickerson stable. + +Hiram stopped running and recovered his breath before he reached the +lower corner of the pasture. Pete saw him coming, and grinned impudently +at him. + +“What are you doing here, Dickerson?” demanded the young farmer, +indignantly. + +“Well, if you wanter keep us out, you'd better keep up your fences +better,” returned Pete. “I seen the wires down, and it's handy----” + +“You cut those wires!” interrupted Hiram, angrily. + +“You're another,” drawled Pete, but grinning in a way to exasperate the +young farmer. + +“I know you did so.” + +“Wal, if you know so much, what are you going to do about it?” demanded +the other. “I guess you'll find that these wires will snap 'bout as fast +as you can mend 'em. Now, you can put that in your pipe an' smoke it!” + +“But I don't smoke.” Hiram observed, growing calm immediately. There was +no use in giving this lout the advantage of showing anger with him. + +“Mr. Smartie!” snarled Pete Dickerson. “Now, you see, there's somebody +just as smart as you be. These horses have drunk there, and they're +going to drink again.” + +“Is that your father yonder?” demanded Hiram, shortly. + +“Yes, it is.” + +“Call him over here.” + +“Why, if he comes over here, he'll eat you alive!” cried Pete, +laughing. “You don't know my dad.” + +“I don't; but I want to,” Hiram said, calmly. “That's why you'd better +call him over. I have got pretty well acquainted with you, and the rest +of your family can't be any worse, as I look at it. Call him over,” and +the young farmer stepped nearer to the lout. + +“You call him yourself!” cried Pete, beginning to back away, for he +remembered how he had been treated at his previous encounter with Hiram. + +Hiram seized the bridles of the work horses, and shook them out of +Pete's clutch. + +“Tell your father to come here,” commanded the young farmer, fire in his +eyes. “We'll settle this thing here and now. + +“These horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land. I know the county stock +law as well as you do. You cut this fence, and your cattle are on her +ground. + +“It will cost you a dollar a head to get them off again--if Mrs. +Atterson wishes to demand it. Now, call your father.” + +Pete raised a yell which startled the long-legged man striding over the +hill toward the Dickerson farmhouse. Hiram saw the older Dickerson turn, +stare, and then start toward them. + +Pete continued to beckon, and began to yell: + +“Dad! Dad! He won't let me have the hosses!” + +Sam Dickerson came striding down to the waterhole--a lean, long, +sour-looking man he was, with a brown face knotted into a continual +scowl, and hard, bony hands. Yet Hiram was not afraid of him. + +“What's the trouble here?” growled the farmer. + +“He's got the hosses. I told you the fence was down and I was goin' to +water 'em----” + +“Shut up!” commanded his father, eyeing Hiram. “I'm talking to this +fellow: What's the trouble here?” + +“Your horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land,” Hiram said, quietly. “You +know that stock which strays can be held for a dollar a head--damage or +no damage to crops. I warn you, keep your horses on your own land.” + +“That's your fence; if you don't keep it up, who's fault is it if my +horses get on your land?” growled Dickerson, evidently making the matter +a personal one with Hiram. + +“Your boy here cut the wires.” + +“No I didn't, Dad!” interposed Pete. + +Quick as a flash Hiram dropped the bridle reins, sprang for Pete, seized +him in a wrestler's grip, twisted him around, and tore from his pocket a +pair of heavy wire-cutters. + +“What were you doing with these in your pocket, then?” demanded Hiram, +disdainfully, tossing the plyers upon the ground at Pete's feet, and +stepping back to keep the restless horses from leaving the edge of the +water-hole. + +Sam Dickerson seemed to take a grim pleasure in his son's overthrow. He +growled: + +“He's got you there, Pete. You'd better stop monkeyin' around here. Pick +up them bridles and come on.” + +He turned to depart without another word to Hiram; but the latter did +not propose to be put off that way. + +“Hold on!” he called. “Who's going to mend this fence, Mr. Dickerson?” + +Dickerson turned and eyed him coldly again. + +“What's that to me? Mend your own fence,” he said. + +“Then I shall take these horses up to our barn. You can come and settle +the matter with Mrs. Atterson--unless you wish to pay me two dollars +here and now,” said the young farmer, his voice carrying clearly to +where the man stood upon the rising ground above him. + +“Why, you young whelp!” roared Dickerson, suddenly starting down the +slope. + +But Hiram Strong neither moved nor showed fear. Somehow, this sturdy +young fellow, in the high laced boots, with his flannel shirt open at +the throat, raw as was the day, his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, +was a figure to make even a more muscular man than Sam Dickerson +hesitate. + +“Pete!” exclaimed the farmer, harshly, still eyeing Hiram. “Run up to +the house and bring my shotgun. Be quick about it.” + +Hiram said never a word, and the horses, yoked together, began to crop +the short grass springing upon the bank of the water-hole. + +“You'll find out you're fooling with the wrong man, you whippersnapper!” + promised Dickerson. + +“You can pay me two dollars and I'll mend the fence; or you can mend the +fence and we'll call it square,” said Hiram, slowly, and evenly. “I'm a +boy, but I'm not to be frightened with a threat----” + +Pete's long legs brought him flying back across the fields. Nothing he +had done in a long while pleased him quite as much as this errand. + +Hiram turned, jerked at the horses' bridle-reins, turned them around, +and with a sharp slap on the nigh one's flank, sent them both trotting +up into the Atterson pasture. + +“Stop that, you rascal!” cried Dickerson, grabbing the gun from his +hopeful son, and losing his head now entirely. “Bring that team back!” + +“You mend the fence, and I will,” declared Hiram, unshaken. + +The angry man sprang down to his level, flourishing the gun in a way +that would have been dangerous indeed had Hiram believed it to be +loaded. And as it was, the young farmer was very angry. + +The right was on his side; if he allowed these Dickersons, father and +son, to browbeat him this once, it would only lead to future trouble. + +This thing had to be settled right here and now. It would never do for +Hiram to show fear. And if both of the long-legged Dickersons pitched +upon him, of course, he would be no match for them. + +But Sam Dickerson stumbled and almost fell as he reached the edge of the +water-hole, and before he could recover himself, Hiram leaped upon him, +seized the shotgun, and wrenched it from his hands. + +He reversed the weapon in a flash, clubbed it, and raised it over his +head with a threatening swing that made Pete yell from the top of the +bank: + +“Look out, Dad! He's a-goin' ter swat yer!” + +Sam tried to scramble out of the way. But down came the gun butt with +all the force of Hiram's good muscle, and--the stock was splintered and +the lock shattered upon the big stone that here cropped out of the bank. + +“There's your gun--what's left of it,” panted the young farmer, tossing +the broken weapon from him. “Now, don't you ever threaten me with a gun +again, for if you do I'll have you arrested. + +“We've got to be neighbors, and we've got to get along in a neighborly +manner. But I'm not going to allow you to take advantage of Mrs. +Atterson, because she is a woman. + +“Now, Mr. Dickerson,” he added, as the man scrambled up, glaring at him +evidently with more surprise than anger, “if you'll make Pete mend this +fence, you can have your horses. Otherwise I'm going to 'pound' them +according to the stock law of the county.” + +“Pete,” said his father, briefly, “go get your hammer and staples and +mend this fence up as good as you found it.” + +“And now,” said Hiram, “I'm going home to gear the horse to the wagon, +and I'll drive over to your house, Mr. Dickerson. From time to time you +have borrowed while Uncle Jeptha was alive quite a number of tools. I +want them. I have made inquiries and I know what tools they are. Just be +prepared to put them into my wagon, will you?” + +He turned on his heel without further words and left the Dickersons +to catch their horses, and to repair the fence--both of which they did +promptly. + +Not only that, but when Hiram drove into the Dickerson dooryard an hour +later he had no trouble about recovering the tools which the neighbor +had borrowed and failed to return. + +Pete scowled at him and muttered uncomplimentary remarks; but Sam +phlegmatically smoked his pipe and sat watching the young farmer without +any comment. + +“And so, that much is accomplished,” ruminated Hiram, as he drove home. +“But I'm not sure whether hostilities are finished, or have just begun.” + + + +CHAPTER XV. ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + +“The old Atterson place” as it was called in the neighborhood, began to +take on a brisk appearance these days. Sister, with the help of Old Lem +Camp, had long since raked the dooryard clean and burned the rubbish +which is bound to gather during the winter. + +Years before there had been flower beds in front; but Uncle Jeptha had +allowed the grass to overrun them. It was a month too early to think of +planting many flowers; but Hiram had bought some seeds, and he showed +Sister how to prepare boxes for them in the sunny kitchen windows, along +with the other plant boxes; and around the front porch he spaded up a +strip, enriched it well, and almost the first seeds put into the ground +on the farm were the sweet peas around this porch. Mother Atterson was +very fond of these flowers and had always managed to coax some of them +to grow even in the boarding-house back yard. + +At the side porch she proposed to have morning-glories and moon-flowers, +while the beds in front would be filled with those old-fashioned flowers +which everybody loves. + +“But if we can't make our own flower-beds, we can go without them, Hi,” + said the bustling old lady. “We mustn't take you from your other work +to spade beds for us. Every cat's got to catch mice on this place, now I +tell ye!” + +And Hiram certainly was busy enough these days. The early seeds were all +in, however, and he had run the seed-harrow over the potato rows again, +lengthwise, to keep the weeds out until the young plants should get a +start. + +Despite the raw winds and frosts at night, the potatoes had come up well +and, with the steadily warming wind and sun, would now begin to grow. +Other farmers' potatoes in the vicinity were not yet breaking the +ground. + +Early on Monday morning Henry Pollock appeared with bush-axe and +grubbing hoe, and Hiram shouldered similar tools and they started for +the river bottom. It was so far from the house that Mrs. Atterson agreed +to send their dinner to them. + +“Father says he remembers seeing corn growing on this bottom,” said +Henry, as they set to work, “so high that the ears were as high up as a +tall man. It's splendid corn land--if it don't get flooded out.” + +“And does the river often over-ran its banks?” queried Hiram, anxiously. + +“Pretty frequent. It hasn't yet this year; there wasn't much snow last +winter, you see, and the early spring floods weren't very high. But +if we have a long wet spell, as we do have sometimes as late as July, +you'll see water here.” + +“That's not very encouraging,” said Hiram. “Not for corn prospects, at +least.” + +“Well, corn's our staple crop. You see, if you raise corn enough you're +sure of feed for your team. That's the main point.” + +“But people with bigger farms than they have around here can raise corn +cheaper than we can. They use machinery in harvesting it, too. Why not +raise a better paying crop, and buy the extra corn you may need?” + +“Why,” responded Henry, shaking his head, “nobody around here knows much +about raising fancy crops. I read about 'em in the farm papers--oh, yes, +we take papers--the cheap ones. There is a lot of information in 'em, I +guess; but father don't believe much that's printed.” + +“Doesn't believe much that's printed?” repeated Hiram, curiously. + +“Nope. He says it's all lies, made up out of some man's head. You see, +we useter take books out of the Sunday School library, and we had story +papers, too; and father used to read 'em as much as anybody.” + +“But one summer we had a summer boarder--a man that wrote things. He +had one of these dinky little merchines with him that you play on like a +piano, you know----” + +“A typewriter?” suggested Hiram, with a smile. + +“Yep. Well, he wrote stories. Father learnt as how all that stuff was +just imaginary, and so he don't take no stock in printed stuff any more.” + +“That man just sat down at that merchine, and rattled off a story that +he got real money for. It didn't have to be true at all. + +“So father soured on it. And he says the stuff in the farm papers is +just the same.” + +“I'm afraid that your father is mistaken there,” said Hiram, hiding +his amusement. “Men who have spent years in studying agricultural +conditions, and experimenting with soils, and seeds, and plants, and +fertilizers, and all that, write what facts they have learned for our +betterment. + +“No trade in the world is so encouraged and aided by Governments, and by +private corporations, as the trade of farming. There is scarcely a State +which does not have a special agricultural college in which there are +winter courses for people who cannot give the open time of the year to +practical experiment on the college grounds. + +“That is what you need in this locality, I guess,” added Hiram. “Some +scientific farming.” + +“Book farming, father calls it,” said Henry. “And he says it's no good.” + +“Why don't you save your money and take a course next winter in some +side line and so be able to show him that he's wrong?” suggested Hiram. +“I want to do that myself after I have fulfilled my contract with Mrs. +Atterson. + +“I won't be able to do so next winter, for I shall be on wages. You're +going to be a farmer, aren't you?” + +“I expect to. We've got a good farm as farms go around here. But it +seems about all we can do to pay our fertilizer bills and get a living +off it.” + +“Then why don't you go about fitting yourself for your job?” “asked +Hiram. Be a good farmer--an up-to-date farmer. + +“No fellow expects to be a machinist, or an electrician, or the like, +without spending some time under good instructors. Most that I know +about soils, and fertilizers, and plant development, and the like, I +learned from my father, who kept abreast of the times by reading and +experiment. + +“You can stumble along, working at your trade of farming, and only half +knowing it all your life; that's what most farmers do, in fact. They are +too lazy to take up the scientific side of it and learn why. + +“That's the point--learn why you do things that your father did, and his +father did, and his father before him. There's usually good reason why +they did it--a scientific reason which somebody dug out by experiment +ages ago; but you ought to be able to tell why.” + +“I suppose that's so,” admitted Henry, as they worked on, side by side. +“But I don't know what father would say if I sprung a college course on +him!” + +“I'd find out,” returned Hiram, laughing. “You'd better spend your money +that way than for a horse and buggy. That's the highest ambition of most +boys in the country.” + +The labor of bushing and grubbing these acres of lowland was no light +one. Hiram insisted that every stub and root be removed that a heavy +plow could not tear out. They had made some progress by noon, however, +when Sister came down with their dinner. + +Hiram built a campfire over which the coffee was re-heated, and the +three ate together, Sister enjoying the picnic to the full. She insisted +on helping in the work by piling the brush and roots into heaps for +burning, and she remained until midafternoon. + +“I like that Henry boy,” she confided to Hiram. “He don't pull my braids, +or poke fun at me.” + +But Sister was developing and growing fast these days. She was putting +on flesh and color showed in her cheeks. They were no longer hollow and +sallow, and she ran like a colt-and was almost as wild. + +The work of clearing the bottom land could not be continued daily; but +the boys got in three full days that week, and Saturday morning. Henry, +did not wish to work on Saturday afternoon, for in this locality almost +all the farmers knocked off work at noon Saturday and went to town. + +But when Henry shouldered his tools to go home at noon, Sister appeared +as usual with the lunch, and she and Hiram cut fishing rods and planned +to have a real picnic. + +Trout and mullet were jumping in the pools under the bank; and they +caught several before stopping to eat their own meal. The freshly caught +fish were a fine addition to the repast. + +They went back to fishing after a while and caught enough for supper at +the farmhouse. Just as they were reeling up their lines the silence of +the place was disturbed by a strange sound. + +“There's a motorcycle coming!” cried Sister, jumping up and looking all +around. + +There was a bend in the river below this bottom, and another above; so +they could not see far in either direction unless they climbed to the +high ground. For a minute Hiram could not tell in which direction the +sound was coming; but he knew the steady put-put-put must be the exhaust +of a motor-boat. + +It soon poked its nose around the lower turn. It was a good-sized boat +and instantly Hiram recognized at least one person aboard. + +Miss Lettie Bronson, in a very pretty boating costume, was in the bow. +There were half a dozen other girls with her--well dressed girls, who +were evidently her friends from the St. Beris school at Scoville. + +“Oh, oh! what a pretty spot!” cried Lettie, on the instant. “We'll go +ashore here and have our luncheon, girls.” + +She did not see Hiram and Sister for a moment; but the latter tugged at +Hiram's sleeve. + +“I've seen that girl before,” she whispered. “She came in the carriage +with the man who spoke to you--you remember? She asked me if I had +always lived in the country, and how I tore my frock.” + +“Isn't she pretty?” returned Hiram. + +“Awfully. But I'm not sure that I like her yet.” + +Suddenly Lettie saw Hiram and the girl beside him. She started, flushed +a little, and then gave Hiram a cool little nod and turned her gaze from +him. Her manner showed that he was not “down in her good books,” and the +young fellow flushed in turn. + +“I don't know as we'd better try to make the bank here, Miss,” said the +man who was directing the motor-boat. “The current's mighty sharp.” + +“I want to land here,” said Lettie, decidedly. “It's the prettiest spot +we've seen--isn't it, girls?” + +Her friends agreed. Hiram, casting a quick eye over the ruffled surface +of the river, saw that the man was right. How well the stream below was +fitted for motor-boating he did not know; but he was pretty sure that +there were too many ledges just under the surface here to make it safe +for the boat to go farther. + +“I intend to land here-right by that big tree!” commanded Lettie +Bronson, stamping her foot. + +“Well, I dunno,” drawled the man; and just then the bow of the boat +swung around, was forced heavily down stream by the current, and slam it +went against a reef! + +The man shot off the engine instantly. The bow of the boat was lodged +on the rock, and tip-tilted considerably. The girls screamed, and Lettie +herself was almost thrown into the water, for she was standing. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. MR. PEPPER APPEARS + +But Hiram noted again that Lettie Bronson did not display terror. While +her friends were screaming and crying, she sat perfectly quiet, and for +a minute said never a word. + +“Can't you back off?” Hi heard her ask the boatman. + +“Not without lightening her, Miss. And she may have smashed a plank up +there, too. I dunno.” + +The Western girl turned immediately to Hiram, who had now come to the +bank's edge. She smiled at him charmingly, and her eyes danced. She +evidently appreciated the fact that the young farmer had her at a +disadvantage--and she had meant to snub him. + +“I guess you'll have to help me again, Mr. Strong,” she said. “What will +we do? Can you push out a plank to us, or something?” + +“I'm afraid not, Miss Bronson,” he returned. “I could cut a pole and +reach it to the boat; but you girls couldn't walk ashore on it.” + +“Oh, dear! have we got to wade?” cried one of Lettie's friends. + +“You can't wade. It's too deep between the shore and the boat,” Hiram +said, calmly. + +“Then--then we'll stay here till the tide rises and dr-dr-drowns us!” + wailed another of the girls, giving way to sobs. + +“Don't be a goose, Myra Carroll!” exclaimed Lettie. “If you waited here +for the tide to rise you'd be gray-haired and decrepit. The tide doesn't +rise here. But maybe a spring flood would wash you away.” + +At that the frightened one sobbed harder than ever. She was one of +those who ever see the dark side of adventure. There was no hope on her +horizon. + +“I dunno what you can do for these girls,” said the man. “I'd git out +and push off the boat, but I don't dare with them aboard.” + +But Hiram's mind had not been inactive, if he was standing in seeming +idleness. Sister tugged at his sleeve again and whispered: + +“Have they got to stay there and drown, Hi?” + +“I guess not,” he returned, slowly. “Let's see: this old sycamore +leans right out over them. I can shin up there with the aid of the big +grapevine. Then, if I had a rope----” + +“Shall I run and get one?” demanded Sister, listening to him. + +“Hullo!” exclaimed Hiram, speaking to the man in the boat. + +“Well?” asked the fellow. + +“Haven't you got a coil of strong rope aboard?” + +“There's the painter,” said the man. + +“Toss it ashore here,” commanded Hiram. + +“Oh, Hiram Strong!” cried Lettie. “You don't expect us to walk +tightrope, do you?” and she began to giggle. + +“No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it clear--that's +it,” said Hiram. “And it's long enough, I can see.” + +“For what?” asked Sister. + +“Wait and you'll see,” returned the young farmer, hastily coiling the +rope again. + +He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big sycamore. +He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very quickly, for the huge +grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way. + +“Whatever are you going to do?” cried Lettie Bronson, looking up at him, +as did the other girls. + +“Now,” said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which was +almost directly over the stranded launch, “if you girls have any pluck +at all, I can get you ashore, one by one.” + +“What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?” repeated Lettie. + +The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the line--not a +slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody bearing upon it. This +he dropped down to the boat and Lettie caught it. + +“Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson,” he +commanded. “Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out of the boat +and swing you back and forth--there's none of you so heavy that I can't +do this, and if you wet your feet a little, what's the odds?” + +“Oh, dear! I can never do that!” squealed one of the other girls. + +“Guess you'll have to do it if you don't want to stay here all night,” + returned Lettie, promptly. “I see what you want, Hiram,” she added, and +quickly adjusted the loop. + +“Now, when you swing out over the bank, Sister will grab you, and steady +you. It will be all right if you have a care. Now!” cried Hiram. + +Lettie Bronson showed no fear at all as he drew her up and she swung +out of the boat over the swiftly-running current. Hiram laid along the +tree-trunk in an easy position, and began swinging the girl at the end +of the rope, like a pendulum. + +The river bank being at least three feet higher than the surface of the +water; he did not have to shift the rope again as he swung the girl back +and forth. + +Sister, clinging with her left hand to the grapevine, leaned forward and +clutched Lettie's hand. When she seized it, Sister backed away, and the +swinging girl landed upright upon the bank. + +“Oh, that's fun!” Lettie cried, laughing, loosing herself from “the +loop. Now you come, Mary Judson!” + +Thus encouraged they responded one by one, and even the girl who had +broken down and cried agreed to be rescued by this simple means. The +boatman then, after removing his shoes and stockings and rolling up his +trousers, stepped out upon the sunken rock and pushed off the boat. + +But it was leaking badly. He dared not take aboard his passengers again, +but turned around and went down stream as fast as he could go so as to +beach the boat in a safe place. + +“Now how'll we get back to Scoville?” cried one of Lettie's friends. “I +can never walk that far.” + +Sister had dropped back, shyly, behind Hiram, when he descended the +tree. She had aided each girl ashore; but only Lettie had thanked her. +Now she tugged at Hiram's sleeve. + +“Take 'em home in our wagon,” she whispered. + +“I can take you to Scoville--or to Miss Bronson's--in the farm wagon,” + Hiram said, smiling. “You can sit on straw in the bottom and be +comfortable.” + +“Oh, a straw ride!” cried Lettie. “What fun! And he can drive us right +to St. Beris--And think what the other girls will say and how they'll +stare!” + +The idea seemed a happy one to all the girls save the cry-baby, Myra +Carroll. And her complaints were drowned in the laughter and chatter of +the others. + +Hiram picked up the tools, Sister got the string of fish, and they set +out for the Atterson farmhouse. Lettie chatted most of the way with +Hiram; but to Sister, walking on the other side of the young farmer, the +Western girl never said a word. + +At the house it was the same. While Hiram was cleaning the wagon and +putting a bed of straw into it, and currying the horse and gearing him +to the wagon, Mrs. Atterson brought a crock of cookies out upon the +porch and talked with the girls from St. Beris. Sister had run indoors +and changed her shabby and soiled frock for a new gingham; but when she +came down to the porch, and stood bashfully in the doorway, none of the +girls from town spoke to her. + +Hiram drove up with the farm-wagon. Most of the girls had accepted the +adventure in the true spirit now, and they climbed into the wagon-bed +on the clean straw with laughter and jokes. But nobody invited Sister to +join the party. + +The orphan looked wistfully after the wagon as Hiram drove out of +the yard. Then she turned, with trembling lip, to Mother Atterson: +“She--she's awfully pretty,” she said, “and Hiram likes her. But +she--they're all proud, and I guess they don't think much of folks like +us, after all.” + +“Shucks, Sister! we're just good as they be, every bit,” returned Mrs. +Atterson, bruskly. + +“I know; mebbe we be,” admitted Sister, slowly. “But it don't feel so.” + +And perhaps Hiram had some such thought, too, after he had driven the +girls to the big boarding school in Scoville. For they all got out +without even thanking him or bidding him good-bye--all save Lettie. + +“Really, we are a thousand times obliged to you, Hiram Strong,” she +said, in her very best manner, and offering him her hand. “As the girls +were my guests I felt I must get them home again safely--and you were +indeed a friend in need.” + +But then she spoiled it utterly, by adding: + +“Now, how much do I owe you, Hiram?” and took out her purse. “Is two +dollars enough?” This put Hiram right in his place. He saw plainly that, +friendly as the Bronsons were, they did not look upon a common farm-boy +as their equal--not in social matters, at least. + +“I could not take anything for doing a neighbor a favor, Miss Bronson,” + said Hiram, quietly. “Thank you. Good-day.” + +Hiram drove back home feeling quite as depressed as Sister, perhaps. +Finally he said to himself: + +“Well, some day I'll show 'em!” + +After that he put the matter out of his mind and refused to be troubled +by thoughts of Lettie Bronson, or her attitude toward him. + +Spring was advancing apace now. Every day saw the development of bud, +leaf and plant. Slowly the lowland was cleared and the brush and roots +were heaped in great piles, ready for the torch. + +Hiram could not depend upon this six acres as their only piece of +corn, however. There was the four-acre lot between the barnyard and the +pasture in which he proposed to plant the staple crop. + +He drew out the remainder of the coarse manure and spread it upon this +land, as far as it would go. For enriching the remainder of the corn +crop he would have to depend upon a commercial fertilizer. He drew, too, +a couple of tons of lime to be used on this corn land, and left it in +heaps to slake. + +And then, out of the clear sky of their progress, came a bolt as +unexpected as could be. They had been less than a month upon the farm. +Uncle Jeptha had not been in his grave thirty days, and Hiram was just +getting into the work of running the place, with success looming ahead. + +He had refused Mr. Bronson's offer of a position and had elected to +stick by Mrs. Atterson. He had looked forward to nothing to disturb the +contract between them until the time should be fulfilled. + +Yet one afternoon, while he was at work in the garden, Sister came out +to him all in a flurry. + +“Mis' Atterson wants you! Mis' Atterson wants you!” cried the girl. “Oh, +Hiram! something dreadful's going to happen. I know, by the way Mis' +Atterson looks. And I don' like the looks o' that man that's come to see +her.” + +Hiram unhooked the horse at the end of the row and left Sister to lead +him to the stable. He went into the house after knocking the mud off his +boots. + +There, sitting in the bright kitchen, was the sharp-featured, +snaky-looking man with whom Hiram had once talked in town. He knew his +name was Pepper, and that he did something in the real estate line, and +insurance, and the like. + +“Jest listen to what this man says, Hiram,” said Mrs. Atterson, grimly. + +“My name's Pepper,” began the man, eyeing Hiram curiously. + +“So I hear,” returned the young farmer. + +“Before old Mr. Atterson died we got to talking one day when he was in +town about his selling.” + +“Well?” returned Hiram. “You didn't say anything about that when you +offered twelve hundred for this place.” + +“Well,” said the man, stubbornly, “that was a good offer.” + +Hiram turned to Mrs. Atterson. “Do you want to sell for that price?” + +“No, I don't, Hi,” she said. + +“Then that settles it, doesn't it? Mrs. Atterson is the owner, and she +knows her own mind.” + +“I made Uncle Jeptha a better offer,” said Mr. Pepper, “and I'll make +Mrs. Atterson the same--sixteen hundred dollars. It's a run-down farm, +of course----” + +“If Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell,” interrupted Hiram, but here his +employer intervened. + +“There's something more, Hi,” she said, her face working “strangely. +Tell him, you Pepper!” + +“Why, the old man gave me an option on the place, and I risked a twenty +dollar bill on it. The option had--er--a year to run; dated February +tenth last; and I've decided to take the option up,” said Mr. Pepper, +his shrewd little eyes dancing in their gaze from Hiram to the old lady +and back again. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD + +Now, a rattlesnake is poisonous, but he gives fair warning; a swamp +moccasin lies in wait for the unwary and strikes without sign or sound. +Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the thought that Mr. Pepper was +striking like his prototype of the swamps. + +A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper--sly, a hand-rubber as he talked, +with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean mouth. When he +opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked tongue run out. + +At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was no more +to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take a word that the +man said on trust. + +He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real estate man +had caused, and he uttered no expression of either surprise, or trouble. +Mrs. Atterson he could see was vastly disturbed by the statement; but +somebody had to keep a cool bead in this matter. + +“Let's see your option,” Hiram demanded, bruskly. + +“Why--if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it----” + +“You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man,” snapped the old lady. “I wouldn't +do a thing without his advice.” + +“Oh, well, if you consider a boy's advice material----” + +“I know Hi's honest,” declared the old lady, tartly. “And that's what +I'm sure you ain't! Besides,” she added, sadly, “Hi's as much interested +in this thing as I be. If the farm's got to be sold, it puts Hi out of a +job.” + +“Oh, very well,” said the real estate man, and he drew a rather soiled, +folded paper from his inner pocket. + +He seemed to hesitate the fraction of a second about showing the paper. +It increased Hi's suspicion--this hesitancy. If the man had a perfectly +good option on the farm, why didn't he go about the matter boldly? + +But when he got the paper in his own hands he could see nothing wrong +with it. It seemed written in straight-forward language, the signatures +were clear enough, and as he had seen and read Uncle Jeptha's will, +he was quite sure that this was the old man's signature to the option +which, for the sum of twenty dollars in hand paid to him, he agreed to +sell his farm, situated so-and-so, for sixteen hundred dollars, cash, +same to be paid over within one year of date. + +“Of course,” said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper--indeed, Pepper +had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all the time--“Of +course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before she agrees to +anything.” + +“Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer,” exclaimed the old lady. + +“Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will,” Hiram said to her. +Then he turned to Pepper: + +“What's the name of the witness to that old man's signature?” + +“Abel Pollock.” + +“Oh! Henry's father?” + +“Yes. He's got a son named Henry.” + +“And who's the Notary Public?” + +“Caleb Schell. He keeps the store just at the crossroads as you go into +town.” + +“I remember the store,” said Hiram, thoughtfully. + +“But Hiram!” cried Mrs. Atterson, “I don't want to sell the farm.” + +“We'll be sure this paper is all straight before you do sell, Mrs. +Atterson.” + +“Why, I just won't sell!” she exclaimed. “Uncle Jeptha never said +nothing in his will about giving this option. And that lawyer says that +in a couple of years the farm will be worth a good deal more than this +Pepper offers.” + +“Why, Mrs. Atterson!” exclaimed the real estate man, cheerfully, “as +property is selling in this locality now, sixteen hundred dollars is a +mighty good offer for your farm. You ask anybody. Why, Uncle Jeptha knew +it was; otherwise he wouldn't have given me the option, for he didn't +believe I'd come up with the price. He knew it was a high offer.” + +“And if it's worth so much to you, why isn't it worth more to Mrs. +Atterson to keep?” demanded Hiram, sharply. + +“Ah! that's my secret--why I want it,” said Pepper, nodding. “Leave that +to me. If I get bit by buying it, I shall have to suffer for my lack of +wisdom.” + +“You ain't bought it yet--you Pepper,” snapped Mrs. Atterson. + +“But I'm going to buy it, ma'am,” replied he, rather viciously, as he +stood up, ready to depart. “I shall expect to hear from you no later +than Monday.” + +“I won't sell it!” + +“You'll have to. If you refuse to sign I'll go to the Chancery Court. +I'll make you.” + +“Well. Mebbe you will. But I don't know. I never was made to do anything +yet. By no man named Pepper--you can take that home with you,” she flung +after him as he walked out and climbed into the buggy. + +But whereas Mrs. Atterson showed anger, Hiram went back to work in the +field with a much deeper feeling racking his mind. If the option was all +right--and of course it must be--this would settle their occupancy of +the farm. + +Of course he could not hold Mrs. Atterson to her contract. She could not +help the situation that had now arisen. + +His Spring's work had gone for nothing. Sixteen hundred dollars, even in +cash, would not be any great sum for the old lady. And she had burdened +herself with the support of Sister--and with Old Lem Camp, too! + +“Surely, I can't be a burden on her. I'll have to hustle around and find +another job. I wonder if Mr. Bronson would take me on now?” + +But he knew that the Westerner already had a man who suited him, since +Hiram had refused the chance Bronson offered. And, then, Lettie had +shown that she felt he had not appreciated their offer. Perhaps her +father felt the same way. + +Besides, Hiram had a secret wish not to put himself under obligation +to the Bronsons. This feeling may have sprung from a foolish source; +nevertheless it was strong with the young farmer. + +It looked very much to him as though this sudden turn of circumstances +was “a facer”. If Mrs. Atterson had to sell the farm he was likely to be +thrown on his own resources again. + +For his own selfish sake Hiram was worried, too. After all, he would +be unable to “make good” and to show people that he could make the old, +run-down farm pay a profit to its owner. + +But Hiram Strong couldn't believe it. + +The more he milled over the thing in his mind, the less he understood +why Uncle Jeptha, who was of acute mind right up to the hour of his +death, so all the neighbors said, should have neglected to speak about +the option he had given Pepper on the farm. + +And here they were, right in the middle of the Spring work, with crops +in the ground and--as Mrs. Atterson agreed--it would be too late to go +hunting a farm for this present season. + +But Hiram kept to work. He had Sister and Old Lem Camp out in the +garden, hand-weeding and thinning the carrots, onions, and other tender +plants. That Saturday he went through the entire garden--that part +already planted--with either the horse cultivator, or his wheel-hoe. + +In planting parsnips, carrots, and other slow-germinating seeds, he had +mixed a few radish seed in the seeding machine; these sprang up quickly +and defined the rows, so that the space between rows could be cultivated +before the other plants had scarcely broke the surface of the soil. + +Now these radish were beginning to be big enough to pull. Hiram brought +in a few bunches for their dinner on Saturday--the first fruits of the +garden. + +“Now, I dunno why it is,” said Mrs. Atterson, complacently, after +setting her teeth in the first radish and relishing its crispness, +“but this seems a whole lot better than the radishes we used to buy in +Crawberry. I 'spect what's your very own always seems better than other +folks's,” and she sighed and shook her head. + +She was thinking of the thing she had to face on Monday. Hiram hated to +see them all so downhearted. Sister's eyes were red from weeping; Old +Lem Camp sat at the table, muttering and playing with his food again +instead of eating. + +But Hiram felt as though he could not give up to the disaster that had +come to them. The thought that--in some way--Pepper was taking an unfair +advantage of Mother Atterson knocked continually at the door of his +mind. + +He went over, to himself, all that had passed in the kitchen the day +before when the real estate man had come to speak with Mrs. Atterson. +How had Pepper spoken about the option? Hadn't there been some hesitancy +in the fellow's manner--in his speech, indeed? Just what had Pepper +said? Hiram concentrated his mind upon this one thing. What had the man +said? + +“The option had--er--one year to run.” + +Those were the fellow's very words. He hesitated before he pronounced +the length of time. And he was not a man who, in speaking, had any +stammering of tongue. + +Why had he hesitated? Why should it trouble him to state the time limit +of the option? + +Was it because he was speaking a falsehood? + +The thought stung Hiram like a thorn in the flesh. He put away the tool +with which he was working, slipped on a coat, and started for Henry +Pollock's house, which lay not more than half a mile from the Atterson +farm, across the fields. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY + +HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram opened his +business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. Mr. Pollock scratched +his head, listened attentively, and then sat down to digest the news. + +“You gotter move--jest when you've got rightly settled on that place?” + he demanded. “Well, that's 'tarnal bad! And from what Henry tells me, +you're a young feller with idees, too.” + +“I don't care so much for myself,” Hiram hastened to say. “It's Mrs. +Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her mind that she +was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, I don't think it is a +wise thing to sell the property at that price.” + +“No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred dollars.” + +“But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option signed by +her Uncle Jeptha----” + +“Jeptha Atterson was no fool,” interrupted Pollock. “I can't understand +his giving an option on the farm, with all this talk of the railroad +crossing the river.” + +“But, Mr. Pollock!” exclaimed Hiram, eagerly, “you must know all about +this option. You signed as a witness to Uncle Jeptha's signature.” + +“No! you don't mean that?” exclaimed the farmer. “My name to it, too?” + +“Yes. And it was signed before Caleb Schell the notary public.” + +“So it was--so it was, boy!” declared the other, suddenly smiting his +knee. “I remember I witnessed Uncle Jeptha's signature once. But that +was way back there in the winter--before he was took sick.” + +“Yes, sir?” said Hiram, eagerly. + +“That was an option on the old farm. So it was. But goodness me, boy, +Pepper must have got him to renew it, or something. That option wouldn't +have run till now.” + +Hiram told him the date the paper was executed. + +“That's right, by Jo! It was in February.” + +“And it was for a year?” + +Mr. Pollock stared at him in silence, evidently thinking deeply. + +“If you remember all about it, then,” Hiram continued, “it's hardly +worth while going to Mr. Schell, I suppose.” + +“I remember, all right,” said Pollock, slowly. “It was all done right +there in Cale Schell's store. It was one rainy afternoon. There was +several of us sitting around Cale's stove. Pepper was one of us. In +comes Uncle Jeptha. Pepper got after him right away, but sort of on the +quiet, to one side. + +“I heard 'em. Pepper had made him an offer for the farm that was 'way +down low, and the old man laughed at him. + +“We hadn't none of us heard then the talk that came later about the +railroad. But Pepper has a brother-in-law who's in the office of the +company, and he thinks he gits inside information. + +“So, for some reason, he thought the railroad was going to touch +Uncle Jeptha's farm. O' course, it ain't. It's goin' over the river by +Ayertown. + +“I don't see what Pepper wants to take up the option for, anyway. Unless +he sees that you're likely to make suthin' out o' the old place, and +mebbe he's got a city feller on the string, to buy it.” + +“It doesn't matter what his reason is. Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to +sell, and if that option is all right, she must,” said Hiram. “And you +are sure Uncle Jeptha gave it for twelve months?” + +“Twelve months?” ejaculated Pollock, suddenly. “Why--no--that don't seem +right,” stammered the farmer, scratching his head. + +“But that's the way the option reads.” + +“Well--mebbe. I didn't just read it myself--no, sir. They jest says to +me: + +“'Come here, Pollock, and witness these signatures' So, I done +it--that's all. But I see Cale put on his specs and read the durn thing +through before he stamped it. Yes, sir. Cale's the carefulest notary +public we ever had around here. + +“Say!” said Mr. Pollock. “You go to Cale and ask him. It don't seem to +me the old man give Pepper so long a time.” + +“For how long was the option to run, then?” queried Hiram, excitedly. + + + +“Wal, I wouldn't wanter say. I don't wanter git inter trouble with no +neighbor. If Cale says a year is all right, then I'll say so, too. I +wouldn't jest trust my memory.” + +“But there is some doubt in your mind, Mr. Pollock?” + +“There is. A good deal of doubt,” the farmer assured him. “But you ask +Cale.” + +This was all that Hiram could get out of the elder Pollock. It was not +very comforting. The young farmer was of two minds whether he should see +Caleb Schell, or not. + +But when he got back to the house for supper, and saw the doleful faces +of the three waiting there, he couldn't stand inaction. + +“If you don't mind, I want to go to town tonight, Mrs. Atterson,” he +told the old lady. + +“All right, Hiram. I expect you've got to look out for yourself, boy. +If you can get another job, you take it. It's a 'tarnal shame you didn't +take up with that Bronson's offer when he come here after you.” + +“You needn't feel so,” said Hiram. “You're no more at fault than I am. +This thing just happened--nobody could foretell it. And I'm just as +sorry as I can be for you, Mother Atterson.” + +The old woman wiped her eyes. + +“Well, Hi, there's other things in this world to worry over besides +gravy, I find,” she said. “Some folks is born for trouble, and mebbe +we're some of that kind.” + +It was not exactly Mr. Pollock's doubts that sent Hiram Strong down +to the crossroads store that evening. For the farmer had seemed so +uncertain that the boy couldn't trust to his memory at all. + +No. It was Hiram's remembrance of Pepper's stammering when he spoke +about the option. He hesitated to pronounce the length of time the +option had been drawn for. Was it because he knew there was some trick +about the time-limit? + +Had the real estate man fooled old Uncle Jeptha in the beginning? The +dead man had been very shrewd and careful. Everybody said so. + +He was conscious and of acute mind right up to his death. If there was +an option on the farm be surely would have said something about it to +Mr. Strickland, or to some of the neighbors. + +It looked to Hiram as though the old farmer must have believed that the +option had expired before the day of his death. + +Had Pepper only got the old man's promise for a shorter length of time, +but substituted the paper reading “one year” when it was signed? Was +that the mystery? + +However, Hiram could not see how that would help Mrs. Atterson, for even +testimony of witnesses who heard the discussion between the dead man and +the real estate agent, could not controvert a written instrument. The +young fellow knew that. + +He harnessed the old horse to the light wagon and drove to the +crossroads store kept by Caleb Schell. Many of the country people liked +to trade with this man because his store was a social gathering-place. + +Around a hot stove in the winter, and a cold stove at this time of year, +the men gathered to discuss the state of the country, local politics, +their neighbors' business, and any other topic which was suggested to +their more or less idle minds. + +On the outskirts of the group of older loafers, the growing crop of men +who would later take their places in the soap-box forum lingered; while +sky-larking about the verge of the crowd were smaller boys who were +learning no good, to say the least, in attaching themselves to the older +members of the company. + +There will always be certain men in every community who take delight in +poisoning the minds of the younger generation. We muzzle dogs, or shoot +them when they go mad. The foul-mouthed man is far more vicious than the +dog, and should be impounded. + +Hiram hitched his horse to the rack before the store and entered the +crowded place. The fumes of tobacco smoke, vinegar, cheese, and various +other commodities gave a distinctive flavor to Caleb Schell's store--and +not a pleasant one, to Hiram's mind. + +Ordinarily he would have made any purchases he had to make, and gone out +at once. But Schell was busy with several customers at the counter and +he was forced to wait a chance to speak with the old man. + +One of the first persons Hiram saw in the store was young Pete +Dickerson, hanging about the edge of the crowd. Pete scowled at him and +moved away. One of the men holding down a cracker-keg sighted Hiram and +hailed him in a jovial tone: + +“Hi, there, Mr. Strong! What's this we been hearin' about you? They +say you had a run-in with Sam Dickerson. We been tryin' to git the +pertic'lars out o' Pete, here, but he don't seem ter wanter talk about +it,” and the man guffawed heartily. + +“Hear ye made Sam give back the tools he borrowed of the old man?” said +another man, whom Hiram knew to be Mrs. Larriper's son-in-law. + +“You are probably misinformed,” said Hiram, quietly. “I know no reason +why Mr. Dickerson and I should have trouble--unless other neighbors make +trouble for us.” + +“Right, boy--right!” called Cale Schell, from behind the counter, where +he could hear and comment upon all that went on in the middle of the +room, despite the attention he had to give to his customers. + +“Well, if you can git along with Sam and Pete, you'll do well,” laughed +another of the group. + +The Dickersons seemed to be in disfavor in the community, and nobody +cared whether Pete repeated what was said to his father, or not. + +“I was told,” pursued the first speaker, screwing up one eye and +grinning at Hiram, “that you broke Sam's gun over his head and chased +Pete a mile. That right, son?” + +“You will get no information from me,” returned Hiram, tartly. + +“Why, Pete ought to be big enough to lick you alone, Strong,” continued +the tantalizer. “Hey, Pete! Don't sneak out. Come and tell us why you +didn't give this chap the lickin' you said you was going to?” + +Pete only glared at him and slunk out of the store. Hiram turned his +back on the whole crowd and waited at the end of the counter for Mr. +Schell. The storekeeper was a tall, portly man, with a gray mustache and +side-whiskers, and a high bald forehead. + +“What can I do for you, Mr. Strong?” he asked, finally having got rid of +the customers who preceded Hiram. + +Hiram, in a low voice, explained his mission. Schell nodded his head at +once. + +“Oh, yes,” he said; “I remember about the option. I had forgotten it, +for a fact; but Pepper was in here yesterday talking about it. He had +been to your house.” + +“Then, sir, to the best of your remembrance, the option is all right?” + +“Oh, certainly! Pollock witnessed it, and I put my seal on it. Yes, sir; +Pepper can make the old lady sell. It's too bad, if she wants to remain +there; but the price he is to pay isn't so bad----” + +“You have no reason to doubt the validity of the option?” cried Hiram, +in desperation. + +“Assuredly not.” + +“Then why didn't Uncle Jeptha speak of it to somebody before he died, if +the option had not run out at that time?” + +“Humph!” + +“You grant the old man was of sound mind?” + +“Sound as a pine knot,” agreed the storekeeper, still reflective. + +“Then how is it he did not speak to his lawyer about the option when he +saw Mr. Strickland within an hour of his death?” + +“That does seem peculiar,” admitted the storekeeper, slowly. + +“And Mr. Pollock says he thinks there is something wrong about the +option,” went on Hiram, eagerly. + +“Oh, Pollock! Pah!” returned Schell. “I don't suppose he even read it.” + +“But you did?” + +“Assuredly. I always read every paper. If they don't want me to know +what the agreement is, they can take it to some other Notary,” declared +the storekeeper with a jolly laugh. + +“And you are sure that the option was to run a year?” + +“Of course the option's all right--Hold on! A year, did you say? +Why--seems to me--let's look this thing up,” concluded Caleb Schell, +suddenly. + +He dived into his little office and produced a ledger from the safe. +This he slapped down on the counter between them. + +“I'm a careful man, I am,” he told Hiram. “And I flatter myself I've got +a good memory, too. Pepper was in here yesterday sputtering about the +option and I remember now that he spoke of its running a year. + +“But it seems to me,” said Schell, pawing over the leaves of his ledger, +“that the talk between him and old Uncle Jeptha was for a short time. +The old man was mighty cautious--mighty cautious.” + +“That's what Mr. Pollock says,” cried Hiram, eagerly. + +“But you've seen the option? + +“Yes.” + +“And it reads a year? + +“Oh, yes.” + +“Then how you going to get around that?” demanded Schell, with +conviction. + +“But perhaps Uncle Jeptha signed the option thinking it was for a +shorter time.” + +“That wouldn't help you none. The paper was signed. And why should +Pepper have buncoed him--at that time?” + +“Why should he be so eager to get the farm now?” asked Hiram. + +“Well, I'll tell you. It ain't out yet. But two or three days ago the +railroad board abandoned the route through Ayertown and it is agreed +that the new bridge will be built along there by your farm somewhere. + +“The river is as narrow there as it is anywhere for miles up and down, +and they will stretch a bridge from the high bank on your side, across +the meadows, to the high bank on the other side. It will cut out grades, +you see. That's what has started Pepper up to grab off the farm while +the option is valid.” + +“But, Mr. Schell, is the option valid?” cried Hiram, anxiously. + +“I don't see how you're going to get around it. Ah! here's the place. +When I have sealed a paper I make a note of it--what the matter was +about and who the contracting parties were. I've done that for years. +Let--me--see.” + +He adjusted his spectacles. He squinted at the page, covered closely +with writing. Hiram saw him whispering the words he read to himself. +Suddenly the blood flooded into the old man's face, and he looked up +with a start at his interrogator. + +“Do you mean to say that option's for a year? he demanded. + +“That is the way it reads--now,” whispered Hiram, watching him closely. + +The old man turned the book around slowly on the counter. His stubbed +finger pointed to the two or three scrawled lines written in a certain +place. + +Hiram read them slowly, with beating heart. + + + +CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + +The whispered conference between Hiram Strong and the storekeeper could +not be heard by the curious crowd around the cold stove; nor did it last +for long. + +Caleb Schell finally closed his ledger and put it away. Hiram shook +hands with him and walked out. + +On the platform outside, which was illuminated by a single smoky +lantern, a group of small boys were giggling, and they watched Hiram +unhitch the old horse and climb into the spring wagon with so much +hilarity that the young farmer expected some trick. + +The horse started off all right, he missed nothing from the wagon, and +so he supposed that he was mistaken. The boys had merely been laughing +at him because he was a stranger. + +But as Hiram got some few yards from the hitching rack, the seat was +suddenly pulled from under him, and he was left sprawling on his back in +the bottom of the wagon. + +A yell of derision from the crowd outside the store assured him that +this was the cause of the boys' hilarity. Luckily his old horse was of +quiet disposition, and he stopped dead in his tracks when the seat flew +out of the back of the wagon. + +A joke is a joke. No use in showing wrath over this foolish amusement of +the crossroads boys. But Hiram got a little the best of them, after all. + +The youngsters had scattered when the “accident” occurred. Hiram, +getting out to pick up the seat, found the end of a strong hemp line +fastened to it. The other end was tied to the hitching rack in front of +the store. + +Instead of casting off the line from the seat, Hiram walked back to the +store and cast that end off. + +“At any rate, I'm in a good coil of hemp rope,” he said to one of the +men who had come out to see the fun. “The fellow who owns it can come +and prove property; but I shall ask a few questions of him.” + +There was no more laughter. The young farmer walked back to his wagon, +set up the seat again, and drove on. + +The roadway was dark, but having been used all his life to country +roads at night, Hiram had no difficulty in seeing the path before him. +Besides, the old horse knew his way home. + +He drove on some eighth of a mile. Suddenly he felt that the wagon +was not running true. One of the wheels was yawing. He drew in the old +horse; but he was not quick enough. + +The nigh forward wheel rolled off the end of the axle, and down came the +wagon with a crash! + +Hiram was thrown forward and came sprawling--on hands and knees--upon +the ground, while the wheel rolled into the ditch. He was little hurt, +although the accident might have been serious. + +And in truth, he knew it to be no accident. A burr does not easily work +off the end of an axle. He had greased the old wagon just before he +started for the store, and he knew he had replaced each nut carefully. + +This was a deliberately malicious trick--no boy's joke like the tying of +the rope to his wagon seat. And the axle was broken. Although he had +no lantern he could see that the wagon could not be used again without +being repaired. + +“Who did it?” was Hiram's unspoken question, as he slowly unharnessed +the old horse, and then dragged the broken wagon entirely out of the +road so that it would not be an obstruction for other vehicles. + +His mind set instantly upon Pete Dickerson. He had not seen the boy +when he came out of the crossroads store. If the fellow had removed this +burr, he had done it without anybody seeing him, and had then run home. + +The young farmer, much disturbed over this incident, mounted the back +of the old horse, and paced home. He only told Mrs. Atterson that he had +met with an accident and that the light wagon would have to be repaired +before it could be used again. + +That necessitated their going to town on Monday in the heavy wagon. And +Hiram dragged the spring wagon to the blacksmith shop for repairs, on +the way. + +But before that, the enemy in the dark had struck again. When Hiram +went to the barnyard to water the stock, Sunday morning, he found that +somebody had been bothering the pump. + +The bucket, or pump-valve, was gone. He had to take it apart, cut a new +valve out of sole leather, and put the pump together again. + +“We'll have to get a cross dog, if we remain here,” he told Mrs. +Atterson. “There is somebody in the neighborhood who means us harm.” + +“Them Dickersons!” exclaimed Mrs. Atterson. + +“Perhaps. That Pete, maybe. If I once caught him up to his tricks I'd +make him sorry enough.” + +“Tell the constable, Hi,” cried Sister, angrily. + +“That would make trouble for his folks. Maybe they don't know just how +mean Pete is. A good thrashing--and the threat of another every time he +did anything mean--would do him lots more good.” + +This wasn't nice Sunday work, but it was too far to carry water from the +house to the horse trough, so Hiram had to repair the pump. + +On Monday morning he routed out Sister and Mr. Camp at daybreak. He had +been up and out for an hour himself, and on a bench under the shed he +had heaped two or three bushels of radishes which he had pulled and +washed, ready for bunching. + +He showed his helpers how the pretty scarlet balls were to be bunched, +and found that Sister took hold of the work with nimble fingers, while +Mr. Camp did very well at the unaccustomed task. + +“I don't know, Hi,” said Mrs. Atterson, despondently, “that it's worth +while your trying to sell any of the truck, if we're going to leave here +so soon.” + +“We haven't left yet,” he returned, trying to speak cheerfully. “And you +might as well get every penny back that you can. Perhaps an arrangement +can be made whereby we can stay and harvest the garden crop, at any +rate.” + +“You can make up your mind that that Pepper man won't give us any +leeway; he isn't that kind,” declared Mother Atterson, with conviction. + +Hiram made a quick sale of the radishes at several of the stores, where +he got eighteen cents a dozen bunches; but some he sold at the big +boarding-school--St. Beris--at a retail price. + +“You can bring any other fresh vegetables you may have from time +to time,” the housekeeper told him. “Nobody ever raised any early +vegetables about Scoville before. They are very welcome.” + +“Once we get a-going,” said Hiram to Mrs. Atterson, “you or Sister can +drive in with the spring wagon and dispose of the surplus vegetables. +And you might get a small canning outfit--they come as cheap as fifteen +dollars--and put up tomatoes, corn, peas, beans, and other things. Good +canned stuff always sells well.” + +“Good Land o' Goshen, Hiram!” exclaimed the old lady, in desperation. +“You talk jest as though we were going to stay on the farm.” + +“Well, let's go and see Mr. Strickland,” replied the young farmer, and +they set out for the lawyer's office. + +Mrs. Atterson sat in the ante-room while Hiram asked to speak with the +old lawyer in private for a minute. The conference was not for long, and +when Hiram came back to his employer he said: + +“Mr. Strickland has sent his junior clerk out for Pepper. He thinks we'd +better talk the matter over quietly. And he wants to see the option, +too.” + +“Oh, Hiram! There ain't no hope, is there?” groaned the old lady. + +“Well, I tell you what!” exclaimed the young fellow, “we won't give in +to him until we have to. Of course, if you refuse to sign a deed he +can go to chancery and in the end you will have to pay the costs of the +action. + +“But perhaps, even at that, it might be well to hold him off until you +have got the present crop out of the ground.” + +“Oh, I won't go to law,” said Mrs. Atterson, decidedly. “No good ever +come of that.” + +After a time Mr. Strickland invited them both into his private office. +The attorney spoke quietly of other matters while they waited for +Pepper. + +But the real estate man did not appear. By and by Mr. Strickland's clerk +came back with the report that Pepper had been called away suddenly on +important business. + +“They tell me he went Saturday,” said the clerk. “He may not be back +for a week. But he said he was going to buy the Atterson place when he +returned--he's told several people around town so.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Strickland, slowly. “Then he has left that threat +hanging, like the Sword of Damocles--over Mrs. Atterson's head?” + +“I don't know nothin' about that sword, Mr. Strickland, nor no +other sword, 'cept a rusty one that my father carried when he was a +hoss-sodger in the Rebellion,” declared Mother Atterson, nervously. “But +if that Pepper man's got one belonging to Mr. Damocles, I shouldn't be +at all surprised. That Pepper looked to me like a man that would take +anything he could lay his hands on--if he warn't watched!” + +“Which is a true and just interpretation of Pepper's character, I +believe,” observed the lawyer, smiling. + +“And we've got to give up the farm at his say-so--at any time?” demanded +the old lady. + +“If his option is good,” said Mr. Strickland. “But I want to see the +paper--and I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, that I shall subject it to +the closest possible scrutiny. + +“There is a possibility that Pepper's option may be questioned before +the courts. Do not build too many hopes on this,” he added, quickly, +seeing the old lady's face light up. + +“You have a very good champion in this young man,” and the lawyer nodded +at Hiram. + +“He suspected all was not right with the option and he has dug up the +fact that the witness to your uncle's signature, and the man before whom +the paper was attested, both believed the option was for a short time. + +“Caleb Schell's book shows that it was for thirty days. Uncle Jeptha +undoubtedly thought it was for that length of time and therefore the +option expired several days before he died. + +“Mr. Pepper may have fallen under temptation. He considered heretofore, +like everybody else, that the railroad would pass us by in this section. +Pepper gambled twenty dollars on its coming along the boundary of the +Atterson farm--between you and Darrell's tract--and thought he had lost. + +“Then suddenly the railroad board turned square around and voted for the +condemnation of the original route. Pepper remembered the option he had +risked twenty dollars on. If it was originally for thirty days, it was +void, of course; but Uncle Jeptha is dead, and he hopes perhaps, that +nobody else will dispute the validity of it.” + +“It's a forgery, then?” cried Mrs. Atterson. + +“It may be a forgery. We do not know,” said the lawyer, hastily. “At any +rate, he has the paper, and he is a shrewd rascal.” + +Mrs. Atterson's face was a study. + +“Do you mean to tell me we have got to lose the farm?” she demanded. + +“My dear lady, that I cannot tell you. I must see this option. We must +put it to the test----” + +“But Schell and Pollock will testify that the option was for thirty +days,” cried Hiram. + +“Perhaps. To the best of their remembrance and belief, it was for +thirty days. A shrewd lawyer, however--and Pepper would employ a shrewd +one--would turn their evidence inside out. + +“No evidence--in theory, at least--can controvert a written instrument, +signed, sealed, and delivered. Even Cale Schell's memoranda book cannot +be taken as evidence, save in a contributory way. It is not direct. It +is the carelessly scribbled record, in pencil, of a busy man. + +“No. If Pepper puts forward the option we have got to see if that +option has been tampered with--the paper itself, I mean. If the fellow +substituted a different instrument, at the time of signing, from the one +Uncle Jeptha thought he signed, you have no case--I tell you frankly, my +dear lady.” + +“Then, it ain't no use. We got to lose the place, Hiram,” said Mrs. +Atterson, when they left the lawyer's office. + +“I wouldn't lose heart. If Pepper is scared, he may not trouble you +again.” + +“It's got ten months more to run,” said she. “He can keep us guessin' all +that time.” + +“That is so,” agreed Hiram, nodding thoughtfully. “But, of course, as +Mr. Strickland says, by raising a doubt as to the validity of the option +we can hold him off for a while--maybe until we have made this year's +crop.” + +“It's goin' to make me lay awake o' nights,” sighed the old lady. “And +I thought I'd got through with that when I stopped worryin' about the +gravy.” + +“Well, we won't talk about next year,” agreed Hiram. “I'll do the best I +can for you through this season, if Pepper will let us alone. We've got +the bottom land practically cleared; we might as well plough it and put +in the corn there. If we make a crop you'll get all your money back and +more. Mr. Strickland told me privately that the option, unless it read +that way, would not cover the crops in the ground. And I read the option +carefully. Crops were not mentioned.” + +So it was decided to go ahead with the work as already planned; +but neither the young farmer, nor his employer, could look forward +cheerfully to the future. + +The uncertainty of what Pepper would eventually do was bound to be in +their thought, day and night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. THE WELCOME TEMPEST + +To some youths this matter of the option would have been such a clog +that they would have lost interest and slighted the work. But not so +with Hiram Strong. + +He counted this day a lost one, however; he hated to leave the farm for +a minute when there was so much to do. + +But the next morning he got the plow into the four-acre corn lot; and +he did nothing but the chores that week until the ground was entirely +plowed. Then Henry Pollock came over and gave him another day's work and +they finished grubbing the lowland. + +The rubbish was piled in great heaps down there, ready for burning. As +long as the rain held off, Hiram did not put fire to the bush-heaps. + +But early in the following week the clouds began to gather in a quarter +for rain, and late in the afternoon, when the air was still, he took a +can of coal oil, and with Sister and Mr. Camp, and even Mrs. Atterson, +at his heels, went down to the riverside to burn the brush heaps. + +“There's not much danger of the fire spreading to the woods; but if it +should,” Hiram said, warningly, “it might, at this time of year, do your +timber a couple of hundred dollars' worth of damage.” + +“Goodness me!” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “It does seem ridiculous to +hear you talk that a-way. I never owned nothin' but a little bit of +furniture before, and I expected the boarders to tear that all to +pieces. I'm beginning to feel all puffed up and wealthy.” + +Hiram cut them all green pineboughs for beaters, and then set the fires, +one after another. There were more than twenty of the great piles and +soon the river bottom, from bend to bend, was filled with rolling clouds +of smoke. As the dusk dropped, the yellow glare of the fire illuminated +the scene. + +Sister clapped her hands and cried: + +“Ain't this bully? It beats the Fourth of July celebration in Crawberry. +Oh, I'd rather be on the farm than go to heaven!” + +They had brought their supper with them, and leaving the others to watch +the fires, and see that the grass did not tempt the flames to the edge +of the wood, Hiram cast bait into the river and, in an hour, drew out +enough mullet and “bull-heads” to satisfy them all, when they were +broiled over the hot coals of the first bonfire to be lighted. + +They ate with much enjoyment. Between nine and ten o'clock the fires had +all burned down to coals. + +A circle of burned-over grass and rubbish surrounded each fire. There +seemed no possibility that the flames could spread to the mat of dry +leaves on the side hill. + +So they went home, a lantern guiding their feet over the rough path +through the timber, stopping at the spring for a long, thirst-quenching +draught. + +The sky was as black as ink. Now and again a faint flash in the westward +proclaimed a tempest in that direction. But not a breath of wind was +stirring, and the rain might not reach this section. + +A dull red glow was reflected on the clouds over the river-bottom. When +Hiram looked from his window, just as he was ready for bed, that glow +seemed to have increased. + +“Strange,” he muttered. “It can't be that those fires have spread. There +was no chance for them to spread. I--don't--understand it!” + +He sat at the window and stared out through the darkness. There was +little wind as yet; it was a fact, however, that the firelight flickered +on the low-hung clouds with increasing radiance. + +“Am I mad?” demanded the young farmer, suddenly leaping up and drawing +on his garments again. “That fire is spreading.” + +He dressed fully, and ran softly down the stairs and left the house. +When he came out in the clear the glow had not receded. There was a fire +down the hillside, and it seemed increasing every moment. + +He remembered the enemy in the dark, and without stopping to rouse the +household, ran on toward the woods, his heart beating heavily in his +bosom. + +Slipping, falling at times, panting heavily because of the rough ground, +Hiram came at last through the more open timber to the brink of that +steep descent, at the bottom of which lay the smoky river-bottom. + +And indeed, the whole of the lowland seemed filled with stifling clouds +of smoke. Yet, from a dozen places along the foot of the hill, yellow +flames were starting up, kindling higher, and devouring as fast as might +be the leaves and tinder left from the wrack of winter. + +The nearest bonfire had been a hundred yards from the foot of this hill. +His care, Hiram knew, had left no chance of the dull coals in any of the +twenty heaps spreading to the verge of the grove. + +Man's hand had done this. An enemy, waiting and watching until they had +left the field, had stolen down, gathered burning brands, and spread +them along the bottom of the hill, where the increasing wind might +scatter the fire until the whole grove was in a blaze. + +Not only was Mrs. Atterson's timber in danger, but Darrell's tract +and that lying beyond would be overwhelmed by the flames if they were +allowed to spread. + +On the other side, Dickerson had cut his timber a year or two before, +clear to the river. The fire would not burn far over his line. Whoever +had done this dastardly act, Dickerson's property would not be damaged. + +But Hiram lent no time to trouble. His work was cut out for him right +here and now--and well he knew it! + +He had brought the small axe with him, having caught it up from the +doorstep. Now he used it to cut a green bough, and then ran with the +latter down the hill and set upon the fire-line like a madman. + +The smoke, spread here and there by puffs of rising wind, half choked +him. It stung his eyes until they distilled water enough to blind him. +He thrashed and fought in the fumes and the murk of it, stumbling and +slipping, one moment half-knee deep in quick-springing flames, the next +almost overpowered by the smudge that rose from the beaten mat of leaves +and rubbish. + +It was a lone fight. He had to do it all. There had been no time to +rouse either the neighbors, or the rest of the family. + +If he did not overcome these flames--and well he knew it--Mother +Atterson would arise in the morning to see all her goodly timber +scorched, perhaps ruined! + +“I must beat it out--beat it out!” thought Hiram, and the repetition +of the words thrummed an accompaniment upon the drums of his ears as he +thrashed away with a madman's strength. + +For no sane person would have tackled such a hopeless task. Before +him the flames suddenly leaped six feet or more into the air. They +overtopped him as they writhed through a clump of green-briars. The wind +puffed the flame toward him, and his face was scorched by the heat. + +He lost his eyebrows completely, and the hair was crisped along the +front brim of his hat. + +Then with a laughing crackle, as though scorning his weakness, the +flames ran up a climbing vine and the next moment wrapped a tall pine in +lurid yellow. + +This pine, like a huge torch, began to give off a thick, black smoke. +Would some wakeful neighboring farmer, seeing it, know the danger that +menaced and come to Hiram's help? + +For yards he had beaten flat the flames and stamped out every spark. +Behind him was naught but rolling smoke. It was dark there. No flames +were eating up the slope. + +But toward Darrell's tract the fire seemed on the increase. He could not +catch up with it. And this solitary, sentinel pine, ablaze now in all +its head, threatened to fling sparks for a hundred yards. + +If the wind continued to rise, the forest was doomed! + +His green branch had burned to a crisp. He had lost his axe in the +darkness and the smoke, and now he tore another bough, by main strength, +from its parent stem. + +Hiram Strong worked as though inspired; but to no purpose in the end. +For the flames increased. Puff after puff of wind drove the fire on, +scattering brands from the blazing pine; and now another, and another, +tree caught. The glare of the conflagration increased. + +He flung down the useless bough. Fire was all about him. He had to leap +suddenly to one side to escape a burst of flame that had caught in a +jungle of green-briars. + +Then, of a sudden, a crash of thunder rolled and reverberated through +the glen. Lightning for an instant lit up the meadows and the river. +The glare of it almost blinded the young farmer and, out of the line of +fire, he sank to the earth and covered his eyes, seared by the sudden, +compelling light. + +Again and again the thunder rolled, following the javelins of lightning +that seemed to dart from the clouds to the earth. The tempest, so long +muttering in the West, had come upon him unexpectedly, for he had given +all his attention to the spreading fire. + +And now came the rain--no refreshing, sweet, saturating shower; but a +thunderous, blinding fall of water that first set the burning woods to +steaming and then drowned out every spark of fire on upland as well as +lowland. + +It was a cloudburst--a downpour such as Hiram had seldom experienced +before. Exhausted, he lay on the bank and let the pelting rain soak him +to the skin. + +He did not care. Half drowned by the beating rain, he only crowed his +delight at the downpour. Every spark of fire was flooded out. The danger +was past. + +He finally arose, and staggered through the downpour to the house, only +happy that--by a merciful interposition of Providence--the peril had +been overcome. + +He tore off his clothing on the stoop, there in the pitch darkness, and +crept up to his bedroom where he rubbed himself down with a crash-towel, +and finally tumbled into bed and slept like a log till broad daylight. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. FIRST FRUITS + +For the first time since they had come to the farm, Hiram was the +last to get up in the house. And when he came down to breakfast, +still trembling from the exertion of the previous night, Mrs. Atterson +screamed at the sight of him. + +“For the good Land o' Goshen!” she cried. “You look like a singed +chicken, Hiram Strong! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?” + +He told them of the fight he had had while they slept. But he could talk +about it jokingly now, although Sister was inclined to snivel a little +over his danger. + +“That Dickerson boy ought to be lashed--Nine and thirty lashes--none too +much--This sausage is good--humph!--and pancakes--fit for the gods--But +he'll come back--do more damage--the butter, yes I I want butter--and +syrup, though two spreads is reckless extravagance--Eh? eh? can't prove +anything against that Dickerson lout?-well, mebbe not.” + +So Old Lem Camp commented upon the affair. But Hiram could not prove +that the neighbor's boy had done any of these things which pointed to a +malicious enemy. + +The young farmer began to wonder if he could not lay a trap, and so +bring about his undoing. + +As soon as the ground was in fit condition again (for the nights rain +had been heavy) Hiram scattered the lime he had planned to use upon +the four acres of land plowed for corn, and dragged it in with a +spike-toothed harrow. + +Working as he was with one horse alone, this took considerable time, +and when this corn land was ready, it was time for him to go through the +garden piece again with the horse cultivator. + +Sister and Lem Camp, both, had learned to use the man-weight wheel-hoe, +and the fine stuff was thinned and the weeds well cut out. From time +to time the young farmer had planted peas--both the dwarf and taller +varieties--and now he risked putting in some early beans--“snap” and +bush limas--and his first planting of sweet corn. + +Of the latter he put in four rows across the garden, each, of sixty-five +day, seventy-five day, and ninety day sugar corn--all of well-known +kinds. He planned later to put in, every fortnight, four rows of a +mid-length season corn, so as to have green corn for sale, and for the +house, up to frost. + +The potatoes were growing finely and he hilled them up for the first +time. He marked his four-acre lot for field corn--cross-checking it +three-feet, ten inches apart. This made twenty-seven hundred and fifty +hills to the acre, and with the hand-planter--an ingenious but cheap +machine--he dropped two and three kernels to the hill. + +This upland, save where he had spread coarse stable manure, was +not rich. Upon each corn-hill he had Sister throw half a handful of +fertilizer. She followed him as he used the planter, and they planted +and fertilized the entire four acres in less than two days. + +The lime he had put into the land would release such fertility as +remained dormant there; but Hiram did not expect a big crop of corn on +that piece. If he made two good ears to the hill he would be satisfied. + +He had knocked together a rough cold-frame, on the sunny side of the +woodshed, to fit some old sash he had found in the barn. Into the rich +earth sifted to make the bed in this frame, he transplanted tomato, +egg-plant, pepper and other plants of a delicate nature. Early cabbage +and cauliflower had already gone into the garden plot, and in the midst +of an early and saturating rain, all day long, he had transplanted +table-beets into the rows he had marked out for them. + +This variety of vegetables were now all growing finely. He sold nearly +six dollars' worth of radishes in town, and these radishes he showed +Mrs. Atterson were really “clear profit.” They had all been pulled from +the rows of carrots and other small seeds. + +There were several heavy rains after the tempest which had been so +Providential; the ground was well saturated, and the river had risen +until it roared between its banks in a voice that could be heard, on a +still day, at the house. + +The rains started the vegetation growing by leaps and bounds; weeds +always increase faster than any other growing thing. + +There was plenty for Hiram to do in the garden, and he kept Sister and +Old Lem Camp busy, too. They were at it from the first faint streak of +light in the morning until dark. + +But they were well--and happy. Mother Atterson, her heart troubled by +thought of “that Pepper-man,” could not always repress her smiles. If +the danger of losing the farm were past, she would have had nothing in +the world to trouble her. + +The hundred eggs she had purchased for five dollars had proven more than +sixty per cent fertile. Some advice that Hiram had given her enabled +Mrs. Atterson to handle the chickens so that the loss from disease was +very small. + +He knocked together for her a couple of pens, eight feet square, which +could be moved about on the grass every day. In these pens the seventy, +or more, chicks thrived immensely. And Sister was devoted to them. + +Meanwhile the old white-faced cow, that had been a terror to Mother +Atterson at the start, had found her calf, and it was a heifer. + +“Take my advice and raise it,” said Hiram. “She is a scrub, but she is a +pretty good scrub. You'll see that she will give a good measure of milk. +And what this farm needs is cattle. + +“If you could make stable manure enough to cover the cleared acres a +foot deep, you could raise almost any crop you might name--and +make money by it. The land is impoverished by the use of commercial +fertilizers, unbalanced by humus.” + +“Well, I guess You know, Hiram,” admitted Mrs. Atterson. “And that +calf certainly is a pretty creeter. It would be too bad to turn it into +veal.” + +Hiram did not intend to raise the calf expensively, however. He took it +away from its mother right at the start, and in two weeks it was eating +grass, and guzzling skimmed milk and calf-meal, while the old cow was +beginning to show her employer her value. + +Mrs. Atterson bought a small churn and quickly learned that “slight” at +butter-making which is absolutely essential if one would succeed in the +dairy business. + +The cow turned out to pasture early in May, too; so her keep was not +so heavy a burden. She lowed some after the calf; but the latter was +growing finely under Hiram's care, and Mrs. Atterson had at least two +pounds of butter for sale each week, and the housekeeper at the St. +Beris school paid her thirty-five cents a pound for it. + +Hiram gradually picked up a retail route in the town, which customers +paid more for the surplus vegetables--and butter--than could be obtained +at the stores. He had taught Sister how to drive, and sometimes even +Mrs. Atterson went in with the vegetables. + +This relieved the young farmer and allowed him to work in the fields. +And during these warm, growing May days, he found plenty to do. Just as +the field corn pushed through the ground he went into the lot with his +14-tooth harrow and broke up the crust and so killed the ever-springing +weeds. + +With the spikes on the harrow “set back,” no corn-plants were dragged +out of the ground. This first harrowing, too, mixed the fertilizer with +the soil, and gave the corn the start it so sadly needed. + +Busy as bees, the four transplanted people at the Atterson farmhouse +accomplished a great deal during these first weeks of the warming +season. And all four of them--Mrs. Atterson, Sister, Old Lem, and Hiram +himself--enjoyed the work to the full. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + +Hiram Strong had decided that the market prospects of Scoville +prophesied a good price for early tomatoes. He advised, therefore, a +good sized patch of this vegetable. + +He had planted in the window boxes seed of several different varieties. +He had transplanted to the coldframe strong plants numbering nearly five +hundred. He believed that, under garden cultivation, a tomato plant that +would not yield fifty cents worth of fruit was not worth bothering +with, while a dollar from a single plant was not beyond the bounds of +probability. + +It was safe, Hiram very well knew, to set out tomato plants in this +locality much before the middle of May; yet he was willing to take some +risks, and go to some trouble, for the sake of getting early ripened +tomatoes into the Scoville market. + +As Henry Pollock had prophesied, Hiram did not see much of his friend +during corn-planting time. The Pollocks put nearly fifty acres in corn, +and the whole family helped in the work, including Mrs. Pollock herself, +and down to the child next to the baby. This little toddler amused his +younger brother, and brought water to the field for the workers. + +Other families in the neighborhood did the same, Hiram noticed. They all +strained every effort to put in corn, cultivating as big a crop as they +possibly could handle. + +This was why locally grown vegetables were scarce in Scoville. And the +young farmer proposed to take advantage of this condition of affairs to +the best of his ability. + +If they were only to remain here on the farm long enough to handle this +one crop, Hiram determined to make that crop pay his employer as well as +possible, although he, himself, had no share in such profit. + +Henry Pollock, however, came along while Hiram was making ready his plat +in the garden for tomatoes. The young farmer was setting several rows of +two-inch thick stakes across the garden, sixteen feet apart in the row, +the rows four feet apart. The stakes themselves were about four feet out +of the ground. + +“What ye doin' there, Hiram?” asked Henry, curiously. “Building a +fence?” + +“Not exactly.” + +“Ain't goin' to have a chicken run out here in the garden, be ye?” + +“I should hope not! The chickens on this place will never mix with the +garden trucks, if I have any say about it,” declared Hiram, laughing. + +“By Jo!” exclaimed Henry. “Dad says Maw's dratted hens eat up a couple +hundred dollars' worth of corn and clover every year for him-runnin' +loose as they do.” + +“Why doesn't he build your mother proper runs, then, plant green stuff +in several yards, and change the flock over, from yard to yard?” “Oh, +hens won't do well shut up; Maw says so,” said Henry, repeating the +lazy farmer's unfounded declaration-probably originated ages ago, when +poultry was first domesticated. + +“I'll show you, next year, if we are around here,” said Hiram, “whether +poultry will do well enclosed in yards.” + +“I told mother you didn't let your chickens run free, and had no hens +with them,” said Henry, thoughtfully. + +“No. I do not believe in letting anything on a farm get into lazy +habits. A hen is primarily intended to lay eggs. I send them back to +work when they have hatched out their brood. + +“Those home-made brooders of ours keep the chicks quite as warm, and +never peck the little fellows, or step upon them, as the old hen often +does.” + +“That's right, I allow,” admitted Henry, grinning broadly. + +“And some hens will traipse chicks through the grass and weeds as far +as turkeys. No, sir! Send the hens back to business, and let the chicks +shift for themselves. They'll do better.” + +“Them there in the pens certainly do look healthy,” said his friend. +“But you ain't said what you was doin' here, Hiram, setting these +stakes?” + +“Why, I'll tell you,” returned Hiram. “This is my tomato patch.” + +“By Jo!” ejaculated Henry. “You don't want to set tomatoes so fur apart, +do you?” + +“No, no,” laughed Hiram. “The posts are to string wires on. The tomatoes +will be two feet apart in the row. As they grow I tie them to the wires, +and so keep the fruit off the ground. + +“The tomato ripens better and more evenly, and the fruit will come +earlier, especially if I pinch back the ends of the vine from time to +time, and remove some of the side branches.” + +“We don't do all that to raise a tomato crop. And we'll put in five +acres for the cannery this year, as usual,” said Henry, with some scorn. + +“We run the rows out four feet apart, like you do, throwing up a list, +in fact. Then father goes ahead with a stick, making a hole for the +plant every three feet, so't they'll be check-rowed and we can cultivate +them both ways--and we all set the plants. + +“We never hand-hoe 'em--it don't pay. The cannery isn't giving but +fifteen cents a basket this year--and it's got to be a full five-eighths +basket, too, for they weigh 'em.” + +Hiram looked at him with a quizzical smile. + +“So you set about thirty-six hundred and forty plants to the acre?” he +said. + +“I reckon so.” + +“And you'll have five acres of tomatoes?” + +“Yep. So Dad says. He has contracted for that many. But our plants +don't begin to be big enough to set out yet. We have to keep 'em covered +nights.” + +“And I expect to have about five hundred plants in this patch,” said +Hiram, smiling. “I tell you what, Henry.” + +“Huh?” said the other boy. “I bet I take in from my patch--net income, I +mean--this year as much as your father gets at the cannery for his whole +crop.” + +“Nonsense!” cried Henry. “Maybe Dad'll make a hundred, or a hundred and +twenty-five dollars. Sometimes tomatoes run as high as thirty dollars an +acre around here.” + +“Wait and see,” said Hiram, laughing. “It is going to cost me more to +raise my crop, and market it, that's true. But if your father doesn't do +better with his five acres than you say, I'll beat him.” + +“You can't do it, Hiram,” cried Henry. “I can try, anyway,” said Hiram, +more quietly, but with confidence. “We'll see.” + +“And say,” Henry added, suddenly, “I was going to tell you something. +You won't raise these tomatoes--nor no other crop--if Pete Dickerson can +stop ye.” + +“What's the matter with Pete now?” asked Hiram, troubled by thought of +the secret enemy who had already struck at him in the dark. + +“He was blowing about what he'd do to you down at the crossroads last +evening,” said Henry. “He and his father both hate you like poison, I +expect. + +“And the fellers down to Cale Schell's are always stirrin' up trouble. +They think it is sport. Why, Pete got so mad last night he could ha' +chewed tacks!” + +“I have said nothing about Pete to anybody,” said Hiram, firmly. + +“That don't matter. They say you have. They tell Pete a whole lot of +stuff just to see him git riled. + +“And last night he slopped over. He said if you reported around that he +put fire to Mis' Atterson's woods, he'd put it to the house and barns! +Oh, he was wild.” + +Hiram's face flushed, and then paled. + +“Did Pete try to bum the woods, Hiram?” queried Henry, shrewdly. + +“I never even said I thought so to you, have I?” asked the young farmer, +sternly. + +“Nope. I only heard that fire got into the woods by accident, when I +was in town. Somebody was hunting through there for coon, and saw the +burned-over place. That's all the fellers at Cale's place knew, too, I +reckon; but they jest put it up to Pete to mad him.” + +“And they succeeded, did they?” said Hiram, sternly. + +“I reckon.” + +“Loose-mouthed people make more trouble in a community than downright +mean ones,” declared Hiram. “If I have any serious trouble with the +Dickersons, like enough it will be because of the interference of the +other neighbors.” + +“But,” said Henry, preparing to go on, “Pete wouldn't dare fire your +stable now--after sayin' he'd do it. He ain't quite so big a fool as all +that.” + +But Hiram was not so sure. He had this additional trouble on his mind +from this very hour, though he never said a word to Mrs. Atterson about +it. + +But every night before he went to bed be made around of the outbuildings +to make sure that everything was right before he slept. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. “CORN THAT'S CORN” + +Hiram caught sight of Pepper in town one day and went after him. He knew +the real estate man had returned from his business trip, and the fact +that the matter of the option was hanging fire, and troubling Mrs. +Atterson exceedingly, urged Hiram go counter to Mr. Strickland's advice. + +The lawyer had said: “Let sleeping dogs lie.” Pepper had made no move, +however, and the uncertainty was very trying both for the young farmer +and his employer. + +“How about that option you talked about, Mr. Pepper?” asked the “youth. +Are you going to exercise it?” + +“I've got time enough, ain't I?” returned the real estate man, eyeing +Hiram in his very slyest way. + +“I expect you have--if it really runs a year.” + +“You seen it, didn't you?” demanded Pepper. + +“But we'd like Mr. Strickland to see it.” + +“He's goin' to act for Mrs. Atterson?” queried the man, with a scowl. + +“Oh, yes.” + +“Well, he'll see it-when I'm ready to take it up. Don't you fret,” + retorted Pepper, and turned away. + +This did not encourage the young farmer, nor was there anything in the +man's manner to yield hope to Mrs. Atterson that she could feel secure +in her title to the farm. So Hiram said nothing to her about meeting the +man. + +But the youth was very much puzzled. It really did seem as though Pepper +was afraid to show that paper to Mr. Strickland. + +“There's something queer about it, I believe,” declared the youth to +himself. “Somewhere there is a trick. He's afraid of being tripped up on +it. But, why does he wait, if he knows the railroad is going to demand a +strip of the farm and he can get a good price for it? + +“Perhaps he is waiting to make sure that the railroad will condemn a +piece of Mrs. Atterson's farm. If the board should change the route +again, Pepper would have a farm on his hands that he might not be able +to sell immediately at a profit. + +“For we must confess, that sixteen hundred dollars, as farms have sold +in the past around here, is a good price for the Atterson place. That's +why Uncle Jeptha was willing to give an option for a month--if that was, +in the beginning, the understanding the old man had of his agreement +with Pepper. + +“However, we might as well go ahead with the work, and take what comes +to us in the end. I know no other way to do,” quoth Hiram, with a sigh. + +For he could not be very cheerful with the prospect of making only a +single crop on the place. His profit was to have come out of the second +year's crop--and, he felt, out of that bottom land which had so charmed +him on the day he and Henry Pollock had gone over the Atterson Place. + +Riches lay buried in that six acres of bottom. Hiram had read up on +onion culture, and he believed that, if he planted his seed in hot beds, +and transplanted the young onions to the rich soil in this bottom, he +could raise fully as large onions as they did in either Texas or the +Bermudas. + +“Of course, they have the advantage of a longer season down there,” + thought Hiram, “and cheap labor. But maybe I can get cheap labor right +around here. The children of these farmers are used to working in the +fields. I ought to be able to get help pretty cheap. + +“And when it comes to the market--why, I've got the Texas growers, at +least, skinned a little! I can reach either the Philadelphia or New York +market in a day. Yes; given the right conditions, onions ought to pay +big down there on that lowland.” + +But this was not the only crop possibility be turned over in his mind. +There were other vegetables that would grow luxuriantly on that bottom +land--providing, always, the flood did not come and fulfill Henry +Pollock's prophecy. + +“Two feet of water on that meadow, eh?” thought Hiram. “Well, that +certainly would be bad. I wouldn't want that to happen after the ground +was plowed this year, even. It would tear up the land, and sour it, and +spoil it for a corn-crop, indeed.” + +So he was down a good deal to the river's edge, watching the ebb and +flow of the stream. A heavy rain would, over night, fill the river to +its very brim and the open field, even beyond the marshy spot, would be +a-slop with standing water. + +“It sure wouldn't grow alfalfa,” chuckled Hiram to himself one day. “For +the water rises here a good deal closer to the surface than four feet, +and alfalfa farmers declare that if the springs rise that high, there is +no use in putting in alfalfa. Why! I reckon just now the water is within +four inches of the top of the ground.” + +If the river remained so high, and the low ground so saturated with +water, he knew, too, that he could not get the six acres plowed in time +to put in corn this year. And it was this year's crop he must think +about first. + +Even if Pepper did not exercise his option, and turn Mrs. Atterson +out of the place, a big commercial crop of onions, or any other +better-paying crop, could only be tried the second year. + +Hiram had got his seed corn for the upland piece of the man who raised +the best corn in the community. He had tried the fertility of each ear, +discarded those which proved weakly, or infertile, and his stand of corn +for the four acres, which was now half hand high, was the best of any +farmer between the Atterson place and town. + +But this corn was a hundred-and-ten-day variety. The farmer he got it of +told him that he had raised a crop from a piece planted the day before +the Fourth of July; but it was safer to get it in at least by June +fifteenth. + +And here it was past June first, and the meadow land had not yet been +plowed. + +“However,” Hiram said to Henry, when they walked down to the riverside +on Sunday afternoon, “I'm going ahead on Faith--just as the minister +said in church this morning. If Faith can move mountains, we'll give it +a chance to move something right down here.” + +“I dunno, Hiram,” returned the other boy, shaking his head. “Father says +he'll git in here for you with three head and a Number 3 plow by the +middle of this week if you say so--'nless it rains again, of course. But +he's afeared you're goin' to waste Mrs. Atterson's money for her.” + +“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” quoted Hiram, grimly. “If a farmer +didn't take chances every year, the whole world would starve to death!” + +“Well,” returned Henry, smiling too, “let the other fellow take the +chances--that's dad's motter.” + +“Yes. And the 'chancey' fellow skims the cream of things every time. +No, sir!” declared the young fellow, “I'm going to be among the +cream-skimmers, or I won't be a farmer at all.” + +So the plow was put into the bottom-land Wednesday--and put in deep. By +Friday night the whole piece was plowed and partly harrowed. + +Hiram had drawn lime for this bottom-land, proposing to use beside only +a small amount of fertilizer. He spread this lime from his one-horse +wagon, while Henry drag-harrowed behind him, and by Saturday noon the +job was done. + +The horses had not mired at all, much to Mr. Pollock's surprise. And the +plow had bit deep. All the heavy sod of the piece was covered well, and +the seed bed was fairly level--for corn. + +Although the Pollocks did not work on Saturday afternoon, Hiram did +not feel as though he could stop at this time. Most of the farmers had +already planted their last piece of corn. Monday would be the fifteenth +of the month. + +So the young farmer got his home-made corn-row marker down to the +river-bottom and began marking the piece that afternoon. + +This marker ran out three rows at each trip across the field, and with +a white stake at either end, the youth managed to run his rows very +straight. He had a good eye. + +In this case he did not check-row his field. The land was +rich--phenomenally rich, he believed. If he was going to have a crop of +corn here, he wanted a crop worth while. + +On the uplands the farmers were satisfied with from thirty to fifty +baskets of ear-corn to the acre. If this lowland was what he believed it +was, Hiram was sure it would make twice that. + +And at that his corn crop here would only average twenty-five dollars to +the acre--not a phenomenal profit for Mrs. Atterson in that. + +But the land would be getting into shape for a better crop, and although +corn is a crop that will soon impoverish ground, if planted year after +year on the same piece, Hiram knew that the humus in this soil on the +lowland was almost inexhaustible. + +So he marked his rows the long way of the field--running with the river. + +One of the implements left by Uncle Jeptha had been a one-horse +corn-planter with a fertilizer attachment. Hiram used this, dropping +two or three grains twenty-four inches apart, and setting the fertilizer +attachment to one hundred and fifty pounds to the acre. + +He was until the next Wednesday night planting the piece. Meanwhile it +had not rained, and the river continued to recede. It was now almost +as low as it had been the day Lettie Bronson's boating party had been +“wrecked” under the big sycamore. + +Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the time he +got his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the Atterson yard, and +found Hiram cultivating his first corn with the five-tooth cultivator. + +“Well, well, Hiram!” exclaimed the Westerner, looking with a broad smile +over the field. “That's as pretty a field of corn as I ever saw. I don't +believe there is a hill missing.” + +“Only a few on the far edge, where the moles have been at work.” + +“Moles don't eat corn, Hiram.” + +“So they say,” returned the young farmer, quietly. “I never could make +up my mind about it. + +“I'm sure, however, that if they are only after slugs and worms which +are drawn to the corn hills by the commercial fertilizer, the moles do +fully as much damage as the slugs would. + +“You see, they make a cavity under the corn hill, and the roots of the +plant wither. Excuse me, but I'd rather have Mr. Mole in somebody else's +garden.” + +Mr. Bronson laughed. “Well, what the little gray fellows eat won't kill +us. But they do spoil otherwise handsome rows. How did you get such a +good stand of corn, Hiram?” + +“I tested the seed in a seed box early in the spring. I wouldn't plant +corn any other way. Aside from the hills the moles have spoiled, and a +few an old crow pulled up, I've got no re-planting to do. + +“And replanted hills are always behind the crop, and seldom make +anything but fodder. If it wasn't for the look of the field, I'd never +re-plant a hill of corn. + +“Of course, I've got to thin this--two grains in the hill is enough on +this land.” + +Mr. Bronson looked at him with growing surprise. + +“Why, my boy, you talk just as though you had tilled the ground for a +score of years. Who taught you so much about farming?” + +“One of the best farmers who ever lived,” said Hiram, with a smile. “My +father. And he taught me to go to the correct sources for information, +too.” + +“I believe you!” exclaimed Mr. Bronson. “And you're going to have 'corn +that's corn', as we say in my part of the country, on this piece of +land.” + +“Wait!” said Hiram, smiling and shaking his head. + +“Wait for what?” + +“Wait till you see the corn on my bottom-land--if the river down there +doesn't drown it out. If we don't have too much rain, I'm going to have +corn on that river-bottom that will beat anything in this county, Mr. +Bronson.” + +And the young farmer spoke with assurance. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. THE BARBECUE + +On the seventeenth day of June Hiram had “grappled out” a mess of +potatoes for their dinner. They were larger than hen's eggs and came +upon the table mealy and white. + +Potatoes were selling at retail in Scoville for two dollars the bushel. +Before the end of that week--after the lowland corn was planted--Hiram +dug two rows of potatoes, sorted them, and carted them to town, together +with some bunched beets, a few bunches of young carrots, radishes and +salad. + +The potatoes he sold for fifty cents the five-eighth basket, from house +to house, and he brought back, for his load of vegetables, ten dollars +and twenty cents, which he handed to Mrs. Atterson, much to that lady's +joy. + +“My soul and body, Hiram!” she exclaimed. “This is just a God-send--no +less. Do you know that we've sold nigh twenty-five dollars' worth of +stuff already this spring, besides that pair of pigs I let Pollock have, +and the butter to St. Beris?” + +“And it's only a beginning,” Hiram told her. “Wait til' the peas come +along--we'll have a mess for the table in a few days now. And the sweet +corn and tomatoes. + +“If you and Sister can do the selling, it will help out a whole lot, of +course. I wish we had another horse.” + +“Or an automobile,” said Sister, clapping her hands. “Wouldn't it be +fine to run into town in an auto, with a lot of vegetables? Then Hiram +could keep right at work with the horse and not have to stop to harness +up for us.” + +“Shucks, child!” admonished Mrs. Atterson. “What big idees you do get in +that noddle o' yourn.” + +The girls' boarding school and the two hotels proved good customers for +Hiram's early vegetables; for nobody around Scoville had potatoes +at this time, and Hiram's early peas were two weeks ahead of other +people's. + +Having got a certain number of towns folks to expect him at least thrice +a week, when other farmers had green stuff for sale they could not +easily “cut out” Hiram later in the season. + +And not always did the young farmer have to leave his work at home to +deliver the vegetables and Mrs. Atterson's butter. Sister, or the old +lady herself, could go to town if the load was not too heavy. + +Of course, it cost considerable to live. And hogfood and grain for the +horse and cow had to be bought. Hiram was fattening four of the spring +shoats against winter. Two they could sell and two kill for their own +use. + +“Goin' to be big doin's on the Fourth this year, Hiram,” said Henry +Pollock, meeting the young farmer on the road from town one day. “Heard +about it?” + +“In Scoville, do you mean? They're going to have a 'Safe and Sane' +Fourth, the Banner says.” + +“Nope. We don't think much of goin' to town Fourth of July. And this +year there's goin' to be a big picnic in Langdon's Grove--that's up the +river, you know.” + +“A public picnic?” + +“Sure. A barbecue, we call it,” said Henry. “We have one at the Grove +ev'ry year. This time the two Sunday Schools is goin' to join and have a +big time. You and Sister don't want to miss it. That Mr. Bronson's goin' +to give a whole side o' beef, they tell me, to roast over the fires.” + +“A big banquet is in prospect, is it?” asked Hiram, smiling. + +“And a stew! Gee! you never eat one o' these barbecue stews, did ye? +Some of us will go huntin' the day before, and there'll be birds, and +squirrels, as well as chickens in that stew--and lima beans, and corn, +and everything good you can think of!” and Henry smacked his lips in +prospect. + +Then he added, bethinking himself of his errand: + +“Everybody chips in and gives the things to eat. What'll you give, +Hiram?” + +“Some vegetables,” said Hiram, quickly. “Mrs. Atterson won't object, I +guess. Do they want tomatoes for their stew?” + +“Won't be no tomatoes ripe, Hiram,” said Henry, decidedly. + +“There won't, eh? You come out and take a look at mine,” said Hiram, +laughing. + +Of all the rows of vegetables in Hiram's garden plot, the thriftiest +and handsomest were the trellised tomato plants. It took nearly half of +Sister's time to keep the plants tied up and pinched back, as Hiram had +taught her. + +But the stalks were already heavily laden with fruit; and those hanging +lowest on the sturdy vines were already blushing. + +“By Jo!” gasped Henry. “You've done it, ain't you? But the cannery won't +take 'em yet awhile--and they'll all be gone before September.” + +“The cannery won't get many of my tomatoes,” laughed Hiram. “And these +vines properly trained and cultivated as they are, will bear fruit up to +frost. You wait and see.” + +“I'll have to tell dad to come and look at these. I dunno, Hiram, if you +can sell 'em at retail, but you'll git as much for 'em as dad does for +his whole crop--just as you said.” + +“That's what I'm aiming for,” responded Hiram. “But would the ladies who +cook the barbecue stew care for tomatoes, do you think?” + +“We never git tomatoes this early,” said Henry. “How about potatoes? And +there ain't many folks dug any of theirn yet, but you.” + +So, after speaking with Mrs. Atterson, Hiram agreed to supply a barrel +of potatoes for the barbecue, and the day before the Fourth, one of the +farmers came with a wagon to pick up the supplies. + +Everybody at the Atterson farm would go to the grove--that was +understood. + +“If one knocks off work, the others can,” declared Mother Atterson. “You +see that things is left all right for the critters, Hiram, and we'll +tend to things indoors so that we can be gone till night.” + +“And do, Hiram, look out for my poults the last thing,” cried Sister. + +Mrs. Larriper had given Sister a setting of ten turkey eggs and every +one of them had hatched under one of Mrs. Atterson's motherly old hens. +At first the girl had kept the young turkeys and their foster mother +right near the house, so that she could watch them carefully. + +But poults are rangy, and these being particularly strong and thrifty, +they soon ran the old hen pretty nearly to death. + +So Hiram had built a coop into which they could go at night, safe from +any vermin, and set it far down in the east lot, near the woods. Sister +usually went down with a little grain twice a day to call them up, and +keep them tame. + +“But when they get big enough to roost in the fall, I expect we'll have +to gather that crop with a gun,” Hiram told her, laughing. + +Many of the farmers teams were strung out along the road long before +Hiram was ready to set out. He had made sure that the spring wagon was +in good shape, and he had built an extra seat for it, so that the four +rode very comfortably. + +Like every other Fourth of July, the sun was broiling hot! And the dust +rose in clouds as the faster teams passed their slow old nag. + +Mrs. Atterson sat up very primly in her best silk, holding a parasol and +wearing a pair of lace mits that had appeared on state occasions for the +past twenty years, at least. + +Sister was growing like a weed, and it was hard to keep her skirts and +sleeves at a proper length. But she was an entirely different looking +girl from the boarding house slavey whom Hiram remembered so keenly back +in Crawberry. + +As for Old Lem Camp, he was as cheerful as Hiram had ever seen him, and +showed a deal of interest in everything about the farm, and had proved +himself, as Mrs. Atterson had prophesied, a great help. + +Scarcely a house along the road was not shut up and the dooryard +deserted--for everybody was going to the barbecue. All but the Dickerson +family. Sam was at work in the fields, and the haggard Mrs. Dickerson +looked dumbly from her porch, with a crying baby in her scrawny arms as +the Attersons and Hiram passed. + +But Pete was at the barbecue. He was there when Hiram arrived, and he +was making himself quite as prominent as anybody. + +Indeed, he made himself so obnoxious finally, that one of the rough men +who was keeping up the fires threatened to chuck Pete into the biggest +one, and then cool him off in the river. + +Otherwise, however, the barbecue passed off very pleasantly. The men who +governed it saw that no liquor was brought along, and the unruly element +to which Pete belonged was kept under with an iron hand. + +There was so little “fun”, of a kind, in Pete's estimation that, after +the big event of the day--the banquet--he and some of his friends +disappeared. And the picnicking ground was a much quieter and pleasanter +place after their departure. + +The newcomers into the community made many friends and acquaintances +that day. Sister was going to school in the fall, and she found many +girls of her age whom she would meet there. + +Mrs. Atterson met the older ladies, and was invited to join no less than +two “Ladies' Aids”, and, as she said, “if she called on all the +folks she'd agreed to visit, she'd be goin' ev'ry day from then till +Christmas!” + +As for Hiram, the men and older boys were rather inclined to jolly him +a bit. Not many of them had been upon the Atterson place to see what +he had done, but they had heard some stories of his proposed crops that +amused them. + +When Mr. Bronson, however, whom the local men knew to be a big farmer in +the Middle West, and who owned many farms out there now, spoke favorably +of Hiram's work, the local men listened respectfully. + +“The boy's got it in him to do something,” the Westerner said, in his +hearty fashion. “You're eating his potatoes now, I understand. Which one +of you can dig early potatoes like those? + +“And he's got the best stand of corn in the county.” + +“On that river-bottom, you mean?” asked one. + +“And on the upland, too. You fellows want to look about you a little. +Most of you don't see beyond the end of your noses. You watch out, +or Hiram Strong is going to beat every last one of you this year--and +that's a run-down farm he's got, at that.” + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. SISTER'S TURKEYS + +But Lettie was not at the barbecue, and to tell the truth, Hiram Strong +was disappointed. + +Despite the fact that she had seemed inclined to snub him, the young +farmer was vastly taken with the pretty girl. He had seen nobody about +Scoville as attractive as Lettie--nor anywhere else, for that matter! + +He was too proud to call at the Bronson place, although Mr. Bronson +invited him whenever he saw Hiram. And at first, Lettie had asked him to +come, too. + +But the Western girl did not like being thwarted in any matter--even the +smallest. And when Hiram would not come to take Pete Dickerson's place, +the very much indulged girl had showed the young farmer that she was +offended. + +However, the afternoon at Langdon's Grove passed very pleasantly, and +Hiram and his party did not arrive at the farm again until dusk had +fallen. + +“I'll go down and shut your turkeys up for the night, Sister,” Hiram +said, after he had done the other chores for he knew the girl would be +afraid to go so far from the house by lantern-light. + +And when he reached the turkey coop, 'way down in the field, Hiram was +very glad indeed that he had come instead of the girl. + +For the coop was empty. There wasn't a turkey inside, or thereabout. It +had been dark an hour and more, then, and the poults should long since +have been hovered in the coop. + +Had some marauding fox, or other “varmint”, run the young turkeys off +their reservation? That seemed improbable at this time of year--and so +early in the evening. Foxes do not usually go hunting before midnight, +nor do other predatory animals. + +Hiram had brought the barn lantern with him, and he took a look around +the neighborhood of the empty coop. + +“My goodness!” he mused, “Sister will cry her eyes out if anything's +happened to those little turks. Now, what's this?” + +The ground was cut up at a little distance from the coop. He examined +the tracks closely. + +They were fresh--very fresh indeed. The wheel tracks of a light wagon +showed, and the prints of a horse's shod hoofs. + +The wagon had been driven down from the main road, and had turned +sharply here by the coop. Hiram knew, too, that it had stood there for +some time, for the horse had moved uneasily. + +Of course, that proved the driver had gotten out of the wagon and left +the horse alone. Doubtless there was but one thief--for it was +positive that the turkeys had been removed by a two-footed--not a +four-footed--marauder. + +“And who would be mean enough to steal Sister's turkeys? Almost +everybody in the neighborhood has a few to fatten for Thanksgiving and +Christmas. Who--did--this?” + +He followed the wheel marks of the wagon to the road. He saw the track +where it turned into the field, and where it turned out again. And +it showed plainly that the thief came from town, and returned in that +direction. + +Of course, in the roadway it was impossible to trace the particular +tracks made by the thief's horse and wagon. Too many other vehicles had +been over the road within the past hour. + +The thief must have driven into the field just after night-fall, plucked +the ten young turkeys, one by one, out of the coop, tying their feet +and flinging them into the bottom of his wagon. Covered with a bag, the +frightened turkeys would never utter a peep while it remained dark. + +“I hate to tell Sister--I can't tell her,” Hiram said, as he went slowly +back to the house. For Sister had been “counting chickens” again, and +she had figured that, at eighteen cents per pound, live weight, the ten +turkeys would pay for all the clothes she would need that winter, and +give her “Christmas money”, too. + +The young farmer shrank from meeting the girl again that night, and he +delayed going into the house as long as possible. Then he found they had +all retired, leaving him a cold supper at the end of the kitchen table. + +The disappearance of the turkeys kept Hiram tossing, wakeful, upon his +bed for some hours. He could not fail to connect this robbery with the +other things that had been done, during the past weeks, to injure those +living at the Atterson farm. + +Was the secret enemy really Peter Dickerson? And had Pete committed this +crime now? + +Yet the horse and wagon had come from the direction opposite the +Dickerson farm, and had returned as it came. + +“I don't know whether I am accusing that fellow wrongfully, or not,” + muttered Hiram, at last. “But I am going to find out. Sister isn't going +to lose her turkeys without my doing everything in my power to get them +back and punish the thief.” + +He usually arose in the morning before anybody else was astir, so it +was easy for Hiram to slip out of the house and down to the field to the +empty turkey coop. + +The marks of horse and wagon were quite as plain in the faint light of +dawn as they had been the night before. In the darkness the thief +had driven his wagon over some small stumps, amid which his horse had +scrambled in some difficulty, it was plain. + +Hiram, tracing out these marks as a Red Indian follows a trail, +saw something upon the edge of one of the half-decayed stumps that +interested him greatly. + +He stood up the next moment with this clue in his hand--a white, coarse +hair, perhaps four inches in length. + +“That was scraped off the horse's fetlock as he scrambled over this +stump,” muttered Hiram. “Now, who drives a white horse, or a horse with +white feet, in this neighborhood? + +“Can I narrow the search down in this way, I wonder?” and for some +moments the youth stood there, in the growing light of early morning, +canvassing the subject from that angle. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. RUN TO EARTH + +A broad streak of crimson along the eastern horizon, over the treetops, +announced the coming of the sun when Hiram Strong reached the automobile +road to which he, on the previous night, had traced the thief that had +stolen Sister's poults. + +Now he looked at the track again. It surely had come from the direction +of Scoville, and it turned back that way. + +Yet he looked at the white horse-hair scraped off upon the stump, and +he turned his back upon these signs and strode along the road toward his +own home. + +Smoke was just curling from the Atterson chimney; Sister, or Mrs. +Atterson, was just building the fire. But they did not see Hiram as he +went by. + +Hiram's quest led him past the place and to the Dickerson farm. There +nobody was yet astir, save the mules and horses in the barnyard, who +called as he went by, hoping for their breakfast. + +Hiram knew that the Dickersons had turkeys and, like most of the other +farmers, cooped them in distant fields away from the house. He found +three coops in the middle of an old oat-field tinder a spreading beech. + +The old turks roosted upon the limbs of the beech at night; they were +already up and away, hunting grasshoppers for breakfast. But quite a few +poults were running and peeping about the coops, with two hen turkeys +playing guard to them. + +Hiram saw where a wagon had been driven in here, and turned, too. The +tracks were made recently. And one of the coops was shut tight, although +he knew by the rustling within that there were young turkeys in it. + +It was too dark within the hutch, however, for the youth to number the +poults confined there. + +He strolled back across the fields to the rear of the Dickerson house. +Passing the barnyard first, he halted and examined the bright bay horse, +with white feet--the one that Pete had driven to the barbecue the day +before--the only one Pete was ever allowed to drive off the farm. + +The Dickersons, father and son, were not as early risers as most farmers +in those parts. At least, they were not up betimes on this morning. + +But Mrs. Dickerson had built the fire now and was stirring about the +porch when Hiram arrived at the step, filling her kettle at the pump. + +“Mornin', Mr. Strong,” she said, in her startled way, eyeing Hiram +askance. + +She was a lean, sharp-featured woman, with a hopeless droop to her +shoulders. + +“Good-morning, Mrs. Dickerson,” said Hiram, gravely. “How many young +turkeys have you this year?” + +The woman shrank back and almost dropped the kettle she had filled to +the pump-bench. Her eyes glared. + +Somewhere in the house a baby squatted; then a door banged and Hiram +heard Dickerson's heavy step descending the stair. + +“You have a coop of poults down there, Mrs. Dickerson,” continued Hiram, +confidently, “that I know belongs to us. I traced Pete's tracks with the +wagon and the white-footed horse. Now, this is going to make trouble for +Pete----” + +“What's the matter with Pete, now?” demanded Dickerson's harsh voice, +and he came out upon the porch. + +He scowled at sight of Hiram, and continued: + +“What are you roaming around here for, Strong? Can't you keep on your +own side of the fence?” + +“It's little I'll ever trouble you, Mr. Dickerson,” said Hiram, +“sharply, if you and yours don't trouble me, I can assure you.” + +“What's eating you now?” demanded the man, roughly. + +“Why, I'll tell you, Mr. Dickerson,” said Hiram, quickly. “Somebody's +stolen our turkeys--ten of them. And I have found them down there where +your turkeys roost. The natural inference is that somebody here knows +about it----” + +Dickerson--just out of his bed and as ugly as many people are when they +first get up--leaped for the young farmer from the porch, and had him in +his grip before Hiram could help himself. + +The woman screamed. There was a racket in the house, for some of the +children had been watching from the window. + +“Dad's goin' to lick him!” squalled one of the girls. + +“You come here and intermate that any of my family's thieves, do you?” + the angry man roared. + +“Stop that, Sam Dickerson!” cried his wife. She suddenly gained courage +and ran to the struggling pair, and tried to haul Sam away from Hiram. + +“The boy's right,” she gasped. “I heard Pete tellin' little Sam last +night what he'd done. It's come to a pretty pass, so it has, if you are +goin' to uphold that bad boy in thieving----” + +“Hush up, Maw!” cried Pete's voice from the house. + +“Come out here, you scalawag!” ordered his father, relaxing his hold on +Hiram. + +Pete slouched out on the porch, wearing a grin that was half sheepish, +half worried. + +“What's this Strong says about turkeys?” demanded Sam Dickerson, +sternly. + +“'Tain't so!” declared Pete. “I ain't seen no turkeys.” + +“I have found them,” said Hiram, quietly. “And the coopful is down +yonder in your lot. You thought to fool me by turning into our farm from +the direction of Scoville, and driving back that way; but you turned +around in the road under that overhanging oak, where I picked Lettie +Bronson off the back of the runaway horse last Spring. + +“Now, those ten turkeys belong to Sister. She'll be heart-broken if +anything happens to them. You have played me several mean tricks since I +have been here, Pete Dickerson----” + +“No, I ain't!” interrupted the boy. + +“Who took the burr off the end of my axle and let me down in the road +that night?” demanded Hiram, his rage rising. + +Pete could not forbear a grin at this remembrance. + +“And who tampered with our pump the next morning? And who watched and +waited till we left the lower meadow that night we burned the rubbish, +and then set fire to our woods----” + +Mrs. Dickerson screamed again. “I knew that fire never come by +accident,” she moaned. + +“You shut up, Maw!” admonished her hopeful son again. + +“And now, I've got you,” declared Hiram, with confidence. “I can tell +those ten poults. I marked them for Sister long ago so that, if they +went to the neighbors, they could be easily identified. + +“They're in that shut-up coop down yonder,” continued Hiram, “and unless +you agree to bring them back at once, and put them in our coop, I shall +hitch up and go to town, first thing, and get out a warrant for your +arrest.” + +Sam had remained silent for a minute, or two. Now he said, decidedly: + +“You needn't threaten no more, young feller. I can see plain enough that +Pete's been carrying his fun too far----” + +“Fun!” ejaculated Hiram. + +“That's what I said,” growled Sam. “He'll bring the turkeys back-and +before he has his breakfast, too.” + +“All right,” said Hiram, knowing full well that there was nothing to +be made by quarreling with Sam Dickerson. “His returning the turkeys, +however, will not keep me from speaking to the constable the very next +time Pete plays any of his tricks around our place. + +“It may be 'fun' for him; but it won't look so funny from the inside of +the town jail.” + +He walked off after this threat. And he was sorry he had said it. For he +had no real intention of having Pete arrested, and an empty threat is of +no use to anybody. + +The turkeys came back; Sister did not even know that they had been +stolen, for when she went down to feed them about the middle of the +forenoon, all ten came running to her call. + +But Pete Dickerson ceased from troubling for a time, much to Hiram's +satisfaction. + +Meanwhile the crops were coming on finely. Hiram's tomatoes were +bringing good prices in Scoville, and as he had such a quantity and was +so much earlier than the other farmers around about, he did, as he told +Henry he would do, “skim the cream off the market.” + +He bought some crates and baskets in town, too, and shipped some of +the tomatoes to a produce man he knew in Crawberry--a man whom he could +trust to treat him fairly. During the season that man's checks to Mrs. +Atterson amounted to fifty-four dollars. + +Three times a week the spring wagon went to town with vegetables for the +school, the hotels, and their retail customers. The whole family worked +long hours, and worked hard; but nobody complained. + +No rain fell of any consequence until the latter part of July; and then +there was no danger of the river overflowing and drowning out the corn. + +And that corn! By the last of July it was waist high, growing rank and +strong, and of that black-green color which delights the farmer's eye. + +Mr. Bronson walked down to the river especially to see it. Like Hiram's +upland corn, there was scarcely a hill missing, save where the muskrats +had dug in from the river bank and disturbed the corn hills. + +“That's the finest-looking corn in this county, bar none, Hiram,” + declared Bronson. “I have seldom seen better looking in the rich +bottom-lands of the West. And you certainly do keep it clean, boy.” + +“No use in putting in a crop if you don't 'tend it,” said the young +farmer, sententiously. + +“And what's this along here?” asked the gentleman, pointing to a row or +two of small stuff along the inner edge of the field. + +“I'm trying onions and celery down here. I want to put a commercial crop +into this field next year--if we are let stay here--that will pay Mrs. +Atterson and me a real profit,” and Hiram laughed. + +“What do you call a real profit?” inquired Mr. Bronson, seriously. + +“Four hundred dollars an acre, net,” said the young farmer, promptly. + +“Why, Hiram, you can't do that!” cried the gentleman. + +“It's being done--in other localities and on soil not so rich as +this--and I believe I can do it.” + +“With onions or celery?” “Yes, sir.” “Which--or both?” asked the +Westerner, interested. + +“I am trying them out here, as you see. I believe it will be celery. +This soil is naturally wet, and celery is a glutton for water. Then, it +is a late piece, and celery should be transplanted twice before it is +put in the field, I believe.” + +“A lot of work, boy,” said Mr. Bronson, shaking his head. + +“Well, I never expect to get something for nothing,” remarked Hiram. + +“And how about the onions?” + +“Why, they don't seem to do so well. There is something lacking in the +land to make them do their best. I believe it is too cold. And, then, I +am watching the onion market, and I am afraid that too many people +have gone into the game in certain sections, and are bound to create an +over-supply.” + +The gentleman looked at him curiously. + +“You certainly are an able-minded youngster, Hiram,” he observed. “I +s'pose if you do so well here next year as you expect, a charge of +dynamite wouldn't blast you away from the Atterson farm?” + +“Why, Mr. Bronson,” responded the young farmer, “I don't want to run a +one-horse farm all my life. And this never can be much more. It isn't +near enough to any big city to be a real truck farm--and I'm interested +in bigger things. + +“No, sir. The Atterson Eighty is only a stepping stone for me. I hope +I'll go higher before long.” + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. HARVEST + +But Hiram was not at all sure that he would ever see a celery crop in +this bottom-land. Pepper still “hung fire” and he would not go to Mr. +Strickland with his option. + +“I don't hafter,” he told Hiram. “When I git ready I'll let ye know, be +sure o' that.” + +The fact was that the railroad had made no further move. Mr. Strickland +admitted to Mrs. Atterson that if the strip along the east boundary +of the farm was condemned by the railroad, she ought to get a thousand +dollars for it. + +“But if the railroad board should change its mind again,” added the +lawyer, “sixteen hundred dollars would not be a speculative price to pay +for your farm--and well Pepper knows it.” + +“Then Mr. Damocles's sword has got to hang over us, has it?” demanded +the old lady. + +“I am afraid so,” admitted the lawyer, smiling. + +Mrs. Atterson could not be more troubled than was Hiram himself. Youth +feels the sting of such arrows of fortune more keenly than does age. We +get “case-hardened” to trouble as the years bend our shoulders. + +The thought that he might, after all, get nothing but a hundred dollars +and his board for all the work he had done in preparation for the second +year's crop sometimes embittered Hiram's thoughts. + +Once, when he spoke to Pepper, and the snaky man sneered at him and +laughed, the young farmer came near attacking him then and there in the +street. + +“I certainly could have given that Pepper as good a thrashing as ever he +got,” muttered Hiram. “And even Pete Dickerson never deserved one more +than Pepper.” + +Pete fought shy of Hiram these days, and as the summer waned the young +farmer gradually became less watchful and expectant of trouble from the +direction of the west boundary of the Atterson Eighty. + +But there was little breathing spell for him in the work of the farm. + +“When we lay by the corn, you bet dad an' me goes fishing!” Henry +Pollock told Hiram, one day. + +But it wasn't often that the young farmer could take half a day off for +any such pleasure. + +“You've bit off more'n you kin chaw,” observed Henry. + +“That's all right; I'll keep chewing at it, just the same,” returned +Hiram cheerfully. + +For the truck crop was bringing them in a bigger sum of money than even +Hiram had expected. The season had been very favorable, indeed; Hiram's +vegetables had come along in good time, and even the barrels of sweet +corn he shipped to Crawberry brought a fair price--much better than he +could have got at the local cannery. + +When the tomato pack came on, however, he did sell many baskets of his +“seconds” to the cannery. But the selected tomatoes he continued to ship +to Crawberry, and having established a reputation with his produce man +for handsome and evenly ripened fruit, the prices received were good all +through the season. + +He saw the sum for tomatoes pass the hundred and fifty dollar mark +before frost struck the vines. Even then he was not satisfied. There was +a small cellar under the Atterson house, and when the frosty nights of +October came, Hiram dragged up the vines still bearing fruit, by the +roots, and hung them in the cellar, where the tomatoes continued to +ripen slowly nearly up to Thanksgiving. + +Other crops did almost as well in proportion. He had put in no late +potatoes; but in September he harvested the balance of his early crop +and, as they were a good keeping variety, he knew there would be enough +to keep the family supplied until the next season. + +Of other roots, including a patch of well-grown mangels for Mrs. +Atterson's handsome flock of chickens, there were plenty to carry the +family over the winter. + +As the frosts became harder Hiram dug his root pits in the high, light +soil of the garden, drew pinetags to cover them, and, gradually, as the +winter advanced, heaped the earth over the various piles of roots to +keep them through the winter. + +Meanwhile, in September, corn harvest had come on. The four acres Hiram +had planted below the stables yielded a fair crop, that part of the +land he had been able to enrich with coarse manure showing a much better +average than the remainder. + +The four acres yielded them something over one hundred and sixty baskets +of sound corn which, as corn was then selling for fifty cents per +bushel, meant that the crop was worth about forty dollars. + +As near as Hiram could figure it had cost about fifteen dollars to raise +the crop; therefore the profit to Mrs. Atterson was some twenty-five +dollars. + +Besides the profit from some of the garden crops, this was very small +indeed; as Hiram said, it did not pay well enough to plant small patches +of corn for them to fool with it much. + +“The only way to make a good profit out of corn corn a place like this,” + he said to Henry, who would not be convinced, “is to have a big drove of +hogs and turn them into the field to fatten on the standing corn.” + +“But that would be wasteful!” cried Henry, shocked at the suggestion. + +“Big pork producers do not find it so,” returned Hiram, confidently. “Or +else one wants a drove of cattle to fatten, and cuts the corn green and +shreds it, blowing it into a silo. + +“The idea is to get the cost of the corn crop back through the price +paid by the butcher for your stock, or hogs.” + +“Nobody ever did that around here,” declared young Pollock. + +“And that's why nobody gets ahead very fast around here. Henry, why +don't you strike out and do something new--just to surprise 'em? + +“Stop selling a little tad of this, and a little tad of that off the +farm and stick to the good farmer's rule: 'Never sell anything off the +place that can't walk off.'” + +“I've heard that before,” said Henry, sighing. + +“And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers +or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the +corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold.” + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + +Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened--in September. +She was delighted, for although she had had “lessons” at the +“institution”, they had not been like this regular attendance, with +other free and happy children, at a good country school. + +Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement +in her appearance was something marvelous. + +“It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun +and the way she looked when she come to me from the charity school,” + declared Mother Atterson. + +“Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any +mother's heart, she'd be. + +“If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all +these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram.” + +“They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness,” + admitted the young farmer. + +“Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks,” responded Mrs. +Atterson. “But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be sorry some day.” + +“You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?” demanded Hiram. + +“No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid of +a young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have many +children of their own. + +“And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as that +lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another reason for +losing her in this great world.” + +“I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson,” said +Hiram, shaking his head. + +“Huh! If she don't, it's no loss to her. It's loss to them,” declared +the old lady. “And I'd hate to have anybody come and take her away from +us now.” + +Sister no longer wore her short hair in four “pigtails”. She had learned +to dress it neatly like other girls of her age, and although it would +never be like the beautiful blue-black tresses of Lettie Bronson, Hiram +had to admit that the soft brown of Sister's hair, waving so prettily +over her forehead, made the girl's features more than a little +attractive. + +She was an entirely different person, too, from the one who had helped +Lettie and her friends ashore from the grounded motor-boat that day, so +long ago--and so Lettie herself thought when she rode into the Atterson +yard one October day on her bay horse, and Sister met her on the porch. + +“Why, you're Mrs. Atterson's girl, aren't you?” cried Lettie, leaning +from her saddle to offer her hand to Sister. “I wouldn't have known +you.” + +Sister was getting plump, she had roses in her cheeks, and she wore a +neat, whole, and becoming dress. + +“You're Miss Bronson,” said Sister, gravely. “I wouldn't forget you.” + +Perhaps there was something in what Sister said that stung Lettie +Bronson's memory. She flushed a little; but then she smiled most +charmingly and asked for Hiram. + +“Husking corn, Miss, with Henry Pollock, down on the bottom-land.” + +“Oh! way down there? Well! you tell him--Why, I'll want you to come, +too,” laughed Lettie, quite at her best now. + +Nobody could fail to answer Lettie Bronson's smile with its reflection, +when she chose to exert herself in that direction. + +“Why, I just came to tell you both that on Friday we're going to have an +old-fashioned husking-bee for all the young folks of the neighborhood, +at our place. You must come yourself--er--Sister, and tell Hiram to +come, too. + +“Seven o'clock, sharp, remember--and I'll be dreadfully disappointed if +you don't come,” added Lettie, turning her horse's head homeward, and +saying it with so much cordiality that her hearer's heart warmed. + +“She is pretty,” mused Sister, watching the bay horse and its rider +flying along the road. “I don't blame Hiram for thinking she's the very +finest girl in these parts. + +“She is,” declared Sister, emphatically, and shook herself. + +Hiram had finished husking the lowland corn that day, with Henry's help, +and it was all drawn in at night. When the last measured basket was +heaped in the crib by lantern light, the young farmer added up the +figures chalked up on the lintel of the door. + +“For goodness' sake, Hiram! it isn't as much as that, is it?” gasped +Henry, viewing the figures the young farmer wrote proudly in his +memorandum book. + +“Six acres--six hundred and eighty baskets of sound corn,” crowed +“Hiram. And it's corn that is corn, as Mr. Bronson says. + +“It's not quite as hard as the upland corn, for the growing season was +not quite long enough for it; but it's better than the average in the +county----” + +“Three hundred and forty bushel of shelled corn from six acres?” cried +Henry. “I should say it was! It's worth fifty cents now right at the +crib--a hundred and seventy dollars. Hiram! that'll make dad let me go +to the agricultural college.” + +“What?” cried Hiram, surprised and pleased. “Have you really got that +idea in your head?” + +“I been gnawin' on it ever since you talked so last spring,” admitted +his friend, rather shyly. “I told father, and at first he pooh-poohed. + +“But I kept on pointing out to him how much more you knowed than we +did--” + +“That's nonsense, Henry,” interrupted Hiram. “Only about some things. I +wouldn't want to set myself up over the farmers of this neighborhood as +knowing so much.” + +“Well, you've proved it. Dad says so himself. He was taken all aback +when I showed him how you had beat him on the tomato crop. And I been +talking to him about your corn. + +“That hit father where he lived,” chuckled Henry, “for father's a +corn-growing man--and always has been considered so in this county. + +“He watched the way you tilled your crop, and he believed so much +shallow cultivating was wrong, and said so. But he says you beat him +on poor ground; and when I tell him what that lowland figures up, he'll +throw up his hands. + +“And I'm going to take a course in fertilizers, farm management, and the +chemistry of soils,” continued Henry. + +“Just as you say, I believe we have been planting the wrong crops on the +right land! Anyway, I'll find out. I believe we've got a good farm, but +we're not getting out of it what we should.” + +“Well, Henry,” admitted Hiram, slowly, “nothing's pleased me so much +since I came into this neighborhood, as to hear you say this. You get +all you can at the experiment station this winter, and I believe that +your father will soon begin to believe that there is something in 'book +farming', after all.” + +If it had not been for the hair-hung sword over them, Mrs. Atterson and +Hiram would have taken great delight in the generous crops that had been +vouchsafed to them. + +“Still, we can't complain,” said the old lady, “and for the first time +for more'n twenty years I'm going to be really thankful at Thanksgiving +time.” + +“Oh, I believe you!” cried Sister, who heard her. “No boarders.” + +“Nope,” said the old lady, quietly. “You're wrong. For we're going +to have boarders on Thanksgiving Day. I've writ to Crawberry. Anybody +that's in the old house now that wants to come to eat dinner with us, +can come. I'm going to cook the best dinner I ever cooked--and make a +milkpail full of gravy.” + +“I know,” said the good old soul, shaking her head, “that them two old +maids I sold out to have half starved them boys. We ought to be able to +stand even Fred Crackit, and Mr. Peebles, one day in the year.” + +“Well!” returned Sister, thoughtfully. “If you can stand 'em I can. I +never did think I could forgive 'em all--so mean they was to me--and the +hair-pulling and all. + +“But I guess you're right, Mis' Atterson. It's heapin' coals of fire on +their heads, like what the minister at the chapel says.” + +“Good Land o' Goshen, child!” exclaimed the old lady, briskly. “Hot +coals would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their stomachs for +once.” + +The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, indeed. +There was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the ear-corn in +the husks--not too much, for Lettie proposed having the floor cleared +and swept for square dancing, and later for the supper. + +She had a lot of her school friends at the husking, and at first the +neighborhood boys and girls were bashful in the company of the city +girls. + +But after they got to work husking the corn, and a few red ears had been +found (for which each girl or boy had to pay a forfeit) they became a +very hilarious company indeed. + +Now, Lettie, broadly hospitable, had invited the young folk far and +wide. Even those whom she had not personally seen, were expected to +attend. + +So it was not surprising that Pete Dickerson should come, despite the +fact that Mr. Bronson had once discharged him from his employ--and for +serious cause. + +But Pete was not a thin-skinned person. Where there was anything “doing” + he wanted to cut a figure. And his desire to be important, and be marked +by the company, began to make him objectionable before the evening was +half over. + +For instance, he thought it was funny to take a run down the long barn +floor and leap over the heads of those huskers squatting about a heap +of corn, and land with his heavy boots on the apex of the pile, thus +scattering the ears in all directions. + +He got long straws, too, and tickled the backs, of the girls' necks; or +he dumped handfuls of bran down their backs, or shook oats into their +hair--and the oats stuck. + +Mr. Bronson could not see to everything; and Pete was very sly at his +tricks. A girl would shriek in one corner, and the lout would quickly +transport himself to a distant spot. + +When the corn was swept aside, and the floor cleared for the dance, Pete +went beyond the limit, however. He had found a pail of soft-soap in the +shed and while the crowd was out of the barn, playing a “round game” + in the yard while it was being swept, Pete slunk in with the soap and a +swab, and managed to spread a good deal of the slippery stuff around on +the boards. + +A broom would not remove this soft-soap. When the hostler swept, he +only spread it. And when the dancing began many a couple measured their +length on the planks, to Pete's great delight. + +But the hired man had observed Pete sneaking about while he was removing +the last of the corn, and Hiram Strong discovered soft-soap on Pete's +clothes, and the smell of it strong upon his unwashed hands. + +“You get out of here,” Mr. Bronson told the boy. “I had occasion to put +you off my land once, and don't let me have to do it a third time,” + and he shoved him with no gentle hand through the door and down the +driveway. + +But Pete laid it all to Hiram. He called back over his shoulder: + + +“I'll be square with you, yet, Hi Strong! You wait!” + +But Hiram bad been threatened so often from that quarter by now, that he +was not much interested. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + +The fun went on after that with more moderation, and everybody had a +pleasant time. That is, so supposed Hiram Strong until, in going out of +the barn again to get a breath of cool air after one of the dances, he +almost stumbled over a figure hiding in a corner, and crying. + +“Why, Sister!” he cried, taking the girl by the shoulders, and turning +her about. “What's the matter?” + +“Oh, I want to go home, Hi. This isn't any place for me. Let me--me +run--run home!” she sobbed. + +“I guess not! Who's bothered you? Has that Pete Dickerson come back?” + +“No!” sobbed Sister. + +“What is it, then?” + +“They--they don't want me here. They don't like me.” + +“Who don't?” demanded Hiram, sternly. + +“Those--those girls from St. Beris. I--I tried to dance, and I slipped +on some of that horrid soap and--and fell down. And they said I was +clumsy. And one said: + +“'Oh, all these country girls are like that. I don't see what Let wanted +them here for.' + +“'So't we could all show off better,' said another, laughing some more. + +“And I guess that's right enough,” finished Sister. “They don't want me +here. Only to make fun of. And I wish I hadn't come.” + +Hiram was smitten dumb for a moment. He had danced once with Lettie, but +the other town girls had given him no opportunity to do so. And it was +plain that Lettie's school friends preferred the few boys who had come +up from town to any of the farmers' sons who had come to the husking. + +“I guess you're right, Sister. They don't want us--much,” admitted +Hiram, slowly. + +“Then let's both go home,” said Sister, sadly. + +“No. That wouldn't be serving Mr. Bronson--or Lettie--right. We were +invited in good faith, I reckon, and the Bronsons haven't done anything +to offend us. + +“But you and I'll go back there and dance together. You dance with +me--or with Henry; and I'll stick to the country girls. If Lettie +Bronson's friends from boarding school think they are so much better +than us folks out here in the country, let us show them that we can have +a good time without them.” + +“Oh, I'll go back with you, Hiram,” cried Sister, gladly, and the young +fellow was a bit conscience-stricken as he noted her changed tone and +saw the sparkle that came into her eye. + +Had he neglected Sister because Lettie Bronson was about? Well! perhaps +he had. But he made up for it with the attention he paid to Sister +during the remainder of the evening. + +They went home early, however, and Hiram felt somewhat grave after the +corn husking. Had Lettie Bronson invited the country-bred young folk +living about her father's home, to meet her boarding school friends, +and the town boys, merely that the latter might be compared with the +farmer-folk to their disfavor? + +He could not believe that--really. Lettie Bronson might be thoughtless, +and a little proud; but she was still a princess to Hiram, and he could +not think this evil of her. + +But there were too many duties every day for the young farmer to give +much thought to such problems. Harvesting was not complete yet, and +soon flurries of snow began to drive across the fields and threaten the +approach of winter. + +Finally the wind came out of the northwest for more than a day, and +toward evening the flakes began to fall, faster and faster, thicker and +thicker. + +“It's going to be a snowy night--a real baby blizzard,” declared Hiram, +stamping his feet on the porch before coming into the warm kitchen with +the milkpail. + +“Oh, dear! And I thought you'd go over to Pollock's with me to-night, +Hi,” said Sister. + +“Mabel an' I are goin' to make our Christmas presents together, and +she's expecting me.” + +“Shucks! 'Twon't be fit for a girl to go out if it snows,” said Mother +Atterson. + +But Hiram saw that Sister was much disappointed, and he had tried to be +kinder to her since that night of the corn husking. + +“What's a little snow?” he demanded, laughing. “Bundle up good, Sister, +and I'll go over with you. I want to see Henry, anyway.” + +“Crazy young'uns,” observed Mother Atterson. But she made no real +objection. Whatever Hiram said was right, in the old lady's eyes. + +They tramped through the snowy fields with a lantern, and found it +half-knee deep in some drifts before they arrived at the Pollocks, short +as had been the duration of the fall. + +But they were welcomed vociferously at the neighbor's; preparations were +made for a long evening's fun; for with the snow coming down so steadily +there would be little work done out of doors the following day, so the +family need not seek their beds early. + +The Pollock children had made a good store of nuts, like the squirrels; +and there was plenty of corn to pop, and molasses for candy, or +corn-balls, and red apples to roast, and sweet cider from the casks in +the cellar. + +The older girls retired to a corner of the wide hearth with their +work-boxes, and Hiram and Henry worked out several problems regarding +the latter's eleven-week course at the agricultural college, which would +begin the following week; while the young ones played games until they +fell fast asleep in odd corners of the big kitchen. + +It was nearly midnight, indeed, when Hiram and Sister started home. And +it was still snowing, and snowing heavily. + +“We'll have to get all the plows out to-morrow morning!” Henry shouted +after them from the porch. + +And it was no easy matter to wade home through the heavy drifts. + +“I never could have done it without you, Hi,” declared the girl, when +she finally floundered onto the Atterson porch, panting and laughing. + +“I'll take a look around the barns before I come in,” remarked the +careful young farmer. + +This was a duty he never neglected, no matter how late he went to bed, +nor how tired he was. Half way to the barn he halted. A light was waving +wildly by the Dickerson back door. + +It was a lantern, and Hiram knew that it was being whirled around and +around somebody's head. He thought he heard, too, a shouting through the +falling snow. + +“Something's wrong over yonder,” thought the young farmer. + +He hesitated but for a moment. He had never stepped upon the Dickerson +place, nor spoken to Sam Dickerson since the trouble about the turkeys. +The lantern continued to swing. Eagerly as the snow came down, it could +not blind Hiram to the waving light. + +“I've got to see about this,” he muttered, and started as fast as he +could go through the drifts, across the fields. + +Soon he heard the voice shouting. It was Sam Dickerson. And he evidently +had been shouting to Hiram, seeing his lantern in the distance. + +“Help, Strong! Help!” he called. + +“What is it, man?” demanded Hiram, climbing the last pair of bars and +struggling through the drifts in the dooryard. + +“Will you take my horse and go for the doctor? I don't know where Pete +is--down to Cale Schell's, I expect.” + +“What's the matter, Mr. Dickerson?” + +“Sarah's fell down the bark stairs--fell backward. Struck her head an' +ain't spoke since. Will you go, Mr. Strong?” + +“Certainly. Which horse will I take?” + +“The bay's saddled-under the shed--get any doctor--I don't care which +one. But get him here.” + +“I will, Mr. Dickerson. Leave it to me,” promised Hiram, and ran to the +shed at once. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. “MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD” + +Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous night. It +was impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for the drifts were in +some places to the creature's girth. + +He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and Old +Lem and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons. + +He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There were lights +and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were snowbound for the +night and were making merry with hard cider and provisions which Schell +was not loath to sell them. + +Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news of his +mother's serious hurt. + +He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It was +nearly two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was four +o'clock when the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh and behind a +pair of mules, reached the Dickerson farmhouse. + +The woman had not returned to consciousness, and Mrs. Atterson remained +through the day to do what she could. But it was many a tedious week +before Mrs. Dickerson was on her feet again, and able to move about. + +Meanwhile, more than one kindly act had Mother Atterson done for the +neighbors who had seemed so careless of her rights. Pete never appeared +when either Mrs. Atterson or Sister came to the house; but in his sour, +gloomy way, Sam Dickerson seemed to be grateful. + +Hiram kept away, as there was nothing he could do to help them. And he +saw when Pete chanced to pass him, that the youth felt no more kindly +toward him than he had before. + +“Well, let him be as ugly as he wants to be--only let him keep away from +the place and let our things alone,” thought Hiram. “Goodness knows! I'm +not anxious to be counted among Pete Dickerson's particular friends.” + +Thanksgiving came on apace, and every one of the old boarders of +Mother Atterson had written that he would come to the farm to spend the +holiday. Even Mr. Peebles acknowledged the invitation with thanks, but +adding that he hoped Sister would not forget he must “eschew any viands +at all greasy, and that his hot water was to be at 101, exactly.” + +“The poor ninny!” ejaculated Mother Atterson. “He doesn't know what he +wants. Sister only poured it out of the teakettle, and he had to wait +for it to cool, anyway, before he could drink it.” + +But it was determined to give the city folk a good time, and this +determination was accomplished. Two of Sister's turkeys, bought and +paid for in hard cash by Mother Atterson, graced the long table in the +sitting-room. + +Many of the good things with which the table was laden came from the +farm. And, without Hiram and Sister, and Old Lem Camp, Mrs. Atterson +made even Fred Crackit understand, these good things had not been +possible! + +But the Crawberry folk, as a whole, were much subdued. They had missed +Mother Atterson dreadfully; and, really, they had felt some affection +for their old landlady, after all. + +After dinner Fred Crackit, in a speech that was designed to be humorous, +presented a massive silver plated water-pitcher with “Mother Atterson” + engraved upon it. And really, the old lady broke down at that. + +“Good Land o' Goshen!” she exclaimed. “Why, you boys do think something +of the old woman, after all, don't ye? + +“I must say that I got ye out here more than anything to show ye what we +could do in the country. 'Specially how it had improved Sister. And how +Hiram Strong warn't the ninny you seemed to think he was. And that Mr. +Camp only needed a chance to be something in the world again. + +“Well, well! It wasn't a generous feeling I had toward you, mebbe; but +I'm glad you come and--I hope you all had enough gravy.” + +So the occasion proved a very pleasant one indeed. And it made a happy +break in the hard work of preparing for the winter. + +The crops were all gathered ere this, and they could make up their books +for the season just passed. + +But there was wood to get in, for all along they had not had wood +enough, and to try and get wood out of the snowy forest in winter for +immediate use in the stoves was a task that Hiram did not enjoy. + +He had Henry to help him saw a goodly pile before the first snow fell; +and Mr. Camp split most of it and he and Sister piled it in the shed. + +“We've got to haul up enough logs by March--or earlier--to have a wood +sawing in earnest,” announced Hiram. “We must get a gasoline engine and +saw, and call on the neighbors for help, and have a sawing-bee.” + +“But what will be the use of that if we've got to leave here in +February?” demanded Mrs. Atterson, worriedly. “The last time I saw that +Pepper in town he grinned at me in a way that made me want to break my +old umbrel' over his dratted head!” + +“I don't care,” said Hiram, sullenly. “I don't want to sit idle all +winter. I'll cut the logs, anyway, and draw 'em out from time to time. +If we have to leave, why, we have to, that's all.” + +“And we can't tell a thing to do about next year till we know what +Pepper is going to do,” groaned Mrs. Atterson. + +“That is very true. But if he doesn't exercise his option before +February tenth, we needn't worry any more. And after that will be time +enough to make our plans for next season's crops,” declared Hiram, +trying to speak more cheerfully. + +But Mrs. Atterson went around with clouded brow again, and was heard to +whisper, more than once, something about “Mr. Damocles's sword.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + +Despite Hiram Strong's warning to his employer when they started work +on the old Atterson Eighty, that she must expect no profit for this +season's, work, the Christmas-tide, when they settled their accounts for +the year, proved the young fellow to have been a bad prophet. + +“Why, Hiram, after I pay you this hundred dollars, I shall have a little +money left--I shall indeed. And all that corn in the crib--and stacks of +fodder, beside the barn loft full, and the roots, and the chickens, and +the pork, and the calf----” + +“Why, Hiram! I'm a richer woman to-day than when I came out here to the +farm, that's sure. How do you account for it?” + +Hiram had to admit that they had been favored beyond his expectations. + +“If that Pepper man would only come for'ard and say what he was going to +do!” sighed Mother Atterson. + +That was the continual complaint now. As the winter advanced all four +of the family bore the option in mind continually. There was talk of the +railroad going before the Legislature to ask for the condemnation of the +property it needed, in the spring. + +It seemed pretty well settled that the survey along the edge of the +Atterson Eighty would be the route selected. And, if that was the case, +why did Pepper not try to exercise his option? + +Mr. Strickland had said that there was no way by which the real estate +man's hand could be forced; so they had to abide Pepper's pleasure. + +“If we only knew we'd stay,” said Hiram, “I'd cut a few well grown pine +trees, while I am cutting the firewood, have them dragged to the mill, +and saw the boards we shall need if we go into the celery business this +coming season.” + +“What do you want boards for?” demanded Henry, who chanced to be home +over Christmas, and was at the house. + +“For bleaching. Saves time, room, and trouble. Banking celery, even with +a plow, is not alone old-fashioned, and cumbersome, but is apt to leave +the blanched celery much dirtier.” + +“But you'll need an awful lot of board for six acres, Hiram!” gasped +Henry. + +“I don't know. I shall run the trenches four feet apart, and you mustn't +suppose, Henry, that I shall blanch all six acres at once. The boards +can be used over and over again.” + +“I didn't think of that,” admitted his friend. + +Henry was eagerly interested in his selected studies at the experiment +station and college, and Abel Pollock followed his son's work there with +growing approval, too. + +“It does beat all,” he admitted to Hiram, “what that boy has learned +already about practical things. Book-farming ain't all flapdoodle, +that's sure!” + +So the year ended--quietly, peacefully, and with no little happiness +in the Atterson farmhouse, despite the cloud that overshadowed the +farm-title, and the doubts which faced them about the next season's +work. + +They sat up on New Year's eve to see the old year out and the new in, +and had a merry evening although there were only the family. When the +distant whistles blew at midnight they went out upon the back porch to +listen. + +It was a dark night, for thick clouds shrouded the stars. Only the +unbroken coverlet of snow (it had fallen that morning) aided them to see +about the empty fields. + +In the far distance was the twinkle of a single light--that in an upper +chamber of the Pollock house. Dickersons' was mantled in shadow, and +those two houses were the only ones in sight of the Atterson place. + +“And I was afraid when we came out here that I'd be dead of loneliness +in a month--with no near neighbors,” admitted Mother Atterson. “But I've +been so busy that I ain't never minded it---- + +“What's that light, Hiram?” + +Her cry was echoed by Sister. Behind the bam a sudden glow was spreading +against the low-hung clouds. It was too far away for one of their +out-buildings to be afire; but Hiram set off immediately, although he +only had slippers on, for the corner of the barnyard fence. + +When he reached this point he saw that one of the fodder stacks in the +cornfield was afire. The whole top of the stack was ablaze. + +“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried Sister, who had followed him. “What can we +do?” + +“Nothing,”, said Hiram. “There's no wind, and it won't spread to another +stack. But that one is past redemption, for sure!” + +Hiram hastened back to the house and put on his boots. But he did not +wade through the snow to the fodder stack that was burning so briskly. +He merely made a detour around it, at some yards distant. Nowhere did he +see the mark of a footprint. + +How the stack had been set afire was a mystery. Hiram had stacked the +fodder himself, with the help of Sister, who had pitched the bundles up +to him. The young farmer did not smoke, and he seldom carried matches +loose in his pockets. + +Therefore, the idea that he had dropped a match in the fodder and a +field mouse, burrowing for some nubbin of corn, had come across the +match, nibbled the head, and so set the blaze, was scarcely feasible. + +Yet, how else had the fire started? + +When daylight came Hiram could find no footprint near the stack--only +his own where he had circled it while it was blazing. + +It was the stack nearest to the Dickerson line. Hiram, naturally, +thought of Pete. + +Since Mrs. Dickerson's sickness, Mother Atterson had been back and forth +to help her neighbor, and whenever Sam Dickerson saw Hiram he was as +friendly as it was in the nature of the man to be. + +Hiram could not believe that Pete's father would now countenance any +of his son's meannesses; yet when the young farmer went along the line +fence, he saw fresh tracks across the Dickerson fields, and discovered +where the person had stood, on the Dickerson side of the fence opposite +the burned fodder stack. + +But these footprints were all of three hundred feet from the stack, and +there was not a mark in the snow upon Hiram's side of the fence, saving +his own footprints. + +“Maybe somebody merely ran across to look at the blaze. But it's strange +I did not see him,” thought Hiram. + +He could not help being suspicious, however, and he prowled about the +stacks and the barns more than ever at night. He could not shake off the +feeling that the enemy in the dark was at work again. + +January passed, and the fatal day--the tenth of February--drew nearer +and nearer. If Pepper proposed to exercise his option he must do it on +or before that date. + +Neither Hiram nor Mrs. Atterson had seen the real estate man of late; +but they had seen Mr. Strickland, and on the final day they drove to +town to meet Pepper--if the man was going to show up--in the lawyer's +office. + +“I wouldn't trouble him, if I were you,” advised the lawyer. “But if you +insist, I'll send over for him.” + +“I want to know what he means by all this,” declared Mrs. Atterson, +angrily. “He's kept me on tenter-hooks for ten months, and there ought +to be some punishment for the crime.” + +“I am afraid he has been within his rights,” said the lawyer, smiling; +but he sent his clerk for the real estate man, probably being very well +convinced of the outcome of the affair. + +In came the snaky Mr. Pepper. The moment he saw Mrs. Atterson and Hiram +he began to cackle. + +“Ye don't mean to say you come clean in here this stormy day to try and +sell that farm to me?” asked the real estate man. “No, ma'am! Not for no +sixteen hundred dollars. If you'll take twelve----” + +Mrs. Atterson could not find words to reply to him; and Hiram felt like +seizing the scoundrel by the scruff of his neck and throwing him down to +the street. But it was Mr. Strickland who interposed: + +“So you do not propose to exercise your option?” + +“No, indeed-y!” + +“How long since did you give up the idea of purchasing the Atterson +place?” asked the lawyer, curiously. + +“Pshaw! I gave up the idee 'way back there last spring,” chuckled +Pepper. + +“You haven't the paper with you, have you, Mr. Pepper?” asked Mr. +Strickland, quietly. + +The real estate man looked wondrous sly and tapped the side of his nose +with a lean finger. + +“Why, I tore up that old paper long ago. It warn't no good to me,” said +Pepper. “I wouldn't take the farm at that price for a gift,” and he +departed with a sneering smile upon his lips. + +“And well he did destroy it,” declared Mr. Strickland. “It was a +forgery--that is what it was. And if we could have once got Pepper in +court with it, he would not have turned another scaly trick for some +years to come.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. “CELERY MAD” + +The relief to the minds of Hiram Strong and Mrs. Atterson was +tremendous. + +Especially was the young farmer inspired to greater effort. He saw the +second growing season before him. And he saw, too, that now, indeed, +he had that chance to prove his efficiency which he had desired all the +time. + +The past year had cost him little for clothing or other expenses. He had +banked the hundred dollars Mrs. Atterson had paid him at Christmas. + +But he looked forward to something much bigger than the other hundred +when the next Christmas-tide should come. Twenty-five per cent of all +the profit of the Atterson Eighty during this second year was to be his +own. + +The moment “Mr. Damocles's sword”, as Mother Atterson had called it, was +lifted the young farmer jumped into the work. + +He had already cut enough wood to last the family a year; now he got Mr. +Pollock, with his team of mules, to haul it up to the house, and then +sent for the power saw, asked the neighbors to help, and in less than +half a day every stick was cut to stove length. + +As he had time Hiram split this wood and Lem Camp piled it in the shed. +Hiram knocked together some extra cold-frames, too, and bought some +second-hand sash. + +And he had already dug a pit for a twelve-foot hotbed. Now, a +twelve-foot hotbed will start an enormous number of plants. + +Hiram did not plan to have quite so much small stuff in the garden this +year, however. He knew that he should have less time to work in the +garden. He proposed having more potatoes, about as many tomatoes as the +year before, but fewer roots to bunch, salads and the like. He must give +the bulk of his time to the big commercial crop that he hoped to put +into the bottom-land. + +He had little fear of the river overflowing its banks late enough in the +season to interfere with the celery crop. For the seedlings were to be +handled in the cold-frames and garden-patch until it was time to set +them in the trenches. And that would not be until July. + +He contented himself with having the logs he cut drawn to the sawmill +and the sawed planks brought down to the edge of the bottom-land, and +did not propose to put a plow into the land until late June. + +Meanwhile he started his celery seed in shallow boxes, and when the +plants were an inch and a half, or so, tall, he pricked them out, two +inches apart each way into the cold-frames. + +Sister and Mr. Camp could help in this work, and they soon filled the +cold-frames with celery plants destined to be reset in the garden plat +later. + +This “handling” of celery aids its growth and development in a most +wonderful manner. At the second transplanting, Hiram snipped back the +tops, and the roots as well, so that each plant would grow sturdily and +not be too “stalky”. + +Mrs. Atterson declared they were all celery mad. “Whatever will you do +with so much of the stuff, I haven't the least idee, Hiram. Can you sell +it all? Why, it looks to me as though you had set out enough already to +glut the Crawberry market.” + +“And I guess that's right,” returned Hiram. “Especially if I shipped it +all at once.” + +But he was aiming higher than the Crawberry market. He had been in +correspondence with firms that handled celery exclusively in some of the +big cities, and before ever he put the plow into the bottom-land he +had arranged for the marketing of every stalk he could grow on his six +acres. + +It was a truth that the family of transplanted boarding house people +worked harder this second spring than they had the first one. But they +knew how better, too, and the garden work did not seem so arduous to +Sister and Old Lem Camp. + +Mrs. Atterson had a fine flock of hens, and they had laid well after the +first of December, and the eggs had brought good prices. She planned to +increase her flock, build larger yards, and in time make a business of +poultry raising, as that would be something that she and Sister could +practically handle alone. + +Sister's turkeys had thrived so the year before that she had saved two +hens and a handsome gobbler, and determined to breed turkeys for the +fall market. + +And Sister learned a few things before she had raised “that raft +of poults,” as Mother Atterson called them. Turkeys are certainly +calculated to breed patience--especially if one expects to have a flock +of young Toms and hens fit for killing at Thanksgiving-time. + +She hatched the turkeys under motherly hens belonging to Mother +Atterson, striving to breed poults that would not trail so far from the +house; but as soon as the youngsters began to feel their wings they had +their foster-mothers pretty well worn out. One flock tolled the old hen +off at least a mile from the house and Hiram had some work enticing the +poults back again. + +There was no raid made upon her turkey coops this year, however. Pete +Dickerson was not much in evidence during the spring and early summer. +Mrs. Atterson went back and forth to the neighbors; but although +whenever Hiram saw the farmer the latter put forth an effort to be +pleasant to him, the two households did not well “mix”. + +Besides, during this busiest time of the year, when the crops were +getting started, there seemed to be little opportunity for social +intercourse. At least, so it seemed on the Atterson place. + +They were a busy and well contented crew, and everything seemed to be +running like clockwork, when suddenly “another dish of trouble”, as +Mother Atterson called it, was served them in a most unexpected manner. + +Hiram was coming up from the barn one evening, long after dark, and had +just caught sight of Sister standing on the porch waiting for him, when +a sudden glow against the dark sky, made him turn. + +The flash of fire passed on the instant, and Sister called to him: + +“Oh, Hiram! did you see that shooting-star?” + +“You never wished on it, Sis,” said the young farmer. + +“Oh, yes I did!” she returned, dancing down the steps to meet him. + +“That quick?” + +“Just that quick,” she reiterated, seizing his arm and getting into step +with him. + +“And what was the wish?” demanded Hiram. + +“Why--I won't ever get it if I tell you, will I?” she queried, shyly. + +“Just as likely to as not, Sister,” he said, with serious voice. “Wishes +are funny things, you know. Sometimes the very best ones never come +true.” + +“And I'm afraid mine will never come true,” she sighed. “Oh, dear! I +guess no amount of wishing will ever bring some things to pass.” + +“Maybe that's so, Sis,” he said, chuckling. “I fancy that getting out +and hustling for the thing you want is the best way to fulfill wishes.” + +“Oh, but I can't do that in this case,” said the girl, shaking her head, +and still speaking very seriously as they came to the porch steps. + +“Maybe I can bring it about for you,” teased Hiram. + +“I guess not,” she said. “I want so to be like other girls, Hiram! I'd +like to be like that pretty Lettie Bronson. I'm not jealous of her +looks and her clothes and her good times and all; no, that's not it,” + proclaimed Sister, with a little break in her voice. + +“But I'd like to know who I really be. I want folks, and--and I want to +have a real name of my own!” + +“Why, bless you!” exclaimed the young fellow, “'Sister' is a nice name, +I'm sure--and we all love it here.” + +“But it isn't a name. They call me Sissy Atterson at school. But it +doesn't belong to me. I--I've thought lots about choosing a name for +myself--a real fancy one, you know. There's lots of pretty, names,” she +said, reflectively. + +“Cords of 'em,” Hiram agreed. + +“But, you see, they wouldn't really be mine,” said the girl, earnestly. +“Not even after I had chosen them. I want my very own name! I want to +know who I am and all about myself. And”--with a half strangled sob--“I +guess wishing will never bring me that, will it, Hiram?” + +Never before had the young fellow heard Sister express herself upon this +topic. He had no idea that the girl felt her unknown and practically +unnamed existence so strongly. + +“I wouldn't care, Sis,” he said, patting her bent shoulders. “We love +you here just as well as we would if you had ten names! Don't forget +that. + +“And maybe it won't be all a mystery some day. Your folks may look you +up. They may come here and find you. And they'll be mighty proud of +you--you've grown so tall and good looking. Of course they will!” + +Sister listened to him and gave a little contented sigh. “And then they +might want to take me away--and I'd fight, tooth and nail, if they tried +it.” + +“What?” gasped Hiram. + +“Of course I would!” said the girl. “Do you suppose I'd give up Mother +Atterson for a dozen families--or for clothes--and houses--or, or +anything?” and she ran into the house leaving the young farmer in some +amazement. + +“Ain't that the girl of it?” he muttered, at last. “Yet I bet she is in +earnest about wanting to know about her folks.” + +And from that time Hiram thought more about Sister's problem himself +than he had before. Once, when he went to Crawberry, he went to the +charitable institution from which Mother Atterson had taken Sister. But +the matron had heard nothing of the lawyer who had once come to talk +over the child's affairs, and the path of inquiry seemed shut off right +there by an impassable barrier. + +However, this is ahead of our story. On this particular night Hiram +washed at the pump, and then followed Sister in to supper. + +Before they were half through Mr. Camp suddenly started from his chair +and pointed through the window. + +Flames were rising behind the barn again! + +“Another stack burning!” exclaimed Hiram, and be shot out of the door, +seizing a pail of water, hoping that he might put it out. + +But the stack was doomed. He knew it the moment he saw the extent of the +blaze. + +He kept away from it, as he had before; yet he did not expect to pick up +any trail of the incendiary near the stack. + +“Twice in the same place is too much!” declared the young farmer, +glowing with wrath. “I'm going to have this mystery explained, or know +the reason why.” + +He left Mr. Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks from +the stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went along the line +fence again. + +Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But the +burning stack was even farther from the fence than the first one +had been--and there were no marks of feet in the soft earth on Mrs. +Atterson's side of the boundary. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. CLEANING UP A PROFIT + +Hiram crawled through the wires, and followed the plain foot-marks back +to the Dickerson sheds. He lost them there, of course, but he knew by +the size of the footprints that either Sam Dickerson or his oldest son +had been over to the line fence. + +“And that shooting-star!” considered Hiram. “There was something peculiar +about that. I wonder if there wasn't a shooting star, also, away back +there at New Year's when our other stack of fodder was burned?” + +He loitered about the sheds for a few moments. It appeared as though all +the Dickersons were indoors. Nobody interfered with him. + +Of a sudden Hiram began to sniff an odor that seemed strange about a +cart-shed. At least, no wise farmer would have naphtha, or gasoline, in +his outbuildings, for it would make his insurance invalid. + +But that was the smell Hiram discovered. And he was not long in finding +the cause of it. + +Back in a dark corner, upon a beam, lay a big sling-shot--one of those +that boys swing around their heads with a stone in the heel of it, and +then let go one end to shoot the missile to a distance. + +The leather loop was saturated with the gasoline, and it had been +scorched, too. The smell of burning, as well as the smell of gasoline, +was very distinct. + +Hiram took the sling-shot with him, and went up to the Dickerson house. + +He had got along so well with the Dickersons for these past months +that he honestly shrank from “starting anything” now. Yet he could not +overlook this flagrant piece of malicious mischief. Indeed, it was more +than that. Two stacks had already been burned, and it might be some of +the outbuildings--or even Mrs. Atterson's house--next time! + +Besides, Hiram felt himself responsible for his employer's property. The +old lady could not afford to lose the fodder, and Hiram was determined +that both of the burned stacks should be paid for in full. + +He looked through the window of the Dickerson kitchen. The family was +around the supper table-Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson, Pete, and the children, +little and big. It was a cheerful family group, after all. Rough and +uncouth as the farmer was, Dickerson likely had his feelings like other +people. Instead of bursting right in at the door as had been Hiram's +intention, and accusing Pete to his face, the indignant young fellow +hesitated. + +He hadn't any sympathy for Pete, not the slightest. If he gave him--or +the elder Dickerson--a chance to clear up matters by making good to Mrs. +Atterson for what she had lost, Hiram Strong decided that he was being +very lenient indeed. + +He stepped quietly onto the porch and rapped on the door. Then he backed +off and waited for some response from within. + +“Hullo, Mr. Strong!” exclaimed the farmer, coming himself to the “door. +Why! is that your stack burning?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Hiram, quietly. + +“Another one!” + +“That is the second,” admitted Hiram. “But I don't propose that another +shall be set afire in just the same way.” + +Sam Dickerson stepped suddenly down to the young farmer's level, and +asked: + +“What do you mean by that? Do you know how it got afire?” + +Hiram held out the sling-shot in the light of his lantern. + +“A rag, saturated with gasoline, was wrapped around a pebble, then set +afire, and stone and blazing rag were shot from our line fence into the +fodderstack. + +“I found the footprints of the incendiary on New Year's morning at the +same place. And I'll wager a good deal that your son Pete's boots will +fit the footprints over there at the line now!” + +Sam Dickerson's face had turned exceedingly red, and then paled. But he +spoke very quietly. + +“What are you going to do with him, Mr. Strong?” he asked. “It will be +five years for him at least, if you take it to court--and maybe longer.” + +“I don't believe, Mr. Dickerson, that you have upheld Pete in all the +mean tricks he has played on me.” + +“Indeed I haven't! And since I got a look at myself--back there when the +wife was hurt----” + +Sam Dickerson's voice broke and he turned away for a moment so that his +visitor should not see his face. + +“Well!” he continued. “You've got Pete right this time--no doubt of +that. I dunno what makes him such a mean whelp. I'll lambaste him good +for this, now I tell you. But the stacks----” + +“Make him pay for them out of his own money. Mrs. Atterson ought not to +lose the stacks,” said Hiram, slowly. + +“Oh, he'll do that, anyway, you can bet!” exclaimed Dickerson, with +conviction. + +“I don't believe that sending a boy like him to jail will either improve +his morals, or do anybody else any good,” observed Hiram, reflectively. + +“And it'll jest about finish his mother,” spoke Sam. + +“That's right, too,” said the young farmer. “I tell you. I don't want +to see him--not just now. But you do what you think is best about this +matter, and make Peter pay the bill--ten dollars for the two stacks of +fodder.” + +“He shall do it, Mr. Strong,” declared Sam Dickerson, warmly. “And he +shall beg your pardon, too, or I'll larrup him until he can't stand. +He's too big for a lickin', but he ain't too big for me to lick!” + +And the elder Dickerson was as good as his word. An hour later yells +from the cart shed denoted that Pete was finally getting what he should +have received when he was a younger boy. + +Before noon Sam marched the youth over to Mrs. Atterson. Pete was very +puffy about the eyes, and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Nor did +he seem to care to more than sit upon the extreme edge of a chair. + +But he paid Mrs. Atterson ten dollars, and then, nudged by his father, +turned to Hiram and begged the young farmer's pardon. + +“That's all right, etc.,” said Hiram, laying his hand upon the boy's +shoulder. “Just because we haven't got on well together heretofore, +needn't make any difference between us after this. + +“Come over and see me. If you have time this summer and want the work, +I'll be glad to hire you to help handle my celery crop. + +“Neighbors ought to be neighborly; and it won't do either of us any good +to hug to ourselves any injury which we fancy the other has done. We'll +be friends if you say so, Peter--though I tell you right now that if you +turn another mean trick against me, I'll take the law into my own hands +and give you worse than you've got already.” + +Pete looked sheepish enough, and shook hands. He knew very well that +Hiram could do as he promised. + +But from that time on the young farmer had no further trouble with him. + +Meanwhile Hiram's crops on the Atterson Eighty grew almost as well this +second season as they had the first. There was a bad drouth this year, +and the upland corn did not do so well; yet the young farmer's corn crop +compared well with the crops in the neighborhood. + +He had put in but eight acres of corn this year; but they had plenty of +old corn in the crib when it came time to take down this second season's +crop. + +It was upon the celery that Hiram bent all his energies. He had to pay +out considerable for help, but that was no more than he expected. Celery +takes a deal of handling. + +When the long, hot, dry days came, when the uplands parched and the +earth fairly seemed to radiate the heat, the acres of tender plants +which Hiram and his helpers had just set out in the trenches began to +wilt most discouragingly. + +Henry Pollock, who did all he could to aid Hiram on the crop, shook his +head in despair. + +“It's a-layin' down on you, Hiram--it's a-layin' down on you. Another +day like this and your celery crop will be pretty small pertaters!” + +“And that would be a transformation worthy of the attention of all +the agricultural schools, Henry,” returned the young farmer, grimly +laughing. + +“You got a heart--to laugh at your own loss,” said Henry. + +“There isn't any loss--yet,” declared Hiram. + +“But there's bound to be,” said his friend, a regular “Job's comforter” + for the nonce. + +“Look here, Henry; you'd have me give up too easy. 'Never say die!' +That's the farmer's motto.” + +“Jinks!” exclaimed young Pollock, “they're dying all around us just the +same--and their crops, too. We ain't going to have half a corn crop if +this spell of dry weather keeps on. And the papers don't give us a sign +of hope.” + +“When there doesn't seem to be a sign of hope is when the really +up-to-date farmer begins to actually work,” chuckled Hiram. + +“And just tell me what you're going to do for this field of wilted +celery?” demanded Henry. + +“Come on up to the house and I'll get Mother Atterson to give us an +early supper,” quoth Hiram. “I'm going to town and I invite you to go +with me.” + +Henry had got used by this time to Hiram's little mysteries. But this +seemed to him a case where man had done all that could be done for the +crop, and without Providential interposition, “the whole field would +have to go to pot”, as he expressed it. + +And in his heart the young farmer knew that the outlook for a paying +crop of celery right then was very small indeed. He had done his best +in preparing the soil, in enriching it, in raising the sets and +transplanting them--up to this point he had brought his big commercial +crop, at considerable expense. If the drouth really “got” it, he would +have, at the most, but a poor and stunted crop to ship in the Fall. + +But Hiram Strong was not the fellow to throw up his hands and own +himself beaten at such a time as this. Here was an obstacle that must +be overcome. The harder the problem looked the more determined he was to +solve it. + +The two boys drove to town that evening and Hiram sought out a man who +contracted to move houses, clean cisterns and wells, and various work +of that kind. He knew this man had just the thing he needed, and after +a conference with him, Hiram loaded some bulky paraphernalia into the +light wagon--it was so dark Henry could not see what it was--and they +drove home again. + +“I'd like to know what the Jim Hickey you're about, Hiram,” sniffed +Henry, in disgust. “What's all this litter back here in the wagon?” + +“You come over and give me a hand in the morning--early now, say by +sun-up--and you'll find out. I want a couple of husky chaps like you,” + chuckled Hiram. “I'll get Pete Dickerson to work against me.” + +“If you do, you tell Pete he'll have to work lively,” said Henry, with +a grin. “I don't know what it is you want us to do, but I reckon I can +keep my end up with Pete, from hoein' 'taters to cuttin' cord-wood.” + +“You can keep your end up with him, can you?” chuckled Hiram. “Well! I +bet you can't in this game I'm going to put you two fellows up against.” + +“What! Pete Dickerson beat me at anything--unless it's sleeping?” + grunted Henry, with vast disgust. “I'll keep my end up with him at +anything.” + +And the more assured he was of this the more Hiram was amused. “Come +on over early, Henry,” said the young farmer, “and I'll show you that +there's at least one thing in which you can't keep your end up with +Pete.” + +His friend was almost angry when he started off across the fields for +home; but he was mighty curious, too. That curiosity, if nothing +more, would have brought him to the Atterson house in good season the +following morning. + +Already, however, Hiram and Pete--with the light wagon--had gone down +to the riverside. Henry hurried after them and reached the celery field +just as the red face of the sun appeared. + +There had been little dew during the night and the tender transplants +had scarcely lifted their heads. Indeed, the last acre set out the day +before were flat. + +On the bank of the river, and near that suffering acre, were Hiram and +Pete Dickerson. Henry hurried to them, wondering at the thing he saw +upon the bank. + +Hiram was already laying out between the celery rows a long hosepipe. +This was attached to a good-sized force-pump, the feedpipe of which was +in the river. It was a two-man pump and was worked by an up-and-down +“brake.” + +“Catch hold here, Henry,” laughed Hiram. “One of you on each side now, +and pump for all you're worth. And see if I'm not right, my boy. You +can't keep your end up with Pete at this job; for if you do, the water +won't flow!” + +Henry admitted that he had, been badly sold by the joke; but he was +enthusiastic in his praise of Hiram's ingenuity, too. + +“Aw, say!” said the young farmer, “what do you suppose the Good Lord +gave us brains for? Just so as to keep our fingers out of the fire? No, +sir! With all this perfectly good and wet water running past my field, +could I have the heart to let this celery die? I guess not!” + +He had a fine spray nozzle on the pipe and the pipe itself was long +enough so that, by moving the pump occasionally, he could water every +square foot of the big piece. And the three young fellows, by changing +about, went over the field every other day in about four hours without +difficulty. + +By and by the celery plants got rooted well; they no longer drooped in +the morning; before the drouth was past the young farmer had as handsome +a field of celery as one would wish. Indeed, when he began to ship the +crop, even his earliest crates were rated A-1 by the produce men, and he +bad no difficulty in selling the entire crop at the top of the market, +right through the season. + +The garden paid a profit; the potatoes did even better than the year +before, and Hiram harvested and sold seventy-five dollars' worth while +the price for new potatoes was high. + +He shipped most of his tomatoes this year, for he could not pay +attention to the local market as he had the first season; but the tomato +crop was a good one. + +They raised to eight weeks and sold, during the year, five pair of +shoats, and Mrs. Atterson bought a grade cow with her calf by her side, +for a hundred dollars, and made ten pounds of butter a week right +through the season. + +Old Lem Camp, looking ten years younger than when he came to the farm, +muscular and brown, did all the work about the barns now, milked the +cows, and relieved Hiram of all the chores. + +Indeed, with some little help about the plowing and cultivating, Hiram +knew very well that Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem could run the farm another +year without his help. + +Of course, the old lady could not expect to put in any crop that would +pay her like the celery; for when they footed up their books, the +bottom-land had yielded, as Hiram had once prophesied to Mr. Bronson +over four hundred dollars the acre, net. + +Twenty-four hundred dollars income from six acres; and the profit was +more than fifty per cent. Indeed, Hiram's share of the profit amounted +to three hundred and seventy dollars. + +With his hundred dollar wage, and the money he had saved the previous +season, when the crops were harvested this second season, the young +farmer's bank book showed a balance of over five hundred dollars to his +credit. + +“I'm eighteen years old and over,” soliloquized the young farmer. “And +I've got a capital of five hundred dollars. Can't I turn that capital +some way go as to give me a bigger--a broader--chance? + +“Thus far I've been a one-horse farmer; I want to be something better +than that. Now, there's no use in my hanging around here, waiting for +something to turn up. I must get a move on me and turn something up for +myself.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. LOOKING AHEAD + +During this year Hiram had not seen much of Mr. Bronson, or Lettie. They +had gone back to the West over the summer vacation, and when Lettie +had returned for her last year at St. Beris, her father had not come on +until near Thanksgiving. + +Hiram had spoken with Lettie several times during the fail, and he +thought that she had vastly improved in one way, at least. + +She could not be any prettier, it seemed to him; but her manner was more +cordial, and she always asked after Sister and Mrs. Atterson, and showed +that her interest in him was not a mere surface interest. + +One day, when Hiram had been shipping some of the last of his celery, +Lettie met him on the street near the Scoville railroad station. Hiram +was in his high boots, and overalls; and Lettie was with two of her girl +friends. + +But the girl stopped him and shook hands, and told him that her father +had arrived and wanted to see him. + +“We want you to come to dinner Saturday evening, Hiram. Father insists, +and I shall be very much disappointed if you do not come.” + +“Why, that's very kind of you, Miss Lettie,” responded the young farmer, +slowly, trying to find some good reason for refusing the invitation. He +was determined not to be patronized. + +“Now, Hiram! This is very important. We want you to meet somebody,” said +Lettie, her eyes dancing. “Somebody very particular. Now! do say you'll +come like a good boy, and not keep me teasing.” + +“Well, I'll come, Miss Lettie,” he finally agreed, and she gave him a +most charming smile. + +Lettie's two friends had waited for her, very much amused. + +“I declare, Let!” cried one of them--and her voice reached Hiram's ears +quite plainly. “You do have the queerest friends. Why did you stop to +speak to that yokel?” + +“Hush! he'll hear you,” said Miss Bronson; yet she smiled, too. “So you +think Hiram is a yokel, do you?” + +“Hiram!” repeated her friend. “Goodness me! I should think the name was +enough. And those boots--and overalls!” + +“Well,” said Lettie, still amused, “I've seen my own father in just such +a costume. And you know very well that he is a pretty good looking man, +dressed up.” + +“But Let! your father's never a farmer$” gasped the other girl. + +“Why not?” + +“Oh, she's just joking us,” laughed the third girl. “Of course he's a +farmer--he owns half a dozen farms. But he's the kind of a farmer who +rides around in his automobile and looks over his crops.” + +“Well, and this young man may do that--in time,” said Lettie. “At least, +my father believes Hi is aimed that way.” + +“Nonsense!” + +“He doesn't look as though he had a cent,” said the third girl. + +“He is putting away more money of his very own in the bank than any boy +we know, who works. Father says so,” declared Lettie. “He says Hi has +done wonderfully well with his crops this year--and he is only raising +them on shares. + +“Let me tell you, girls, the farmer is coming into his own, these +days. That is a great saying of father's. He believes that the man +who produces the food-stuffs for the rest of the world should have a +satisfactory share of the proceeds of their sale. And that is coming, +father says. + +“Farmers don't have to half starve, and be burdened by mortgages and +ignorance, any longer. The country sections are waking up. With good +schools and good roads, and the grange, and all, many rural districts +are already ahead of the cities in the things worth while.” + +“Listen to Let lecture!” sniffed one of her friends. + +“All right. You wait. Maybe you'll see that same young fellow--Hi +Strong--come through this town in his own auto before you graduate from +St. Beris.” + +“Pshaw!” exclaimed the other. “If I do I'll ask him for a ride,” and the +discussion ended in a laugh. + +Perhaps, however, had Hiram heard all Lettie had said he would not have +been so doubtful in regard to fulfilling his promise about taking dinner +with Mr. Bronson and his daughter on Saturday evening. + +To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank from +the ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one to show him +the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how +terribly disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's +card in the sewer excavation. + +And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson +and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity +that would never be offered him again. His contract was practically +over with his present employer, and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire +greater things in the farming line. + +It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along +this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being +tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired +very strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn +how to handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a “one-horse +farmer” to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended +by Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that +opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young farmer's +mind. + +When he went to the Bronson's house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. +Bronson met him cordially, in the library. + +“Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!” exclaimed the +Westerner. + +“Done what?” queried Hiram. + +“Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever +saw. Is that right?” + +“I've succeeded in what I set out to do,” said Hiram, modestly. + +“And I did not believe myself that you could do it,” declared the +gentleman. “And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas,” added +Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's. + +“You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a +young men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, +and finally take him back West with me. + +“I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but good +farm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one--a young man. I +ran against a promising lad before you came to the Atterson place; but I +lost track of him. + +“Had you been willing to leave Mrs. Atterson and come to me,” continued +Mr. Bronson, “I believe I could have licked you into shape last season +so that you would have suited me very well,” and he laughed outright. + +“But now I want you to meet my future farm-manager. He is the very +fellow I wanted before I offered the chance to you. I reckon you'll be +glad to see him----” + +While he was talking, Mr. Bronson had put his hand on Hiram's shoulder, +and urged him down the length of the room. They had come to a heavy +portiere; Hiram thought it masked a doorway. + +“Here is the fellow himself,” exclaimed Bronson suddenly. + +The curtain was whisked away. Hiram heard Lettie giggling somewhere +in the folds of it. And he found himself staring straight into a long +mirror which reflected both himself and the laughing Mr. Bronson. + +“Hiram Strong!” spoke the Westerner, admonishingly, “why didn't you tell +me long ago that you were the lad who turned my horses out of the ditch +that evening back in Crawberry?” + +“Why--why----” + +“His fatal modesty,” laughed Lettie, appearing and clapping her hands. + +“I guess it wasn't that,” said Hiram, slowly. “What was the use? I would +have been glad of your assistance at the time; but when I found you I +had already made a contract with Mrs. Atterson, and--what was the use?” + +“Well, perhaps it would have made no difference. When I had dug up the +fact that you were the same fellow whom I had looked for at Dwight's +Emporium, it struck me that possibly the character that old scoundrel +gave you had some basis in fact. + +“So I said nothing to you after you had refused to break your contract. +That, Hiram, was a good point in your favor. And what that little girl +at your house has told Lettie about you--and the way Mrs. Atterson +speaks of you, and all--long since convinced me that you were just the +lad I wanted. + +“Now, Hiram, I believe you know a good deal about farming that I don't +know myself. And, at any rate, if you can do what you have done with a +run-down place like the Atterson Eighty, I'd like to see what you can do +with a bigger and better farm. + +“What do you say? Will you come to me--if only for a year? I'll make it +worth your while.” + +And that Hiram Strong did not let this opportunity slip past him will be +shown in the next volume of this series, entitled: “Hiram in the Middle +West; Or, A Young Farmer's Upward Struggle.” + +He was sorry to leave Mrs. Atterson at Christmas time; but the old lady +saw that it was to Hiram's advantage to go. + +“And good land o' Goshen, Hiram! I wouldn't stand in no boy's way--not +a boy like you, leastways. You've always been square with me, and you've +given me a new lease of life. For I never would have dared to give up +the boarding house and come to the farm if it hadn't been for you. + +“This is your home--jest as much as it is Sister's home, and Old Lem +Camp's. Don't forgit that, Hiram. + +“You'll find us all here whenever you want to come back to it. For I've +talked with Mr. Strickland and I'm going to adopt Sister, all reg'lar, +and she shall have what I leave when I die, only promising to give Mr. +Camp a shelter, if he should outlast me. + +“Sister's folks may never look her up, and she may never git that money +the institution folk think is coming to her. But she'll be well fixed +here, that's sure.” + +Indeed, taking it all around, everybody of importance to the story +seemed to be “well fixed”, as Mother Atterson expressed it. She herself +need never be disturbed by the vagaries of boarders, or troubled in her +mind, either waking or sleeping, about the gravy--save on Thanksgiving +Day. + +Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions and +Mrs. Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons--even Pete--had become friendly +neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his father, and they were running +the Pollock farm on much more modern lines than before. + +And Hiram himself was looking ahead to a scheme of life that suited him, +and to a chance “to make good” on a much larger scale than he had on the +Atterson Eighty where, nevertheless, he had made the soil pay. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hiram The Young Farmer, by Burbank L. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1679-0.zip b/1679-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6db602d --- /dev/null +++ b/1679-0.zip diff --git a/1679-h.zip b/1679-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..15fbb6a --- /dev/null +++ b/1679-h.zip diff --git a/1679-h/1679-h.htm b/1679-h/1679-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87d1077 --- /dev/null +++ b/1679-h/1679-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10953 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Hiram the Young Farmer, by Burbank L. Todd + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hiram The Young Farmer, by Burbank L. Todd + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hiram The Young Farmer + +Author: Burbank L. Todd + +Release Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1679] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Burbank L. Todd + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE CALL OF + SPRING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> AT + MRS. ATTERSON'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> A + DREARY DAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + LOST CARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER VI. </a> THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + LURE OF GREEN FIELDS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. + </a> THE BARGAIN IS MADE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> + CHAPTER X. </a> THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A GIRL RIDES INTO THE + TALE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> SOMETHING + ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> THE UPROOTING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER XIV. </a> GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> TROUBLE BREWS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XV. </a> ONE SATURDAY + AFTERNOON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> MR. + PEPPER APPEARS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> A + HEAVY CLOUD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE + REASON WHY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> AN + ENEMY IN THE DARK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + WELCOME TEMPEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> FIRST + FRUITS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> TOMATOES + AND TROUBLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> "CORN + THAT'S CORN” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE + BARBECUE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> SISTER'S + TURKEYS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> RUN + TO EARTH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> HARVEST + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> LETTIE + BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. + </a> ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> + CHAPTER XXXI. </a> "MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> "CELERY + MAD” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> CLEANING + UP A PROFIT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> LOOKING + AHEAD <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE CALL OF SPRING + </h2> + <p> + “Well, after all, the country isn't such a bad place as some city folk + think.” + </p> + <p> + The young fellow who said this stood upon the highest point of the Ridge + Road, where the land sloped abruptly to the valley in which lay the small + municipality of Crawberry on the one hand, while on the other open fields + and patches of woodland, in a huge green-and-brown checkerboard pattern, + fell more easily to the bank of the distant river. + </p> + <p> + Dotted here and there about the farming country lying before the youth as + he looked westward were cottages, or the more important-looking homesteads + on the larger farms; and in the distance a white church spire behind the + trees marked the tiny settlement of Blaine's Smithy. + </p> + <p> + A Sabbath calm lay over the fields and woods. It was mid-afternoon of an + early February Sunday—the time of the mid-winter thaw, that false + prophet of the real springtime. + </p> + <p> + Although not a furrow had been turned as yet in the fields, and the snow + lay deep in some fence corners and beneath the hedges, there was, after + all, a smell of fresh earth—a clean, live smell—that Hiram + Strong had missed all week down in Crawberry. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad I came up here,” he muttered, drawing in great breaths of the + clean air. “Just to look at the open fields, without any brick and mortar + around, makes a fellow feel fine!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched his arms above his head and, standing alone there on the + upland, felt bigger and better than he had in weeks. + </p> + <p> + For Hiram Strong was a country boy, born and bred, and the town stifled + him. Besides, he had begun to see that his two years in Crawberry had been + wasted. + </p> + <p> + “As a hustler after fortune in the city I am not a howling success,” mused + Hiram. “Somehow, I'm cramped down yonder,” and he glanced back at the + squalid brick houses below him, the smoky roofs, and the ugly factory + chimneys. + </p> + <p> + “And I declare,” he pursued, reflectively, “I don't believe I can stand + Old Dan Dwight much longer. Dan, Junior, is bad enough—when he is + around the store; but the boss would drive a fellow to death.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, now turning from the pleasanter prospect of the farming + land and staring down into the town. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'm not a success because I don't stick to one thing. I've had six + jobs in less'n two years. That's a bad record for a boy, I believe. But + there hasn't any of them suited me, nor have I suited them. + </p> + <p> + “And Dwight's Emporium beats 'em all!” finished Hiram, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + He turned his back upon the town once more, as though to wipe his failure + out of his memory. Before him sloped a field of wheat and clover. + </p> + <p> + It had kept as green under the snow as though winter was an unknown + season. Every cloverleaf sparkled and the leaves of wheat bristled like + tiny spears. + </p> + <p> + Spring was on the way. He could hear the call of it! + </p> + <p> + Two years before Hiram had left the farm. He had no immediate relatives + after his father died. The latter had been a tenant-farmer only, and when + his tools and stock and the few household chattels had been sold to pay + the debts that had accumulated during his last illness, there was very + little money left for Hiram. + </p> + <p> + There was nobody to say him nay when he packed his bag and started for + Crawberry, which was the metropolis of his part of the country. He had set + out boldly, believing that he could get ahead faster, and become master of + his own fortune more quickly in town than in the locality where he was + born. + </p> + <p> + He was a rugged, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall, but sturdy + and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done a man's work before + he left the farm. + </p> + <p> + Hiram's hands were calloused, he shuffled a bit when walked, and his + shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow handles since he + had been big enough to bridle his father's old mare. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the work on the farm had been hard—especially for a growing + boy. Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has in store for + most country boys who cut loose from their old environment, Hiram Strong + felt to-day as though he must get back to the land. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium will never + get me anywhere,” he thought, turning finally away from the open country + and starting down the steep hill. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there are college boys working on our street cars here—waiting + for some better job to turn up. What chance does a fellow stand who's only + got a country school education? + </p> + <p> + “And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry—fun that + doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more than enough to + pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a new suit of overalls and + a pair of shoes occasionally. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir!” concluded Hiram. “There's nothing in it. Not for a fellow like + me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm—and I wish I was + there now.” + </p> + <p> + He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner at his + boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he had nothing to look + forward to as he returned but the stuffy parlor of Mrs. Atterson's + boarding house, the cold supper in the dining-room, which was attended in + a desultory fashion by such of the boarders as were at home, and then a + long, dull evening in his room, or bed after attending the evening service + at the church around the corner. + </p> + <p> + Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house table, + hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks about Mrs. Atterson's food + from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his class, or the + grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid, or the inane monologue of + Old Lem Camp. + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Atterson herself—good soul though she was—had gotten + on Hiram Strong's nerves, too. With her heat-blistered face, near-sighted + eyes peering through beclouded spectacles, and her gown buttoned up + hurriedly and with a gap here and there where a button was missing, she + was the typically frowsy, hurried, nagged-to-death boarding house + mistress. + </p> + <p> + And as for “Sister,” Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and maid-of-all-work—— + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sister's the limit!” smiled Hiram, as he turned into the street, + with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. “I believe Fred Crackit + has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps Sister instead of a cat—so + there'll be something to kick.” + </p> + <p> + The half-grown girl—narrow-chested, round shouldered, and sallow—had + been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity institution. “Sister,” as + the boarders all called her, for lack of any other cognomen, would have + her yellow hair in four attenuated pigtails hanging down her back, and she + would shuffle about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old shoes—— + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! there she is now,” exclaimed the startled youth. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of the street several “slices” of the brick block had been + torn away and the lot cleared for the erection of some business building. + Running across this open space with wild shrieks and spilling the milk + from the big pitcher she carried—milk for the boarders' tea, Hi knew—came + Mrs. Atterson's maid. + </p> + <p> + Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present “pigtails,” + bounded a boy of about her own age—a laughing, yelling imp of a boy + whom Hiram knew very well. + </p> + <p> + “That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the town!” he + said to himself. + </p> + <p> + The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few people. + It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more or less noise. + </p> + <p> + Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk and told + Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, yelling to her to “Get + up!” and yanking as hard as he could on the braids. + </p> + <p> + “Here! that's enough of that!” called Hiram, stepping quickly toward the + two. + </p> + <p> + For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Be off with you!” commanded Hiram. “You've plagued the girl enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!” returned Dan, Junior, grabbing at + Sister's hair again. + </p> + <p> + Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him around. + </p> + <p> + “You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister,” he said, quietly. “No, you + don't!” he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. “You'll stop right + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme be, Hi Strong!” bawled the other, when he found he could not easily + jerk away. “It'll be the worse for you if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Just you wait until the girl is home,” returned Hiram, laughing. It was + an easy matter for him to hold the writhing Dan, Junior. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix you for this!” squalled the boy. “Wait till I tell my father.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth,” laughed Hi. + </p> + <p> + “I'll fix you,” repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a vicious kick at + his captor. + </p> + <p> + Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended—under Hi's kneecap—the + latter certainly would have been “fixed.” But the country youth was too + agile for him. + </p> + <p> + He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and then gave + him a backward thrust which sent the lighter boy spinning. + </p> + <p> + Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path was a + puddle several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, staggered back, + tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed full length into it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he scrambled out. + “I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll catch it for this!” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better run home before you catch cold,” said Hiram, who could not + help laughing at the young rascal's plight. “And let girls alone another + time.” + </p> + <p> + To himself he said: “Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much more in + bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this escapade of his + precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, Junior, says. + </p> + <p> + “Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for another job in + a very few days.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + </h2> + <p> + When you came into “Mother” Atterson's front hall (the young men boarders + gave her that appellation in irony) the ghosts of many ancient boiled + dinners met you with—if you were sensitive and unused to the odors + of cheap boarding houses—a certain shock. + </p> + <p> + He was starting up the stairs, on which the ragged carpet threatened to + send less agile persons than Mrs. Atterson's boarders headlong to the + bottom at every downward trip, when the clang of the gong in the + dining-room announced the usual cold spread which the landlady thought due + to her household on the first day of the week. + </p> + <p> + Hiram hesitated, decided that he would skip the meal, and started up + again. But just then Fred Crackit lounged out of the parlor, with Mr. + Peebles following him. Dyspeptic as he was, Mr. Peebles never missed a + meal himself, and Crackit said: + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Hi-Low-Jack! Aren't you coming down to the usual feast of reason + and flow of soul?” + </p> + <p> + Crackit thought he was a natural humorist, and he had to keep up his + reputation at all times and seasons. He was rather a dissipated-looking + man of thirty years or so, given to gay waistcoats and wonderfully knit + ties. A brilliant as large as a hazel-nut—and which, in some lights, + really sparkled like a diamond—adorned the tie he wore this evening. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe I want any supper,” responded Hiram, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter? Got some inside information as to what Mother Atterson + has laid out for us? You're pretty thick with the old girl, Hi.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not a nice way to speak of her, Mr. Crackit,” said Hi, in a low + voice. + </p> + <p> + The other boarders—those who were in the house-straggled into the + basement dining-room one after the other, and took their places at the + long table, each in his customary manner. + </p> + <p> + That dining-room at Mother Atterson's never could have been a cheerful + place. It was long, and low-ceiled, and the paper on the walls was a dingy + red, so old that the figure on it had retired into the background—been + absorbed by it, so to speak. + </p> + <p> + The two long, dusty, windows looked upon an area, and were grilled half + way up by wrought-iron screens which, too, helped to shut out the light of + day. + </p> + <p> + The long table was covered by a red figured table cloth. The “castors” at + both ends and in the middle were the ugliest—Hiram was sure—to + be found in all the city of Crawberry. The crockery was of the coarsest + kind. The knives and forks were antediluvian. The napkins were as coarse + as huck towels. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Atterson's food—considering the cost of provisions and the + charge she made for her table—was very good. Only it had become a + habit for certain of the boarders, led by the jester, Crackit, to + criticise the viands. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes they succeeded in making Mrs. Atterson angry; and sometimes, + Hiram knew, she wept, alone in the dining-room, after the harumscarum, + thoughtless crowd had gone. + </p> + <p> + Old Lem Camp—nobody save Hiram thought to put “Mr.” before the old + gentleman's name—sidled in and sat down beside the country boy, as + usual. He was a queer, colorless sort of person—a man who never + looked into the face of another if he could help it. He would look all + around Hiram when he spoke to him—at his shoulder, his shirtfront, + his hands, even at his feet if they were visible, but never at his face. + </p> + <p> + And at the table he kept up a continual monologue. It was difficult + sometimes for Hiram to know when he was being addressed, and when poor Mr. + Camp was merely talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see—where has Sister put my napkin—Oh! here it is—You've + been for a walk, have you, young man?—No, that's not my napkin; I + didn't spill any gravy at dinner—Nice day out, but raw—Goodness + me! can't I have a knife and fork?—Where's my knife and fork?—Sister + certainly has forgotten my knife and fork.—Oh! Here they are—Yes, + a very nice day indeed for this time of year.” + </p> + <p> + And so on. It was quite immaterial to Mr. Camp whether he got an answer to + his remarks to Hiram, or not. He went on muttering to himself, all through + the meal, sometimes commenting upon what the others said at the table—and + that quite shrewdly, Hiram noticed; but the other boarders considered him + a little cracked. + </p> + <p> + Sister smiled sheepishly at Hiram as she passed the tea. She drowned his + tea with milk and put in no less than four spoonfuls of sugar. But + although the fluid was utterly spoiled for Hiram's taste he drank it with + fortitude, knowing that the girl's generosity was the child of her + gratitude; for both sugar and milk were articles very scantily supplied at + Mother Atterson's table. + </p> + <p> + The mistress herself did not appear. Now that he was down here in the + dining-room, Hiram lingered. He hated the thought of going up to his + lonely and narrow quarters at the top of the house. + </p> + <p> + The other boarders trailed out of the room and up stairs, one after + another, Old Lem Camp being the last to go. Sister brought in a dish of + hot toast between two plates and set it at the upper end of the table. + Then Mrs. Atterson appeared. + </p> + <p> + Hiram knew at once that something had gone wrong with the boarding house + mistress. She had been crying, and when a woman of the age of Mrs. + Atterson indulges in tears, her personal appearance is never improved. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that you, Hi?” she drawled, with a snuffle. “Did you get enough to + eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Atterson,” returned the youth, starting to get up. “I have had + plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you did,” said the lady. “And you're easy 'side of most of 'em, + Hiram. You're a real good boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I get all I pay for, Mrs. Atterson,” said her youngest boarder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there ain't many of 'em would say that. And they was awful + provokin' this noon. That roast of veal was just as good meat as I could + find in market; and I don't know what any sensible party would want better + than that prune pie. + </p> + <p> + “Well! I hope I won't have to keep a boarding house all my life. It's a + thankless task. An' it ties a body down so. + </p> + <p> + “Here's my uncle—my poor mother's only brother and about the only + relative I've got in the world—here's Uncle Jeptha down with the + grip, or suthin', and goodness knows if he'll ever get over it. And I + can't leave to go and see him die peaceable.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he live far from here?” asked Hiram, politely, although he had no + particular reason for being interested in Uncle Jeptha. + </p> + <p> + “He lives on a farm out Scoville way. He's lived there most all his life. + He used to make a right good living off'n that farm, too; but it's run + down some now. + </p> + <p> + “The last time I was out there, two years ago, he was just keepin' along + and that's all. And now I expect he's dying, without a chick or child of + his own by him,” and she burst out crying again, the tears sprinkling the + square of toast into which she continued to bite. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it was ridiculous. A middle-aged woman weeping and eating toast + and drinking strong boiled tea is not a romantic picture. But as Hiram + climbed to his room he wished with all his heart that he could help Mrs. + Atterson. + </p> + <p> + He wasn't the only person in the world who seemed to have got into a wrong + environment—lots of people didn't fit right into their circumstances + in life. + </p> + <p> + “We're square pegs in round holes—that's what we are,” mused Hiram. + “That's what I am. I wish I was out of it. I wish I was back on the farm.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. A DREARY DAY + </h2> + <p> + Daniel Dwight's Emporium, the general store was called, and it was in a + very populous part of the town of Crawberry. Old Daniel was a driver, he + seldom had clerks enough to handle his trade properly, and nobody could + suit him. As general helper and junior clerk, Hiram Strong had remained + with the concern longer than any other boy Daniel had hired in years. + </p> + <p> + When the early Monday morning rush was over, and there was moment's + breathing space, Hiram went to the door to re-arrange the trays of + vegetables which were his particular care. Hiram had a knack of making a + bank of the most plebeian vegetable and salads look like the + display-window of a florist. + </p> + <p> + Now the youth looked out upon a typical city street, the dwellings on + either side being four and five story tenement houses, occupied by + artisans and mechanics. + </p> + <p> + A few quarreling children paddled sticks, or sailed chip boats, in the + gutters. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, now! Get a move on you, Hi!” sounded the raucous voice of Daniel + Dwight the elder, behind him in the store. + </p> + <p> + Hiram went at his task with neither interest nor energy. + </p> + <p> + All about him the houses and the street were grimy and depressing. It had + been a gray and murky morning; but overhead a patch of sky was as blue as + June. He suddenly saw a flock of pigeons wheeling above the tunnel of the + street, and the boy's heart leaped at the sight. + </p> + <p> + He longed for freedom. He wished he could fly, up, up, up above the + housetops and the streets, like those feathered fowl. + </p> + <p> + He knew he was stagnating here in this dingy store; the deadly sameness of + his life chafed him sorely. + </p> + <p> + “I'd take another job if I could find one,” he muttered, stirring up the + bunches of yellowing radish leaves and trying to make them look fresh. + “And Old Daniel is likely to give me a chance to hunt a job pretty sudden—the + way he talks. But if Dan, Junior, told him what happened yesterday, I + wonder the old gentleman hasn't been after me with a sharp stick.” + </p> + <p> + From somewhere—out of the far-distant open country where it had been + breathing all night the quivering pines, and brown swamps, and the white + and gray checkered fields that would soon be upturned by the plowshares—a + vagrant wind wandered into the city street. + </p> + <p> + The lingering, but faint perfume wafted here from God's open world to die + in this man-made town inspired in the youth thoughts and desires that had + been struggling within him for expression for days past. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I want,” said Hiram Strong, aloud. “I want to get back to the + land!” + </p> + <p> + The progress of the day was not inducive to a hopeful outlook for Hiram. + When closing time came he was heartily sick of the business of + storekeeping, if he never had been before. + </p> + <p> + And when he dragged himself home to the boarding house, he found the + atmosphere there as dreary as the street itself. The boarders were grumpy + and Mrs. Atterson was in a tearful state again. + </p> + <p> + Hiram could not stay in his room. It was a narrow, cold place at the end + of the back hall at the top of the house. There was a little, painted + bureau in it, one leg of which had been replaced by a brick, and the + little glass was so blue and blurred that he never could see in it whether + his tie was straight or not. + </p> + <p> + There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed. When the + bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he could not get the door + open. Had there ever been a fire at Atterson's at night, Hiram's best + chance for escape would have been by the window. + </p> + <p> + So this evening, to kill the miserable stretch of time until sleep should + come to him, the boy went out and walked the streets. + </p> + <p> + Two things had saved Hiram Strong from getting into bad company on these + evening rambles. One was the small amount of money he earned, and the + other was the naturally clean nature of the boy. The cheap amusements + which lured on either hand did not attract him. + </p> + <p> + But the dangers are there in every city, and they lurk for every boy in a + like position. + </p> + <p> + The main thoroughfare in this part of the town where Hiram boarded was + brightly lighted, gaudy electric signs attracting notice to cheap picture + shows, catch-penny arcades, cheap jewelry stores, and the ever present + saloons and pool rooms. + </p> + <p> + It looked bright, and warm, and lively in many of these places; but the + country-bred boy was cautious. + </p> + <p> + Now and then a raucous-voiced automobile shot along the street; the + electric cars made their usual clangor, and there was still some ordinary + traffic of the day dribbling away into the side streets, for it was early + in the evening. + </p> + <p> + Hiram was about to turn into one of these side streets on his way back to + Mrs. Atterson's. Turning the corner was a handsome span of horses attached + to a comfortable but mud-bespattered carriage. It was plainly from the + country. + </p> + <p> + The light at the corner of the street shone brightly into the carriage. + Hiram saw a well-built man in a gray greatcoat and slouch hat, holding the + reins over the backs of the spirited horses. + </p> + <p> + Beside him sat a girl. She could have been no more than twelve or fourteen—not + so old as Sister, by a year or two. But how different she was from the + starved-looking, boarding house slavey! + </p> + <p> + She was framed in furs—rich, gray and black furs that muffled her + from top to toe, only leaving her brilliant, dark little face with its + perfect features shining like a jewel in its setting. + </p> + <p> + She was talking laughingly to the big man beside her, and he was looking + down at her. Perhaps this was why he did not see what lay just ahead—or + perhaps the glare of the street light blinded him, as it must have the + horses, as the equipage turned into the darker side street. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry of + warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by the bridle and + pull both the high-steppers around. + </p> + <p> + There was an excavation—an opening for a water-main—in this + street. The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, or + malicious boys had stolen it. + </p> + <p> + Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation and even + now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over the edge of the hole, + and for the minute it was doubtful whether Hiram had saved the occupants + of the carriage by his quick action, or had accelerated the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD + </h2> + <p> + Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and sturdy withal, + the excited horses would have broken away from him and the carriage would + certainly have gone into the ditch. + </p> + <p> + But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be broken, + although the horses plunged and struck fire from the stones of the street + with their shoes. He dragged them forward, the carriage pitched and rolled + for a moment, and then stood upright again, squarely on its four wheels. + </p> + <p> + “All right, lad! I've got 'em!” exclaimed the gentleman in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + He had a hearty, husky sort of voice—a voice that came from deep + down in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there was no + quiver of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in peril was much less + disturbed by the incident than was Hiram himself. + </p> + <p> + Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now Hiram heard + her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses: + </p> + <p> + “That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again.” + </p> + <p> + The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened team with + one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big coat with the + other. + </p> + <p> + “He certainly has got some muscle, that lad,” announced the gentleman. + “Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town again?” + </p> + <p> + “I work at Dwight's Emporium,” replied Hiram, rather diffidently. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like. I'll + surely look you up.” + </p> + <p> + He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped + nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage + rolled swiftly by him. + </p> + <p> + The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, but missed + the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the street and the shadow + hid it completely from the boy's gaze. + </p> + <p> + Had there been a lantern nearby, as there should have been, Hiram would + have taken it to search for the lost card. For he felt suddenly as though + Opportunity had brushed past him. + </p> + <p> + The man in the carriage evidently lived out of town. He might be a + prosperous farmer. And, being a farmer, he might be able to give Hiram + just the sort of job he was looking for. + </p> + <p> + The card, of course, would have put Hiram in touch with the man. And he + seemed like a hearty, good-natured individual. + </p> + <p> + “And the girl—his daughter—was as pretty as a picture,” + thought Hiram, as he turned wearily toward the boarding house. “Well! I + don't know that I'll ever see either of them again; but if I could learn + that man's name and address I'd certainly look him up.” + </p> + <p> + So much did this thought disturb him that he was up an hour earlier than + usual the next morning and hurried to work by the way of the excavation in + the street where the incident had occurred. + </p> + <p> + But he could not find the card, although he got down into the ditch to + search for it. The loose sand, perhaps, rattling down from the sides of + the excavation during the night, had buried the bit of pasteboard, and + Hiram went on to Dwight's Emporium more disheartened than ever. + </p> + <p> + The work there went worse that morning. Old Daniel Dwight drove the young + fellow from one task to another. The other clerks got a minute's time to + themselves now and then; but the proprietor of the store seemed to have + his keen eyes on Hiram continually. + </p> + <p> + There was always a slow-up in the work about ten o'clock, and Hiram had a + request to make. He asked Old Daniel for an hour off. + </p> + <p> + “An hour off—with all this work to do? What do you mean, boy?” + roared the proprietor. “What do you want an hour for?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got an errand,” replied Hiram, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” snarled the old man, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why—it's a private matter. I can't tell you,” returned the youth, + coolly. + </p> + <p> + “No good, I'll be bound—no good. I don't see why I should let you + off an hour——” + </p> + <p> + “I work many an hour overtime for you, Mr. Dwight,” put in Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; that's all right. That's the agreement. You knew you'd have to + when you came to work at the Emporium. Stick to your contract, boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you stick to yours?” demanded the youth, boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! Eh! What do you mean by that?” cried Mr. Dwight, glaring at Hiram + through his spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that when I came to work for you seven months ago, you promised + that, if I suited after six months, you would raise my wages. And you + haven't done so,” said the young fellow, firmly. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the proprietor of the Emporium was dumb. It was true. He had + promised just that. He had got the boy cheaper by so doing. But never + before had he hired a boy who stayed as long as six months, so he had + never had to raise his wages. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” + </p> + <p> + He stammered for a moment; then a shrewd thought came to his mind. He + actually smiled. When Mr. Dwight smiled it was worse than when he didn't. + </p> + <p> + “I told you that if you suited me I'd raise your pay, did I?” he snarled. + “Well, you don't suit me. You never have suited me. Therefore, you get no + raise, young man.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was not astonished; he was only indignant. Another boy might have + expressed his anger by flaring up and tendering his resignation on the + spot. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram had that fear of debt in his breast which is almost always a + characteristic of the frugal, country-bred person. He had saved little. He + had no prospect of another job. And every Saturday night he was expected + to pay Mrs. Atterson three dollars and a half. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, Mr. Dwight,” he said, quietly, after a minute's silence, “I + want an hour to myself this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll dock ye ten cents for it,” declared the old man. + </p> + <p> + “You can do as you like about that,” returned Hiram, and he walked into + the back room, took off his apron, and got into his coat. + </p> + <p> + He had it in mind to go to the big market, where the farmers drove in from + out of town, and see if he could meet one of his old neighbors, or anybody + else who could tell him of prospect of work for the coming season. It was + early yet for farmers to be looking for extra hands; but Hiram hoped that + he might see something in prospect for the future. He had made up his mind + that, if possible, he would not take another job in town. + </p> + <p> + “And I can see pretty plainly that I've got about through at the + Emporium,” he thought, as he approached the open space devoted by the City + of Crawberry to a market for the truckmen and farmers who drove in with + their wares from the surrounding country. + </p> + <p> + At this time of day the bustle of market was over. The farmers would have + had their breakfasts in the little restaurants which encircled the + market-place, or would be preparing to drive home again. The hucksters and + push-cart merchants were picking up “seconds” and lot-ends of vegetables + for their trade. The cobbles of the market-place was a litter of cabbage + leaves, spilled sprouts, spoiled potatoes, and other refuse. + </p> + <p> + Hiram walked about, looking for somebody whom he knew; but most of the + faces around the market were strange to him. Several farmers he spoke to + about work; but they were not hiring hands, so, when his hour was up, he + went back to the Emporium, more despondent than before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + </h2> + <p> + By chance that evening Hiram got home to his boarding house in good + season. The early boarders—“early birds” Crackit always termed them—had + not yet sat down to the long table in the dingy dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the supper gong had not been pounded by Sister, and some of the + young men were grouped impatiently in the half-lighted parlor. + </p> + <p> + Through the swinging door into the steaming kitchen Hiram saw a huge black + woman waddling about the range, and heard her husky voice berating Sister + for not moving faster. Chloe only appeared when a catastrophe happened at + the boarding-house—and a catastrophe meant the removal of Mrs. + Atterson from her usual orbit. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone to the funeral. That Uncle Jeptha of hern is dead,” whispered + Sister in Hiram's ear when she put his soup in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah-ha!” observed Mr. Crackit, eyeing Hiram with his head on one side, + “secrets, eh? Inside information of what's in the pudding sauce?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing went right at the boarding-house during the next two days. And for + Hiram Strong nothing seemed to go right anywhere! + </p> + <p> + He demanded—and got the permission, with another ten-cent tax—another + hour off to visit the market. But he found nobody who would hire a boy at + once. Some of the farmers doubted if he knew as much about farm-work as he + claimed to know. He was, after all, a boy, and some of them would not + believe that he had even worked in the country. + </p> + <p> + Affairs at the Emporium were getting strained, too. Daniel Dwight was as + shrewd a man as the next one. He saw plainly that his junior clerk was + getting ready—like the many who had gone before him—for a + flitting. + </p> + <p> + He knew the signs of discontent, although Hiram prided himself on doing + his work just as well as ever. + </p> + <p> + Then, there was a squabble with Dan, Junior. The imp was always underfoot + on Saturdays. He was supposed to help—to run errands, and take out + in a basket certain orders to nearby customers who might be in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + But usually when you wanted the boy he was in the alley pitching buttons + with loafing urchins of his own kind—“alley rats” his father angrily + called them—or leading a predatory gang of the same unsavory + companions in raids on other stores in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + And Dan, Junior “had it in” for Hiram. He had not forgiven the bigger boy + for pitching him into the puddle. + </p> + <p> + “An' them was my best clo'es, and now maw says I've got to wear 'em just + the same on Sunday, and they're shrunk and stained,” snarled the younger + Dan, hovering about Hiram as the latter re-dressed the fruit stand during + a moment's let-up in the Saturday morning rush. “Gimme an orange.” + </p> + <p> + “What! At five cents apiece?” exclaimed Hiram. “Guess not. Go look in the + basket under the bench; maybe there's a specked one there.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. Dad took 'em all home last night and maw cut out the specks and + sliced 'em for supper. Gimme a good orange.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask your father,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Naw, I won't!” declared young Dwight, knowing very well what his father's + answer would be. + </p> + <p> + He suddenly made a grab for the golden globe on the apex of Hiram's + handsomest pyramid. + </p> + <p> + “Let that alone, Dan!” cried Hiram, and seized the youngster by the wrist. + </p> + <p> + Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned, and + kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange from his hand + when Mr. Dwight came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “What's this? What's this?” he demanded. “Fighting, are ye? Why don't you + tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?” + </p> + <p> + At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs. He was a + good actor. + </p> + <p> + “I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram,” cried “Mr. Dwight, + That's what I've a mind to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?” suggested Hiram, + scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “You can come in and git your money right now, young man,” said the + proprietor of the Emporium. “Dan! let them oranges alone. And don't you go + away from here. I'll want you all day to-day. I shall be short-handed with + this young scalawag leaving me in the lurch like this.” + </p> + <p> + It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He had part of + his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work for Daniel Dwight any + longer. + </p> + <p> + The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile of money + already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that he had intended + quarreling with Hiram and getting rid of him at this time, for he had the + young fellow's wages figured up to t hat very hour—and twenty cents + deducted for the two hours Hiram had had “off.” + </p> + <p> + “But that isn't fair. I'm willing to work to the end of the day. I ought + to get my wages in full for the week, save for the twenty cents,” said + Hiram mildly. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, now that he had lost his job—unpleasant as it had + been—Hiram was more than a little troubled. He was indeed about to + be cast adrift. + </p> + <p> + “You'll git jest that sum, and not a cent more,” declared Mr. Dwight, + sharply. “And if you start any trouble here I'll call in the officer on + the beat—yes, I will! I don't know but I ought to deduct the cost of + Dan, Junior's, spoiled suit, too. He says you an' he was skylarkin' on + Sunday and that's how he fell into the water.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram had no answer to make to this. What was the use? He took the money, + slipped it into his pocket, and went out. + </p> + <p> + He did not linger around the Emporium. Nor was he scarcely out of sight + when a man driving a span of handsome bay horses halted his team before + the store, jumped out, and went in. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the proprietor of Dwight's Emporium?” asked the man in the gray + coat and hat, in his hearty tones. “You are? Glad to meet you! I'm looking + for a young man who works for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's that? What do you want of him?” asked Dan, Senior, doubtfully, and + rubbing his hand, for the stranger's grip had been as hearty as his voice. + </p> + <p> + The other laughed in his jovial way. “Why, to tell the truth, I don't know + his name. I didn't ask him. He's not much more than a boy—a sturdy + youngster with a quick way with him. He did me a service the other evening + and I wanted to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “There ain't any boy working here,” snapped Mr. Dwight. “Them's all the + clerks I got behind the counter—and there ain't one of 'em under + thirty, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” admitted the stranger. “And although it was so dark I could + not see that fellow's face, and I didn't ask his name, I am sure he was + young.” + </p> + <p> + “I jest discharged the only boy I had—and scamp enough he was,” + snarled Mr. Dwight. “If you were looking for him, you'd have been sorry to + find him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a policeman to git him + off the premises.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy you want—but + you won't get no good of him when you find him. And I've no idea where + he's to be found now,” and the old man turned his back on the man in the + gray coat and went into his office. + </p> + <p> + The stranger climbed back into his buggy and took up the lines again with + a preoccupied headshake. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I promised Lettie,” he muttered, “that I'd find out all about that + boy—and maybe bring him home with me. Funny that man gave his such a + bad character. Wish I could have seen the lad's face the other night—that + would have told the story. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” and he dismissed the matter with a sigh, for he was busy man, “if + he's got my card, and he is out of a job, perhaps he'll look me up. Then + we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + </h2> + <p> + “I've sure got plenty of time now to look for a job,” observed Hiram + Strong when he was two blocks away from Dwight's Emporium. “But I declare + I don't know where to begin.” + </p> + <p> + For his experience in talking with the farmers around the market had + rather dashed Hiram's hope of getting a place in the country at once. It + was too early in the season. Nor did it look so much like Spring as it had + a week ago. Already Hiram had to turn up the collar of his rough coat, and + a few flakes of snow were settling on his shoulders as he walked. + </p> + <p> + “It's winter yet,” he mused. “If I can't get something to do in the city + for a few weeks to tide me over, I'm afraid I shall have to find a cheaper + place to board than at Mother Atterson's.” + </p> + <p> + After half an hour of strolling from street to street, however, Hiram + decided that there was nothing in that game. He must break in somewhere, + so he turned into the very next warehouse. + </p> + <p> + “Want a job? I'll be looking for one myself pretty soon, if business isn't + better,” was the answer he got from the first man he approached. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram kept at it, and got short answers and long answers, pleasant + ones and some that were not so pleasant; but all could be summed up in the + single monosyllable: + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly am a failure here in town,” Hiram thought, as he walked + through the snow-blown streets. “How foolish I was ever to have come away + from the country. + </p> + <p> + “A fellow ought to stick to the job he is fitted for—and that's + sure. But I didn't know. I thought there would be forty chances in town to + one in the country. + </p> + <p> + “And there doesn't seem to be a single chance right now. Why, I'll have to + leave Mrs. Atterson's, if I can't find a job before next week is out! + </p> + <p> + “This mean old town is over-crowded with fellows like me looking for work. + And when it comes to office positions, I haven't a high-school diploma, + nor am I fitted for that kind of a job. + </p> + <p> + “I want to be out of doors. Working in a stuffy office wouldn't suit me. + Oh, as a worker in the city I am a rank failure, and that's all there is + about it!” + </p> + <p> + He went home to supper much more tired than he would have been had he done + a full day's work at Dwight's Emporium. Indeed, the job he had lost now + loomed up in his troubled mind as much more important than it had seemed + when he had desired to change it for another. + </p> + <p> + Mother Atterson was at home. She hadn't more than taken off her bonnet, + however, and had had but a single clash with Chloe in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “I smelled it burnin' the minute I set my foot on the front step!” she + declared. “You can't fool my nose when it comes to smelling burned stuff. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hiram,” she continued, too full of news to remark that he was at + home long before his time, “I saw the poor old soul laid away, at least. I + wish now I'd got Chloe in before, and gone to see Uncle Jeptha before he + was in his coffin. + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't think I could afford it, and that's a fact. We poor folks + can't have many pleasures in this world of toil and trouble!” added the + boarding house mistress, to whom even the break of a funeral, or a + death-bed visit, was in the nature of a solemn amusement. + </p> + <p> + “And there the old man went and made his will years ago, unbeknownst to + anybody, and me bein' his only blood relation, as you might say, though it + was years since I seen him much, but he remembered my mother with love,” + and she began to wipe her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old man! And me with a white-faced cow that I'm afraid of my life + of, and an old horse that looks like a moth-eaten hide trunk we to have in + our garret at home when I was a little girl, and belonged to my + great-great-grandmother Atterson—— + </p> + <p> + “And there's a mess of chickens that eat all day long and don't lay an egg + as far as I could see, besides a sow and a litter of six pigs that squeal + worse than the the switch-engine down yonder in the freight yard—— + </p> + <p> + “And they're all to be fed, and how I'm to do it, and feed the boarders, + too, I don't for the life of me see!” finished Mrs. Atterson, completely + out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” cried Hiram, suddenly waking to the significance of + the old lady's chatter. “Do you mean he willed you these things?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she returned, smoothing down her best black skirt. “They go + with the house and outbuildings—`all the chattels and appurtenances + thereto', the will read.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Atterson!” gasped Hiram. “He must have left you the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” returned the old lady, complacently. “And what I'm + to do with it I've no more idea than the man in the moon.” + </p> + <p> + “A farm!” repeated Hiram, his face flushing and his eyes beginning to + shine. + </p> + <p> + Now, Hiram Strong was not a particularly handsome youth, but in his + excitement he almost looked so. + </p> + <p> + “Eighty acres, so many rods, and so many perches,” pursued Mrs. Atterson, + nodding. “That's the way it reads. The perches is in the henhouse, I + s'pose—though why the description included them and not the hens' + nests I dunno.” + </p> + <p> + “Eighty acres of land!” repeated Hiram in a daze. + </p> + <p> + “All free and clear. Not a dollar against it—only encumbrances is + the chickens, the cow, the horse and the pigs,” declared Mrs. Atterson. + “If it wasn't for them it might not be so bad. Scoville's an awfully nice + place, and the farm's on an automobile road. A body needn't go blind + looking for somebody to go by the door occasionally. + </p> + <p> + “And if it got so bad here finally that I couldn't make a livin' keeping + boarders,” pursued the lady, “I might go out there and live in the old + house—which isn't much, I know, but it's a shelter, and my tastes + are simple, goodness knows.” + </p> + <p> + “But a farm, Mrs. Atterson!” broke in Hiram. “Think what you can do with + it!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'd like to have, you, or somebody else tell me,” exclaimed + the old lady, tartly. “I ain't got no more use for a farm than a cat has + for two tails!” + </p> + <p> + “But—but isn't it a good farm?” queried Hiram, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know?” snapped the boarding house mistress. “I wouldn't know one + farm from another, exceptin' two can't be in exactly the same spot. Oh! do + you mean, could I sell it?” + </p> + <p> + “No——” + </p> + <p> + “The lawyer advised me not to sell just now. He said something about the + state of the real estate market in that section. Prices would be better in + a year or two. And then, the old place is mighty run down.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I mean,” Hiram hastened to say. “Has it been cropped to + death? Is the soil worn out? Can't you run it and make something out of + it?” + </p> + <p> + “For pity's sake!” ejaculated the good lady, “how should I know? And I + couldn't run it—I shouldn't know how. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a neighbor-woman in the house just now to 'tend to things—and + that's costin' me a dollar and a half a week. And there'll be taxes to + pay, and—and—Well, I just guess I'll have to try and sell it + now and take what I can get. + </p> + <p> + “Though that lawyer says that if the place was fixed up a little and crops + put in it would make a thousand dollars' difference in the selling price. + That is, after a year or two. + </p> + <p> + “But bless us and save us” cried Mrs. Atterson, “I'd be swamped with + expenses before that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe not,” said Hiram Strong, trying to repress his eagerness. “Why not + try it?” + </p> + <p> + “Try to run that farm?” cried she. “Why, I'd jest as lief go up in one o' + those aeroplanes and try to run it. I wouldn't be no more up in the air + then than I would be on a farm,” she added, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Get somebody to run it for you—do the outside work, I mean, Mrs. + Atterson,” said Hiram. “You could keep house out there just as well as you + do here. And it would be easy for you to learn to milk——” + </p> + <p> + “That whitefaced cow? My goodness! I'd just as quick learn to milk a + switch-engine!” + </p> + <p> + “But it's only her head that looks so wicked to you,” laughed Hiram. “And + you don't milk that end.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—mebbe,” admitted Mrs. Atterson, doubtfully. “I reckon I could + make butter again—I used to do that when I was a girl at my aunt's. + And either I'd make those hens lay or I'd have their dratted heads off! + </p> + <p> + “And my goodness me! To get rid of the boarders—Oh, stop your + talkin', Hi Strong! That is too good to ever be true. Don't talk to me no + more.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to talk to you, Mrs. Atterson,” persisted the youth, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, who'd I get to do the outside work—put in crops, and 'tend + 'em, and look out for that old horse?” + </p> + <p> + Hiram almost choked. This opportunity should not get past him if he could + help it! + </p> + <p> + “Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what I can do,” + he cried. “Let me run the farm for you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?” + demanded his landlady, in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Other farms pay; why not this one?” rejoined Hiram, sententiously. “Of + course,” he added, his native caution coming to the surface, “I'd want to + see the place—to look it over pretty well, in fact—before I + made any agreement. And I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no + chance of both you and me making something out of it I should tell you + so.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going out + there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the early train Monday morning,” said the youth, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “But what will they say at the store? Mr. Dwight——” + </p> + <p> + “He turned me off to-day,” said Hiram, steadily. “So I won't lose anything + by going out there. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what I'll do,” he added briskly. “I won't have any too much + money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be out there at + Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, it's probable. + </p> + <p> + “So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I should pay + you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own expenses out there + at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all well and good.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on to survey + the boy's earnest face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say you can run a farm, Hi Strong?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” and he smiled confidently at her. + </p> + <p> + “And make it pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not much profit the first season; but if the farm is fertile, and + the marketing conditions are right, I know I can make it pay us both in + two years.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got a little money saved up. I could sell the house in a week, for + it's always full and there are always lone women like me with a little + driblet of money to exchange for a boarding house—heaven help us for + the fools we are!” Mrs. Atterson exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “And I expect you could raise vegetables enough to part keep us, Hi, even + if the farm wasn't a great success?” + </p> + <p> + “And eggs, and chickens, and the pigs, and milk from the cow,” suggested + Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Well! I declare, that's so,” admitted Mrs. Atterson. “I'd been lookin' on + all them things as an expense. They could be made an asset, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I should hope so,” responded Hiram, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And I could get rid of these boarders—My soul and body!” gasped the + tired woman, suddenly. “Do you suppose it's true, Hi? Get rid of worryin' + about paying the bills, and whether the boarders are all going to keep + their jobs and be able to pay regularly—And the gravy! + </p> + <p> + “Hiram Strong! If you can show me a way out of this valley of tribulation + I'll be the thankfullest woman that you ever seen. It's a bargain. Don't + you pay me a cent for this coming week. And I shouldn't have taken it, + anyway, when you're throwed out of work so. That's a mighty mean man, that + Daniel Dwight. + </p> + <p> + “You go right ahead and look that farm over. If it looks good, you come + back and we'll strike a bargain, I know. And—and—Just to think + of getting rid of this house and these boarders!” and Mrs. Atterson + finished by wiping her eyes again vigorously. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + </h2> + <p> + Hiram Strong was up betimes on Monday morning—Sister saw to that. + She rapped on his door at four-thirty. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Hiram wondered when the girl ever slept. She was still dragging + about the kitchen or dining-room when he went to bed, and she was first + down in the morning—even earlier than Mrs. Atterson herself. + </p> + <p> + The boarding house mistress was not intentionally severe with Sister; but + the much harassed lady had never learned to make her own work easy, so how + should she be expected to be easy on Sister? + </p> + <p> + Once or twice Hiram had talked with the orphan. Sister had a dreadful fear + of returning to the “institution” from which Mrs. Atterson had taken her. + And Sister's other fearful remembrance was of an old woman who beat her + and drank much gin and water. + </p> + <p> + Not that she had been ill-treated at the institution; but she had been + dressed in an ugly uniform, and the girls had been rough and pulled her + “pigtails” like Dan, Junior. + </p> + <p> + “Once a gentleman came to see me,” Sister confided to Hiram. “He was a + lawyer gentleman, the matron told me. He knew my name—but I've + forgotten it now. + </p> + <p> + “And he said that somebody who once belonged to me—or I once + belonged to them—had died and perhaps there would be some money + coming to me. But it couldn't have been the old woman I lived with, for + she never had only money enough for gin! + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I was glad. I axed him how much money—was it enough to + treat all the girls in the institution one round of ice-cream soda, and he + laffed, he did. And he said yes—just about enough for that, if he + could get it for me. And I ran away and told the girls. + </p> + <p> + “I promised them all a treat. But the man never came again, and by and by + the big girls said they believed I storied about it, and one night they + came and dragged me out of bed and hung me out of the window by my wrists, + till I thought my arms would be pulled right out of the sockets. They was + awful cruel—them girls. But when I axed the matron why the man + didn't come no more, she put me off. I guess he was only foolin',” decided + Sister, with a sigh. “Folks like to fool me—like Mr. Crackit—eh?” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Atterson told Hiram, when he asked about Sister's meagre little + story, that the institution had promised to let her know if the lawyer + ever returned to make further inquiries about the orphan. Somebody really + had died who was of kin to the girl, but through some error the + institution had not made a proper record of her pedigree and the lawyer + who had instituted the search a seemed to have dropped out of sight. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram was not troubled by poor Sister's private affairs upon this + Monday morning. It was the beginning of a new week, indeed, to him. He had + turned over a new leaf of experience. He hoped that he was pretty near to + the end of his harsh city existence. + </p> + <p> + He hurried downstairs, long in advance of the other boarders, and Mrs. + Atterson served him some breakfast, although there was no milk for the + coffee. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno where that plague o' my life, Sister's, gone,” sputtered the old + lady, fussing about, between dining-room and kitchen. “I sent her out ten + minutes ago for the milk. And if you want to get that first train to + Scoville you've got to hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the milk,” laughed the young fellow. “The train's more + important this morning.” + </p> + <p> + So he bolted the remainder of his breakfast, swallowed the black coffee, + and ran out. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at Scoville while the morning was still young. It was not his + intention to go at once to the Atterson farm. There were matters which he + desired to look into in addition to judging the quality of the soil on the + place and the possibility of making it pay. + </p> + <p> + He went to the storekeepers and asked questions about the prices paid for + garden truck. He walked about the town and saw the quality of the + residences, and noted what proportion of the townsfolk cultivated gardens + of their own. + </p> + <p> + There was a big girls' boarding-school, and two small, but well-patronized + hotels. The proprietors of these each owned a farm; but they told Hiram + that it was necessary for them to buy much of their table vegetables from + city produce men, as the neighboring farmers did not grow much. + </p> + <p> + In talking with one storekeeper Hiram mentioned the fact that he was going + to look at the Atterson place with a view to farming it for its new owner. + When he walked out of the store he found himself accosted by a lean, + snaky-looking man who had stood within the store the moment before. + </p> + <p> + “What's this widder woman goin' to do with the farm old Jeptha left her?” + inquired the man, looking at Hiram slyly. + </p> + <p> + “We don't know yet, sir, what we shall do with it,” the young fellow + replied. + </p> + <p> + “You her son?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I may work for her—can't tell till I've looked at the place.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't much to look at,” said the man, quickly. “I come near buying it + once, though. In fact—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, still eyeing Hiram sideways. The boy waited for him to speak + again. He did not wish to be impolite; but he did not like the man's + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “What do y' reckon this Mis' Atterson would sell for?” finally demanded + the man. + </p> + <p> + “She has been advised not to sell—at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Who by?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Strickland, the lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Mebbe I'd buy it—and give her a good price for it—right + now.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you consider a good price?” asked Hiram, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve hundred dollars,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell her. But I do not think she would sell for that price—nothing + like it, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mebbe she'll feel different when she comes to think it over. No use + for a woman trying to run a farm. And if she has to pay for everything to + be done, she'll be in a hole at the end of the season. I guess she ain't + thought of that?” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be my place to point it out to her,” returned Hiram, “coolly, + if it were so, and I wanted to work for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Mebbe not. Well, my name's Pepper. Mebbe I'll be out to see her + some day,” he said, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “He's one of the people who will discourage Mrs. Atterson,” thought Hiram. + “And he has an axe to grind. If I decide to take the job of making this + farm pay, I'm going to have the agreement in black and white with Mrs. + Atterson; for there will be a raft of Job's comforters, perhaps when we + get settled on the place.” + </p> + <p> + It was late in the afternoon before Hiram was ready to start for the farm + itself. He had made some enquiries, and had decided to stop at a + neighbor's for overnight, instead of going to the house where a lone woman + had been left in charge by Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + The Pollocks had been recommended to Hiram, and by leaving the road within + half a mile of the Atterson farm, and cutting across the fields, he came + into the dooryard of the Pollock place. A well-grown boy, not much older + than himself, was splitting some chunks at the woodpile. He stopped work + to gaze at the visitor with much curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “From what they told me in town,” Hi said, holding out his hand with a + smile, “you must be Henry Pollock?” + </p> + <p> + The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand. + </p> + <p> + “That's what they call me—Henry Pollock—when they don't call + me Hen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry,” laughed Hiram. “I don't like + to have my name cut off short, either. My name's Hiram Strong. So if + you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll always call you `Henry.'” + </p> + <p> + “It's a go!” returned the other, shaking hands again. “You going to live + around here? Or are you jest visiting?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet,” confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. “You + see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right over yonder. You can see the roof if you stand up,” said + Henry, quickly. + </p> + <p> + Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a glimpse + of the roof in question. + </p> + <p> + “Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left it to?” + asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. “Or are you going to rent it?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of renting it?” queried Hiram, showing that he had + Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another. + </p> + <p> + “Well—it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old man + couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who farmed it for + him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what I'll do,” said + Hiram, slowly. “And of course I can't do that to-night. They told me in + town that sometimes you take boarders?” + </p> + <p> + “In the summer we do,” returned Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I reckon so—Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come + right in,” added Henry, hospitably, “and I'll ask mother.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + </h2> + <p> + The Pollocks proved to be a neighborly family—and a large one. As + Henry said, there was a “whole raft of young 'uns” younger than he was. + They made Hiram very welcome at the supper table, and showed much + curiosity about his personal affairs. + </p> + <p> + But the young fellow had been used to just such people before. They were + not a bad sort, and if they were keenly interested in the affairs of other + people, it was because they had few books and newspapers, and small chance + to amuse themselves in the many ways which city people have. + </p> + <p> + Hiram slept with Henry that night, and Henry agreed to show the visitor + over the Atterson place the next day. + </p> + <p> + “I know every stick and stone of it as well as I do ourn,” declared Henry. + “And Dad won't mind my taking time now. Later—Whew! I tell you, we + hafter just git up an' dust to make a crop. Not much chance for fun after + a week or two until the corn's laid by.” + </p> + <p> + “You know all the boundaries of the Atterson farm, do you?” Hiram asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” replied Henry, eagerly. “And say! do you like to fish?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; who doesn't?” + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll take some lines and hooks along—and mother'll lend us a + pan and kettle. Say! We'll start early—'fore anybody's a-stir—and + I bet there'll be a big trout jumping in the pool under the big sycamore.” + </p> + <p> + “That certain-sure sounds good to me!” cried Hiram, enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + So it was agreed, and before day, while the mist was yet rolling across + the fields, and the hedge sparrows were beginning to chirp, the two set + forth from the Pollock place, crossed the wet fields, and the road, and + set off down the slope of a long hill, following, as Henry said, near the + east boundary of the Atterson farm—the line running from the + automobile road to the river. + </p> + <p> + It was a dull spring morning. The faint breeze that stirred on the + hillside was damp, but odorous with new-springing herbs. As Hiram and + Henry descended the aisle of the pinewood, the treetops whispered together + as though curious of these bold humans who disturbed their solitude. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't look as though anybody had been here at the back end of old + Jeptha Atterson's farm for years,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “And it's a fact that nobody gets down this way often,” Henry responded. + </p> + <p> + The brown tags sprung under their feet; now and then a dew-wet branch + swept Hiram's cheek, seeking with its cold fingers to stay his progress. + It was an enchanted forest, and the boy, heart-hungry from his two years + of city life, was enchanted, too! + </p> + <p> + Hiram learned from talking with his companion that at one time the piece + of thirty-year-old timber they were walking through had been tilled—after + a fashion. But it had never been properly cleared, as the hacked and + ancient stumpage betrayed. + </p> + <p> + Here and there the lines of corn rows which had been plowed when the last + crop was laid by were plainly revealed to Hiram's observing eye. Where + corn had grown once, it should grow again; and the pine timber would more + than pay for being cut, for blowing out the big stumps with dynamite, and + tam-harrowing the side hill. + </p> + <p> + Finally they reached a point where the ground fell away more abruptly and + the character of the timber changed, as well. Instead of the stately + pines, this more abrupt declivity was covered with hickory and oak. The + sparse brush sprang out of rank, black mold. + </p> + <p> + Charmed by the prospect, Hiram and Henry descended this hill and came + suddenly, through a fringe of brush, to the border of an open cove, or + bottom. + </p> + <p> + At some time this lowland, too, had been cleared and cultivated; but now + young pines, quick-springing and lush, dotted the five or six acres of + practically open land which was as level as one's palm. + </p> + <p> + It was two hundred yards, or more, in width and at the farther side a + hedge of alders and pussywillows grew, with the green mist of young leaves + upon them, and here and there a ghostly sycamore, stretching its slender + bole into the air, edged the course of the river. + </p> + <p> + Hiram viewed the scene with growing delight. His eyes sparkled and a smile + came to his lips as he crossed, with springy steps, the open meadow on + which the grass was already showing green in patches. + </p> + <p> + Between the line of the wood they had left and the breadth of the meadow + was a narrow, marshy strip into which a few stones had been cast, and on + these they crossed dry shod. The remainder of the bottom-land was firm. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't this jest a scrumptious place?” demanded Henry, and Hiram agreed. + </p> + <p> + At the river's edge they parted the bushes and looked down upon the + oily-flowing brown flood. It was some thirty feet broad and with the + melting of the snows in the mountains was so deep that no sign was + apparent here of the rocks which covered its bed. + </p> + <p> + Henry led the way up the bank of the stream toward a huge sycamore that + leaned lovingly over the water. An ancient wild grape vine, its butt four + inches through and its roots fairly in the water, had a strangle-hold upon + this decrepit forest monarch, its tendrils reaching the sycamore's topmost + branch. + </p> + <p> + Under the tree was a deep hole where flotsam leaves and twigs performed an + endless treadmill dance in the grasp of the eddy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, while their gaze clung to the dimpling water, there was a flash + of a bronze body—a streak of light along the surface of the pool—and + two widening circles showed where the master of the hole had leaped for + some insect prey. + </p> + <p> + “See him?” called Henry, but under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Hiram nodded, but squeezed his companion's hand for silence. He almost + held his own breath for the moment, as they moved back from the pool with + the soundless step of an Indian. + </p> + <p> + “That big feller is my meat,” declared Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Go to it, boy!” urged Hiram, and set about preparing the camp. + </p> + <p> + He cut with his big jack-knife and set up a tripod of green rods in a + jiffy, skirmished for dry wood, lit his fire, filled the kettle from the + river at a little distance from the eddy, and hung it over the blaze to + boil. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Henry fished out a line and an envelope of hooks from an inner + pocket, cut a springy pole back on the hillside, rigged his line and hook, + and kicked a hole in the soft, rich soil until he unearthed a fat + angleworm. + </p> + <p> + With this impaled upon the hook he cautiously approached the pool under + the sycamore and cast gently. The struggling worm sank slowly; the water + wrinkled about the line; but there followed no tug at the hook, although + Henry stood patiently for several moments. He cast again, and yet again, + with like result. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ba!” muttered Hiram, in his ear; “this fellow's appetite needs + tickling. He is being fed too well and turns up his nose at a common + earthworm, does he? Let me show you a wrinkle, Henry.” + </p> + <p> + Henry drew the line ashore again and shook off the useless bait. + </p> + <p> + “You're, not fishing,” Hiram continued with a grim smile. “You've just + been drowning a worm. But I'll show that old fellow sulking down below + there that he is no match this early in the spring for a pair of hungry + boys!” + </p> + <p> + He recrossed the meadow, and the stepping stones, to the wood. He had + noticed a log lying in the path as he descended the hillside. With the toe + of his boot he kicked a patch of bark from the log, and thereby lay bare + the wavering trail of a busy grub. Following the trail he quickly found + the fat, juicy insect, which immediately took the earthworm's place upon + the hook. + </p> + <p> + Again Henry cast and this time, before the grub even touched the surface + of the pool, the fish leaped and swallowed the tempting morsel, hook and + all! + </p> + <p> + There was no playing of the fish on Henry's part. A quick jerk and the + gasping spotted beauty, a pound and a quarter, or more, in weight, lay + upon the sward beside the crackling fire. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop-ee!” called Henry, excitedly. “That's Number One!” + </p> + <p> + While Hiram dexterously scaled and cleaned the first trout, Henry caught a + couple more. Hiram brought forth, too, the coffee, salt and pepper, sugar, + a piece of fat salt pork and two table knives and forks. + </p> + <p> + He raked a smooth bed in the glowing coals, sliced the pork thin, laid + some slices in the pan and set that upon the coals, where the pork began + to sputter almost at once. + </p> + <p> + The water in the kettle was boiling and he made the coffee. Then he laid + the trout upon the pan with three slices of pork upon each, and sat back + upon his haunches beside Henry enjoying the delicious odor in anticipation + of the more solid delights of breakfast. + </p> + <p> + They had hard crackers and with these, and drinking the coffee from the + kettle itself, when it was cool enough, the two boys feasted like + monarchs. + </p> + <p> + “By Jo!” exclaimed Henry. “This beats maw's soda biscuit and fat meat + gravy!” + </p> + <p> + But as he ate, Hiram's gaze traveled again and again across the + scrub-grown meadow. The lay of the land pleased him. The richness of the + soil had been revealed when they dug the earthworm. + </p> + <p> + For thousands of years the riches of yonder hillside had been washing down + upon the bottom, and this alluvial was rich beyond computation. + </p> + <p> + Here were several acres, the young farmer knew, which, however + over-cropped the remainder of Uncle Jeptha's land had been, could not be + impoverished in many seasons. + </p> + <p> + “It's as rich as cream!” muttered he, thoughtfully. “Grubbing out these + young pines wouldn't take long. There's a heavy sod and it would have to + be ploughed deeply. Then a crop of corn this year, perhaps—late corn + for fear the river might overflow it in June. And then—— + </p> + <p> + “Great Scot!” ejaculated Hiram, slapping his knee, “what wouldn't grow on + this bottom land?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's mighty rich,” agreed Henry. “But it's a long way from the house—and + then, the river might flood it over. I've seen water running over this + bottom two feet deep—once.” + </p> + <p> + They finished the al fresco meal and Hiram leaped up, inspired by his + thoughts to brisker movements. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever else this old farm has on it, I vow and declare,” he said, “this + five or six acres alone might be made to pay a profit on the whole + investment!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN IS MADE + </h2> + <p> + Henry showed Hiram the “branch”, a little stream flowing into the river, + which marked the westerly boundary of the farm for some ways, and they set + off up the steep bank of this stream. + </p> + <p> + This back end of the farm—quite forty acres, or half of the whole + tract—had been entirely neglected by the last owner of the property + for a great many years. It was some distance from the house, for the farm + was a long and narrow strip of land from the highway to the river, and + Uncle Jeptha had had quite all he could do to till the uplands and the + fields adjacent to his home. + </p> + <p> + They came upon these open fields—many of them filthy with dead weeds + and littered with sprouting bushes—from the rear. Hiram saw that the + fences were in bad repair and that the back of the premises gave every + indication of neglect and shiftlessness. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps not exactly the latter; Uncle Jeptha had been an old man and + unable to do much active work for some years. But he had cropped certain + of his fields “on shares” with the usual results—impoverished soil, + illy-tilled crops, and the land left in a slovenly condition which several + years of careful tillage would hardly overcome. + </p> + <p> + Now, although Hiram's father had been of the tenant class, he had farmed + other men's land as he would his own. Owners of outlying farms had been + glad to get Mr. Strong to till their fields. + </p> + <p> + He had known how to work, he knew the reasons for every bit of labor he + performed, and he had not kept his son in ignorance of them. As they + worked together the father had explained to the son what he did, and why + he did it, The results of their work spoke for themselves, and Hiram had a + retentive memory. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strong, too, had been a great, reader—especially in the winter + when the farmer naturally has more time in-doors. + </p> + <p> + Yet he was a “twelve months farmer”; he knew that the winter, despite the + broken nature of the work, was quite as valuable to the successful farmer + as the other seasons of the year. + </p> + <p> + The elder Strong knew that men with more money, and more time for + experimenting than he had, were writing and publishing all the time helps + for the wise farmer. He subscribed for several papers, and read and + digested them carefully. + </p> + <p> + Hiram, even during his two years in the city, had continued his + subscription (although it was hard to find the money sometimes) to two or + three of those publications that his father had most approved. And the boy + had read them faithfully. + </p> + <p> + He was as up-to-date in farming lore now, if not in actual practise, as he + had been when he left the country to try his fortune in Crawberry. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the place where the branch turned back upon itself and hid its + source in the thicker timber, Hiram saw that the fields were open on both + sides of this westerly line of the farm. + </p> + <p> + “Who's our neighbor over yonder, Henry?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Dickerson—Sam Dickerson,” said Henry. “And he's got a boy, Pete, no + older than us. Say, Hiram, you'll have trouble with Pete Dickerson.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess not,” returned the young farmer, laughing. “Trouble is + something that I don't go about hunting for.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't have to hunt it when Pete is round,” said Henry with a wry + grin. “But mebbe he won't bother you, for he's workin' near town—for + that new man that's moved into the old Fleigler place. Bronson's his name. + But if Pete don't bother you, Sam may.” + </p> + <p> + “Sam's the father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep. And one poor farmer and mean man, if ever there was one! Oh, Pete + comes by his orneriness honestly enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope I'll have no trouble with any neighbor,” said Hiram, + hopefully. + </p> + <p> + They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to Mrs. Atterson's newly + acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the hog lot. She looked like a good + sow, and the six-weeks-old shoats were in good condition. In a couple of + weeks they would be big enough to sell if Mrs. Atterson did not care to + raise them. + </p> + <p> + The shoats were worth six dollars a pair, too; he had inquired the day + before about them. There was practically eighteen dollars squealing in + that pen—and eighteen dollars would go a long way toward feeding the + horse and cow until there was good pasturage for them. + </p> + <p> + These animals named were in the small fenced barnyard. In the fall and + winter the old man had fed a good deal of fodder and other roughage, and + during the winter the horse and cow had tramped this coarse material, and + the stable scrapings, into a mat of fairly good manure. + </p> + <p> + He looked the horse and cow over with more care. It was a fact that the + horse looked pretty shaggy; but he had been used little during the winter, + and had been seldom curried. A ragged coat upon a horse sometimes covers + quite as many good points as the same quality of garment does upon a man. + </p> + <p> + When Hiram spoke to the beast it came to the fence with a friendly forward + thrust of its ears, and the confidence of a horse that has been kindly + treated and looks upon even a strange human as a friend. + </p> + <p> + It was a strong and well-shaped animal, more than twelve years old, as + Hiram discovered when he opened the creature's mouth, but seemingly sound + in limb. Nor was he too large for work on the cultivator, while sturdy + enough to carry a single plow. + </p> + <p> + Hiram passed him over with a satisfactory pat on the nose and turned to + look at the white-faced cow that had so terrified Mrs. Atterson. She + wasn't a bad looking beast, either, and would freshen shortly. Her calf + would be worth from twelve to fifteen dollars if Mrs. Atterson did not + wish to raise it. Another future asset to mention to the old lady when he + returned. + </p> + <p> + The youth turned his attention to the buildings themselves—the barn, + the cart shed, the henhouse, and the smaller buildings. That famous old + decorating firm of Wind & Weather had contracted for all painting done + around the Atterson place for the many years; but the buildings were not + otherwise in a bad state of repair. + </p> + <p> + A few shingles had been blown off the roofs; here and there a board was + loose. With a hammer and a few nails, and in a few hours, many of these + small repairs could be accomplished. And a coat or two of properly mixed + and applied whitewash would freshen up the whole place and—like + charity—cover a multitude of sins. + </p> + <p> + Henry bade him good-bye now, they shook hands, and Hiram agreed to let his + new friend know at once if he decided to come with Mrs. Atterson to the + farm. + </p> + <p> + “We can have heaps of fun—you and me,” declared Henry. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't so bad,” soliloquized the young farmer when he was alone. + “There'd be time to put the buildings and fences in good shape before the + spring work came on with a rush. There's fertilizer enough in the barnyard + and the pig pen and the hen run—with the help of a few pounds of + salts and some bone meal, perhaps—to enrich a right smart kitchen + garden and spread for corn on that four acre lot yonder. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, this land up here on the hill needs humus. If it has been + cropped on shares, as Henry says, all the enrichment it has received has + been from commercial fertilizers. And necessarily they have made the land + sour. It probably needs lime badly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can't encourage Mrs. Atterson to look for a profit in anything + this year. It will take a year to get that rich bottom into shape for—for + what, I wonder? Onions? Celery? It would raise 'em both. I'll think about + that and look over the market prospects more fully before I decide.” + </p> + <p> + For already, you see, Hiram had come to the decision that this old farm + could be made to pay. Why not? The true farmer has to have imagination as + well as the knowledge and the perseverance to grow crops. He must be able + in his mind's eye to see a field ready for the reaping before he puts in a + seed. + </p> + <p> + He did not go to the house on this occasion, but after casually examining + the tools and harness, and the like, left by the old man, he cut off + across the upper end of the farm and gave the neglected open fields of + this upper forty a casual examination. + </p> + <p> + “If she had the money to invest, I'd say buy sheep and fence these fields + and so get rid of the weeds. They've grown very foul through neglect, and + cultivating them for years would not destroy the weeds as sheep would in + two seasons. + </p> + <p> + “But wire fencing is expensive—and so are good sheep to begin with. + No. Slow but sure must be our motto. I mustn't advise any great outlay of + money—that would scare her to death. + </p> + <p> + “It will be hard enough for her to put out money all season long before + there are any returns. We'll go, slow,” repeated Hiram. + </p> + <p> + But when he left the farm that afternoon he went swiftly enough to + Scoville and took the train for the not far distant city of Crawberry. + This was Tuesday evening and he arrived just about supper time at Mrs. + Atterson's. + </p> + <p> + The reason for Hiram's absence, and the matter of Mrs. Atterson's legacy + altogether, had been kept from the boarders. And there was no time until + after the principal meal of the day was off the lady's mind for Hiram to + say anything to her. + </p> + <p> + “She's a good old soul,” thought Hiram. “And if it's in my power to make + that farm pay, and yield her a competency for her old age, I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he was not losing sight of the fact that there was something due + to him in this matter. He was bound to see that he got his share—and + a just share—of any profits that might accrue from the venture. + </p> + <p> + So, after the other boarders had scattered, and Mrs. Atterson had eaten + her own late supper, and Sister was swashing plates and knives and forks + about in a big pan of hot water in the kitchen sink, (between whiles doing + her best to listen at the crack of the door) the landlady and Hiram Strong + threshed out the project fully. + </p> + <p> + It was not all one-sided; for Mrs. Atterson, after all, had been + bargaining all her life and could see the “main chance” as quickly as the + next one. She had not bickered with hucksters, chivvied grocerymen, fought + battles royal with butchers, and endured the existence of a Red Indian + amidst allied foes for two decades without having her wits ground to a + razor edge. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Hiram Strong, although a boy in years, had been his own + master long enough to take care of himself in most transactions, and + withal had a fund of native caution. They jotted down memoranda of the + points on which they were agreed, which included the following: + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson, as “party of the first part”, agreed to board Hiram until + the crops were harvested the second year. In addition she was to pay him + one hundred dollars at Christmas time this first year, and another hundred + at the conclusion of the agreement—i. e., when the second year's + crop was harvested. + </p> + <p> + Beside, of the estimated profits of the second year's crop, Hiram was to + have twenty-five per cent. This profit was to be that balance in the + farm's favor (if such balance there was) over and above the actual cost of + labor, seed, and such purchased fertilizer or other supplies as were + necessary. Mrs. Atterson agreed likewise to supply one serviceable horse + and such tools as might be needed, for the place was to be run as “a + one-horse farm.” + </p> + <p> + On the other hand Hiram agreed to give his entire time to the farm, to + work for Mrs. Atterson's interest in all things, to make no expenditures + without discussing them first with her, and to give his best care and + attention generally to the farm and all that pertained thereto. Of course, + the old lady was taking Hiram a good deal on trust. But she had known the + boy almost two years and he had been faithful and prompt in discharging + his debts to her. + </p> + <p> + But it was up to the young fellow to “make good.” He could not expect to + make any profit for his employer the first year; but he would be expected + to do so the second season, or “show cause.” + </p> + <p> + When these matters were all discussed and the little memorandum signed, + Hiram Strong, in his own room, thought the situation over very seriously. + He was facing the biggest responsibility that he had obliged to assume in + his whole life. + </p> + <p> + This was no boyish job; it was man's work. He had put his hand to an + agreement that might influence his whole future, and certainly would make + or break his credit as a trustworthy youth and one of his word. + </p> + <p> + During these past days Hiram had determined to “get back to the soil” and + to get back to it in a business-like way. He desired to make good for Mrs. + Atterson so that he might some time have the chance to make good for + somebody else on a bigger scale. + </p> + <p> + He did not propose to be “a one-horse farmer” all his days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + </h2> + <p> + On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's hands. On + Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at it. They came again on + Thursday and again on Friday. + </p> + <p> + Friday being considered an “unlucky” day they did not bind the bargain; + but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers of the house were to + take possession in a week. Not until then were the boarders informed of + Mother Atterson's change of circumstances, and the fact that she was going + to graduate from the boarding house kitchen to the farm. + </p> + <p> + After all, they were sorry—those light-headed, irresponsible young + men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, who could not + easily remember some special kindness that marked the old lady's + intercourse with him. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had changed + hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild gabble of voices, + over the supper table that night. Crackit led the chorus. + </p> + <p> + “It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many cattle to the + highest bidder. Ungrateful—right down ungrateful, I call it,” he + declared. “What do you say, Feeble?” + </p> + <p> + “It is particularly distasteful to me just now,” complained the invalid. + “When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at just the right + temperature,” and he took a sip of that innocent beverage. “Don't you + suppose we could prevail upon the old lady to renig?” + </p> + <p> + “She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of the time she + stays,” declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. “She's got nothing to + lose now. She don't care if we all up and leave—after she gets + hers.” + </p> + <p> + “That's always the way,” feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. “Just as soon as I + really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, something happens.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly ten years. + Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place. + </p> + <p> + The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism for the + mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said nothing whatever; + even his usual mumblings to himself were not heard. + </p> + <p> + He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table when all + the others had departed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson started into the dining-room with her own supper between two + plates when she saw the old man sitting there despondent in looks and + attitude, his head resting on one clawlike hand, his elbow on the soiled + table cloth. + </p> + <p> + He did not look up, nor move. The mistress glanced back over her shoulder, + and there was Sister, sniffling and occasionally rubbing her wrist into + her red eyes as she scraped the tower of plates from the dinner table. + </p> + <p> + “My soul and body!” gasped Mother Atterson, almost dropping her supper on + the floor. “There's Sister—and there's Old Lem Camp! Whatever will I + do with 'em?” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Hiram Strong had already left for the farm on the Wednesday + previous. The other boarders knew nothing about his agreement with Mother + Atterson; he had agreed to go to the place and begin work, and take care + of the stock and all, “choring for himself”, as the good lady called it, + until she could complete her city affairs and move herself and her + personal chattels to the farm. + </p> + <p> + Hiram bore a note to the woman who had promised to care for the Atterson + place, and money to pay her what the boarding-house mistress had agreed. + </p> + <p> + “You can 'bach' it in the house as well as poor old Uncle Jeptha did, I + reckon,” this woman told the youth. + </p> + <p> + She showed him where certain provisions were—the pork barrel, ham + and bacon of the old man's curing, and the few vegetables remaining from + the winter's store. + </p> + <p> + “The cow was about gone dry, anyway,” said the woman, Mrs. Larriper, who + was a widow and lived with her married daughter some half-mile down the + road toward Scoville, “so I didn't bother to milk her. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to go to town to buy grain, if you want to feed her up—and + for the chickens and the horse. The old man didn't make much of a crop + last year—or them shiftless Dickersons didn't make much for him. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Sam Dickerson around here this morning. He borrowed some of the old + man's tools when Uncle Jeptha was sick, and you'll have to go after 'em, I + reckon. + </p> + <p> + “Sam's the best borrower that ever was; but he never can remember to bring + things back. He says it's bad enough to have to borrow; it's too much to + expect the same man to return what he borrows. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Dickerson,” pursued Mrs. Larriper, “was as nice a girl before + she married—she was a Stepney—as ever walked in shoe-leather. + And I guess she'd be right friendly with the neighbors if Sam would let + her. + </p> + <p> + “But the poor thing never gits to go out—no, sir! She's jest tied to + the house. They lost a child once—four year ago. That's the only + time I remember of seeing Sarah Stepney in church since the day she was + married—and she's got a boy—Pete—as old as you be. + </p> + <p> + “Now, on the other side o' ye there's Darrell's tract, and you won't have + no trouble there, for there ain't a house on his place, and he lets it lie + idle. Waiting for a rise in price, I 'spect. + </p> + <p> + “Some rich folks is comin' in and buying up pieces of land and making what + they calls 'gentlemen's estates' out o' them. A family named Bronson—Mr. + Stephen Bronson, with one little girl—bought the Fleigler place only + last month. + </p> + <p> + “They're nice folks,” pursued this amiable but talkative lady, “and they + don't live but a mile or so along the Scoville road. You passed the place—white, + with green shutters, and a water-tower in the back, when you walked up.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it,” said Hiram, nodding. + </p> + <p> + “They're western folk. Come clear from out in Injiany, or Illiny, or the + like. The girl's going to school and she ain't got no mother, so her + father's come on East with her to be near the school. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can't help you no more. Them hens! Well, I'd sell 'em if I was + Mis' Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “Hens ain't much nowadays, anyhow; and I expect a good many of those are + too old to lay. Uncle Jeptha couldn't fuss with chickens, and he didn't + raise only a smitch of 'em last year and the year before—just them + that the hens hatched themselves in stolen nests, and chanced to bring up + alive. + </p> + <p> + “You better grease the cart before you use it. It's stood since they + hauled in corn last fall. + </p> + <p> + “And look out for Dickerson. Ask him for the things he borrowed. You'll + need 'em, p'r'aps, if you're goin' to do any farmin' for Mis' Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + She bustled away. Hiram thought he had heard enough about his neighbors + for a while, and he went out to look over the pasture fencing, which was + to be his first repair job. He would have that ready to turn the cow and + her calf into as soon as the grass began to grow. + </p> + <p> + He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half workshop in + Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a pair of wire + cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. + </p> + <p> + With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which was likewise + the pasture fence on the west side, between Mrs. Atterson's and + Dickerson's. + </p> + <p> + Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire. In other places the + wires had sagged and were loose. The claw-hammer fixed these like a charm. + Slipping the wire into the claw, a single twist of the wrist would usually + pick up the sag and make the wire taut again at that point. + </p> + <p> + He drove a few staples, as needed, as he walked along. The pasture partook + of the general conformation of the farm—it was rather long and + narrow. + </p> + <p> + It had grown to clumps of bushes in spots, and there was sufficient shade. + But he did not come to the water until he reached the lower end of the + lot. + </p> + <p> + The branch trickled from a spring, or springs, farther east. It made an + elbow at the corner of the pasture—the lower south-west corner—and + there a water-hole had been scooped out at some past time. + </p> + <p> + This waterhole was deep enough for all purposes, and was shaded by a great + oak that had stood there long before the house belonging to Jeptha + Atterson had been built. + </p> + <p> + Here Hiram struck something that puzzled him. The boundary fence crossed + this water-hole at a tangent, and recrossed to the west bank of the + outflowing branch a few yards below, leaving perhaps half of the + water-hole upon the neighbor's side of the fence. + </p> + <p> + Some of this wire at the water-hole was practically new. So were the + posts. And after a little Hiram traced the line of old postholes which had + followed a straight line on the west side of the water-hole. + </p> + <p> + In other words, this water-privilege for Dickerson's land was of recent + arrangement—so recent indeed, that the young farmer believed he + could see some fresh-turned earth about the newly-set posts. + </p> + <p> + “That's something to be looked into, I am afraid,” thought Hiram, as he + moved along the southern pasture fence. + </p> + <p> + But the trickle of the branch beckoned him; he had not found the + fountain-head of the little stream when he had walked over a part of the + timbered land with Henry Pollock, and now he struck into the open woods + again, digging into the soil here and there with his heavy boot, marking + the quality and age of the timber, and casting-up in his mind the + possibilities and expense of clearing these overgrown acres. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Atterson may have a very valuable piece of land here in time,” + muttered Hiram. “A sawmill set up in here could cut many a hundred + thousand feet of lumber—and good lumber, too. But it would spoil the + beauty of the farm.” + </p> + <p> + However, as must ever be in the case of the utility farm, the house was + set on its ugliest part. The cleared fields along the road had nothing but + the background of woods on the south and east to relieve their monotony. + </p> + <p> + On the brow of the steeper descent, which he had noted on his former visit + to the back end of the farm, he found a certain clearing in the wood. Here + the pines surrounded the opening on three sides. + </p> + <p> + To the south, through a break in the wooded hillside, he obtained a + far-reaching view of the river valley as it lay, to the east and to the + west. The prospect was delightful. + </p> + <p> + Here and there, on the farther bank of the river, which rose less abruptly + there than on this side, lay several cheerful looking farmsteads. The + white dwellings and outbuildings dotted the checkered fields of green and + brown. + </p> + <p> + Cowbells tinkled in the distance, for the weather tempted farmers to let + their cattle run in the pastures even so early in the season. A horse + whinnied shrilly to a mate in a distant field. + </p> + <p> + The creaking of the heavy wheels of a laden farm-cart was a mellow sound + in Hiram's ears. Beyond a fir plantation, high on the hillside, the + sharply outlined steeple of a little church lay against the soft blue + horizon. + </p> + <p> + “A beauty-spot!” Hiram muttered. “What a site for a home! And yet people + want to build their houses right on an automobile road, and in sight of + the rural mail box!” + </p> + <p> + His imagination began to riot, spurred by the outlook and by the nearer + prospect of wood and hillside. The sun now lay warmly upon him as he sat + upon a stump and drank in the beauty of it all. + </p> + <p> + After a time his ear, becoming attuned to the multitudinous voices of the + wood, descried the silvery note of falling water. He arose and traced the + sound. + </p> + <p> + Less than twenty yards away, and not far from the bluff, a vigorous + rivulet started from beneath the half-bared roots of a monster beech, and + fell over an outcropping boulder into a pool so clear that sand on its + bottom, worked mysteriously into a pattern by the action of the water, lay + revealed. + </p> + <p> + Hiram knelt on a mossy rock beside the pool, and bending put his lips to + the water. It was the sweetest, most satisfying drink, he had imbibed for + many a day. + </p> + <p> + But the morning was growing old, and Hiram wanted to trace the farther + line of the farm. He went down to the river, crossed the open meadow again + where they had built the campfire the morning before, and found the deeply + scarred oak which stood exactly on the boundary line between the Atterson + and Darrell tracts. + </p> + <p> + He turned to the north, and followed the line as nearly as might be. The + Darrell tract was entirely wooded, and when he reached the uplands he kept + on in the shadowy aisles of the sap-pines which covered his neighbor's + property. + </p> + <p> + He came finally to where the ground fell away again, and the yellow, + deeply-rutted road lay at his feet. The winter had played havoc with the + automobile track. + </p> + <p> + The highway was unfenced and the bank dropped fifteen feet to the beaten + path. A leaning oak overhung the road and Hiram lingered here, lying on + its broad trunk, face upward, with his hat pulled over his eyes to shield + them from the sunlight which filtered through the branches. + </p> + <p> + This land hereabout was beautiful. The boy could appreciate the beauty as + well as the utility of the soil. It was so pleasing to the eye that he + wished with all his heart it had been his own land he had surveyed. + </p> + <p> + “And I'll not be a tenant farmer all my life, nor a farm-foreman, as + father was,” determined the boy. “I'll get ahead. If I work for the + benefit of other people for a few years, surely I'll win the chance in + time to at last work for myself.” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of his ruminations a sound broke upon his ear—a jarring + note in the peaceful murmur of the woodland life. It was the thud of a + horse's hoofs. + </p> + <p> + Not the sedate tunk-tunk of iron-shod feet on the damp earth, but an + erratic and rapid pounding of hoof-beats which came on with such startling + swiftness that Hiram sat up instantly, and craned his neck to see up the + road. + </p> + <p> + “That horse is running away!” gasped the young farmer, and he swung + himself out upon the lowest branch of the leaning tree which overhung the + carttrack, the better to see along the highway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + </h2> + <p> + There was no bend in the highway for some distance, but the overhanging + trees masked the track completely, save for a few hundred yards. The + horse, whether driven or running at large, was plainly spurred by fright. + </p> + <p> + Into the peacefulness of this place its hoof-beats were bringing the + element of peril. + </p> + <p> + Lying prostrate on the sloping trunk, Hiram could see much farther up the + road. The outstretched head and lathered breast of a tall bay horse leaped + into view, and like a picture in a kinetoscope, growing larger and more + vivid second by second, the maddened animal came down the road. + </p> + <p> + Hiram could see that the beast was not riderless, but it was a moment or + two—a long-drawn, anxious space of heart-beaten seconds—ere he + realized what manner of rider it was who clung so desperately to the + masterless creature. + </p> + <p> + “It's a girl—a little girl!” gasped Hiram. + </p> + <p> + She was only a speck of color, with white, drawn face, on the back of the + racing horse. + </p> + <p> + Every plunge of the oncoming animal shook the little figure as though it + must fall from the saddle. But Hiram could see that she hung with + phenomenal pluck to the broken bridle and to the single horn of her + side-saddle. + </p> + <p> + If the horse fell, or if she were shaken free, she would be flung to + instant death, or be fearfully bruised under the pounding hoofs of the big + horse. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer's appreciation of the peril was instant; unused as he was + to meeting such emergency, there was neither panic nor hesitancy in his + actions. + </p> + <p> + He writhed farther out upon the limb of the leaning oak until he was + direct above the road. The big bay naturally kept to the middle, for there + was no obstruction in its path. + </p> + <p> + To have dropped to the highway would have put Hiram to instant + disadvantage; for before he could have recovered himself after the drop + the horse would have been upon him. + </p> + <p> + Now, swinging with both legs wrapped around the tough limb, and his left + hand gripping a smaller branch, but with his back to the plunging brute, + the youth glanced under his right armpit to judge the distance and the + on-rush of the horse and its helpless rider. + </p> + <p> + He knew she saw him. Swift as was the steed's approach, Hiram had seen the + change come into the expression of the girl's face. + </p> + <p> + “Clear your foot of the stirrup!” he shouted, hoping the girl would + understand. + </p> + <p> + With a confusing thunder of hoofbeats the bay came on—was beneath + him—had passed! + </p> + <p> + Hiram's right arm shot out, curved slightly, and as his fingers gripped + her sleeve, the girl let go. She was whisked out of the saddle and the + horse swept on without her. + </p> + <p> + The strain of the girl's slight weight upon his arm lasted but a moment, + for Hiram let go with his feet, swung down, and dropped. + </p> + <p> + They alighted in the roadway with so slight a jar that he scarcely + staggered, but set the girl down gently, and for the passing of a breath + her body swayed against him, seeking support. + </p> + <p> + Then she sprang a little away, and they stood looking at each other—Hiram + panting and flushed, the girl with wide-open eyes out of which the terror + had not yet faded, and cheeks still colorless. + </p> + <p> + So they stood, for fully half a minute, speechless, while the thunder of + the bay's hoofs passed further and further away and finally was lost in + the distance. + </p> + <p> + And it wasn't excitement that kept the boy dumb; for that was all over, + and he had been as cool as need be through the incident. But it was + unbounded amazement that made him stare so at the slight girl confronting + him. + </p> + <p> + He had seen her brilliant, dark little face before. Only once—but + that one occasion had served to photograph her features on his memory. + </p> + <p> + For the second time he had been of service to her; but he knew instantly—and + the fact did not puzzle him—that she did not recognize him. + </p> + <p> + It had been so dark in the unlighted side street back in Crawberry the + evening of their first meeting that Hiram believed (and was glad) that + neither she nor her father would recognize him as the boy who had kept + their carriage from going into the open ditch. + </p> + <p> + And he had played rescuer again—and in a much more heroic manner. + This was the daughter of the man whom he had thought to be a prosperous + farmer, and whose card Hiram had lost. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped the gentleman might have a job for him; but now Hiram was not + looking for a job. He had given himself heartily to the project of making + the old Atterson farm pay; nor was he the sort of fellow to show + fickleness in such a project. + </p> + <p> + Before either Hiram or the girl broke the silence—before that + silence could become awkward, indeed—there started into hearing the + ring of rapid hoofbeats again. But it was not the runaway returning. + </p> + <p> + The mate of the latter appeared, and he came jogging along the road, very + much in hand, the rider seemingly quite unflurried. + </p> + <p> + This was a big, ungainly, beak-nosed boy, whose sleeves were much too + short, and trousers-legs likewise, to hide Nature's abundant gift to him + in the matter of bone and knuckle. He was freckled and wore a grin that + was not even sheepish. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, this stolidity and inappreciation of the peril the girl had so + recently escaped, made Hiram feel sudden indignation. + </p> + <p> + But the girl herself took the lout to task—before Hiram could say a + word. + </p> + <p> + “I told you that horse could not bear the whip, Peter!” she exclaimed, + with wrathful gaze. “How dared you strike him?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw—I only touched him up a bit,” drawled the youth. “You said you + could ride anything, didn't you?” and his grin grew wider. “But I see ye + had to get off.” + </p> + <p> + Here Hiram could stand it no longer, and he blurted out: + </p> + <p> + “She might have been killed! I believe that horse is running yet——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why didn't you stop it?” demanded the other youth, “impudently. You + had a chance.” + </p> + <p> + “He saved me,” cried the girl, looking at Hiram now with shining eyes. “I + don't know how to thank him.” + </p> + <p> + “He might have stopped the horse while he was about it,” growled the + fellow, picking up his own reins again. “Now I'll have to ride after it.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better,” said the little lady, sharply. “If father knew that horse + had run away with me he would be dreadfully put out. You hurry after him, + Peter.” + </p> + <p> + The lout never said a word in reply, but his horse carried him swiftly out + of sight in the wake of the runaway. Then the girl turned again to Hiram + and the young farmer knew that he was being keenly examined by her bright + black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I am very sure father will not keep him,” declared the girl, looking at + Hiram thoughtfully. “He is too careless—and I don't like him, + anyway. Do you live around here?” + </p> + <p> + “I expect to,” replied Hiram, smiling. “I have just come. I am going to + stay at this next house, along the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! where the old gentleman died last week?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Mrs. Atterson was left the place by her uncle, and I am going to run + it for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! then you've got a place to work?” queried the little lady, with + plain disappointment in her tone. “I am sure father would like to have you + instead of Peter.” + </p> + <p> + But Hiram shook his head slowly, though still smiling, + </p> + <p> + “I'm obliged to you,” he said; “but I have agreed to stop with Mrs. + Atterson for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “I want father to meet you just the same,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + She had a way about her that impressed Hiram with the idea that she seldom + failed in getting what she wanted. If she was not a spoiled child, she + certainly was a very much indulged one. + </p> + <p> + But she was pretty! Dark, petite, with a brilliant smile, flashing eyes, + and a riot of blue-black curls, she was verily the daintiest and prettiest + little creature the young farmer had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + “I am Lettie Bronson,” she said, frankly. “I live down the road toward + Scoville. We have only just come here.” + </p> + <p> + “I know where you live,” said Hiram, smiling and nodding. + </p> + <p> + “You must come and see us. I want you to know father. He's the very nicest + man there is, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “He came all the way East here so as to live near my school—I go to + the St. Beris school in Scoville. It's awfully nice, and the girls are + very fashionable; but I'd be too lonely to live if daddy wasn't right near + me all the time. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” she asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Hiram told her. + </p> + <p> + “Why! that's a regular farmer's name, isn't it—Hiram?” and she + laughed—a clear and sweet sound, that made an inquisitive squirrel + that had been watching them scamper away to his hollow, chattering. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” returned the young farmer, shaking his head and + smiling. “I ought by good rights to be 'a worker in brass', according to + the Bible. That was the trade of Hiram, of the tribe of Naphtali, who came + out of Tyre to make all the brass work for Solomon's temple.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! and there was a King Hiram, of Tyre, too, wasn't there,” cried + Lettie, laughing. “You might be a king, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems to be an unprofitable trade now-a-days,” returned the young + fellow, shaking his head. “I think I will be the namesake of Hiram, the + brass-smith, for it is said of him that he was 'filled with wisdom and + understanding' and that is what I want to be if I am going to run Mrs. + Atterson's farm and make it pay.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a funny boy,” said the girl, eyeing him furiously. “You're—you're + not at all like Pete—or these other boys about Scoville.” + </p> + <p> + “And that Pete Dickerson isn't any good at all! I shall tell daddy all + about how he touched up that horse and made him run. Here he comes now!” + </p> + <p> + They had been walking steadily along the road toward the Atterson house, + and in the direction the runaway had taken. Pete Dickerson appeared, + riding one of the bays and leading the one that had been frightened. + </p> + <p> + The latter was all of a lather, was blowing hard, and before the horses + reached them, Hiram saw that the runaway was in bad shape. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” he cried to the lout. “Breathe that horse a while. Let him + stand. He ought to be rubbed down, too. Don't you see the shape he is in?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what's eatin' you?” demanded Pete, eyeing the speaker with much + disfavor. + </p> + <p> + The horse, when he stopped, was trembling all over. His nostrils were + dilated and as red as blood, and strings of foam were dripping from his + bit. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him stand there in the shade,” spoke Hiram, more “mildly. He'll + take a chill. Here! let me have him.” + </p> + <p> + He approached the still frightened horse, and Pete jerked the bridle-rein. + The horse started back and snorted. + </p> + <p> + “Stand 'round there, ye 'tarnal nuisance!” exclaimed Pete. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram caught the bridle and snatched it from the other fellow's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Just let me manage him a minute,” said Hiram, leading the horse into the + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + He patted him, and soothed him, and the horse ceased trembling and his + ears pricked up. Hiram, still keeping the reins in his hand, loosened the + cinches and eased the saddle so that the animal could breathe better. + </p> + <p> + There were bunches of dried sage-grass growing by the roadside, and the + young farmer tore off a couple of these bunches and used them to wipe down + the horse's legs. Pretty soon the creature forgot his fright and looked + like a normal horse again. + </p> + <p> + “If he was mine I'd give him whip a-plenty—till he learned better,” + drawled Pete Dickerson, finally. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you ever dare touch him with the whip again!” cried the girl, + stamping her foot. “He will not stand it. You were told——” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, well,” said the fellow, “'I didn't think he was going to cut up as + bad as that. These Western horses ain't more'n half broke, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is perfectly safe for you to ride now, Miss Bronson,” said + Hiram, quietly. “I'll give you a hand up. But walk him home, please.” + </p> + <p> + He had tightened the cinches again. Lettie put her tiny booted foot in his + hand (she wore a very pretty dark green habit) and with perfect ease the + young farmer lifted her into the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye—and thank you again!” she said, softly, giving him her + free hand just as the horse started. + </p> + <p> + “Say! you're the fellow who's going to live at Atterson's place?” observed + Pete. “I'll see you later,” and he waved his hand airily as he rode off. + </p> + <p> + “So that's Pete Dickerson, is it?” ruminated Hiram, as he watched the + horses out of sight. “Well, if his father, Sam, is anything like him, we + certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + </h2> + <h3> + That afternoon Hiram hitched up the old horse and drove into town. + </h3> + <p> + He went to see the lawyer who had transacted Uncle Jeptha Atterson's small + business in the old man's lifetime, and had made his will—Mr. + Strickland. Hiram judged that this gentleman would know as much about the + Atterson place as anybody. + </p> + <p> + “No—Mr. Atterson never said anything to me about giving a neighbor + water-rights,” the lawyer said. “Indeed, Mr. Atterson was not a man likely + to give anything away—until he had got through with it himself. + </p> + <p> + “Dickerson once tried to buy a right at that corner of the Atterson + pasture; but he and the old gentleman couldn't come to terms. + </p> + <p> + “Dickerson has no water on his place, saving his well and his rights on + the river. It makes it bad for him, I suppose; but I do not advise Mrs. + Atterson to let that fence stand. Give that sort of a man an inch and + he'll take a mile.” + </p> + <p> + “But what shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + “That's professional advice, young man,” returned the lawyer, “smiling. + But I will give it to you without charge. + </p> + <p> + “Merely go and pull the new posts up and replace them on the line. If + Dickerson interferes with you, come to me and we'll have him bound over + before the Justice of the Peace. + </p> + <p> + “You represent Mrs. Atterson and are within her rights. That's the best I + can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Now, Hiram was not desirous of starting any trouble—legal or + otherwise—with a neighbor; but neither did he wish to see anybody + take advantage of his old boarding mistress. He knew that, beside farming + for her, he would probably have to defend her from many petty annoyances + like the present case. + </p> + <p> + So he bought the wire he needed for repairs, a few other things that were + necessary, and drove back to the farm, determined to go right ahead and + await the consequences. + </p> + <p> + Among his purchases was an axe. In the workshop on the farm was a fairly + good grindstone; only the treadle was broken and Hiram had to repair this + before he could make much headway in grinding the axe. Henry Pollock lived + too far away to be called upon in such a small emergency. + </p> + <p> + Being obliged to work alone sharpens one's wits. The young farmer had to + resort to shifts and expedients on every hand, as he went along. + </p> + <p> + The day before, while wandering in the wood, he had marked several white + oaks of the right size for posts. He would have preferred cedars, of + course; but those trees were scarce on the Atterson tract—and they + might be needed for some more important job later on. + </p> + <p> + When he came up to the house at noon to feed the stock and make his own + frugal meal in the farm house kitchen, the posts were cut. After dinner he + harnessed the horse to the farm wagon, and went down for the posts, taking + the rolls of wire along to drop beside the fence. + </p> + <p> + The horse was a steady, willing creature, and seemed to have no tricks. He + did not drive very well on the road, of course; but that wasn't what they + needed a horse for. + </p> + <p> + Driving was a secondary matter. + </p> + <p> + Hiram loaded his posts and hauled them to the pasture, driving inside the + fence line and dropping a post wherever one had rotted out. + </p> + <p> + Yet posts that had rotted at the ground were not so easy to draw out, as + the young farmer very well knew, and he set his wits to work to make the + removal of the old posts easy of accomplishment. + </p> + <p> + He found an old, but strong, carpenter's horse in the shed, to act as a + fulcrum, and a seasoned bar of hickory as a lever. There was never an old + farm yet that didn't have a useful heap of junk, and Hiram had already + scratched over Uncle Jeptha's collection of many years' standng. + </p> + <p> + He found what he sought in a wrought iron band some half inch in thickness + with a heavy hook attached to it by a single strong link. He fitted this + band upon the larger end of the hickory bar, wedging it tightly into + place. + </p> + <p> + A short length of trace chain completed his simple post-puller. And he + could easily carry the outfit from place to place as it was needed. + </p> + <p> + When he found a weak or rotting post, he pulled the staples that held the + strands of wire to it and and then set the trestle alongside the post. + Resting the lever on the trestle, he dropped the end link of the chain on + the hook, looped the chain around the post, and hooked on with another + link. Bearing down on the lever brought the post out of the ground every + time. + </p> + <p> + With a long-handled spade Hiram cleaned out the old holes, or enlarged + them, and set his new posts, one after the other. He left the wires to be + tightened and stapled later. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the next afternoon that he worked down as far as the + water-hole. Meanwhile he had seen nothing of the neighbors and neither + knew, nor cared, whether they were watching him or not. + </p> + <p> + But it was evident that the Dickersons had kept tabs on the young farmer's + progress, for, he had no more than pulled the posts out of the water-hole + and started to reset them on the proper line, than the long-legged Pete + Dickerson appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, you!” shouted Pete. “What are you monkeying with that line fence + for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I won't have time to fix it later,” responded Hiram, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Fresh Ike, ain't yer?” demanded young Dickerson. + </p> + <p> + He was half a head taller than Hiram, and plainly felt himself safe in + adopting bullying tactics. + </p> + <p> + “You put them posts back where you found 'em and string the wires again in + a hurry—or I'll make yer.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Mrs. Atterson's fence,” said Hiram, quietly. “I have made + inquiries about the line, and I know where it belongs.” + </p> + <p> + “No part of this water-hole belongs on your side of the fence, Dickerson, + and as long as I represent Mrs. Atterson it's not going to be grabbed.” + </p> + <p> + “Say! the old man gave my father the right to a part of this hole long + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Show your legal paper to that effect,” promptly suggested Hiram. “Then we + will let it stand until the lawyers decide the matter.” + </p> + <p> + Pete was silent for a minute; meanwhile Hiram continued to dig his hole, + and finally set the first post into place. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you to take that post out o' there, Mister,” exclaimed Pete, + suddenly approaching the other. “I don't like you, anyway. You helped git + me turned off up there to Bronson's yesterday. If you wouldn't have put + your fresh mouth in about the horse that gal wouldn't have knowed so much + to tell her father. Now you stop foolin' with this fence or I'll lick + you.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram Strong's disposition was far from being quarrelsome. He only laughed + at first and said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, that won't do you any good in the end, Peter. Thrashing me won't + give you and your father the right to usurp rights at this water-hole. + </p> + <p> + “There was very good reason, as I can see, for old Mr. Atterson refusing + to let you water your stock here. In time of drouth the branch probably + furnished no more water than his own cattle needed. And it will be the + same with my employer.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better have less talk about it, and set back them posts,” declared + Pete, decidedly, laying off his coat and pulling up his shirt sleeves. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't try anything foolish, Peter,” said Hiram, resting on his + shovel handle. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” grunted Pete, eyeing him sideways as might an evil-disposed dog. + </p> + <p> + “We're not well matched,” observed Hiram, quietly, “and whether you + thrashed me, or I thrashed you, nothing would be proved by it in regard to + the line fence.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you what I can prove!” cried Pete, and rushed for him. + </p> + <p> + In a catch-as-catch-can wrestle Pete Dickerson might have been able to + overturn Hiram Strong. But the latter did not propose to give the + long-armed youth that advantage. + </p> + <p> + He dropped the spade, stepped nimbly aside, and as Pete lunged past him + the young farmer doubled his fist and struck his antagonist solidly under + the ear. + </p> + <p> + That was the only blow struck—that and the one when Pete struck the + ground. The bigger fellow rolled over, grunted, and gazed up at Hiram with + amazement struggling with the rage expressed in his features. + </p> + <p> + “I told you we were not well matched, Peter,” spoke Hiram, calmly. “Why + fight about it? You have no right on your side, and I do not propose to + see Mrs. Atterson robbed of this water privilege.” + </p> + <p> + Pete climbed to his feet slowly, and picked up his coat. He felt of his + neck carefully and then looked at his hand, with the idea evidently that + such a heavy blow must have brought blood. But of course there was none. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell my dad—that's what I'll do,” ejaculated the bully, at + length, and he started immediately across the field, his long legs working + like a pair of tongs in his haste to get over the ground. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram completed the setting of the posts at the water-hole without + hearing further from any member of the Dickerson family. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE UPROOTING + </h2> + <p> + These early Spring days were busy ones for Hiram Strong. The mornings were + frosty and he could not get to his fencing work until midforenoon. But + there were plenty of other tasks ready to his hand. + </p> + <p> + There were two south windows in the farmhouse kitchen. He tried to keep + some fire in the stove there day and night, sleeping as he did in Uncle + Jeptha's old bedroom nearby. + </p> + <p> + Before these two windows he erected wide shelves and on these he set + shallow boxes of rich earth which he had prepared under the cart shed. + There was no frost under there, the earth was dry and the hens had + scratched in it during the winter, so Hiram got all the well-sifted earth + he needed for his seed boxes. + </p> + <p> + He used a very little commercial fertilizer in each box, and planted some + of the seeds he had bought in Crawberry at an agricultural warehouse on + Main Street. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson had expressed the hope that he would put in a variety of + vegetables for their own use, and Hiram had followed her wishes. When the + earth in the boxes had warmed up for several days he put in the + long-germinating seeds, like tomato, onions, the salads, leek, celery, + pepper, eggplant, and some beet seed to transplant for the early garden. + It was too early yet to put in cabbage and cauliflower. + </p> + <p> + These boxes caught the sun for a good part of the day. In the afternoon + when the sun had gone, Hiram covered the boxes with old quilts and did not + uncover them again until the sun shone in the next morning. He had decided + to start his early plants in this way because he hadn't the time at + present to build frames outside. + </p> + <p> + During the early mornings and late afternoons, too, he began to make the + small repairs around the house and outbuildings. Hiram was handy with + tools; indeed, a true farmer should be a good mechanic as well. He must + often combine carpentry and wheelwrighting and work at the forge, with his + agricultural pursuits. Hiram was something better than a “cold-iron + blacksmith.” + </p> + <p> + When it came to stretching the wire of the pasture fence he had to resort + to his inventive powers. There are plenty of wire stretchers that can be + purchased; but they cost money. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer knew that Mrs. Atterson had no money to waste, and he + worked for her just as he would have worked for himself. + </p> + <p> + One man working alone cannot easily stretch wire and make a good job of it + without some mechanism to help him. Hiram's was simple and easily made. + </p> + <p> + A twelve-inch section of perfectly round post, seven or eight inches + through, served as the drum around which to wind the wire, and two + twenty-penny nails driven into the side of the drum, close together, were + sufficient to prevent the wire from slipping. + </p> + <p> + To either end of the drum Hiram passed two lengths of Number 9 wire + through large screweyes, making a double loop into which the hook of a + light timber chain would easily catch. Into one end of the drum he drove a + headless spike, upon which the hand-crank of the grindstone fitted, and + was wedged tight. + </p> + <p> + In using this ingenious wire stretcher, he stapled his wire to post number + one, carried the length past post number two, looped the chain around post + number three, having the chain long enough so that he might tauten the + wire and hold the crankhandle steady with his knee or left arm while he + drove the holding staple in post number two. And so repeat, ad infinitum. + </p> + <p> + After he had made this wire-stretcher the young fellow got along famously + upon his fencing and could soon turn his attention to other matters, + knowing that the cattle would be perfectly safe in the pasture for the + coming season. + </p> + <p> + The old posts he collected on the wagon and drew into the dooryard, piling + them beside the woodshed. There was not an overabundant supply of firewood + cut and Hiram realized that Mrs. Atterson would use considerable in her + kitchen stove before the next winter, even if she did not run a sitting + room fire for long this spring. + </p> + <p> + Using a bucksaw is not only a thankless job at any time, but it is no + saving of time or money. There was a good two-handed saw in the shed and + Hiram found a good rat-tail file. With the aid of a home-made saw-holder + and a monkey wrench he sharpened and set this saw and then got Henry + Pollock to help him for a day. + </p> + <p> + Henry wasn't afraid of work, and the two boys sawed and split the old and + well-seasoned posts, and some other wood, so that Hiram was enabled to + pile several tiers of stove-wood under the shed against the coming of Mrs. + Atterson to her farm. + </p> + <p> + “If the season wasn't so far advanced, I could cut a lot of wood, draw it + up, and hire a gasoline engine and saw to come on the place and saw us + enough to last a year. I'll do that next winter,” Hiram said. + </p> + <p> + “That's what we all ought to do,” agreed his friend. + </p> + <p> + Henry Pollock was an observing farmer's boy and through him Hiram gained + many pointers as to the way the farmers in that locality put in their + crops and cultivated them. + </p> + <p> + He learned, too, through Henry who was supposed to be the best farmer in + the neighborhood, who had special success with certain crops, and who had + raised the best seedcorn in the locality. + </p> + <p> + It was not particularly a trucking community; although, since Scoville had + begun to grow so fast and many city people had moved into that pleasant + town, the local demand for garden produce had increased. + </p> + <p> + “It used to be a saying here,” said Henry, “that a bushel of winter + turnips would supply all the needs of Scoville. But that ain't exactly so + now. + </p> + <p> + “The stores all want green stuff in season, and are beginning to pay cash + for truck instead of only offering to exchange groceries for the stuff we + raise. I guess if a man understood truck raising he could make something + in this market.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram decided that this was so, on looking over the marketing + possibilities of Scoville. + </p> + <p> + There was a canning factory which put up string beans, corn, and tomatoes; + but the prices per hundred-weight for these commodities did not encourage + Hiram to advise Mrs. Atterson to try and raise anything for the canneries. + A profit could not be made out of such crops on a one-horse farm. + </p> + <p> + For instance, the neighboring farmers did not plant their tomato seeds + until it was pretty safe to do so in the open ground. The cannery did not + want the tomato pack to come on until late in August. By that time the + cream of the prices for garden-grown tomatoes had been skimmed by the + early truckers. + </p> + <p> + The same with sweet corn and green beans. The cannery demanded these + vegetables at so late a date that the market-price was generally low. + </p> + <p> + These facts Hiram bore in mind as he planned his season's work, and + especially the kitchen garden. This latter he planned to be about two + acres in extent—rather a large plot, but he proposed to set his rows + of almost every vegetable far enough apart to be worked with a horse + cultivator. + </p> + <p> + Some crops—for instance onions, carrots, and other “fine stuff”—must + be weeded by hand to an extent, and if the soil is rich enough rows twelve + or fifteen inches apart show better results. + </p> + <p> + Between such rows a wheelhoe can be used to good advantage, and that was + one tool—with a seed-sowing combination—that Hiram had told + Mrs. Atterson she must buy if he was to practically attend to the whole + farm for her. Hand-hoeing, in both field and garden crops, is + antediluvian. + </p> + <p> + Thus, during this week and a half of preparation, Hiram made ready for the + uprooting of Mrs. Atterson from the boarding house in Crawberry to the + farm some distance out of Scoville. + </p> + <p> + The good lady had but one wagon load of goods to be transferred from her + old quarters to the new home. Many of the articles she brought were + heirlooms which she had stored in the boarding house cellar, or articles + associated with her happy married life, which had been shortened by her + husband's death when he was comparatively a young man. + </p> + <p> + These Mrs. Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday morning, and + she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside the driver herself and + riding with him all the way. + </p> + <p> + The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two spinster ladies + had already taken possession, and had served breakfast to the disgruntled + members of Mother Atterson's family. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be back again,” prophesied Mr. Crackit, shaking the old lady by + the hand. “And when you do, just let me know. I'll come and board with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have you in my house again, Fred Crackit, for two farms,” + declared the ex-boarding house keeper, with asperity. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you told these people about my hot water, Mrs. Atterson,” croaked + Mr. Peebles, from the step, where he stood muffled in a shawl because of + the raw morning air. + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't you can tell 'em yourself,” returned she, with satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + And so it went—the good-byes of these unappreciative boarders + selfish to the last! Mother Atterson sighed—a long, happy, and + satisfying sigh—when the lumbering wagon turned the first corner. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be!” she murmured. “I sha'n't care if they don't have a driblet of + gravy at supper tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Then she shook herself and stared straight ahead. On the very next corner—she + had insisted that none of the other people at the house should observe + their flitting—stood two figures, both forlorn. + </p> + <p> + Old Lem Camp, with a lean suit-case at his feet, and Sister with a bulging + carpetbag which she had brought with her months before from the charity + institution, and into which she had stuffed everything she owned in the + world. + </p> + <p> + Their faces brightened perceptibly when they beheld Mrs. Atterson perched + high beside the driver on the load of furniture and bedding. The driver + drew in his span of big horses and the wheels grated against the curb. + </p> + <p> + “You climb right in behind, Mr. Camp,” said the good lady. “There's room + for you up under the canvas top—and I had him spread a mattress so't + you can take it easy all the way, if you like. + </p> + <p> + “Sister, you scramble up here and sit in betwixt me and this man. And do + look out—you're spillin' things out o' that bag like it was a + Christmas cornucopia. Come on, now! Toss it behind us, onto them other + things. There! we'll go on—and no more stops, I hope, till we reach + the farm.” + </p> + <p> + But that couldn't be. It was a long drive, and the man was good to his + team. He rested them at the top of every hill, and sometimes at the + bottom. They had to stop two hours for dinner and to “breathe 'em,” as the + man said. + </p> + <p> + At that time Mother Atterson produced a goodsized market basket—her + familiar companion when she had hunted bargains in the city—and it + was filled with sandwiches, and pickles, and crackers, and cookies, and a + whole boiled fowl (fowl were cheaper and more satisfying than the scrawny + chickens then in market) and hard-boiled eggs, and cheese, with numbers of + other less important eatables tucked into corners of the basket to “wedge” + the larger packages of food. + </p> + <p> + The four picnicked in the sun, with the furniture wagon to break the keen + wind, passing around hot coffee in a can, from hand to hand, the driver + having built a campfire to heat the coffee beside the country road. + </p> + <p> + But after that stop—for they were well into the country now—there + was no keeping Sister on the wagon-seat. She had learned to drop down and + mount again as lively as a cricket. + </p> + <p> + She tore along the edge of the road, with her hair flying, and her hat + hanging by its ribbons. She chased a rabbit, and squirrels, and picked + certain green branches, and managed to get her hands and the front of her + dress all “stuck up” with spruce gum in trying to get a piece big enough + to chew. + </p> + <p> + “Drat the young'un!” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “I can see plainly I'd + never ought to brought her, but should have sent her back to the + institution. She'll be as wild as Mr. March's hare—whoever he was—out + here in the country.” + </p> + <p> + But Old Lem Camp gave her no trouble. He effaced himself just as he had at + the boarding house supper table. He seldom spoke—never unless he was + spoken to; and he lay up under the roof of the furniture wagon, whether + asleep, or no, Mrs. Atterson could not tell. + </p> + <p> + “He's as odd as Dick's hat-band,” the ex-boarding house mistress confided + to the driver. “But, bless you! the easiest critter to get along with—you + never saw his beat. If I'd a house full of Lem Camps to cook for, I'd + think I was next door to heaven.” + </p> + <p> + It was dusk when they arrived in sight of the little house beside the road + in which Uncle Jeptha Atterson had lived out his long life. Hiram had a + good fire going in both the kitchen and sitting room, and the lamplight + flung through the windows made the place look cheerful indeed to the + travelers. + </p> + <p> + “My soul and body!” croaked the good lady, when she got down from the + wagon and Hiram caught her in his arms to save her from a fall. “I'm as + stiff as a poker—and that's a fact. But I'm glad to get here.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram's amazement when he saw Sister and Old Lem Camp was only expressed + in his look. He said nothing. The driver of the wagon backed it to the + porch step and then took out his team and, with Hiram's help, led them to + the stable, fed them, and bedded them down for the night. He was to sleep + in one of the spare beds and go back to town the following day. + </p> + <p> + Mother Atterson took off her best dress, slipped into a familiar old + gingham and bustled around the kitchen as naturally as though she had been + there all her life. + </p> + <p> + She fried ham and eggs, and made biscuit, and opened a couple of tins of + peaches she had brought, and finally set before them a repast satisfying + if not dainty, and seasoned with a cheerful spirit at least. + </p> + <p> + “I vum!” she exclaimed, sitting down for the first time in years “at the + first table.” “If this don't beat Crawberry and them boarders, I'm crazy + as a loon. Pour the coffee, Sister—and don't be stingy with the + milk. Milk's only five cents a quart here, and it's eight in town. But, + gracious, child! sugar don't cost no less.” + </p> + <p> + Old Lem Camp sat beside Hiram, as he had at the boarding-house table. He + had scarcely spoken since his arrival; but now, under cover of the talk of + Mother Atterson, the driver of the furniture van, and Sister, he began one + of his old-time monologues: + </p> + <p> + “Old, old—nothing to look forward to—then the prospect opens + up—just like light breaking through the clouds after a storm—let's + see; I want a piece of bread—bread's on Sister's side—I can + reach it—hum! no Crackit to-night—fool jokes—silly + fellow—ah! the butter—Where's the butterknife?—Sister's + forgotten the butter-knife—no! here 'tis—That woman's an angel—nothing + less—an angel in a last season's bonnet and a shabby gown—Hah! + practical angels couldn't use wings—they'd be in the way in the + kitchen—ham and eggs—gravy—fit for gods to eat—and + not to worry again where next week's victuals are to come from!” + </p> + <p> + Hiram noted all the old mail said, and the last phrase enlightened him + immensely as to why Old Lem Camp was so “queer.” That was the trouble on + the old man's mind—the trouble that had stifled him, and made him + appear “half cracked” as the boarding-house jester and Peebles had said. + </p> + <p> + Lem Camp, too old to ever get another job in the city, had for five years + been worrying from day to day about his bare existence. And evidently he + saw that bogie of the superannuated disappearing in the distance. + </p> + <p> + After the truck driver had gone to bed, and Camp himself, and Sister had + fallen asleep over the last of the dish-wiping, Mother Atterson confided + in Hiram, to a degree. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this gal can be made useful. She can help me in the house, and she + can help outside, too. + </p> + <p> + “She's a poor, unfortunate creature—I know and humbly is no name for + her looks! But mebbe we can send her to the school nearby, and she ought + to get some color in her face if she's out o' doors some—and some + flesh on her skinny body. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as I could get along without Sister,” ruminated Mother + Atterson, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “And as for Lem Camp—bless you! he won't eat more'n a fly, and who + else would give him houseroom? Why, Hiram, I just had to bring him with + me. If I hadn't, I'd felt just as conscience-stricken as though I'd moved + and left a cat behind in an empty house!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + </h2> + <p> + Mother Atterson had breakfast the next morning by lamplight, because the + truckman wanted to make an early start. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had already begun early rising, however, for the farmer who does not + get up before the sun in the spring needs must do his chores at night by + lantern-light. The eight-hour law can never be a rule on the farm. + </p> + <p> + But Sister was up, too, and out of the house, running as wild as a rabbit. + Hiram caught her in the barnyard trying to clamber on the cow's back to + ride her about the enclosure. Sister was afraid of nothing that lived and + walked, having all the courage of ignorance. + </p> + <p> + She found that she could not in safety clamber over the pig-lot fence and + catch one of the shoats. Old Mother Hog ran at her with open mouth and + Sister came back from that expedition with a torn frock and some new + experience. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew anything so fat could run,” she confided to Hiram. “Old + Missus Poundly, who lived on our block, and weighed three hundred pounds, + couldn't run, I bet!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Camp was not disturbed by Mrs. Atterson, but was allowed to sleep as + long as he liked, while she kept a little breakfast hot for him and the + coffeepot on the back of the stove. + </p> + <p> + The old lady became interested at once in all Hiram had done toward + beginning the spring work. She learned about the seed in the window boxes + (some of them were already breaking the soil) about watering them and + covering them properly and immediately took those duties off Hiram's + hands. + </p> + <p> + “If Sister an' me can't do the light chores around this place and leave + you to 'tend to the bigger things, then we ain't no good and had better go + back to the boarding house,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mis' Atterson! You wouldn't go back to town, would you?” pleaded + Sister. “Why, there's real hens—and a cow that will give milk + bimeby, Hi says—and a horse that wiggles his ears and talks right + out loud when he's hungry, for I heard him—and pigs that squeal and + run, an' they're jest as fat as butter——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to stay here we've all got to work, Sister,” declared her mistress. + “So get at them dishes now and be quick about it. There's forty times more + chores to do here than there was back in Crawberry—But, thanks be! + there ain't no gravy to worry about.” + </p> + <p> + “And there ain't no boarders to make fun of me,” said Sister, + thoughtfully. Then, she announced, after some rumination: “I like pigs + better than I do boarders Mis' Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should think you would!” exclaimed that lady, tartly. “Pigs has + got some sense.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram laughed at this. “You'll find the pigs demanding gravy, just the + same—and very urgent about it they are, too,” he told them. + </p> + <p> + But he was glad to give the small chores over into their hands, and went + to work immediately to prepare for putting in the early crops. + </p> + <p> + He had already cleared the rubbish off the piece of ground selected for + the garden, and had burned it. He hauled out stable manure from the + barnyard and gave an acre and a half of this piece of land a good + dressing. + </p> + <p> + The other half-acre was for early potatoes, and he wished to put the + manure in the furrow for them, so did not top dress that strip of land. + The frost was pretty well out of the ground by now; but even if some + remained, plowing this high, well-drained piece would do no harm. Beside, + Hiram was eager to get in early crops. + </p> + <p> + It was a still, hazy morning when he geared the old horse to the plow and + headed him into the garden piece. He had determined to plow the entire + plot at once, and instead of plowing “around and around” had paced off his + lands and started in the middle, plowing “gee” instead of “haw”. + </p> + <p> + This system is a bit more particular, and hard for the careless plowman; + but it overcomes that unsightly “dead-furrow” in the middle of a field and + brings the “finishing-furrow” on the edge. This insures better surface + drainage and is a more scientific method of tillage. + </p> + <p> + The plow was rusty and the point was not in the very best condition; but + after the first few rounds the share was cleaned off, and it began to slip + through the moist earth and roll it over in a long, brown ribbon behind + him. + </p> + <p> + Hiram Strong clung to the plow handles, a rope-rein in each hand, and + watched the plow and the horse and the land ahead with an eye as keen as + that of a river-pilot. + </p> + <p> + As the strip of turned earth grew wider and longer Sister ran out to see + him work. She watched the plow turn the mulch into the furrow and lay the + brown, greasy mold upon it, with wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” cried she, “wouldn't it be nice if we could go right along with a + plow and bury our past like that—cover everything mean and nasty up, + and forget it! That institution they put me in—and the old woman I + lived with before that, who drank so much gin and beat me—and the + boarders—and that boy who used to pull my braids whenever he met me—My + that would be fine!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that is what Life does do for us,” returned Hiram, thoughtfully, + stopping at the end of the furrow to mop his brow and let the old horse + breathe. “Yes, sir! Life plows all the experience under, and it ought to + enrich our future existence, just as this stuff I'm plowing under here + will decay and enrich the soil.” + </p> + <p> + “But the plow don't turn it quite under in spots,” said Sister, with a + sigh. “Leastways, I can't help remembering the bad things once in a + while.” + </p> + <p> + There were certain other individuals who found out very soon that Hiram + was plowing, too. Those were the hens. There were not more than fifteen or + twenty of the scrubby creatures, and they began to follow the plow and + pick up grubs and worms. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you one thing that I've got to do before we put in much,” Hiram + told the ex-boarding house mistress at noon. + </p> + <p> + “What's that, Hi? Don't go very deep down into my pocket, for it won't + stand it. After paying my bills, and paying for moving out here, I ain't + got much money left—and that's a fact!” + </p> + <p> + “It won't cost much, but we've got to have a yard for the hens. Hens and a + garden will never mix successfully. Unless you enclose them you might as + well have no garden in that spot where I'm plowing.” + </p> + <p> + “There warn't but five eggs to-day,” said Mrs. Atterson. “Mebbe we'd + better chop the heads off 'em, one after the other, and eat 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll lay better as it grows warmer. That henhouse must be fixed before + next winter. It's too draughty,” said Hi. “And then, hens can't lay well—especially + through the winter—if they haven't the proper kind of food.” + </p> + <p> + “But three or four of the dratted things want to stay on the nest all the + time,” complained the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “If I was you, Mrs. Atterson,” Hiram said, soberly, “I'd spend five + dollars for a hundred eggs of well-bred stock. + </p> + <p> + “I'd set these hens as fast as they get broody, and raise a decent flock + of biddies for next year. Scrub hens are just as bad as scrub cows. The + scrubs will eat quite as much as full-bloods, yet the returns from the + scrubs are much less.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Atterson, “a hen's always been just a hen to + me—one's the same as another, exceptin' the feathers on some is + prettier.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night I'll show you some breeders' catalogs and you can think the + matter over as to what kind of a fowl you want,” said the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + He went back to his job after dinner and kept steadily at work until three + o'clock before there came a break. Then he saw a carriage drive into the + yard, and a few moments later a man In a long gray coat came striding + across the lot toward him. + </p> + <p> + Hiram knew the gentleman at once—it was Mr. Bronson, the father of + the girl he had saved from the runaway. To tell the truth, the boy had + rather wondered about his non-appearance during the days that had elapsed. + But now he came with hand held out, and his first words explained the + seeming omission: + </p> + <p> + “I've been away for more than a week, my boy, or I should have seen you + before. You're Hiram Strong, aren't you—the boy my little girl has + been talking so much about?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how much Miss Lettie has been talking about me,” laughed + Hiram. “Full and plenty, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “And small blame to her,” declared Mr. Bronson. “I won't waste time + telling you how grateful I am. I had just time to turn that boy of + Dickerson's off before I was called away. Now, my lad, I want you to come + and work for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, much as I might like to, sir, I couldn't do that,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now! we'll fix it somehow. Lettie has set her heart on having you + around the place. + </p> + <p> + “You're the second young man I've been after whom I was sure would suit + me, since we moved on to the old Fleigler place. The first fellow I can't + find; but don't tell me that I am going to be disappointed in you, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bronson,” said Hiram, gravely, “I'm sorry to say 'No.' A little while + ago I'd have been delighted to take up with any fair offer you might have + made me. But I have agreed with Mrs. Atterson to run her place for two + seasons.” + </p> + <p> + “Two years!” exclaimed Mr. Bronson. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Practically. I must put her on her feet and make the old farm + show a profit.” + </p> + <p> + “You're pretty young to take such responsibility upon your shoulders, are + you not?” queried the gentleman, eyeing him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I'm seventeen. I began to work with my father as soon as I could lift a + hoe. I love farm work. And I've passed my word to stick to Mrs. Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the old lady up to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But she wouldn't hold you to your bargain if she saw you could better + yourself, would she?” + </p> + <p> + “She would not have to,” Hiram said, firmly, and he began to feel a little + disappointed in his caller. “A bargain's a bargain—there's no + backing out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose I should make it worth her while to give you up?” pursued Mr. + Bronson. “I'll sound her a bit, eh? I tell you that Lettie has set her + heart on having you, as we cannot find another chap whom we were looking + for.” + </p> + <p> + Now, Hiram knew that this referred to him; but he said nothing. Besides, + he did not feel too greatly pleased that the strongest reason for Mr. + Bronson's wishing to hire him was his little daughter's demand. It was + just a fancy of Miss Lettie's. And another day, she might have the fancy + to turn him off. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” spoke Hiram, more firmly. “It is useless. I am obliged to you; + but I must stick by Mrs. Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lad,” said the Westerner, putting out his hand again. “I am glad + to see you know how to keep a promise, even if it isn't to your advantage. + And I am grateful to you for turning that trick for my little girl the + other day.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you'll come over and see us—and I shall watch your work + here. Most of these fellows around here are pretty slovenly farmers in my + estimation; I hope you will do better than the average.” + </p> + <p> + He went back across the field and Hiram returned to his plowing. The young + farmer saw the bay horses driven slowly out of the yard and along the + road. + </p> + <p> + He saw the flutter of a scarf from the carriage and knew that Lettie + Bronson was with her father; but she did not look out at him as he toiled + behind the old horse in the furrow. + </p> + <p> + However, there was no feeling of disappointment in Hiram Strong's mind—and + this fact somewhat surprised him. He had been so attracted by the girl, + and had wished in the beginning so much to be engaged by Mr. Bronson, that + he had considered it a mighty disappointment when he had lost the + Westerner's card. + </p> + <p> + However, his apathy in the matter was easily explained. He had taken hold + of the work on the Atterson place. His plans were growing in his mind for + the campaign before him. His interest was fastened upon the contract he + had made with the old lady. + </p> + <p> + His hand was, literally now, “to the plow”—and he was not looking + back. + </p> + <p> + He finished the piece that day, and likewise drew out some lime that he + had bought at Scoville and spread it broadcast upon all the garden patch + save that in which he intended to put potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Although it is an exploded doctrine that the application of lime to potato + ground causes scab, it is a fact that it will aid in spreading the + disease. Hiram was sure enough—because of the sheep-sorrel on the + piece—that it all needed sweetening, but he decided against the lime + at this time. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Hiram had drag-harrowed the piece he laid off two rows down the + far end, as being less tempting to the straying hens, and planted early + peas—the round-seeded variety, hardier than the wrinkled kinds. + These pea-rows were thirty inches apart, and he dropped the peas by hand + and planted them very thickly. + </p> + <p> + It doesn't pay to be niggardly with seed in putting in early peas, at any + rate—the thicker they come up the better, and in these low bush + varieties the thickly growing vines help support each other. + </p> + <p> + This garden piece—almost two acres—was oblong in shape. An + acre is just about seventy paces square. Hiram's garden was seventy by a + hundred and forty paces, or thereabout. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, the young farmer had two seventy-yard rows of peas, or over + four hundred feet of drill. He planted two quarts of peas at a cost of + seventy cents. + </p> + <p> + With ordinary fortune the crop should be much more than sufficient for the + needs of the house while the peas were in a green state, for being a quick + growing vegetable, they are soon past. + </p> + <p> + Hiram, however, proposed putting in a surplus of almost everything he + planted in this big garden—especially of the early vegetables—for + he believed that there would be a market for them in Scoville. + </p> + <p> + The ground was very cold yet, and snow flurries swept over the field every + few days; but the peas were under cover and were off his mind; Hiram knew + they would be ready to pop up above the surface just as soon as the warm + weather came in earnest, and peas do not easily rot in the ground. + </p> + <p> + In two weeks, or when the weather was settled, he proposed planting other + kinds of peas alongside these first two rows, so as to have a succession + up to mid-summer. + </p> + <p> + Next the young farmer laid off his furrows for early potatoes. He had + bought a sack of an extra-early variety, yet a potato that, if left in the + ground the full length of the season, would make a good winter variety—a + “long keeper.” + </p> + <p> + His potato rows he planned to have three feet apart, and he plowed the + furrows twice, so as to have them clean and deep. + </p> + <p> + Henry Pollock happened to come by while he was doing this, and stopped to + talk and watch Hiram. To tell the truth, Henry and his folks were more + than a little interested in what the young farmer would do with the + Atterson place. + </p> + <p> + Like other neighbors they doubted if the stranger knew as much about the + practical work of farming as he claimed to know. “That feller from the + city,” the neighbors called Hiram behind his back, and that is an + expression that completely condemns a man in the mind of the average + countryman. + </p> + <p> + “What yer bein' so particular with them furrers for, Hiram?” asked Henry. + </p> + <p> + “If a job's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well, isn't it?” laughed + the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “We spread our manure broadcast—when we use any at all—for + potatoes,” said Henry, slowly. “Dad says if manure comes in contact with + potatoes, they are apt to rot.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems to be a general opinion,” replied Hiram. “And it may be so + under certain conditions. For that reason I am going to make sure that not + much of this fertilizer comes in direct contact with my seed.” + </p> + <p> + “How'll you do that?” “I'll show you,” said Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Having run out his rows and covered the bottom of each furrow several + inches deep with the manure, he ran his plow down one side of each furrow + and turned the soil back upon the fertilizer, covering it and leaving a + well pulverized seed bed for the potatoes to lie in. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Henry, “that's a good wrinkle, too.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram had purchased some formalin, mixed it with water according to the + Government expert's instructions, and from time to time soaked his seed + potatoes two hours in the antiseptic bath. In the evening he brought them + into the kitchen and they all—even Old Lem Camp—cut up the + potatoes, leaving two or three good eyes in each piece. + </p> + <p> + “I'd ruther do this than peel 'em for the boarders,” remarked Sister, + looking at her deeply-stained fingers reflectively. “And then, nobody + won't say nothin' about my hands to me when I'm passin' dishes at the + table.” + </p> + <p> + The following day she helped Hiram drop the seed, and by night he had + covered them by running his plow down the other side of the row and then + smoothed the potato plat with a home-made “board” in lieu of a + land-roller. + </p> + <p> + It was the twentieth of March, and not a farmer in the locality had yet + put in either potatoes, or peas. Some had not as yet plowed for early + potatoes, and Henry Pollock warned Hiram that he was “rushing the season.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” declared the young farmer to Mrs. Atterson. “But I believe + the risk is worth taking. If we do get 'em good, we'll get 'em early and + skim the cream of the local market. Now, you see!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE BREWS + </h2> + <p> + “Old Lem Camp,” as he had been called for so many years that there seemed + no disrespect in the title, was waking up. Not many mornings was he a + lie-abed. And the lines in his forehead seemed to be smoothing out, and + his eyes had lost something of their dullness. + </p> + <p> + It was true that, at first, he wandered about the farmstead muttering to + himself in his old way—an endless monologue which was a jumble of + comment, gratitude, and the brief memories of other days. It took some + time to adjust his poor mind to the fact that he had no longer to fear + that Poverty which had stalked ever before him like a threatening spirit. + </p> + <p> + Gratitude spurred him to the use of his hands. He was not a broken man—not + bodily. Many light tasks soon fell to his share, and Mrs. Atterson told + Hiram and Sister to let him do what he would. To busy himself would be the + best thing in the world for the old fellow. + </p> + <p> + “That's what's been the matter with Mr. Camp for years,” she declared, + with conviction. “Because he passed the sixty-year mark, and it was + against the practise of the paper company to keep employees on the payroll + over that age, they turned Lem Camp off. + </p> + <p> + “Ridiculous! He was just as well able to do the tasks that he had learned + to do mechanically as he had been any time for the previous twenty years. + He had worked in that office forty years, and more, you understand. + </p> + <p> + “That's the worst thing about a corporation of that kind—it has no + thought beyond its 'rules.' Old Mr. Bundy remembered Lem—that's all. + If he hadn't so much stock in the concern they'd turn him off, too. I + expect he knows it and that's what softened his heart to Old Lem. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let Lem take hold of whatever he can do, and git interested in it,” + declared the practical Mrs. Atterson, “and he'll show you that there's + work left in him yet. Yes-sir-ree-sir! And if he'll work in the open air, + all the better for him.” + </p> + <p> + There was plenty for everybody to do, and Hiram would not say the old man + nay. The seed boxes needed a good deal of attention, for they were to be + lifted out into the air on warm days, and placed in the sun. And Old Lem + could do this—and stir the soil in them, and pull out the grass and + other weeds that started. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had planted early cabbage and cauliflower and egg-plant in other + boxes, and the beets were almost big enough to transplant to the open + ground. Beets are hardy and although hair-roots are apt to form on + transplanted garden beets, the transplanting aids the growth in other ways + and Hiram expected to have table-beets very early. + </p> + <p> + In the garden itself he had already run out two rows of later beets, the + width of the plot. Bunched beets will sell for a fair price the whole + season through. + </p> + <p> + Hiram was giving his whole heart and soul to the work—he was wrapped + up in the effort to make the farm pay. And for good reason. + </p> + <p> + It was “up to him” to not alone turn a profit for his employer, and + himself; but he desired—oh, how strongly!—to show the city + folk who had sneered at him that he could be a success in the right + environment. + </p> + <p> + Besides, and in addition, Hiram Strong was ambitious—very ambitious + indeed for a youth of his age. He wanted to own a farm of his own in time—and + it was no “one-horse farm” he aimed at. + </p> + <p> + No, indeed! Hiram had read of the scientific farming of the Middle West, + and the enormous tracts in the Northwest devoted to grain and other staple + crops, where the work was done for the most part by machinery. + </p> + <p> + He longed to see all this—and to take part in it. He desired the big + things in farming, nor would he ever be content to remain a helper. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to be my own boss, some day—and I'm going to boss other + men. I'll show these fellows around here that I know what I want, and when + I get it I'll handle it right!” Hiram soliloquized. + </p> + <p> + “It's up to me to save every cent I can. Henry thinks I'm niggardly, I + expect, because I wouldn't go to town Saturday night with him. But I + haven't any money to waste. + </p> + <p> + “The hundred I'm to get next Christmas from Mrs. Atterson I don't wish to + draw on at all. I'll get along with such old clothes as I've got.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was not naturally a miser; he frequently bought some little thing + for Sister when he went to town—a hair-ribbon, or the like, which he + knew would please the girl; but for himself he was determined to be + saving. + </p> + <p> + At the end of his contract with Mrs. Atterson he would have two hundred + dollars anyway. But that was not the end and aim of Hiram Strong's hopes. + </p> + <p> + “It's the clause in our agreement about the profits of our second season + that is my bright and shining star,” he told the good lady more than once. + “I don't know yet what we had better put in next year to bring us a + fortune; but we'll know before it comes time to plant it.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the wheel-hoe and seeder he had insisted upon Mrs. Atterson + buying had arrived, and Hiram, after studying the instructions which came + with it, set the machine up as a seed-sower. Later, after the bulk of the + seeds were in the ground, he would take off the seeding attachment and + bolt on the hoe, or cultivator attachments, with which to stir the soil + between the narrower rows of vegetables. + </p> + <p> + As he made ready to plant seeds such as carrot, parsnip, onion, salsify, + and leaf-beet, as well as spring spinach, early turnips, radishes and + kohlrabi, Hiram worked that part of his plowed land over again and again + with the spike harrow, finally boarding the strips down smoothly as he + wished to plant them. The seedbed must be as level as a floor, and + compact, for good use to be made of the wheel-seeder. + </p> + <p> + When he had lined out one row with his garden line, from side to side of + the plowed strip, the marking arrangement attached to his seeder would + mark the following lines plainly, and at just the distance he desired. + </p> + <p> + Onions, carrots, and the like, he put in fifteen inches apart, intending + to do all the cultivating of those extremely small plants with the + wheel-hoe, after they were large enough. But he foresaw the many hours of + cultivating before him and marked the rows for the bulk of the vegetables + far enough apart, as he had first intended, to make possible the use of + the horse-hoe. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he spike-harrowed the potato patch, running cross-wise of the + rows to break the crust and keep down the quick-springing weed seeds. The + early peas were already above ground and when they were two inches high + Hiram ran his 14-tooth cultivator—or “seed harrow” as it is called + in some localities—close to the rows so as to throw the soil toward + the plants, almost burying them from sight again. This was to give the + peas deep rootage, which is a point necessary for the quick and stable + growth of this vegetable. + </p> + <p> + In odd moments Hiram had cut and set a few posts, bought poultry netting + in Scoville, and enclosed Mrs. Atterson's chicken-run. She had taken his + advice and sent for eggs, and already had four hens setting and expected + to set the remainder of the of the eggs in a few days. + </p> + <p> + Sister took an enormous interest in this poultry-raising venture. She + “counted chickens before they were hatched” with a vengeance, and after + reading a few of the poultry catalogs she figured out that, in three + years, from the increase of Mother Atterson's hundred eggs, the + eighty-acre farm would not be large enough to contain the flock. + </p> + <p> + “And all from five dollars!” gasped Sister. “I don't see why everybody + doesn't go to raising chickens—then there'd be no poor folks, + everybody would be rich—Well! I expect there'd always have to be + institutions for orphans—and boarding houses!” + </p> + <p> + The new-springing things from the ground, the “hen industry” and the + repairing and beautifying of the outside of the farmhouse did not take up + all their attention. There were serious matters to be discussed in the + evening, after the others had gone to bed, 'twixt Hiram and his employer. + </p> + <p> + There was the five or six acres of bottom land—the richest piece of + soil of the entire eighty. Hiram had not forgotten this, and the second + Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole family had attended + service at a chapel less than half a mile up the road, he had urged Mrs. + Atterson to walk with him through the timber to the riverside. + </p> + <p> + “For the Land o' Goshen!” the ex-boarding house mistress had finally + exclaimed. “To think that I own all of this. Why, Hi, it don't seem as if + it was so. I can't get used to it. And this timber, you say, is all worth + money? And if I cut it off, it will grow up again——” + </p> + <p> + “In thirty to forty years the pine will be worth cutting again—and + some of the other trees,” said Hiram, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well! that would be something for Sister to look forward to,” said the + old lady, evidently thinking aloud. “And I don't expect her folks—whoever + they be—will ever look her up now, Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + “But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would have a very + valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage—valuable for almost any + crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the sun,” said the young + farmer, ignoring the other's observation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! it's wonderful,” returned Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + But she listened attentively to what he had to say about clearing the + bottom land, which was a much more easily accomplished task, as Hiram + showed her. It would cost something to put the land into shape for late + corn, and so prepare it for some more valuable crop the following season. + </p> + <p> + “Well, nothing ventured, nothing have!” Mrs. Atterson finally agreed. “Go + ahead—if it won't cost much more than what you say to get the corn + in. I understand it's a gamble, and I'm taking a gambler's chance. If the + river rises and floods the corn in June, or July, then we get nothing this + season?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a possibility,” admitted Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead,” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “I never did know that there was + sporting blood in me; but I kinder feel it risin', Hi, with the sap in the + trees. We'll chance it!” + </p> + <p> + Occasionally Hiram had stepped down to the pasture and squinted across to + the water-hole. The grass was not long enough yet to turn the cow into the + field, so he was obliged to make these special trips to the pasture. + </p> + <p> + He had seen nothing of the Dickersons—to speak to, that is—since + his trouble with Pete. And, of a sudden, just before dinner one noon, + Hiram took a look at the pasture and beheld a figure seemingly working + down in the corner. + </p> + <p> + Hiram ran swiftly in that direction. Half-way there he saw that it was + Pete, and that he had deliberately cut out a panel of the fence and was + letting a pair of horses he had been plowing with, drink at the pool, + before he took them home to the Dickerson stable. + </p> + <p> + Hiram stopped running and recovered his breath before he reached the lower + corner of the pasture. Pete saw him coming, and grinned impudently at him. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here, Dickerson?” demanded the young farmer, + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you wanter keep us out, you'd better keep up your fences + better,” returned Pete. “I seen the wires down, and it's handy——” + </p> + <p> + “You cut those wires!” interrupted Hiram, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “You're another,” drawled Pete, but grinning in a way to exasperate the + young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I know you did so.” + </p> + <p> + “Wal, if you know so much, what are you going to do about it?” demanded + the other. “I guess you'll find that these wires will snap 'bout as fast + as you can mend 'em. Now, you can put that in your pipe an' smoke it!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't smoke.” Hiram observed, growing calm immediately. There was + no use in giving this lout the advantage of showing anger with him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Smartie!” snarled Pete Dickerson. “Now, you see, there's somebody + just as smart as you be. These horses have drunk there, and they're going + to drink again.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your father yonder?” demanded Hiram, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Call him over here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if he comes over here, he'll eat you alive!” cried Pete, laughing. + “You don't know my dad.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't; but I want to,” Hiram said, calmly. “That's why you'd better + call him over. I have got pretty well acquainted with you, and the rest of + your family can't be any worse, as I look at it. Call him over,” and the + young farmer stepped nearer to the lout. + </p> + <p> + “You call him yourself!” cried Pete, beginning to back away, for he + remembered how he had been treated at his previous encounter with Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Hiram seized the bridles of the work horses, and shook them out of Pete's + clutch. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your father to come here,” commanded the young farmer, fire in his + eyes. “We'll settle this thing here and now. + </p> + <p> + “These horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land. I know the county stock law as + well as you do. You cut this fence, and your cattle are on her ground. + </p> + <p> + “It will cost you a dollar a head to get them off again—if Mrs. + Atterson wishes to demand it. Now, call your father.” + </p> + <p> + Pete raised a yell which startled the long-legged man striding over the + hill toward the Dickerson farmhouse. Hiram saw the older Dickerson turn, + stare, and then start toward them. + </p> + <p> + Pete continued to beckon, and began to yell: + </p> + <p> + “Dad! Dad! He won't let me have the hosses!” + </p> + <p> + Sam Dickerson came striding down to the waterhole—a lean, long, + sour-looking man he was, with a brown face knotted into a continual scowl, + and hard, bony hands. Yet Hiram was not afraid of him. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble here?” growled the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “He's got the hosses. I told you the fence was down and I was goin' to + water 'em——” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” commanded his father, eyeing Hiram. “I'm talking to this + fellow: What's the trouble here?” + </p> + <p> + “Your horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land,” Hiram said, quietly. “You know + that stock which strays can be held for a dollar a head—damage or no + damage to crops. I warn you, keep your horses on your own land.” + </p> + <p> + “That's your fence; if you don't keep it up, who's fault is it if my + horses get on your land?” growled Dickerson, evidently making the matter a + personal one with Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Your boy here cut the wires.” + </p> + <p> + “No I didn't, Dad!” interposed Pete. + </p> + <p> + Quick as a flash Hiram dropped the bridle reins, sprang for Pete, seized + him in a wrestler's grip, twisted him around, and tore from his pocket a + pair of heavy wire-cutters. + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing with these in your pocket, then?” demanded Hiram, + disdainfully, tossing the plyers upon the ground at Pete's feet, and + stepping back to keep the restless horses from leaving the edge of the + water-hole. + </p> + <p> + Sam Dickerson seemed to take a grim pleasure in his son's overthrow. He + growled: + </p> + <p> + “He's got you there, Pete. You'd better stop monkeyin' around here. Pick + up them bridles and come on.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to depart without another word to Hiram; but the latter did not + propose to be put off that way. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” he called. “Who's going to mend this fence, Mr. Dickerson?” + </p> + <p> + Dickerson turned and eyed him coldly again. + </p> + <p> + “What's that to me? Mend your own fence,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall take these horses up to our barn. You can come and settle + the matter with Mrs. Atterson—unless you wish to pay me two dollars + here and now,” said the young farmer, his voice carrying clearly to where + the man stood upon the rising ground above him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you young whelp!” roared Dickerson, suddenly starting down the + slope. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram Strong neither moved nor showed fear. Somehow, this sturdy young + fellow, in the high laced boots, with his flannel shirt open at the + throat, raw as was the day, his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, was a + figure to make even a more muscular man than Sam Dickerson hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “Pete!” exclaimed the farmer, harshly, still eyeing Hiram. “Run up to the + house and bring my shotgun. Be quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram said never a word, and the horses, yoked together, began to crop the + short grass springing upon the bank of the water-hole. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find out you're fooling with the wrong man, you whippersnapper!” + promised Dickerson. + </p> + <p> + “You can pay me two dollars and I'll mend the fence; or you can mend the + fence and we'll call it square,” said Hiram, slowly, and evenly. “I'm a + boy, but I'm not to be frightened with a threat——” + </p> + <p> + Pete's long legs brought him flying back across the fields. Nothing he had + done in a long while pleased him quite as much as this errand. + </p> + <p> + Hiram turned, jerked at the horses' bridle-reins, turned them around, and + with a sharp slap on the nigh one's flank, sent them both trotting up into + the Atterson pasture. + </p> + <p> + “Stop that, you rascal!” cried Dickerson, grabbing the gun from his + hopeful son, and losing his head now entirely. “Bring that team back!” + </p> + <p> + “You mend the fence, and I will,” declared Hiram, unshaken. + </p> + <p> + The angry man sprang down to his level, flourishing the gun in a way that + would have been dangerous indeed had Hiram believed it to be loaded. And + as it was, the young farmer was very angry. + </p> + <p> + The right was on his side; if he allowed these Dickersons, father and son, + to browbeat him this once, it would only lead to future trouble. + </p> + <p> + This thing had to be settled right here and now. It would never do for + Hiram to show fear. And if both of the long-legged Dickersons pitched upon + him, of course, he would be no match for them. + </p> + <p> + But Sam Dickerson stumbled and almost fell as he reached the edge of the + water-hole, and before he could recover himself, Hiram leaped upon him, + seized the shotgun, and wrenched it from his hands. + </p> + <p> + He reversed the weapon in a flash, clubbed it, and raised it over his head + with a threatening swing that made Pete yell from the top of the bank: + </p> + <p> + “Look out, Dad! He's a-goin' ter swat yer!” + </p> + <p> + Sam tried to scramble out of the way. But down came the gun butt with all + the force of Hiram's good muscle, and—the stock was splintered and + the lock shattered upon the big stone that here cropped out of the bank. + </p> + <p> + “There's your gun—what's left of it,” panted the young farmer, + tossing the broken weapon from him. “Now, don't you ever threaten me with + a gun again, for if you do I'll have you arrested. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to be neighbors, and we've got to get along in a neighborly + manner. But I'm not going to allow you to take advantage of Mrs. Atterson, + because she is a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Dickerson,” he added, as the man scrambled up, glaring at him + evidently with more surprise than anger, “if you'll make Pete mend this + fence, you can have your horses. Otherwise I'm going to 'pound' them + according to the stock law of the county.” + </p> + <p> + “Pete,” said his father, briefly, “go get your hammer and staples and mend + this fence up as good as you found it.” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Hiram, “I'm going home to gear the horse to the wagon, and + I'll drive over to your house, Mr. Dickerson. From time to time you have + borrowed while Uncle Jeptha was alive quite a number of tools. I want + them. I have made inquiries and I know what tools they are. Just be + prepared to put them into my wagon, will you?” + </p> + <p> + He turned on his heel without further words and left the Dickersons to + catch their horses, and to repair the fence—both of which they did + promptly. + </p> + <p> + Not only that, but when Hiram drove into the Dickerson dooryard an hour + later he had no trouble about recovering the tools which the neighbor had + borrowed and failed to return. + </p> + <p> + Pete scowled at him and muttered uncomplimentary remarks; but Sam + phlegmatically smoked his pipe and sat watching the young farmer without + any comment. + </p> + <p> + “And so, that much is accomplished,” ruminated Hiram, as he drove home. + “But I'm not sure whether hostilities are finished, or have just begun.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + </h2> + <p> + “The old Atterson place” as it was called in the neighborhood, began to + take on a brisk appearance these days. Sister, with the help of Old Lem + Camp, had long since raked the dooryard clean and burned the rubbish which + is bound to gather during the winter. + </p> + <p> + Years before there had been flower beds in front; but Uncle Jeptha had + allowed the grass to overrun them. It was a month too early to think of + planting many flowers; but Hiram had bought some seeds, and he showed + Sister how to prepare boxes for them in the sunny kitchen windows, along + with the other plant boxes; and around the front porch he spaded up a + strip, enriched it well, and almost the first seeds put into the ground on + the farm were the sweet peas around this porch. Mother Atterson was very + fond of these flowers and had always managed to coax some of them to grow + even in the boarding-house back yard. + </p> + <p> + At the side porch she proposed to have morning-glories and moon-flowers, + while the beds in front would be filled with those old-fashioned flowers + which everybody loves. + </p> + <p> + “But if we can't make our own flower-beds, we can go without them, Hi,” + said the bustling old lady. “We mustn't take you from your other work to + spade beds for us. Every cat's got to catch mice on this place, now I tell + ye!” + </p> + <p> + And Hiram certainly was busy enough these days. The early seeds were all + in, however, and he had run the seed-harrow over the potato rows again, + lengthwise, to keep the weeds out until the young plants should get a + start. + </p> + <p> + Despite the raw winds and frosts at night, the potatoes had come up well + and, with the steadily warming wind and sun, would now begin to grow. + Other farmers' potatoes in the vicinity were not yet breaking the ground. + </p> + <p> + Early on Monday morning Henry Pollock appeared with bush-axe and grubbing + hoe, and Hiram shouldered similar tools and they started for the river + bottom. It was so far from the house that Mrs. Atterson agreed to send + their dinner to them. + </p> + <p> + “Father says he remembers seeing corn growing on this bottom,” said Henry, + as they set to work, “so high that the ears were as high up as a tall man. + It's splendid corn land—if it don't get flooded out.” + </p> + <p> + “And does the river often over-ran its banks?” queried Hiram, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty frequent. It hasn't yet this year; there wasn't much snow last + winter, you see, and the early spring floods weren't very high. But if we + have a long wet spell, as we do have sometimes as late as July, you'll see + water here.” + </p> + <p> + “That's not very encouraging,” said Hiram. “Not for corn prospects, at + least.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, corn's our staple crop. You see, if you raise corn enough you're + sure of feed for your team. That's the main point.” + </p> + <p> + “But people with bigger farms than they have around here can raise corn + cheaper than we can. They use machinery in harvesting it, too. Why not + raise a better paying crop, and buy the extra corn you may need?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” responded Henry, shaking his head, “nobody around here knows much + about raising fancy crops. I read about 'em in the farm papers—oh, + yes, we take papers—the cheap ones. There is a lot of information in + 'em, I guess; but father don't believe much that's printed.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't believe much that's printed?” repeated Hiram, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. He says it's all lies, made up out of some man's head. You see, we + useter take books out of the Sunday School library, and we had story + papers, too; and father used to read 'em as much as anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But one summer we had a summer boarder—a man that wrote things. He + had one of these dinky little merchines with him that you play on like a + piano, you know——” + </p> + <p> + “A typewriter?” suggested Hiram, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yep. Well, he wrote stories. Father learnt as how all that stuff was just + imaginary, and so he don't take no stock in printed stuff any more.” + </p> + <p> + “That man just sat down at that merchine, and rattled off a story that he + got real money for. It didn't have to be true at all. + </p> + <p> + “So father soured on it. And he says the stuff in the farm papers is just + the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that your father is mistaken there,” said Hiram, hiding his + amusement. “Men who have spent years in studying agricultural conditions, + and experimenting with soils, and seeds, and plants, and fertilizers, and + all that, write what facts they have learned for our betterment. + </p> + <p> + “No trade in the world is so encouraged and aided by Governments, and by + private corporations, as the trade of farming. There is scarcely a State + which does not have a special agricultural college in which there are + winter courses for people who cannot give the open time of the year to + practical experiment on the college grounds. + </p> + <p> + “That is what you need in this locality, I guess,” added Hiram. “Some + scientific farming.” + </p> + <p> + “Book farming, father calls it,” said Henry. “And he says it's no good.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you save your money and take a course next winter in some side + line and so be able to show him that he's wrong?” suggested Hiram. “I want + to do that myself after I have fulfilled my contract with Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “I won't be able to do so next winter, for I shall be on wages. You're + going to be a farmer, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I expect to. We've got a good farm as farms go around here. But it seems + about all we can do to pay our fertilizer bills and get a living off it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you go about fitting yourself for your job?” “asked Hiram. + Be a good farmer—an up-to-date farmer. + </p> + <p> + “No fellow expects to be a machinist, or an electrician, or the like, + without spending some time under good instructors. Most that I know about + soils, and fertilizers, and plant development, and the like, I learned + from my father, who kept abreast of the times by reading and experiment. + </p> + <p> + “You can stumble along, working at your trade of farming, and only half + knowing it all your life; that's what most farmers do, in fact. They are + too lazy to take up the scientific side of it and learn why. + </p> + <p> + “That's the point—learn why you do things that your father did, and + his father did, and his father before him. There's usually good reason why + they did it—a scientific reason which somebody dug out by experiment + ages ago; but you ought to be able to tell why.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that's so,” admitted Henry, as they worked on, side by side. + “But I don't know what father would say if I sprung a college course on + him!” + </p> + <p> + “I'd find out,” returned Hiram, laughing. “You'd better spend your money + that way than for a horse and buggy. That's the highest ambition of most + boys in the country.” + </p> + <p> + The labor of bushing and grubbing these acres of lowland was no light one. + Hiram insisted that every stub and root be removed that a heavy plow could + not tear out. They had made some progress by noon, however, when Sister + came down with their dinner. + </p> + <p> + Hiram built a campfire over which the coffee was re-heated, and the three + ate together, Sister enjoying the picnic to the full. She insisted on + helping in the work by piling the brush and roots into heaps for burning, + and she remained until midafternoon. + </p> + <p> + “I like that Henry boy,” she confided to Hiram. “He don't pull my braids, + or poke fun at me.” + </p> + <p> + But Sister was developing and growing fast these days. She was putting on + flesh and color showed in her cheeks. They were no longer hollow and + sallow, and she ran like a colt-and was almost as wild. + </p> + <p> + The work of clearing the bottom land could not be continued daily; but the + boys got in three full days that week, and Saturday morning. Henry, did + not wish to work on Saturday afternoon, for in this locality almost all + the farmers knocked off work at noon Saturday and went to town. + </p> + <p> + But when Henry shouldered his tools to go home at noon, Sister appeared as + usual with the lunch, and she and Hiram cut fishing rods and planned to + have a real picnic. + </p> + <p> + Trout and mullet were jumping in the pools under the bank; and they caught + several before stopping to eat their own meal. The freshly caught fish + were a fine addition to the repast. + </p> + <p> + They went back to fishing after a while and caught enough for supper at + the farmhouse. Just as they were reeling up their lines the silence of the + place was disturbed by a strange sound. + </p> + <p> + “There's a motorcycle coming!” cried Sister, jumping up and looking all + around. + </p> + <p> + There was a bend in the river below this bottom, and another above; so + they could not see far in either direction unless they climbed to the high + ground. For a minute Hiram could not tell in which direction the sound was + coming; but he knew the steady put-put-put must be the exhaust of a + motor-boat. + </p> + <p> + It soon poked its nose around the lower turn. It was a good-sized boat and + instantly Hiram recognized at least one person aboard. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lettie Bronson, in a very pretty boating costume, was in the bow. + There were half a dozen other girls with her—well dressed girls, who + were evidently her friends from the St. Beris school at Scoville. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh! what a pretty spot!” cried Lettie, on the instant. “We'll go + ashore here and have our luncheon, girls.” + </p> + <p> + She did not see Hiram and Sister for a moment; but the latter tugged at + Hiram's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen that girl before,” she whispered. “She came in the carriage + with the man who spoke to you—you remember? She asked me if I had + always lived in the country, and how I tore my frock.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she pretty?” returned Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Awfully. But I'm not sure that I like her yet.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Lettie saw Hiram and the girl beside him. She started, flushed a + little, and then gave Hiram a cool little nod and turned her gaze from + him. Her manner showed that he was not “down in her good books,” and the + young fellow flushed in turn. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as we'd better try to make the bank here, Miss,” said the + man who was directing the motor-boat. “The current's mighty sharp.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to land here,” said Lettie, decidedly. “It's the prettiest spot + we've seen—isn't it, girls?” + </p> + <p> + Her friends agreed. Hiram, casting a quick eye over the ruffled surface of + the river, saw that the man was right. How well the stream below was + fitted for motor-boating he did not know; but he was pretty sure that + there were too many ledges just under the surface here to make it safe for + the boat to go farther. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to land here-right by that big tree!” commanded Lettie Bronson, + stamping her foot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dunno,” drawled the man; and just then the bow of the boat swung + around, was forced heavily down stream by the current, and slam it went + against a reef! + </p> + <p> + The man shot off the engine instantly. The bow of the boat was lodged on + the rock, and tip-tilted considerably. The girls screamed, and Lettie + herself was almost thrown into the water, for she was standing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. MR. PEPPER APPEARS + </h2> + <p> + But Hiram noted again that Lettie Bronson did not display terror. While + her friends were screaming and crying, she sat perfectly quiet, and for a + minute said never a word. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you back off?” Hi heard her ask the boatman. + </p> + <p> + “Not without lightening her, Miss. And she may have smashed a plank up + there, too. I dunno.” + </p> + <p> + The Western girl turned immediately to Hiram, who had now come to the + bank's edge. She smiled at him charmingly, and her eyes danced. She + evidently appreciated the fact that the young farmer had her at a + disadvantage—and she had meant to snub him. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'll have to help me again, Mr. Strong,” she said. “What will + we do? Can you push out a plank to us, or something?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid not, Miss Bronson,” he returned. “I could cut a pole and reach + it to the boat; but you girls couldn't walk ashore on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! have we got to wade?” cried one of Lettie's friends. + </p> + <p> + “You can't wade. It's too deep between the shore and the boat,” Hiram + said, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Then—then we'll stay here till the tide rises and dr-dr-drowns us!” + wailed another of the girls, giving way to sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a goose, Myra Carroll!” exclaimed Lettie. “If you waited here + for the tide to rise you'd be gray-haired and decrepit. The tide doesn't + rise here. But maybe a spring flood would wash you away.” + </p> + <p> + At that the frightened one sobbed harder than ever. She was one of those + who ever see the dark side of adventure. There was no hope on her horizon. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno what you can do for these girls,” said the man. “I'd git out and + push off the boat, but I don't dare with them aboard.” + </p> + <p> + But Hiram's mind had not been inactive, if he was standing in seeming + idleness. Sister tugged at his sleeve again and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Have they got to stay there and drown, Hi?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” he returned, slowly. “Let's see: this old sycamore leans + right out over them. I can shin up there with the aid of the big + grapevine. Then, if I had a rope——” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I run and get one?” demanded Sister, listening to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” exclaimed Hiram, speaking to the man in the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the fellow. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you got a coil of strong rope aboard?” + </p> + <p> + “There's the painter,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Toss it ashore here,” commanded Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hiram Strong!” cried Lettie. “You don't expect us to walk tightrope, + do you?” and she began to giggle. + </p> + <p> + “No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it clear—that's + it,” said Hiram. “And it's long enough, I can see.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” asked Sister. + </p> + <p> + “Wait and you'll see,” returned the young farmer, hastily coiling the rope + again. + </p> + <p> + He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big sycamore. + He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very quickly, for the huge + grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever are you going to do?” cried Lettie Bronson, looking up at him, + as did the other girls. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which was almost + directly over the stranded launch, “if you girls have any pluck at all, I + can get you ashore, one by one.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?” repeated Lettie. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the line—not + a slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody bearing upon it. This + he dropped down to the boat and Lettie caught it. + </p> + <p> + “Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson,” he + commanded. “Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out of the boat + and swing you back and forth—there's none of you so heavy that I + can't do this, and if you wet your feet a little, what's the odds?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! I can never do that!” squealed one of the other girls. + </p> + <p> + “Guess you'll have to do it if you don't want to stay here all night,” + returned Lettie, promptly. “I see what you want, Hiram,” she added, and + quickly adjusted the loop. + </p> + <p> + “Now, when you swing out over the bank, Sister will grab you, and steady + you. It will be all right if you have a care. Now!” cried Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Lettie Bronson showed no fear at all as he drew her up and she swung out + of the boat over the swiftly-running current. Hiram laid along the + tree-trunk in an easy position, and began swinging the girl at the end of + the rope, like a pendulum. + </p> + <p> + The river bank being at least three feet higher than the surface of the + water; he did not have to shift the rope again as he swung the girl back + and forth. + </p> + <p> + Sister, clinging with her left hand to the grapevine, leaned forward and + clutched Lettie's hand. When she seized it, Sister backed away, and the + swinging girl landed upright upon the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's fun!” Lettie cried, laughing, loosing herself from “the loop. + Now you come, Mary Judson!” + </p> + <p> + Thus encouraged they responded one by one, and even the girl who had + broken down and cried agreed to be rescued by this simple means. The + boatman then, after removing his shoes and stockings and rolling up his + trousers, stepped out upon the sunken rock and pushed off the boat. + </p> + <p> + But it was leaking badly. He dared not take aboard his passengers again, + but turned around and went down stream as fast as he could go so as to + beach the boat in a safe place. + </p> + <p> + “Now how'll we get back to Scoville?” cried one of Lettie's friends. “I + can never walk that far.” + </p> + <p> + Sister had dropped back, shyly, behind Hiram, when he descended the tree. + She had aided each girl ashore; but only Lettie had thanked her. Now she + tugged at Hiram's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Take 'em home in our wagon,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I can take you to Scoville—or to Miss Bronson's—in the farm + wagon,” Hiram said, smiling. “You can sit on straw in the bottom and be + comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a straw ride!” cried Lettie. “What fun! And he can drive us right to + St. Beris—And think what the other girls will say and how they'll + stare!” + </p> + <p> + The idea seemed a happy one to all the girls save the cry-baby, Myra + Carroll. And her complaints were drowned in the laughter and chatter of + the others. + </p> + <p> + Hiram picked up the tools, Sister got the string of fish, and they set out + for the Atterson farmhouse. Lettie chatted most of the way with Hiram; but + to Sister, walking on the other side of the young farmer, the Western girl + never said a word. + </p> + <p> + At the house it was the same. While Hiram was cleaning the wagon and + putting a bed of straw into it, and currying the horse and gearing him to + the wagon, Mrs. Atterson brought a crock of cookies out upon the porch and + talked with the girls from St. Beris. Sister had run indoors and changed + her shabby and soiled frock for a new gingham; but when she came down to + the porch, and stood bashfully in the doorway, none of the girls from town + spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + Hiram drove up with the farm-wagon. Most of the girls had accepted the + adventure in the true spirit now, and they climbed into the wagon-bed on + the clean straw with laughter and jokes. But nobody invited Sister to join + the party. + </p> + <p> + The orphan looked wistfully after the wagon as Hiram drove out of the + yard. Then she turned, with trembling lip, to Mother Atterson: “She—she's + awfully pretty,” she said, “and Hiram likes her. But she—they're all + proud, and I guess they don't think much of folks like us, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Sister! we're just good as they be, every bit,” returned Mrs. + Atterson, bruskly. + </p> + <p> + “I know; mebbe we be,” admitted Sister, slowly. “But it don't feel so.” + </p> + <p> + And perhaps Hiram had some such thought, too, after he had driven the + girls to the big boarding school in Scoville. For they all got out without + even thanking him or bidding him good-bye—all save Lettie. + </p> + <p> + “Really, we are a thousand times obliged to you, Hiram Strong,” she said, + in her very best manner, and offering him her hand. “As the girls were my + guests I felt I must get them home again safely—and you were indeed + a friend in need.” + </p> + <p> + But then she spoiled it utterly, by adding: + </p> + <p> + “Now, how much do I owe you, Hiram?” and took out her purse. “Is two + dollars enough?” This put Hiram right in his place. He saw plainly that, + friendly as the Bronsons were, they did not look upon a common farm-boy as + their equal—not in social matters, at least. + </p> + <p> + “I could not take anything for doing a neighbor a favor, Miss Bronson,” + said Hiram, quietly. “Thank you. Good-day.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram drove back home feeling quite as depressed as Sister, perhaps. + Finally he said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “Well, some day I'll show 'em!” + </p> + <p> + After that he put the matter out of his mind and refused to be troubled by + thoughts of Lettie Bronson, or her attitude toward him. + </p> + <p> + Spring was advancing apace now. Every day saw the development of bud, leaf + and plant. Slowly the lowland was cleared and the brush and roots were + heaped in great piles, ready for the torch. + </p> + <p> + Hiram could not depend upon this six acres as their only piece of corn, + however. There was the four-acre lot between the barnyard and the pasture + in which he proposed to plant the staple crop. + </p> + <p> + He drew out the remainder of the coarse manure and spread it upon this + land, as far as it would go. For enriching the remainder of the corn crop + he would have to depend upon a commercial fertilizer. He drew, too, a + couple of tons of lime to be used on this corn land, and left it in heaps + to slake. + </p> + <p> + And then, out of the clear sky of their progress, came a bolt as + unexpected as could be. They had been less than a month upon the farm. + Uncle Jeptha had not been in his grave thirty days, and Hiram was just + getting into the work of running the place, with success looming ahead. + </p> + <p> + He had refused Mr. Bronson's offer of a position and had elected to stick + by Mrs. Atterson. He had looked forward to nothing to disturb the contract + between them until the time should be fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + Yet one afternoon, while he was at work in the garden, Sister came out to + him all in a flurry. + </p> + <p> + “Mis' Atterson wants you! Mis' Atterson wants you!” cried the girl. “Oh, + Hiram! something dreadful's going to happen. I know, by the way Mis' + Atterson looks. And I don' like the looks o' that man that's come to see + her.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram unhooked the horse at the end of the row and left Sister to lead him + to the stable. He went into the house after knocking the mud off his + boots. + </p> + <p> + There, sitting in the bright kitchen, was the sharp-featured, + snaky-looking man with whom Hiram had once talked in town. He knew his + name was Pepper, and that he did something in the real estate line, and + insurance, and the like. + </p> + <p> + “Jest listen to what this man says, Hiram,” said Mrs. Atterson, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “My name's Pepper,” began the man, eyeing Hiram curiously. + </p> + <p> + “So I hear,” returned the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Before old Mr. Atterson died we got to talking one day when he was in + town about his selling.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” returned Hiram. “You didn't say anything about that when you + offered twelve hundred for this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the man, stubbornly, “that was a good offer.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram turned to Mrs. Atterson. “Do you want to sell for that price?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, Hi,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Then that settles it, doesn't it? Mrs. Atterson is the owner, and she + knows her own mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I made Uncle Jeptha a better offer,” said Mr. Pepper, “and I'll make Mrs. + Atterson the same—sixteen hundred dollars. It's a run-down farm, of + course——” + </p> + <p> + “If Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell,” interrupted Hiram, but here his + employer intervened. + </p> + <p> + “There's something more, Hi,” she said, her face working “strangely. Tell + him, you Pepper!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the old man gave me an option on the place, and I risked a twenty + dollar bill on it. The option had—er—a year to run; dated + February tenth last; and I've decided to take the option up,” said Mr. + Pepper, his shrewd little eyes dancing in their gaze from Hiram to the old + lady and back again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD + </h2> + <p> + Now, a rattlesnake is poisonous, but he gives fair warning; a swamp + moccasin lies in wait for the unwary and strikes without sign or sound. + Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the thought that Mr. Pepper was + striking like his prototype of the swamps. + </p> + <p> + A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper—sly, a hand-rubber as he + talked, with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean mouth. + When he opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked tongue run out. + </p> + <p> + At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was no more + to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take a word that the + man said on trust. + </p> + <p> + He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real estate man had + caused, and he uttered no expression of either surprise, or trouble. Mrs. + Atterson he could see was vastly disturbed by the statement; but somebody + had to keep a cool bead in this matter. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see your option,” Hiram demanded, bruskly. + </p> + <p> + “Why—if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it——” + </p> + <p> + “You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man,” snapped the old lady. “I wouldn't do + a thing without his advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, if you consider a boy's advice material——” + </p> + <p> + “I know Hi's honest,” declared the old lady, tartly. “And that's what I'm + sure you ain't! Besides,” she added, sadly, “Hi's as much interested in + this thing as I be. If the farm's got to be sold, it puts Hi out of a + job.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said the real estate man, and he drew a rather soiled, + folded paper from his inner pocket. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to hesitate the fraction of a second about showing the paper. It + increased Hi's suspicion—this hesitancy. If the man had a perfectly + good option on the farm, why didn't he go about the matter boldly? + </p> + <p> + But when he got the paper in his own hands he could see nothing wrong with + it. It seemed written in straight-forward language, the signatures were + clear enough, and as he had seen and read Uncle Jeptha's will, he was + quite sure that this was the old man's signature to the option which, for + the sum of twenty dollars in hand paid to him, he agreed to sell his farm, + situated so-and-so, for sixteen hundred dollars, cash, same to be paid + over within one year of date. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper—indeed, + Pepper had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all the time—“Of + course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before she agrees to + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer,” exclaimed the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will,” Hiram said to her. + Then he turned to Pepper: + </p> + <p> + “What's the name of the witness to that old man's signature?” + </p> + <p> + “Abel Pollock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Henry's father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He's got a son named Henry.” + </p> + <p> + “And who's the Notary Public?” + </p> + <p> + “Caleb Schell. He keeps the store just at the crossroads as you go into + town.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the store,” said Hiram, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “But Hiram!” cried Mrs. Atterson, “I don't want to sell the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll be sure this paper is all straight before you do sell, Mrs. + Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I just won't sell!” she exclaimed. “Uncle Jeptha never said nothing + in his will about giving this option. And that lawyer says that in a + couple of years the farm will be worth a good deal more than this Pepper + offers.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Atterson!” exclaimed the real estate man, cheerfully, “as + property is selling in this locality now, sixteen hundred dollars is a + mighty good offer for your farm. You ask anybody. Why, Uncle Jeptha knew + it was; otherwise he wouldn't have given me the option, for he didn't + believe I'd come up with the price. He knew it was a high offer.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it's worth so much to you, why isn't it worth more to Mrs. + Atterson to keep?” demanded Hiram, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that's my secret—why I want it,” said Pepper, nodding. “Leave + that to me. If I get bit by buying it, I shall have to suffer for my lack + of wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't bought it yet—you Pepper,” snapped Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm going to buy it, ma'am,” replied he, rather viciously, as he + stood up, ready to depart. “I shall expect to hear from you no later than + Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't sell it!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to. If you refuse to sign I'll go to the Chancery Court. I'll + make you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well. Mebbe you will. But I don't know. I never was made to do anything + yet. By no man named Pepper—you can take that home with you,” she + flung after him as he walked out and climbed into the buggy. + </p> + <p> + But whereas Mrs. Atterson showed anger, Hiram went back to work in the + field with a much deeper feeling racking his mind. If the option was all + right—and of course it must be—this would settle their + occupancy of the farm. + </p> + <p> + Of course he could not hold Mrs. Atterson to her contract. She could not + help the situation that had now arisen. + </p> + <p> + His Spring's work had gone for nothing. Sixteen hundred dollars, even in + cash, would not be any great sum for the old lady. And she had burdened + herself with the support of Sister—and with Old Lem Camp, too! + </p> + <p> + “Surely, I can't be a burden on her. I'll have to hustle around and find + another job. I wonder if Mr. Bronson would take me on now?” + </p> + <p> + But he knew that the Westerner already had a man who suited him, since + Hiram had refused the chance Bronson offered. And, then, Lettie had shown + that she felt he had not appreciated their offer. Perhaps her father felt + the same way. + </p> + <p> + Besides, Hiram had a secret wish not to put himself under obligation to + the Bronsons. This feeling may have sprung from a foolish source; + nevertheless it was strong with the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + It looked very much to him as though this sudden turn of circumstances was + “a facer”. If Mrs. Atterson had to sell the farm he was likely to be + thrown on his own resources again. + </p> + <p> + For his own selfish sake Hiram was worried, too. After all, he would be + unable to “make good” and to show people that he could make the old, + run-down farm pay a profit to its owner. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram Strong couldn't believe it. + </p> + <p> + The more he milled over the thing in his mind, the less he understood why + Uncle Jeptha, who was of acute mind right up to the hour of his death, so + all the neighbors said, should have neglected to speak about the option he + had given Pepper on the farm. + </p> + <p> + And here they were, right in the middle of the Spring work, with crops in + the ground and—as Mrs. Atterson agreed—it would be too late to + go hunting a farm for this present season. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram kept to work. He had Sister and Old Lem Camp out in the garden, + hand-weeding and thinning the carrots, onions, and other tender plants. + That Saturday he went through the entire garden—that part already + planted—with either the horse cultivator, or his wheel-hoe. + </p> + <p> + In planting parsnips, carrots, and other slow-germinating seeds, he had + mixed a few radish seed in the seeding machine; these sprang up quickly + and defined the rows, so that the space between rows could be cultivated + before the other plants had scarcely broke the surface of the soil. + </p> + <p> + Now these radish were beginning to be big enough to pull. Hiram brought in + a few bunches for their dinner on Saturday—the first fruits of the + garden. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I dunno why it is,” said Mrs. Atterson, complacently, after setting + her teeth in the first radish and relishing its crispness, “but this seems + a whole lot better than the radishes we used to buy in Crawberry. I 'spect + what's your very own always seems better than other folks's,” and she + sighed and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + She was thinking of the thing she had to face on Monday. Hiram hated to + see them all so downhearted. Sister's eyes were red from weeping; Old Lem + Camp sat at the table, muttering and playing with his food again instead + of eating. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram felt as though he could not give up to the disaster that had + come to them. The thought that—in some way—Pepper was taking + an unfair advantage of Mother Atterson knocked continually at the door of + his mind. + </p> + <p> + He went over, to himself, all that had passed in the kitchen the day + before when the real estate man had come to speak with Mrs. Atterson. How + had Pepper spoken about the option? Hadn't there been some hesitancy in + the fellow's manner—in his speech, indeed? Just what had Pepper + said? Hiram concentrated his mind upon this one thing. What had the man + said? + </p> + <p> + “The option had—er—one year to run.” + </p> + <p> + Those were the fellow's very words. He hesitated before he pronounced the + length of time. And he was not a man who, in speaking, had any stammering + of tongue. + </p> + <p> + Why had he hesitated? Why should it trouble him to state the time limit of + the option? + </p> + <p> + Was it because he was speaking a falsehood? + </p> + <p> + The thought stung Hiram like a thorn in the flesh. He put away the tool + with which he was working, slipped on a coat, and started for Henry + Pollock's house, which lay not more than half a mile from the Atterson + farm, across the fields. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY + </h2> + <p> + HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram opened his + business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. Mr. Pollock scratched + his head, listened attentively, and then sat down to digest the news. + </p> + <p> + “You gotter move—jest when you've got rightly settled on that + place?” he demanded. “Well, that's 'tarnal bad! And from what Henry tells + me, you're a young feller with idees, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care so much for myself,” Hiram hastened to say. “It's Mrs. + Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her mind that she + was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, I don't think it is a wise + thing to sell the property at that price.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option signed by + her Uncle Jeptha——” + </p> + <p> + “Jeptha Atterson was no fool,” interrupted Pollock. “I can't understand + his giving an option on the farm, with all this talk of the railroad + crossing the river.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Pollock!” exclaimed Hiram, eagerly, “you must know all about + this option. You signed as a witness to Uncle Jeptha's signature.” + </p> + <p> + “No! you don't mean that?” exclaimed the farmer. “My name to it, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And it was signed before Caleb Schell the notary public.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was—so it was, boy!” declared the other, suddenly smiting his + knee. “I remember I witnessed Uncle Jeptha's signature once. But that was + way back there in the winter—before he was took sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir?” said Hiram, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “That was an option on the old farm. So it was. But goodness me, boy, + Pepper must have got him to renew it, or something. That option wouldn't + have run till now.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram told him the date the paper was executed. + </p> + <p> + “That's right, by Jo! It was in February.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was for a year?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pollock stared at him in silence, evidently thinking deeply. + </p> + <p> + “If you remember all about it, then,” Hiram continued, “it's hardly worth + while going to Mr. Schell, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, all right,” said Pollock, slowly. “It was all done right + there in Cale Schell's store. It was one rainy afternoon. There was + several of us sitting around Cale's stove. Pepper was one of us. In comes + Uncle Jeptha. Pepper got after him right away, but sort of on the quiet, + to one side. + </p> + <p> + “I heard 'em. Pepper had made him an offer for the farm that was 'way down + low, and the old man laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “We hadn't none of us heard then the talk that came later about the + railroad. But Pepper has a brother-in-law who's in the office of the + company, and he thinks he gits inside information. + </p> + <p> + “So, for some reason, he thought the railroad was going to touch Uncle + Jeptha's farm. O' course, it ain't. It's goin' over the river by Ayertown. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what Pepper wants to take up the option for, anyway. Unless + he sees that you're likely to make suthin' out o' the old place, and mebbe + he's got a city feller on the string, to buy it.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter what his reason is. Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell, + and if that option is all right, she must,” said Hiram. “And you are sure + Uncle Jeptha gave it for twelve months?” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve months?” ejaculated Pollock, suddenly. “Why—no—that + don't seem right,” stammered the farmer, scratching his head. + </p> + <p> + “But that's the way the option reads.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—mebbe. I didn't just read it myself—no, sir. They jest + says to me: + </p> + <p> + “'Come here, Pollock, and witness these signatures' So, I done it—that's + all. But I see Cale put on his specs and read the durn thing through + before he stamped it. Yes, sir. Cale's the carefulest notary public we + ever had around here. + </p> + <p> + “Say!” said Mr. Pollock. “You go to Cale and ask him. It don't seem to me + the old man give Pepper so long a time.” + </p> + <p> + “For how long was the option to run, then?” queried Hiram, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I wouldn't wanter say. I don't wanter git inter trouble with no + neighbor. If Cale says a year is all right, then I'll say so, too. I + wouldn't jest trust my memory.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is some doubt in your mind, Mr. Pollock?” + </p> + <p> + “There is. A good deal of doubt,” the farmer assured him. “But you ask + Cale.” + </p> + <p> + This was all that Hiram could get out of the elder Pollock. It was not + very comforting. The young farmer was of two minds whether he should see + Caleb Schell, or not. + </p> + <p> + But when he got back to the house for supper, and saw the doleful faces of + the three waiting there, he couldn't stand inaction. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind, I want to go to town tonight, Mrs. Atterson,” he told + the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Hiram. I expect you've got to look out for yourself, boy. If + you can get another job, you take it. It's a 'tarnal shame you didn't take + up with that Bronson's offer when he come here after you.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't feel so,” said Hiram. “You're no more at fault than I am. + This thing just happened—nobody could foretell it. And I'm just as + sorry as I can be for you, Mother Atterson.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman wiped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Hi, there's other things in this world to worry over besides gravy, + I find,” she said. “Some folks is born for trouble, and mebbe we're some + of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + It was not exactly Mr. Pollock's doubts that sent Hiram Strong down to the + crossroads store that evening. For the farmer had seemed so uncertain that + the boy couldn't trust to his memory at all. + </p> + <p> + No. It was Hiram's remembrance of Pepper's stammering when he spoke about + the option. He hesitated to pronounce the length of time the option had + been drawn for. Was it because he knew there was some trick about the + time-limit? + </p> + <p> + Had the real estate man fooled old Uncle Jeptha in the beginning? The dead + man had been very shrewd and careful. Everybody said so. + </p> + <p> + He was conscious and of acute mind right up to his death. If there was an + option on the farm be surely would have said something about it to Mr. + Strickland, or to some of the neighbors. + </p> + <p> + It looked to Hiram as though the old farmer must have believed that the + option had expired before the day of his death. + </p> + <p> + Had Pepper only got the old man's promise for a shorter length of time, + but substituted the paper reading “one year” when it was signed? Was that + the mystery? + </p> + <p> + However, Hiram could not see how that would help Mrs. Atterson, for even + testimony of witnesses who heard the discussion between the dead man and + the real estate agent, could not controvert a written instrument. The + young fellow knew that. + </p> + <p> + He harnessed the old horse to the light wagon and drove to the crossroads + store kept by Caleb Schell. Many of the country people liked to trade with + this man because his store was a social gathering-place. + </p> + <p> + Around a hot stove in the winter, and a cold stove at this time of year, + the men gathered to discuss the state of the country, local politics, + their neighbors' business, and any other topic which was suggested to + their more or less idle minds. + </p> + <p> + On the outskirts of the group of older loafers, the growing crop of men + who would later take their places in the soap-box forum lingered; while + sky-larking about the verge of the crowd were smaller boys who were + learning no good, to say the least, in attaching themselves to the older + members of the company. + </p> + <p> + There will always be certain men in every community who take delight in + poisoning the minds of the younger generation. We muzzle dogs, or shoot + them when they go mad. The foul-mouthed man is far more vicious than the + dog, and should be impounded. + </p> + <p> + Hiram hitched his horse to the rack before the store and entered the + crowded place. The fumes of tobacco smoke, vinegar, cheese, and various + other commodities gave a distinctive flavor to Caleb Schell's store—and + not a pleasant one, to Hiram's mind. + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily he would have made any purchases he had to make, and gone out + at once. But Schell was busy with several customers at the counter and he + was forced to wait a chance to speak with the old man. + </p> + <p> + One of the first persons Hiram saw in the store was young Pete Dickerson, + hanging about the edge of the crowd. Pete scowled at him and moved away. + One of the men holding down a cracker-keg sighted Hiram and hailed him in + a jovial tone: + </p> + <p> + “Hi, there, Mr. Strong! What's this we been hearin' about you? They say + you had a run-in with Sam Dickerson. We been tryin' to git the pertic'lars + out o' Pete, here, but he don't seem ter wanter talk about it,” and the + man guffawed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Hear ye made Sam give back the tools he borrowed of the old man?” said + another man, whom Hiram knew to be Mrs. Larriper's son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “You are probably misinformed,” said Hiram, quietly. “I know no reason why + Mr. Dickerson and I should have trouble—unless other neighbors make + trouble for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, boy—right!” called Cale Schell, from behind the counter, + where he could hear and comment upon all that went on in the middle of the + room, despite the attention he had to give to his customers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you can git along with Sam and Pete, you'll do well,” laughed + another of the group. + </p> + <p> + The Dickersons seemed to be in disfavor in the community, and nobody cared + whether Pete repeated what was said to his father, or not. + </p> + <p> + “I was told,” pursued the first speaker, screwing up one eye and grinning + at Hiram, “that you broke Sam's gun over his head and chased Pete a mile. + That right, son?” + </p> + <p> + “You will get no information from me,” returned Hiram, tartly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Pete ought to be big enough to lick you alone, Strong,” continued + the tantalizer. “Hey, Pete! Don't sneak out. Come and tell us why you + didn't give this chap the lickin' you said you was going to?” + </p> + <p> + Pete only glared at him and slunk out of the store. Hiram turned his back + on the whole crowd and waited at the end of the counter for Mr. Schell. + The storekeeper was a tall, portly man, with a gray mustache and + side-whiskers, and a high bald forehead. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, Mr. Strong?” he asked, finally having got rid of + the customers who preceded Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Hiram, in a low voice, explained his mission. Schell nodded his head at + once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he said; “I remember about the option. I had forgotten it, for + a fact; but Pepper was in here yesterday talking about it. He had been to + your house.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, to the best of your remembrance, the option is all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly! Pollock witnessed it, and I put my seal on it. Yes, sir; + Pepper can make the old lady sell. It's too bad, if she wants to remain + there; but the price he is to pay isn't so bad——” + </p> + <p> + “You have no reason to doubt the validity of the option?” cried Hiram, in + desperation. + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't Uncle Jeptha speak of it to somebody before he died, if + the option had not run out at that time?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + “You grant the old man was of sound mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Sound as a pine knot,” agreed the storekeeper, still reflective. + </p> + <p> + “Then how is it he did not speak to his lawyer about the option when he + saw Mr. Strickland within an hour of his death?” + </p> + <p> + “That does seem peculiar,” admitted the storekeeper, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Pollock says he thinks there is something wrong about the + option,” went on Hiram, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pollock! Pah!” returned Schell. “I don't suppose he even read it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly. I always read every paper. If they don't want me to know what + the agreement is, they can take it to some other Notary,” declared the + storekeeper with a jolly laugh. + </p> + <p> + “And you are sure that the option was to run a year?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course the option's all right—Hold on! A year, did you say? Why—seems + to me—let's look this thing up,” concluded Caleb Schell, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He dived into his little office and produced a ledger from the safe. This + he slapped down on the counter between them. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a careful man, I am,” he told Hiram. “And I flatter myself I've got a + good memory, too. Pepper was in here yesterday sputtering about the option + and I remember now that he spoke of its running a year. + </p> + <p> + “But it seems to me,” said Schell, pawing over the leaves of his ledger, + “that the talk between him and old Uncle Jeptha was for a short time. The + old man was mighty cautious—mighty cautious.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what Mr. Pollock says,” cried Hiram, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “But you've seen the option? + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And it reads a year? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how you going to get around that?” demanded Schell, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps Uncle Jeptha signed the option thinking it was for a shorter + time.” + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn't help you none. The paper was signed. And why should Pepper + have buncoed him—at that time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he be so eager to get the farm now?” asked Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you. It ain't out yet. But two or three days ago the + railroad board abandoned the route through Ayertown and it is agreed that + the new bridge will be built along there by your farm somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “The river is as narrow there as it is anywhere for miles up and down, and + they will stretch a bridge from the high bank on your side, across the + meadows, to the high bank on the other side. It will cut out grades, you + see. That's what has started Pepper up to grab off the farm while the + option is valid.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Schell, is the option valid?” cried Hiram, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you're going to get around it. Ah! here's the place. When + I have sealed a paper I make a note of it—what the matter was about + and who the contracting parties were. I've done that for years. Let—me—see.” + </p> + <p> + He adjusted his spectacles. He squinted at the page, covered closely with + writing. Hiram saw him whispering the words he read to himself. Suddenly + the blood flooded into the old man's face, and he looked up with a start + at his interrogator. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that option's for a year? he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “That is the way it reads—now,” whispered Hiram, watching him + closely. + </p> + <p> + The old man turned the book around slowly on the counter. His stubbed + finger pointed to the two or three scrawled lines written in a certain + place. + </p> + <p> + Hiram read them slowly, with beating heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + </h2> + <p> + The whispered conference between Hiram Strong and the storekeeper could + not be heard by the curious crowd around the cold stove; nor did it last + for long. + </p> + <p> + Caleb Schell finally closed his ledger and put it away. Hiram shook hands + with him and walked out. + </p> + <p> + On the platform outside, which was illuminated by a single smoky lantern, + a group of small boys were giggling, and they watched Hiram unhitch the + old horse and climb into the spring wagon with so much hilarity that the + young farmer expected some trick. + </p> + <p> + The horse started off all right, he missed nothing from the wagon, and so + he supposed that he was mistaken. The boys had merely been laughing at him + because he was a stranger. + </p> + <p> + But as Hiram got some few yards from the hitching rack, the seat was + suddenly pulled from under him, and he was left sprawling on his back in + the bottom of the wagon. + </p> + <p> + A yell of derision from the crowd outside the store assured him that this + was the cause of the boys' hilarity. Luckily his old horse was of quiet + disposition, and he stopped dead in his tracks when the seat flew out of + the back of the wagon. + </p> + <p> + A joke is a joke. No use in showing wrath over this foolish amusement of + the crossroads boys. But Hiram got a little the best of them, after all. + </p> + <p> + The youngsters had scattered when the “accident” occurred. Hiram, getting + out to pick up the seat, found the end of a strong hemp line fastened to + it. The other end was tied to the hitching rack in front of the store. + </p> + <p> + Instead of casting off the line from the seat, Hiram walked back to the + store and cast that end off. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, I'm in a good coil of hemp rope,” he said to one of the men + who had come out to see the fun. “The fellow who owns it can come and + prove property; but I shall ask a few questions of him.” + </p> + <p> + There was no more laughter. The young farmer walked back to his wagon, set + up the seat again, and drove on. + </p> + <p> + The roadway was dark, but having been used all his life to country roads + at night, Hiram had no difficulty in seeing the path before him. Besides, + the old horse knew his way home. + </p> + <p> + He drove on some eighth of a mile. Suddenly he felt that the wagon was not + running true. One of the wheels was yawing. He drew in the old horse; but + he was not quick enough. + </p> + <p> + The nigh forward wheel rolled off the end of the axle, and down came the + wagon with a crash! + </p> + <p> + Hiram was thrown forward and came sprawling—on hands and knees—upon + the ground, while the wheel rolled into the ditch. He was little hurt, + although the accident might have been serious. + </p> + <p> + And in truth, he knew it to be no accident. A burr does not easily work + off the end of an axle. He had greased the old wagon just before he + started for the store, and he knew he had replaced each nut carefully. + </p> + <p> + This was a deliberately malicious trick—no boy's joke like the tying + of the rope to his wagon seat. And the axle was broken. Although he had no + lantern he could see that the wagon could not be used again without being + repaired. + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” was Hiram's unspoken question, as he slowly unharnessed the + old horse, and then dragged the broken wagon entirely out of the road so + that it would not be an obstruction for other vehicles. + </p> + <p> + His mind set instantly upon Pete Dickerson. He had not seen the boy when + he came out of the crossroads store. If the fellow had removed this burr, + he had done it without anybody seeing him, and had then run home. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer, much disturbed over this incident, mounted the back of + the old horse, and paced home. He only told Mrs. Atterson that he had met + with an accident and that the light wagon would have to be repaired before + it could be used again. + </p> + <p> + That necessitated their going to town on Monday in the heavy wagon. And + Hiram dragged the spring wagon to the blacksmith shop for repairs, on the + way. + </p> + <p> + But before that, the enemy in the dark had struck again. When Hiram went + to the barnyard to water the stock, Sunday morning, he found that somebody + had been bothering the pump. + </p> + <p> + The bucket, or pump-valve, was gone. He had to take it apart, cut a new + valve out of sole leather, and put the pump together again. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to get a cross dog, if we remain here,” he told Mrs. Atterson. + “There is somebody in the neighborhood who means us harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Them Dickersons!” exclaimed Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. That Pete, maybe. If I once caught him up to his tricks I'd make + him sorry enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell the constable, Hi,” cried Sister, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “That would make trouble for his folks. Maybe they don't know just how + mean Pete is. A good thrashing—and the threat of another every time + he did anything mean—would do him lots more good.” + </p> + <p> + This wasn't nice Sunday work, but it was too far to carry water from the + house to the horse trough, so Hiram had to repair the pump. + </p> + <p> + On Monday morning he routed out Sister and Mr. Camp at daybreak. He had + been up and out for an hour himself, and on a bench under the shed he had + heaped two or three bushels of radishes which he had pulled and washed, + ready for bunching. + </p> + <p> + He showed his helpers how the pretty scarlet balls were to be bunched, and + found that Sister took hold of the work with nimble fingers, while Mr. + Camp did very well at the unaccustomed task. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Hi,” said Mrs. Atterson, despondently, “that it's worth + while your trying to sell any of the truck, if we're going to leave here + so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven't left yet,” he returned, trying to speak cheerfully. “And you + might as well get every penny back that you can. Perhaps an arrangement + can be made whereby we can stay and harvest the garden crop, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “You can make up your mind that that Pepper man won't give us any leeway; + he isn't that kind,” declared Mother Atterson, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + Hiram made a quick sale of the radishes at several of the stores, where he + got eighteen cents a dozen bunches; but some he sold at the big + boarding-school—St. Beris—at a retail price. + </p> + <p> + “You can bring any other fresh vegetables you may have from time to time,” + the housekeeper told him. “Nobody ever raised any early vegetables about + Scoville before. They are very welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Once we get a-going,” said Hiram to Mrs. Atterson, “you or Sister can + drive in with the spring wagon and dispose of the surplus vegetables. And + you might get a small canning outfit—they come as cheap as fifteen + dollars—and put up tomatoes, corn, peas, beans, and other things. + Good canned stuff always sells well.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Land o' Goshen, Hiram!” exclaimed the old lady, in desperation. “You + talk jest as though we were going to stay on the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let's go and see Mr. Strickland,” replied the young farmer, and + they set out for the lawyer's office. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson sat in the ante-room while Hiram asked to speak with the old + lawyer in private for a minute. The conference was not for long, and when + Hiram came back to his employer he said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Strickland has sent his junior clerk out for Pepper. He thinks we'd + better talk the matter over quietly. And he wants to see the option, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hiram! There ain't no hope, is there?” groaned the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tell you what!” exclaimed the young fellow, “we won't give in to + him until we have to. Of course, if you refuse to sign a deed he can go to + chancery and in the end you will have to pay the costs of the action. + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps, even at that, it might be well to hold him off until you + have got the present crop out of the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I won't go to law,” said Mrs. Atterson, decidedly. “No good ever come + of that.” + </p> + <p> + After a time Mr. Strickland invited them both into his private office. The + attorney spoke quietly of other matters while they waited for Pepper. + </p> + <p> + But the real estate man did not appear. By and by Mr. Strickland's clerk + came back with the report that Pepper had been called away suddenly on + important business. + </p> + <p> + “They tell me he went Saturday,” said the clerk. “He may not be back for a + week. But he said he was going to buy the Atterson place when he returned—he's + told several people around town so.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Strickland, slowly. “Then he has left that threat hanging, + like the Sword of Damocles—over Mrs. Atterson's head?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know nothin' about that sword, Mr. Strickland, nor no other + sword, 'cept a rusty one that my father carried when he was a hoss-sodger + in the Rebellion,” declared Mother Atterson, nervously. “But if that + Pepper man's got one belonging to Mr. Damocles, I shouldn't be at all + surprised. That Pepper looked to me like a man that would take anything he + could lay his hands on—if he warn't watched!” + </p> + <p> + “Which is a true and just interpretation of Pepper's character, I + believe,” observed the lawyer, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And we've got to give up the farm at his say-so—at any time?” + demanded the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “If his option is good,” said Mr. Strickland. “But I want to see the paper—and + I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, that I shall subject it to the closest + possible scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “There is a possibility that Pepper's option may be questioned before the + courts. Do not build too many hopes on this,” he added, quickly, seeing + the old lady's face light up. + </p> + <p> + “You have a very good champion in this young man,” and the lawyer nodded + at Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “He suspected all was not right with the option and he has dug up the fact + that the witness to your uncle's signature, and the man before whom the + paper was attested, both believed the option was for a short time. + </p> + <p> + “Caleb Schell's book shows that it was for thirty days. Uncle Jeptha + undoubtedly thought it was for that length of time and therefore the + option expired several days before he died. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pepper may have fallen under temptation. He considered heretofore, + like everybody else, that the railroad would pass us by in this section. + Pepper gambled twenty dollars on its coming along the boundary of the + Atterson farm—between you and Darrell's tract—and thought he + had lost. + </p> + <p> + “Then suddenly the railroad board turned square around and voted for the + condemnation of the original route. Pepper remembered the option he had + risked twenty dollars on. If it was originally for thirty days, it was + void, of course; but Uncle Jeptha is dead, and he hopes perhaps, that + nobody else will dispute the validity of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a forgery, then?” cried Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “It may be a forgery. We do not know,” said the lawyer, hastily. “At any + rate, he has the paper, and he is a shrewd rascal.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson's face was a study. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me we have got to lose the farm?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady, that I cannot tell you. I must see this option. We must put + it to the test——” + </p> + <p> + “But Schell and Pollock will testify that the option was for thirty days,” + cried Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. To the best of their remembrance and belief, it was for thirty + days. A shrewd lawyer, however—and Pepper would employ a shrewd one—would + turn their evidence inside out. + </p> + <p> + “No evidence—in theory, at least—can controvert a written + instrument, signed, sealed, and delivered. Even Cale Schell's memoranda + book cannot be taken as evidence, save in a contributory way. It is not + direct. It is the carelessly scribbled record, in pencil, of a busy man. + </p> + <p> + “No. If Pepper puts forward the option we have got to see if that option + has been tampered with—the paper itself, I mean. If the fellow + substituted a different instrument, at the time of signing, from the one + Uncle Jeptha thought he signed, you have no case—I tell you frankly, + my dear lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, it ain't no use. We got to lose the place, Hiram,” said Mrs. + Atterson, when they left the lawyer's office. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't lose heart. If Pepper is scared, he may not trouble you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “It's got ten months more to run,” said she. “He can keep us guessin' all + that time.” + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” agreed Hiram, nodding thoughtfully. “But, of course, as Mr. + Strickland says, by raising a doubt as to the validity of the option we + can hold him off for a while—maybe until we have made this year's + crop.” + </p> + <p> + “It's goin' to make me lay awake o' nights,” sighed the old lady. “And I + thought I'd got through with that when I stopped worryin' about the + gravy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we won't talk about next year,” agreed Hiram. “I'll do the best I + can for you through this season, if Pepper will let us alone. We've got + the bottom land practically cleared; we might as well plough it and put in + the corn there. If we make a crop you'll get all your money back and more. + Mr. Strickland told me privately that the option, unless it read that way, + would not cover the crops in the ground. And I read the option carefully. + Crops were not mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + So it was decided to go ahead with the work as already planned; but + neither the young farmer, nor his employer, could look forward cheerfully + to the future. + </p> + <p> + The uncertainty of what Pepper would eventually do was bound to be in + their thought, day and night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE WELCOME TEMPEST + </h2> + <p> + To some youths this matter of the option would have been such a clog that + they would have lost interest and slighted the work. But not so with Hiram + Strong. + </p> + <p> + He counted this day a lost one, however; he hated to leave the farm for a + minute when there was so much to do. + </p> + <p> + But the next morning he got the plow into the four-acre corn lot; and he + did nothing but the chores that week until the ground was entirely plowed. + Then Henry Pollock came over and gave him another day's work and they + finished grubbing the lowland. + </p> + <p> + The rubbish was piled in great heaps down there, ready for burning. As + long as the rain held off, Hiram did not put fire to the bush-heaps. + </p> + <p> + But early in the following week the clouds began to gather in a quarter + for rain, and late in the afternoon, when the air was still, he took a can + of coal oil, and with Sister and Mr. Camp, and even Mrs. Atterson, at his + heels, went down to the riverside to burn the brush heaps. + </p> + <p> + “There's not much danger of the fire spreading to the woods; but if it + should,” Hiram said, warningly, “it might, at this time of year, do your + timber a couple of hundred dollars' worth of damage.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness me!” exclaimed Mother Atterson. “It does seem ridiculous to hear + you talk that a-way. I never owned nothin' but a little bit of furniture + before, and I expected the boarders to tear that all to pieces. I'm + beginning to feel all puffed up and wealthy.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram cut them all green pineboughs for beaters, and then set the fires, + one after another. There were more than twenty of the great piles and soon + the river bottom, from bend to bend, was filled with rolling clouds of + smoke. As the dusk dropped, the yellow glare of the fire illuminated the + scene. + </p> + <p> + Sister clapped her hands and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Ain't this bully? It beats the Fourth of July celebration in Crawberry. + Oh, I'd rather be on the farm than go to heaven!” + </p> + <p> + They had brought their supper with them, and leaving the others to watch + the fires, and see that the grass did not tempt the flames to the edge of + the wood, Hiram cast bait into the river and, in an hour, drew out enough + mullet and “bull-heads” to satisfy them all, when they were broiled over + the hot coals of the first bonfire to be lighted. + </p> + <p> + They ate with much enjoyment. Between nine and ten o'clock the fires had + all burned down to coals. + </p> + <p> + A circle of burned-over grass and rubbish surrounded each fire. There + seemed no possibility that the flames could spread to the mat of dry + leaves on the side hill. + </p> + <p> + So they went home, a lantern guiding their feet over the rough path + through the timber, stopping at the spring for a long, thirst-quenching + draught. + </p> + <p> + The sky was as black as ink. Now and again a faint flash in the westward + proclaimed a tempest in that direction. But not a breath of wind was + stirring, and the rain might not reach this section. + </p> + <p> + A dull red glow was reflected on the clouds over the river-bottom. When + Hiram looked from his window, just as he was ready for bed, that glow + seemed to have increased. + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” he muttered. “It can't be that those fires have spread. There + was no chance for them to spread. I—don't—understand it!” + </p> + <p> + He sat at the window and stared out through the darkness. There was little + wind as yet; it was a fact, however, that the firelight flickered on the + low-hung clouds with increasing radiance. + </p> + <p> + “Am I mad?” demanded the young farmer, suddenly leaping up and drawing on + his garments again. “That fire is spreading.” + </p> + <p> + He dressed fully, and ran softly down the stairs and left the house. When + he came out in the clear the glow had not receded. There was a fire down + the hillside, and it seemed increasing every moment. + </p> + <p> + He remembered the enemy in the dark, and without stopping to rouse the + household, ran on toward the woods, his heart beating heavily in his + bosom. + </p> + <p> + Slipping, falling at times, panting heavily because of the rough ground, + Hiram came at last through the more open timber to the brink of that steep + descent, at the bottom of which lay the smoky river-bottom. + </p> + <p> + And indeed, the whole of the lowland seemed filled with stifling clouds of + smoke. Yet, from a dozen places along the foot of the hill, yellow flames + were starting up, kindling higher, and devouring as fast as might be the + leaves and tinder left from the wrack of winter. + </p> + <p> + The nearest bonfire had been a hundred yards from the foot of this hill. + His care, Hiram knew, had left no chance of the dull coals in any of the + twenty heaps spreading to the verge of the grove. + </p> + <p> + Man's hand had done this. An enemy, waiting and watching until they had + left the field, had stolen down, gathered burning brands, and spread them + along the bottom of the hill, where the increasing wind might scatter the + fire until the whole grove was in a blaze. + </p> + <p> + Not only was Mrs. Atterson's timber in danger, but Darrell's tract and + that lying beyond would be overwhelmed by the flames if they were allowed + to spread. + </p> + <p> + On the other side, Dickerson had cut his timber a year or two before, + clear to the river. The fire would not burn far over his line. Whoever had + done this dastardly act, Dickerson's property would not be damaged. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram lent no time to trouble. His work was cut out for him right here + and now—and well he knew it! + </p> + <p> + He had brought the small axe with him, having caught it up from the + doorstep. Now he used it to cut a green bough, and then ran with the + latter down the hill and set upon the fire-line like a madman. + </p> + <p> + The smoke, spread here and there by puffs of rising wind, half choked him. + It stung his eyes until they distilled water enough to blind him. He + thrashed and fought in the fumes and the murk of it, stumbling and + slipping, one moment half-knee deep in quick-springing flames, the next + almost overpowered by the smudge that rose from the beaten mat of leaves + and rubbish. + </p> + <p> + It was a lone fight. He had to do it all. There had been no time to rouse + either the neighbors, or the rest of the family. + </p> + <p> + If he did not overcome these flames—and well he knew it—Mother + Atterson would arise in the morning to see all her goodly timber scorched, + perhaps ruined! + </p> + <p> + “I must beat it out—beat it out!” thought Hiram, and the repetition + of the words thrummed an accompaniment upon the drums of his ears as he + thrashed away with a madman's strength. + </p> + <p> + For no sane person would have tackled such a hopeless task. Before him the + flames suddenly leaped six feet or more into the air. They overtopped him + as they writhed through a clump of green-briars. The wind puffed the flame + toward him, and his face was scorched by the heat. + </p> + <p> + He lost his eyebrows completely, and the hair was crisped along the front + brim of his hat. + </p> + <p> + Then with a laughing crackle, as though scorning his weakness, the flames + ran up a climbing vine and the next moment wrapped a tall pine in lurid + yellow. + </p> + <p> + This pine, like a huge torch, began to give off a thick, black smoke. + Would some wakeful neighboring farmer, seeing it, know the danger that + menaced and come to Hiram's help? + </p> + <p> + For yards he had beaten flat the flames and stamped out every spark. + Behind him was naught but rolling smoke. It was dark there. No flames were + eating up the slope. + </p> + <p> + But toward Darrell's tract the fire seemed on the increase. He could not + catch up with it. And this solitary, sentinel pine, ablaze now in all its + head, threatened to fling sparks for a hundred yards. + </p> + <p> + If the wind continued to rise, the forest was doomed! + </p> + <p> + His green branch had burned to a crisp. He had lost his axe in the + darkness and the smoke, and now he tore another bough, by main strength, + from its parent stem. + </p> + <p> + Hiram Strong worked as though inspired; but to no purpose in the end. For + the flames increased. Puff after puff of wind drove the fire on, + scattering brands from the blazing pine; and now another, and another, + tree caught. The glare of the conflagration increased. + </p> + <p> + He flung down the useless bough. Fire was all about him. He had to leap + suddenly to one side to escape a burst of flame that had caught in a + jungle of green-briars. + </p> + <p> + Then, of a sudden, a crash of thunder rolled and reverberated through the + glen. Lightning for an instant lit up the meadows and the river. The glare + of it almost blinded the young farmer and, out of the line of fire, he + sank to the earth and covered his eyes, seared by the sudden, compelling + light. + </p> + <p> + Again and again the thunder rolled, following the javelins of lightning + that seemed to dart from the clouds to the earth. The tempest, so long + muttering in the West, had come upon him unexpectedly, for he had given + all his attention to the spreading fire. + </p> + <p> + And now came the rain—no refreshing, sweet, saturating shower; but a + thunderous, blinding fall of water that first set the burning woods to + steaming and then drowned out every spark of fire on upland as well as + lowland. + </p> + <p> + It was a cloudburst—a downpour such as Hiram had seldom experienced + before. Exhausted, he lay on the bank and let the pelting rain soak him to + the skin. + </p> + <p> + He did not care. Half drowned by the beating rain, he only crowed his + delight at the downpour. Every spark of fire was flooded out. The danger + was past. + </p> + <p> + He finally arose, and staggered through the downpour to the house, only + happy that—by a merciful interposition of Providence—the peril + had been overcome. + </p> + <p> + He tore off his clothing on the stoop, there in the pitch darkness, and + crept up to his bedroom where he rubbed himself down with a crash-towel, + and finally tumbled into bed and slept like a log till broad daylight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. FIRST FRUITS + </h2> + <p> + For the first time since they had come to the farm, Hiram was the last to + get up in the house. And when he came down to breakfast, still trembling + from the exertion of the previous night, Mrs. Atterson screamed at the + sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “For the good Land o' Goshen!” she cried. “You look like a singed chicken, + Hiram Strong! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + He told them of the fight he had had while they slept. But he could talk + about it jokingly now, although Sister was inclined to snivel a little + over his danger. + </p> + <p> + “That Dickerson boy ought to be lashed—Nine and thirty lashes—none + too much—This sausage is good—humph!—and pancakes—fit + for the gods—But he'll come back—do more damage—the + butter, yes I I want butter—and syrup, though two spreads is + reckless extravagance—Eh? eh? can't prove anything against that + Dickerson lout?-well, mebbe not.” + </p> + <p> + So Old Lem Camp commented upon the affair. But Hiram could not prove that + the neighbor's boy had done any of these things which pointed to a + malicious enemy. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer began to wonder if he could not lay a trap, and so bring + about his undoing. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the ground was in fit condition again (for the nights rain had + been heavy) Hiram scattered the lime he had planned to use upon the four + acres of land plowed for corn, and dragged it in with a spike-toothed + harrow. + </p> + <p> + Working as he was with one horse alone, this took considerable time, and + when this corn land was ready, it was time for him to go through the + garden piece again with the horse cultivator. + </p> + <p> + Sister and Lem Camp, both, had learned to use the man-weight wheel-hoe, + and the fine stuff was thinned and the weeds well cut out. From time to + time the young farmer had planted peas—both the dwarf and taller + varieties—and now he risked putting in some early beans—“snap” + and bush limas—and his first planting of sweet corn. + </p> + <p> + Of the latter he put in four rows across the garden, each, of sixty-five + day, seventy-five day, and ninety day sugar corn—all of well-known + kinds. He planned later to put in, every fortnight, four rows of a + mid-length season corn, so as to have green corn for sale, and for the + house, up to frost. + </p> + <p> + The potatoes were growing finely and he hilled them up for the first time. + He marked his four-acre lot for field corn—cross-checking it + three-feet, ten inches apart. This made twenty-seven hundred and fifty + hills to the acre, and with the hand-planter—an ingenious but cheap + machine—he dropped two and three kernels to the hill. + </p> + <p> + This upland, save where he had spread coarse stable manure, was not rich. + Upon each corn-hill he had Sister throw half a handful of fertilizer. She + followed him as he used the planter, and they planted and fertilized the + entire four acres in less than two days. + </p> + <p> + The lime he had put into the land would release such fertility as remained + dormant there; but Hiram did not expect a big crop of corn on that piece. + If he made two good ears to the hill he would be satisfied. + </p> + <p> + He had knocked together a rough cold-frame, on the sunny side of the + woodshed, to fit some old sash he had found in the barn. Into the rich + earth sifted to make the bed in this frame, he transplanted tomato, + egg-plant, pepper and other plants of a delicate nature. Early cabbage and + cauliflower had already gone into the garden plot, and in the midst of an + early and saturating rain, all day long, he had transplanted table-beets + into the rows he had marked out for them. + </p> + <p> + This variety of vegetables were now all growing finely. He sold nearly six + dollars' worth of radishes in town, and these radishes he showed Mrs. + Atterson were really “clear profit.” They had all been pulled from the + rows of carrots and other small seeds. + </p> + <p> + There were several heavy rains after the tempest which had been so + Providential; the ground was well saturated, and the river had risen until + it roared between its banks in a voice that could be heard, on a still + day, at the house. + </p> + <p> + The rains started the vegetation growing by leaps and bounds; weeds always + increase faster than any other growing thing. + </p> + <p> + There was plenty for Hiram to do in the garden, and he kept Sister and Old + Lem Camp busy, too. They were at it from the first faint streak of light + in the morning until dark. + </p> + <p> + But they were well—and happy. Mother Atterson, her heart troubled by + thought of “that Pepper-man,” could not always repress her smiles. If the + danger of losing the farm were past, she would have had nothing in the + world to trouble her. + </p> + <p> + The hundred eggs she had purchased for five dollars had proven more than + sixty per cent fertile. Some advice that Hiram had given her enabled Mrs. + Atterson to handle the chickens so that the loss from disease was very + small. + </p> + <p> + He knocked together for her a couple of pens, eight feet square, which + could be moved about on the grass every day. In these pens the seventy, or + more, chicks thrived immensely. And Sister was devoted to them. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the old white-faced cow, that had been a terror to Mother + Atterson at the start, had found her calf, and it was a heifer. + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice and raise it,” said Hiram. “She is a scrub, but she is a + pretty good scrub. You'll see that she will give a good measure of milk. + And what this farm needs is cattle. + </p> + <p> + “If you could make stable manure enough to cover the cleared acres a foot + deep, you could raise almost any crop you might name—and make money + by it. The land is impoverished by the use of commercial fertilizers, + unbalanced by humus.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess You know, Hiram,” admitted Mrs. Atterson. “And that calf + certainly is a pretty creeter. It would be too bad to turn it into veal.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram did not intend to raise the calf expensively, however. He took it + away from its mother right at the start, and in two weeks it was eating + grass, and guzzling skimmed milk and calf-meal, while the old cow was + beginning to show her employer her value. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson bought a small churn and quickly learned that “slight” at + butter-making which is absolutely essential if one would succeed in the + dairy business. + </p> + <p> + The cow turned out to pasture early in May, too; so her keep was not so + heavy a burden. She lowed some after the calf; but the latter was growing + finely under Hiram's care, and Mrs. Atterson had at least two pounds of + butter for sale each week, and the housekeeper at the St. Beris school + paid her thirty-five cents a pound for it. + </p> + <p> + Hiram gradually picked up a retail route in the town, which customers paid + more for the surplus vegetables—and butter—than could be + obtained at the stores. He had taught Sister how to drive, and sometimes + even Mrs. Atterson went in with the vegetables. + </p> + <p> + This relieved the young farmer and allowed him to work in the fields. And + during these warm, growing May days, he found plenty to do. Just as the + field corn pushed through the ground he went into the lot with his + 14-tooth harrow and broke up the crust and so killed the ever-springing + weeds. + </p> + <p> + With the spikes on the harrow “set back,” no corn-plants were dragged out + of the ground. This first harrowing, too, mixed the fertilizer with the + soil, and gave the corn the start it so sadly needed. + </p> + <p> + Busy as bees, the four transplanted people at the Atterson farmhouse + accomplished a great deal during these first weeks of the warming season. + And all four of them—Mrs. Atterson, Sister, Old Lem, and Hiram + himself—enjoyed the work to the full. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + </h2> + <p> + Hiram Strong had decided that the market prospects of Scoville prophesied + a good price for early tomatoes. He advised, therefore, a good sized patch + of this vegetable. + </p> + <p> + He had planted in the window boxes seed of several different varieties. He + had transplanted to the coldframe strong plants numbering nearly five + hundred. He believed that, under garden cultivation, a tomato plant that + would not yield fifty cents worth of fruit was not worth bothering with, + while a dollar from a single plant was not beyond the bounds of + probability. + </p> + <p> + It was safe, Hiram very well knew, to set out tomato plants in this + locality much before the middle of May; yet he was willing to take some + risks, and go to some trouble, for the sake of getting early ripened + tomatoes into the Scoville market. + </p> + <p> + As Henry Pollock had prophesied, Hiram did not see much of his friend + during corn-planting time. The Pollocks put nearly fifty acres in corn, + and the whole family helped in the work, including Mrs. Pollock herself, + and down to the child next to the baby. This little toddler amused his + younger brother, and brought water to the field for the workers. + </p> + <p> + Other families in the neighborhood did the same, Hiram noticed. They all + strained every effort to put in corn, cultivating as big a crop as they + possibly could handle. + </p> + <p> + This was why locally grown vegetables were scarce in Scoville. And the + young farmer proposed to take advantage of this condition of affairs to + the best of his ability. + </p> + <p> + If they were only to remain here on the farm long enough to handle this + one crop, Hiram determined to make that crop pay his employer as well as + possible, although he, himself, had no share in such profit. + </p> + <p> + Henry Pollock, however, came along while Hiram was making ready his plat + in the garden for tomatoes. The young farmer was setting several rows of + two-inch thick stakes across the garden, sixteen feet apart in the row, + the rows four feet apart. The stakes themselves were about four feet out + of the ground. + </p> + <p> + “What ye doin' there, Hiram?” asked Henry, curiously. “Building a fence?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't goin' to have a chicken run out here in the garden, be ye?” + </p> + <p> + “I should hope not! The chickens on this place will never mix with the + garden trucks, if I have any say about it,” declared Hiram, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “By Jo!” exclaimed Henry. “Dad says Maw's dratted hens eat up a couple + hundred dollars' worth of corn and clover every year for him-runnin' loose + as they do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why doesn't he build your mother proper runs, then, plant green stuff in + several yards, and change the flock over, from yard to yard?” “Oh, hens + won't do well shut up; Maw says so,” said Henry, repeating the lazy + farmer's unfounded declaration-probably originated ages ago, when poultry + was first domesticated. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you, next year, if we are around here,” said Hiram, “whether + poultry will do well enclosed in yards.” + </p> + <p> + “I told mother you didn't let your chickens run free, and had no hens with + them,” said Henry, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “No. I do not believe in letting anything on a farm get into lazy habits. + A hen is primarily intended to lay eggs. I send them back to work when + they have hatched out their brood. + </p> + <p> + “Those home-made brooders of ours keep the chicks quite as warm, and never + peck the little fellows, or step upon them, as the old hen often does.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, I allow,” admitted Henry, grinning broadly. + </p> + <p> + “And some hens will traipse chicks through the grass and weeds as far as + turkeys. No, sir! Send the hens back to business, and let the chicks shift + for themselves. They'll do better.” + </p> + <p> + “Them there in the pens certainly do look healthy,” said his friend. “But + you ain't said what you was doin' here, Hiram, setting these stakes?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'll tell you,” returned Hiram. “This is my tomato patch.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jo!” ejaculated Henry. “You don't want to set tomatoes so fur apart, + do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” laughed Hiram. “The posts are to string wires on. The tomatoes + will be two feet apart in the row. As they grow I tie them to the wires, + and so keep the fruit off the ground. + </p> + <p> + “The tomato ripens better and more evenly, and the fruit will come + earlier, especially if I pinch back the ends of the vine from time to + time, and remove some of the side branches.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't do all that to raise a tomato crop. And we'll put in five acres + for the cannery this year, as usual,” said Henry, with some scorn. + </p> + <p> + “We run the rows out four feet apart, like you do, throwing up a list, in + fact. Then father goes ahead with a stick, making a hole for the plant + every three feet, so't they'll be check-rowed and we can cultivate them + both ways—and we all set the plants. + </p> + <p> + “We never hand-hoe 'em—it don't pay. The cannery isn't giving but + fifteen cents a basket this year—and it's got to be a full + five-eighths basket, too, for they weigh 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram looked at him with a quizzical smile. + </p> + <p> + “So you set about thirty-six hundred and forty plants to the acre?” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you'll have five acres of tomatoes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yep. So Dad says. He has contracted for that many. But our plants don't + begin to be big enough to set out yet. We have to keep 'em covered + nights.” + </p> + <p> + “And I expect to have about five hundred plants in this patch,” said + Hiram, smiling. “I tell you what, Henry.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” said the other boy. “I bet I take in from my patch—net + income, I mean—this year as much as your father gets at the cannery + for his whole crop.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Henry. “Maybe Dad'll make a hundred, or a hundred and + twenty-five dollars. Sometimes tomatoes run as high as thirty dollars an + acre around here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see,” said Hiram, laughing. “It is going to cost me more to + raise my crop, and market it, that's true. But if your father doesn't do + better with his five acres than you say, I'll beat him.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't do it, Hiram,” cried Henry. “I can try, anyway,” said Hiram, + more quietly, but with confidence. “We'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “And say,” Henry added, suddenly, “I was going to tell you something. You + won't raise these tomatoes—nor no other crop—if Pete Dickerson + can stop ye.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with Pete now?” asked Hiram, troubled by thought of the + secret enemy who had already struck at him in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “He was blowing about what he'd do to you down at the crossroads last + evening,” said Henry. “He and his father both hate you like poison, I + expect. + </p> + <p> + “And the fellers down to Cale Schell's are always stirrin' up trouble. + They think it is sport. Why, Pete got so mad last night he could ha' + chewed tacks!” + </p> + <p> + “I have said nothing about Pete to anybody,” said Hiram, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “That don't matter. They say you have. They tell Pete a whole lot of stuff + just to see him git riled. + </p> + <p> + “And last night he slopped over. He said if you reported around that he + put fire to Mis' Atterson's woods, he'd put it to the house and barns! Oh, + he was wild.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram's face flushed, and then paled. + </p> + <p> + “Did Pete try to bum the woods, Hiram?” queried Henry, shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + “I never even said I thought so to you, have I?” asked the young farmer, + sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Nope. I only heard that fire got into the woods by accident, when I was + in town. Somebody was hunting through there for coon, and saw the + burned-over place. That's all the fellers at Cale's place knew, too, I + reckon; but they jest put it up to Pete to mad him.” + </p> + <p> + “And they succeeded, did they?” said Hiram, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Loose-mouthed people make more trouble in a community than downright mean + ones,” declared Hiram. “If I have any serious trouble with the Dickersons, + like enough it will be because of the interference of the other + neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Henry, preparing to go on, “Pete wouldn't dare fire your + stable now—after sayin' he'd do it. He ain't quite so big a fool as + all that.” + </p> + <p> + But Hiram was not so sure. He had this additional trouble on his mind from + this very hour, though he never said a word to Mrs. Atterson about it. + </p> + <p> + But every night before he went to bed be made around of the outbuildings + to make sure that everything was right before he slept. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. “CORN THAT'S CORN” + </h2> + <p> + Hiram caught sight of Pepper in town one day and went after him. He knew + the real estate man had returned from his business trip, and the fact that + the matter of the option was hanging fire, and troubling Mrs. Atterson + exceedingly, urged Hiram go counter to Mr. Strickland's advice. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer had said: “Let sleeping dogs lie.” Pepper had made no move, + however, and the uncertainty was very trying both for the young farmer and + his employer. + </p> + <p> + “How about that option you talked about, Mr. Pepper?” asked the “youth. + Are you going to exercise it?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got time enough, ain't I?” returned the real estate man, eyeing + Hiram in his very slyest way. + </p> + <p> + “I expect you have—if it really runs a year.” + </p> + <p> + “You seen it, didn't you?” demanded Pepper. + </p> + <p> + “But we'd like Mr. Strickland to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “He's goin' to act for Mrs. Atterson?” queried the man, with a scowl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he'll see it-when I'm ready to take it up. Don't you fret,” + retorted Pepper, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + This did not encourage the young farmer, nor was there anything in the + man's manner to yield hope to Mrs. Atterson that she could feel secure in + her title to the farm. So Hiram said nothing to her about meeting the man. + </p> + <p> + But the youth was very much puzzled. It really did seem as though Pepper + was afraid to show that paper to Mr. Strickland. + </p> + <p> + “There's something queer about it, I believe,” declared the youth to + himself. “Somewhere there is a trick. He's afraid of being tripped up on + it. But, why does he wait, if he knows the railroad is going to demand a + strip of the farm and he can get a good price for it? + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he is waiting to make sure that the railroad will condemn a piece + of Mrs. Atterson's farm. If the board should change the route again, + Pepper would have a farm on his hands that he might not be able to sell + immediately at a profit. + </p> + <p> + “For we must confess, that sixteen hundred dollars, as farms have sold in + the past around here, is a good price for the Atterson place. That's why + Uncle Jeptha was willing to give an option for a month—if that was, + in the beginning, the understanding the old man had of his agreement with + Pepper. + </p> + <p> + “However, we might as well go ahead with the work, and take what comes to + us in the end. I know no other way to do,” quoth Hiram, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + For he could not be very cheerful with the prospect of making only a + single crop on the place. His profit was to have come out of the second + year's crop—and, he felt, out of that bottom land which had so + charmed him on the day he and Henry Pollock had gone over the Atterson + Place. + </p> + <p> + Riches lay buried in that six acres of bottom. Hiram had read up on onion + culture, and he believed that, if he planted his seed in hot beds, and + transplanted the young onions to the rich soil in this bottom, he could + raise fully as large onions as they did in either Texas or the Bermudas. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, they have the advantage of a longer season down there,” + thought Hiram, “and cheap labor. But maybe I can get cheap labor right + around here. The children of these farmers are used to working in the + fields. I ought to be able to get help pretty cheap. + </p> + <p> + “And when it comes to the market—why, I've got the Texas growers, at + least, skinned a little! I can reach either the Philadelphia or New York + market in a day. Yes; given the right conditions, onions ought to pay big + down there on that lowland.” + </p> + <p> + But this was not the only crop possibility be turned over in his mind. + There were other vegetables that would grow luxuriantly on that bottom + land—providing, always, the flood did not come and fulfill Henry + Pollock's prophecy. + </p> + <p> + “Two feet of water on that meadow, eh?” thought Hiram. “Well, that + certainly would be bad. I wouldn't want that to happen after the ground + was plowed this year, even. It would tear up the land, and sour it, and + spoil it for a corn-crop, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + So he was down a good deal to the river's edge, watching the ebb and flow + of the stream. A heavy rain would, over night, fill the river to its very + brim and the open field, even beyond the marshy spot, would be a-slop with + standing water. + </p> + <p> + “It sure wouldn't grow alfalfa,” chuckled Hiram to himself one day. “For + the water rises here a good deal closer to the surface than four feet, and + alfalfa farmers declare that if the springs rise that high, there is no + use in putting in alfalfa. Why! I reckon just now the water is within four + inches of the top of the ground.” + </p> + <p> + If the river remained so high, and the low ground so saturated with water, + he knew, too, that he could not get the six acres plowed in time to put in + corn this year. And it was this year's crop he must think about first. + </p> + <p> + Even if Pepper did not exercise his option, and turn Mrs. Atterson out of + the place, a big commercial crop of onions, or any other better-paying + crop, could only be tried the second year. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had got his seed corn for the upland piece of the man who raised the + best corn in the community. He had tried the fertility of each ear, + discarded those which proved weakly, or infertile, and his stand of corn + for the four acres, which was now half hand high, was the best of any + farmer between the Atterson place and town. + </p> + <p> + But this corn was a hundred-and-ten-day variety. The farmer he got it of + told him that he had raised a crop from a piece planted the day before the + Fourth of July; but it was safer to get it in at least by June fifteenth. + </p> + <p> + And here it was past June first, and the meadow land had not yet been + plowed. + </p> + <p> + “However,” Hiram said to Henry, when they walked down to the riverside on + Sunday afternoon, “I'm going ahead on Faith—just as the minister + said in church this morning. If Faith can move mountains, we'll give it a + chance to move something right down here.” + </p> + <p> + “I dunno, Hiram,” returned the other boy, shaking his head. “Father says + he'll git in here for you with three head and a Number 3 plow by the + middle of this week if you say so—'nless it rains again, of course. + But he's afeared you're goin' to waste Mrs. Atterson's money for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” quoted Hiram, grimly. “If a farmer + didn't take chances every year, the whole world would starve to death!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Henry, smiling too, “let the other fellow take the + chances—that's dad's motter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And the 'chancey' fellow skims the cream of things every time. No, + sir!” declared the young fellow, “I'm going to be among the + cream-skimmers, or I won't be a farmer at all.” + </p> + <p> + So the plow was put into the bottom-land Wednesday—and put in deep. + By Friday night the whole piece was plowed and partly harrowed. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had drawn lime for this bottom-land, proposing to use beside only a + small amount of fertilizer. He spread this lime from his one-horse wagon, + while Henry drag-harrowed behind him, and by Saturday noon the job was + done. + </p> + <p> + The horses had not mired at all, much to Mr. Pollock's surprise. And the + plow had bit deep. All the heavy sod of the piece was covered well, and + the seed bed was fairly level—for corn. + </p> + <p> + Although the Pollocks did not work on Saturday afternoon, Hiram did not + feel as though he could stop at this time. Most of the farmers had already + planted their last piece of corn. Monday would be the fifteenth of the + month. + </p> + <p> + So the young farmer got his home-made corn-row marker down to the + river-bottom and began marking the piece that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + This marker ran out three rows at each trip across the field, and with a + white stake at either end, the youth managed to run his rows very + straight. He had a good eye. + </p> + <p> + In this case he did not check-row his field. The land was rich—phenomenally + rich, he believed. If he was going to have a crop of corn here, he wanted + a crop worth while. + </p> + <p> + On the uplands the farmers were satisfied with from thirty to fifty + baskets of ear-corn to the acre. If this lowland was what he believed it + was, Hiram was sure it would make twice that. + </p> + <p> + And at that his corn crop here would only average twenty-five dollars to + the acre—not a phenomenal profit for Mrs. Atterson in that. + </p> + <p> + But the land would be getting into shape for a better crop, and although + corn is a crop that will soon impoverish ground, if planted year after + year on the same piece, Hiram knew that the humus in this soil on the + lowland was almost inexhaustible. + </p> + <p> + So he marked his rows the long way of the field—running with the + river. + </p> + <p> + One of the implements left by Uncle Jeptha had been a one-horse + corn-planter with a fertilizer attachment. Hiram used this, dropping two + or three grains twenty-four inches apart, and setting the fertilizer + attachment to one hundred and fifty pounds to the acre. + </p> + <p> + He was until the next Wednesday night planting the piece. Meanwhile it had + not rained, and the river continued to recede. It was now almost as low as + it had been the day Lettie Bronson's boating party had been “wrecked” + under the big sycamore. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the time he got + his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the Atterson yard, and found + Hiram cultivating his first corn with the five-tooth cultivator. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Hiram!” exclaimed the Westerner, looking with a broad smile + over the field. “That's as pretty a field of corn as I ever saw. I don't + believe there is a hill missing.” + </p> + <p> + “Only a few on the far edge, where the moles have been at work.” + </p> + <p> + “Moles don't eat corn, Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + “So they say,” returned the young farmer, quietly. “I never could make up + my mind about it. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure, however, that if they are only after slugs and worms which are + drawn to the corn hills by the commercial fertilizer, the moles do fully + as much damage as the slugs would. + </p> + <p> + “You see, they make a cavity under the corn hill, and the roots of the + plant wither. Excuse me, but I'd rather have Mr. Mole in somebody else's + garden.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bronson laughed. “Well, what the little gray fellows eat won't kill + us. But they do spoil otherwise handsome rows. How did you get such a good + stand of corn, Hiram?” + </p> + <p> + “I tested the seed in a seed box early in the spring. I wouldn't plant + corn any other way. Aside from the hills the moles have spoiled, and a few + an old crow pulled up, I've got no re-planting to do. + </p> + <p> + “And replanted hills are always behind the crop, and seldom make anything + but fodder. If it wasn't for the look of the field, I'd never re-plant a + hill of corn. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I've got to thin this—two grains in the hill is enough + on this land.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bronson looked at him with growing surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my boy, you talk just as though you had tilled the ground for a + score of years. Who taught you so much about farming?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the best farmers who ever lived,” said Hiram, with a smile. “My + father. And he taught me to go to the correct sources for information, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you!” exclaimed Mr. Bronson. “And you're going to have 'corn + that's corn', as we say in my part of the country, on this piece of land.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said Hiram, smiling and shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till you see the corn on my bottom-land—if the river down + there doesn't drown it out. If we don't have too much rain, I'm going to + have corn on that river-bottom that will beat anything in this county, Mr. + Bronson.” + </p> + <p> + And the young farmer spoke with assurance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE BARBECUE + </h2> + <p> + On the seventeenth day of June Hiram had “grappled out” a mess of potatoes + for their dinner. They were larger than hen's eggs and came upon the table + mealy and white. + </p> + <p> + Potatoes were selling at retail in Scoville for two dollars the bushel. + Before the end of that week—after the lowland corn was planted—Hiram + dug two rows of potatoes, sorted them, and carted them to town, together + with some bunched beets, a few bunches of young carrots, radishes and + salad. + </p> + <p> + The potatoes he sold for fifty cents the five-eighth basket, from house to + house, and he brought back, for his load of vegetables, ten dollars and + twenty cents, which he handed to Mrs. Atterson, much to that lady's joy. + </p> + <p> + “My soul and body, Hiram!” she exclaimed. “This is just a God-send—no + less. Do you know that we've sold nigh twenty-five dollars' worth of stuff + already this spring, besides that pair of pigs I let Pollock have, and the + butter to St. Beris?” + </p> + <p> + “And it's only a beginning,” Hiram told her. “Wait til' the peas come + along—we'll have a mess for the table in a few days now. And the + sweet corn and tomatoes. + </p> + <p> + “If you and Sister can do the selling, it will help out a whole lot, of + course. I wish we had another horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Or an automobile,” said Sister, clapping her hands. “Wouldn't it be fine + to run into town in an auto, with a lot of vegetables? Then Hiram could + keep right at work with the horse and not have to stop to harness up for + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, child!” admonished Mrs. Atterson. “What big idees you do get in + that noddle o' yourn.” + </p> + <p> + The girls' boarding school and the two hotels proved good customers for + Hiram's early vegetables; for nobody around Scoville had potatoes at this + time, and Hiram's early peas were two weeks ahead of other people's. + </p> + <p> + Having got a certain number of towns folks to expect him at least thrice a + week, when other farmers had green stuff for sale they could not easily + “cut out” Hiram later in the season. + </p> + <p> + And not always did the young farmer have to leave his work at home to + deliver the vegetables and Mrs. Atterson's butter. Sister, or the old lady + herself, could go to town if the load was not too heavy. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it cost considerable to live. And hogfood and grain for the + horse and cow had to be bought. Hiram was fattening four of the spring + shoats against winter. Two they could sell and two kill for their own use. + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to be big doin's on the Fourth this year, Hiram,” said Henry + Pollock, meeting the young farmer on the road from town one day. “Heard + about it?” + </p> + <p> + “In Scoville, do you mean? They're going to have a 'Safe and Sane' Fourth, + the Banner says.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope. We don't think much of goin' to town Fourth of July. And this year + there's goin' to be a big picnic in Langdon's Grove—that's up the + river, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “A public picnic?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. A barbecue, we call it,” said Henry. “We have one at the Grove + ev'ry year. This time the two Sunday Schools is goin' to join and have a + big time. You and Sister don't want to miss it. That Mr. Bronson's goin' + to give a whole side o' beef, they tell me, to roast over the fires.” + </p> + <p> + “A big banquet is in prospect, is it?” asked Hiram, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And a stew! Gee! you never eat one o' these barbecue stews, did ye? Some + of us will go huntin' the day before, and there'll be birds, and + squirrels, as well as chickens in that stew—and lima beans, and + corn, and everything good you can think of!” and Henry smacked his lips in + prospect. + </p> + <p> + Then he added, bethinking himself of his errand: + </p> + <p> + “Everybody chips in and gives the things to eat. What'll you give, Hiram?” + </p> + <p> + “Some vegetables,” said Hiram, quickly. “Mrs. Atterson won't object, I + guess. Do they want tomatoes for their stew?” + </p> + <p> + “Won't be no tomatoes ripe, Hiram,” said Henry, decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “There won't, eh? You come out and take a look at mine,” said Hiram, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + Of all the rows of vegetables in Hiram's garden plot, the thriftiest and + handsomest were the trellised tomato plants. It took nearly half of + Sister's time to keep the plants tied up and pinched back, as Hiram had + taught her. + </p> + <p> + But the stalks were already heavily laden with fruit; and those hanging + lowest on the sturdy vines were already blushing. + </p> + <p> + “By Jo!” gasped Henry. “You've done it, ain't you? But the cannery won't + take 'em yet awhile—and they'll all be gone before September.” + </p> + <p> + “The cannery won't get many of my tomatoes,” laughed Hiram. “And these + vines properly trained and cultivated as they are, will bear fruit up to + frost. You wait and see.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to tell dad to come and look at these. I dunno, Hiram, if you + can sell 'em at retail, but you'll git as much for 'em as dad does for his + whole crop—just as you said.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'm aiming for,” responded Hiram. “But would the ladies who + cook the barbecue stew care for tomatoes, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “We never git tomatoes this early,” said Henry. “How about potatoes? And + there ain't many folks dug any of theirn yet, but you.” + </p> + <p> + So, after speaking with Mrs. Atterson, Hiram agreed to supply a barrel of + potatoes for the barbecue, and the day before the Fourth, one of the + farmers came with a wagon to pick up the supplies. + </p> + <p> + Everybody at the Atterson farm would go to the grove—that was + understood. + </p> + <p> + “If one knocks off work, the others can,” declared Mother Atterson. “You + see that things is left all right for the critters, Hiram, and we'll tend + to things indoors so that we can be gone till night.” + </p> + <p> + “And do, Hiram, look out for my poults the last thing,” cried Sister. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Larriper had given Sister a setting of ten turkey eggs and every one + of them had hatched under one of Mrs. Atterson's motherly old hens. At + first the girl had kept the young turkeys and their foster mother right + near the house, so that she could watch them carefully. + </p> + <p> + But poults are rangy, and these being particularly strong and thrifty, + they soon ran the old hen pretty nearly to death. + </p> + <p> + So Hiram had built a coop into which they could go at night, safe from any + vermin, and set it far down in the east lot, near the woods. Sister + usually went down with a little grain twice a day to call them up, and + keep them tame. + </p> + <p> + “But when they get big enough to roost in the fall, I expect we'll have to + gather that crop with a gun,” Hiram told her, laughing. + </p> + <p> + Many of the farmers teams were strung out along the road long before Hiram + was ready to set out. He had made sure that the spring wagon was in good + shape, and he had built an extra seat for it, so that the four rode very + comfortably. + </p> + <p> + Like every other Fourth of July, the sun was broiling hot! And the dust + rose in clouds as the faster teams passed their slow old nag. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson sat up very primly in her best silk, holding a parasol and + wearing a pair of lace mits that had appeared on state occasions for the + past twenty years, at least. + </p> + <p> + Sister was growing like a weed, and it was hard to keep her skirts and + sleeves at a proper length. But she was an entirely different looking girl + from the boarding house slavey whom Hiram remembered so keenly back in + Crawberry. + </p> + <p> + As for Old Lem Camp, he was as cheerful as Hiram had ever seen him, and + showed a deal of interest in everything about the farm, and had proved + himself, as Mrs. Atterson had prophesied, a great help. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely a house along the road was not shut up and the dooryard deserted—for + everybody was going to the barbecue. All but the Dickerson family. Sam was + at work in the fields, and the haggard Mrs. Dickerson looked dumbly from + her porch, with a crying baby in her scrawny arms as the Attersons and + Hiram passed. + </p> + <p> + But Pete was at the barbecue. He was there when Hiram arrived, and he was + making himself quite as prominent as anybody. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he made himself so obnoxious finally, that one of the rough men + who was keeping up the fires threatened to chuck Pete into the biggest + one, and then cool him off in the river. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise, however, the barbecue passed off very pleasantly. The men who + governed it saw that no liquor was brought along, and the unruly element + to which Pete belonged was kept under with an iron hand. + </p> + <p> + There was so little “fun”, of a kind, in Pete's estimation that, after the + big event of the day—the banquet—he and some of his friends + disappeared. And the picnicking ground was a much quieter and pleasanter + place after their departure. + </p> + <p> + The newcomers into the community made many friends and acquaintances that + day. Sister was going to school in the fall, and she found many girls of + her age whom she would meet there. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson met the older ladies, and was invited to join no less than + two “Ladies' Aids”, and, as she said, “if she called on all the folks + she'd agreed to visit, she'd be goin' ev'ry day from then till Christmas!” + </p> + <p> + As for Hiram, the men and older boys were rather inclined to jolly him a + bit. Not many of them had been upon the Atterson place to see what he had + done, but they had heard some stories of his proposed crops that amused + them. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Bronson, however, whom the local men knew to be a big farmer in + the Middle West, and who owned many farms out there now, spoke favorably + of Hiram's work, the local men listened respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “The boy's got it in him to do something,” the Westerner said, in his + hearty fashion. “You're eating his potatoes now, I understand. Which one + of you can dig early potatoes like those? + </p> + <p> + “And he's got the best stand of corn in the county.” + </p> + <p> + “On that river-bottom, you mean?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + “And on the upland, too. You fellows want to look about you a little. Most + of you don't see beyond the end of your noses. You watch out, or Hiram + Strong is going to beat every last one of you this year—and that's a + run-down farm he's got, at that.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. SISTER'S TURKEYS + </h2> + <p> + But Lettie was not at the barbecue, and to tell the truth, Hiram Strong + was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Despite the fact that she had seemed inclined to snub him, the young + farmer was vastly taken with the pretty girl. He had seen nobody about + Scoville as attractive as Lettie—nor anywhere else, for that matter! + </p> + <p> + He was too proud to call at the Bronson place, although Mr. Bronson + invited him whenever he saw Hiram. And at first, Lettie had asked him to + come, too. + </p> + <p> + But the Western girl did not like being thwarted in any matter—even + the smallest. And when Hiram would not come to take Pete Dickerson's + place, the very much indulged girl had showed the young farmer that she + was offended. + </p> + <p> + However, the afternoon at Langdon's Grove passed very pleasantly, and + Hiram and his party did not arrive at the farm again until dusk had + fallen. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go down and shut your turkeys up for the night, Sister,” Hiram said, + after he had done the other chores for he knew the girl would be afraid to + go so far from the house by lantern-light. + </p> + <p> + And when he reached the turkey coop, 'way down in the field, Hiram was + very glad indeed that he had come instead of the girl. + </p> + <p> + For the coop was empty. There wasn't a turkey inside, or thereabout. It + had been dark an hour and more, then, and the poults should long since + have been hovered in the coop. + </p> + <p> + Had some marauding fox, or other “varmint”, run the young turkeys off + their reservation? That seemed improbable at this time of year—and + so early in the evening. Foxes do not usually go hunting before midnight, + nor do other predatory animals. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had brought the barn lantern with him, and he took a look around the + neighborhood of the empty coop. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness!” he mused, “Sister will cry her eyes out if anything's + happened to those little turks. Now, what's this?” + </p> + <p> + The ground was cut up at a little distance from the coop. He examined the + tracks closely. + </p> + <p> + They were fresh—very fresh indeed. The wheel tracks of a light wagon + showed, and the prints of a horse's shod hoofs. + </p> + <p> + The wagon had been driven down from the main road, and had turned sharply + here by the coop. Hiram knew, too, that it had stood there for some time, + for the horse had moved uneasily. + </p> + <p> + Of course, that proved the driver had gotten out of the wagon and left the + horse alone. Doubtless there was but one thief—for it was positive + that the turkeys had been removed by a two-footed—not a four-footed—marauder. + </p> + <p> + “And who would be mean enough to steal Sister's turkeys? Almost everybody + in the neighborhood has a few to fatten for Thanksgiving and Christmas. + Who—did—this?” + </p> + <p> + He followed the wheel marks of the wagon to the road. He saw the track + where it turned into the field, and where it turned out again. And it + showed plainly that the thief came from town, and returned in that + direction. + </p> + <p> + Of course, in the roadway it was impossible to trace the particular tracks + made by the thief's horse and wagon. Too many other vehicles had been over + the road within the past hour. + </p> + <p> + The thief must have driven into the field just after night-fall, plucked + the ten young turkeys, one by one, out of the coop, tying their feet and + flinging them into the bottom of his wagon. Covered with a bag, the + frightened turkeys would never utter a peep while it remained dark. + </p> + <p> + “I hate to tell Sister—I can't tell her,” Hiram said, as he went + slowly back to the house. For Sister had been “counting chickens” again, + and she had figured that, at eighteen cents per pound, live weight, the + ten turkeys would pay for all the clothes she would need that winter, and + give her “Christmas money”, too. + </p> + <p> + The young farmer shrank from meeting the girl again that night, and he + delayed going into the house as long as possible. Then he found they had + all retired, leaving him a cold supper at the end of the kitchen table. + </p> + <p> + The disappearance of the turkeys kept Hiram tossing, wakeful, upon his bed + for some hours. He could not fail to connect this robbery with the other + things that had been done, during the past weeks, to injure those living + at the Atterson farm. + </p> + <p> + Was the secret enemy really Peter Dickerson? And had Pete committed this + crime now? + </p> + <p> + Yet the horse and wagon had come from the direction opposite the Dickerson + farm, and had returned as it came. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether I am accusing that fellow wrongfully, or not,” + muttered Hiram, at last. “But I am going to find out. Sister isn't going + to lose her turkeys without my doing everything in my power to get them + back and punish the thief.” + </p> + <p> + He usually arose in the morning before anybody else was astir, so it was + easy for Hiram to slip out of the house and down to the field to the empty + turkey coop. + </p> + <p> + The marks of horse and wagon were quite as plain in the faint light of + dawn as they had been the night before. In the darkness the thief had + driven his wagon over some small stumps, amid which his horse had + scrambled in some difficulty, it was plain. + </p> + <p> + Hiram, tracing out these marks as a Red Indian follows a trail, saw + something upon the edge of one of the half-decayed stumps that interested + him greatly. + </p> + <p> + He stood up the next moment with this clue in his hand—a white, + coarse hair, perhaps four inches in length. + </p> + <p> + “That was scraped off the horse's fetlock as he scrambled over this + stump,” muttered Hiram. “Now, who drives a white horse, or a horse with + white feet, in this neighborhood? + </p> + <p> + “Can I narrow the search down in this way, I wonder?” and for some moments + the youth stood there, in the growing light of early morning, canvassing + the subject from that angle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. RUN TO EARTH + </h2> + <p> + A broad streak of crimson along the eastern horizon, over the treetops, + announced the coming of the sun when Hiram Strong reached the automobile + road to which he, on the previous night, had traced the thief that had + stolen Sister's poults. + </p> + <p> + Now he looked at the track again. It surely had come from the direction of + Scoville, and it turned back that way. + </p> + <p> + Yet he looked at the white horse-hair scraped off upon the stump, and he + turned his back upon these signs and strode along the road toward his own + home. + </p> + <p> + Smoke was just curling from the Atterson chimney; Sister, or Mrs. + Atterson, was just building the fire. But they did not see Hiram as he + went by. + </p> + <p> + Hiram's quest led him past the place and to the Dickerson farm. There + nobody was yet astir, save the mules and horses in the barnyard, who + called as he went by, hoping for their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Hiram knew that the Dickersons had turkeys and, like most of the other + farmers, cooped them in distant fields away from the house. He found three + coops in the middle of an old oat-field tinder a spreading beech. + </p> + <p> + The old turks roosted upon the limbs of the beech at night; they were + already up and away, hunting grasshoppers for breakfast. But quite a few + poults were running and peeping about the coops, with two hen turkeys + playing guard to them. + </p> + <p> + Hiram saw where a wagon had been driven in here, and turned, too. The + tracks were made recently. And one of the coops was shut tight, although + he knew by the rustling within that there were young turkeys in it. + </p> + <p> + It was too dark within the hutch, however, for the youth to number the + poults confined there. + </p> + <p> + He strolled back across the fields to the rear of the Dickerson house. + Passing the barnyard first, he halted and examined the bright bay horse, + with white feet—the one that Pete had driven to the barbecue the day + before—the only one Pete was ever allowed to drive off the farm. + </p> + <p> + The Dickersons, father and son, were not as early risers as most farmers + in those parts. At least, they were not up betimes on this morning. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Dickerson had built the fire now and was stirring about the porch + when Hiram arrived at the step, filling her kettle at the pump. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', Mr. Strong,” she said, in her startled way, eyeing Hiram + askance. + </p> + <p> + She was a lean, sharp-featured woman, with a hopeless droop to her + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Mrs. Dickerson,” said Hiram, gravely. “How many young + turkeys have you this year?” + </p> + <p> + The woman shrank back and almost dropped the kettle she had filled to the + pump-bench. Her eyes glared. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere in the house a baby squatted; then a door banged and Hiram heard + Dickerson's heavy step descending the stair. + </p> + <p> + “You have a coop of poults down there, Mrs. Dickerson,” continued Hiram, + confidently, “that I know belongs to us. I traced Pete's tracks with the + wagon and the white-footed horse. Now, this is going to make trouble for + Pete——” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with Pete, now?” demanded Dickerson's harsh voice, and + he came out upon the porch. + </p> + <p> + He scowled at sight of Hiram, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “What are you roaming around here for, Strong? Can't you keep on your own + side of the fence?” + </p> + <p> + “It's little I'll ever trouble you, Mr. Dickerson,” said Hiram, “sharply, + if you and yours don't trouble me, I can assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “What's eating you now?” demanded the man, roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'll tell you, Mr. Dickerson,” said Hiram, quickly. “Somebody's + stolen our turkeys—ten of them. And I have found them down there + where your turkeys roost. The natural inference is that somebody here + knows about it——” + </p> + <p> + Dickerson—just out of his bed and as ugly as many people are when + they first get up—leaped for the young farmer from the porch, and + had him in his grip before Hiram could help himself. + </p> + <p> + The woman screamed. There was a racket in the house, for some of the + children had been watching from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Dad's goin' to lick him!” squalled one of the girls. + </p> + <p> + “You come here and intermate that any of my family's thieves, do you?” the + angry man roared. + </p> + <p> + “Stop that, Sam Dickerson!” cried his wife. She suddenly gained courage + and ran to the struggling pair, and tried to haul Sam away from Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “The boy's right,” she gasped. “I heard Pete tellin' little Sam last night + what he'd done. It's come to a pretty pass, so it has, if you are goin' to + uphold that bad boy in thieving——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush up, Maw!” cried Pete's voice from the house. + </p> + <p> + “Come out here, you scalawag!” ordered his father, relaxing his hold on + Hiram. + </p> + <p> + Pete slouched out on the porch, wearing a grin that was half sheepish, + half worried. + </p> + <p> + “What's this Strong says about turkeys?” demanded Sam Dickerson, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't so!” declared Pete. “I ain't seen no turkeys.” + </p> + <p> + “I have found them,” said Hiram, quietly. “And the coopful is down yonder + in your lot. You thought to fool me by turning into our farm from the + direction of Scoville, and driving back that way; but you turned around in + the road under that overhanging oak, where I picked Lettie Bronson off the + back of the runaway horse last Spring. + </p> + <p> + “Now, those ten turkeys belong to Sister. She'll be heart-broken if + anything happens to them. You have played me several mean tricks since I + have been here, Pete Dickerson——” + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't!” interrupted the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Who took the burr off the end of my axle and let me down in the road that + night?” demanded Hiram, his rage rising. + </p> + <p> + Pete could not forbear a grin at this remembrance. + </p> + <p> + “And who tampered with our pump the next morning? And who watched and + waited till we left the lower meadow that night we burned the rubbish, and + then set fire to our woods——” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dickerson screamed again. “I knew that fire never come by accident,” + she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “You shut up, Maw!” admonished her hopeful son again. + </p> + <p> + “And now, I've got you,” declared Hiram, with confidence. “I can tell + those ten poults. I marked them for Sister long ago so that, if they went + to the neighbors, they could be easily identified. + </p> + <p> + “They're in that shut-up coop down yonder,” continued Hiram, “and unless + you agree to bring them back at once, and put them in our coop, I shall + hitch up and go to town, first thing, and get out a warrant for your + arrest.” + </p> + <p> + Sam had remained silent for a minute, or two. Now he said, decidedly: + </p> + <p> + “You needn't threaten no more, young feller. I can see plain enough that + Pete's been carrying his fun too far——” + </p> + <p> + “Fun!” ejaculated Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I said,” growled Sam. “He'll bring the turkeys back-and + before he has his breakfast, too.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Hiram, knowing full well that there was nothing to be + made by quarreling with Sam Dickerson. “His returning the turkeys, + however, will not keep me from speaking to the constable the very next + time Pete plays any of his tricks around our place. + </p> + <p> + “It may be 'fun' for him; but it won't look so funny from the inside of + the town jail.” + </p> + <p> + He walked off after this threat. And he was sorry he had said it. For he + had no real intention of having Pete arrested, and an empty threat is of + no use to anybody. + </p> + <p> + The turkeys came back; Sister did not even know that they had been stolen, + for when she went down to feed them about the middle of the forenoon, all + ten came running to her call. + </p> + <p> + But Pete Dickerson ceased from troubling for a time, much to Hiram's + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the crops were coming on finely. Hiram's tomatoes were bringing + good prices in Scoville, and as he had such a quantity and was so much + earlier than the other farmers around about, he did, as he told Henry he + would do, “skim the cream off the market.” + </p> + <p> + He bought some crates and baskets in town, too, and shipped some of the + tomatoes to a produce man he knew in Crawberry—a man whom he could + trust to treat him fairly. During the season that man's checks to Mrs. + Atterson amounted to fifty-four dollars. + </p> + <p> + Three times a week the spring wagon went to town with vegetables for the + school, the hotels, and their retail customers. The whole family worked + long hours, and worked hard; but nobody complained. + </p> + <p> + No rain fell of any consequence until the latter part of July; and then + there was no danger of the river overflowing and drowning out the corn. + </p> + <p> + And that corn! By the last of July it was waist high, growing rank and + strong, and of that black-green color which delights the farmer's eye. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bronson walked down to the river especially to see it. Like Hiram's + upland corn, there was scarcely a hill missing, save where the muskrats + had dug in from the river bank and disturbed the corn hills. + </p> + <p> + “That's the finest-looking corn in this county, bar none, Hiram,” declared + Bronson. “I have seldom seen better looking in the rich bottom-lands of + the West. And you certainly do keep it clean, boy.” + </p> + <p> + “No use in putting in a crop if you don't 'tend it,” said the young + farmer, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “And what's this along here?” asked the gentleman, pointing to a row or + two of small stuff along the inner edge of the field. + </p> + <p> + “I'm trying onions and celery down here. I want to put a commercial crop + into this field next year—if we are let stay here—that will + pay Mrs. Atterson and me a real profit,” and Hiram laughed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you call a real profit?” inquired Mr. Bronson, seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Four hundred dollars an acre, net,” said the young farmer, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hiram, you can't do that!” cried the gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “It's being done—in other localities and on soil not so rich as this—and + I believe I can do it.” + </p> + <p> + “With onions or celery?” “Yes, sir.” “Which—or both?” asked the + Westerner, interested. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying them out here, as you see. I believe it will be celery. This + soil is naturally wet, and celery is a glutton for water. Then, it is a + late piece, and celery should be transplanted twice before it is put in + the field, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “A lot of work, boy,” said Mr. Bronson, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never expect to get something for nothing,” remarked Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “And how about the onions?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they don't seem to do so well. There is something lacking in the + land to make them do their best. I believe it is too cold. And, then, I am + watching the onion market, and I am afraid that too many people have gone + into the game in certain sections, and are bound to create an + over-supply.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are an able-minded youngster, Hiram,” he observed. “I + s'pose if you do so well here next year as you expect, a charge of + dynamite wouldn't blast you away from the Atterson farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Bronson,” responded the young farmer, “I don't want to run a + one-horse farm all my life. And this never can be much more. It isn't near + enough to any big city to be a real truck farm—and I'm interested in + bigger things. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. The Atterson Eighty is only a stepping stone for me. I hope I'll + go higher before long.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. HARVEST + </h2> + <p> + But Hiram was not at all sure that he would ever see a celery crop in this + bottom-land. Pepper still “hung fire” and he would not go to Mr. + Strickland with his option. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hafter,” he told Hiram. “When I git ready I'll let ye know, be + sure o' that.” + </p> + <p> + The fact was that the railroad had made no further move. Mr. Strickland + admitted to Mrs. Atterson that if the strip along the east boundary of the + farm was condemned by the railroad, she ought to get a thousand dollars + for it. + </p> + <p> + “But if the railroad board should change its mind again,” added the + lawyer, “sixteen hundred dollars would not be a speculative price to pay + for your farm—and well Pepper knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Mr. Damocles's sword has got to hang over us, has it?” demanded the + old lady. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid so,” admitted the lawyer, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson could not be more troubled than was Hiram himself. Youth + feels the sting of such arrows of fortune more keenly than does age. We + get “case-hardened” to trouble as the years bend our shoulders. + </p> + <p> + The thought that he might, after all, get nothing but a hundred dollars + and his board for all the work he had done in preparation for the second + year's crop sometimes embittered Hiram's thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Once, when he spoke to Pepper, and the snaky man sneered at him and + laughed, the young farmer came near attacking him then and there in the + street. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly could have given that Pepper as good a thrashing as ever he + got,” muttered Hiram. “And even Pete Dickerson never deserved one more + than Pepper.” + </p> + <p> + Pete fought shy of Hiram these days, and as the summer waned the young + farmer gradually became less watchful and expectant of trouble from the + direction of the west boundary of the Atterson Eighty. + </p> + <p> + But there was little breathing spell for him in the work of the farm. + </p> + <p> + “When we lay by the corn, you bet dad an' me goes fishing!” Henry Pollock + told Hiram, one day. + </p> + <p> + But it wasn't often that the young farmer could take half a day off for + any such pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “You've bit off more'n you kin chaw,” observed Henry. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right; I'll keep chewing at it, just the same,” returned Hiram + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + For the truck crop was bringing them in a bigger sum of money than even + Hiram had expected. The season had been very favorable, indeed; Hiram's + vegetables had come along in good time, and even the barrels of sweet corn + he shipped to Crawberry brought a fair price—much better than he + could have got at the local cannery. + </p> + <p> + When the tomato pack came on, however, he did sell many baskets of his + “seconds” to the cannery. But the selected tomatoes he continued to ship + to Crawberry, and having established a reputation with his produce man for + handsome and evenly ripened fruit, the prices received were good all + through the season. + </p> + <p> + He saw the sum for tomatoes pass the hundred and fifty dollar mark before + frost struck the vines. Even then he was not satisfied. There was a small + cellar under the Atterson house, and when the frosty nights of October + came, Hiram dragged up the vines still bearing fruit, by the roots, and + hung them in the cellar, where the tomatoes continued to ripen slowly + nearly up to Thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + Other crops did almost as well in proportion. He had put in no late + potatoes; but in September he harvested the balance of his early crop and, + as they were a good keeping variety, he knew there would be enough to keep + the family supplied until the next season. + </p> + <p> + Of other roots, including a patch of well-grown mangels for Mrs. + Atterson's handsome flock of chickens, there were plenty to carry the + family over the winter. + </p> + <p> + As the frosts became harder Hiram dug his root pits in the high, light + soil of the garden, drew pinetags to cover them, and, gradually, as the + winter advanced, heaped the earth over the various piles of roots to keep + them through the winter. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, in September, corn harvest had come on. The four acres Hiram + had planted below the stables yielded a fair crop, that part of the land + he had been able to enrich with coarse manure showing a much better + average than the remainder. + </p> + <p> + The four acres yielded them something over one hundred and sixty baskets + of sound corn which, as corn was then selling for fifty cents per bushel, + meant that the crop was worth about forty dollars. + </p> + <p> + As near as Hiram could figure it had cost about fifteen dollars to raise + the crop; therefore the profit to Mrs. Atterson was some twenty-five + dollars. + </p> + <p> + Besides the profit from some of the garden crops, this was very small + indeed; as Hiram said, it did not pay well enough to plant small patches + of corn for them to fool with it much. + </p> + <p> + “The only way to make a good profit out of corn corn a place like this,” + he said to Henry, who would not be convinced, “is to have a big drove of + hogs and turn them into the field to fatten on the standing corn.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would be wasteful!” cried Henry, shocked at the suggestion. + </p> + <p> + “Big pork producers do not find it so,” returned Hiram, confidently. “Or + else one wants a drove of cattle to fatten, and cuts the corn green and + shreds it, blowing it into a silo. + </p> + <p> + “The idea is to get the cost of the corn crop back through the price paid + by the butcher for your stock, or hogs.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever did that around here,” declared young Pollock. + </p> + <p> + “And that's why nobody gets ahead very fast around here. Henry, why don't + you strike out and do something new—just to surprise 'em? + </p> + <p> + “Stop selling a little tad of this, and a little tad of that off the farm + and stick to the good farmer's rule: 'Never sell anything off the place + that can't walk off.'” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard that before,” said Henry, sighing. + </p> + <p> + “And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers or + pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the corn, + or oats, or wheat itself is sold.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + </h2> + <p> + Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened—in + September. She was delighted, for although she had had “lessons” at the + “institution”, they had not been like this regular attendance, with other + free and happy children, at a good country school. + </p> + <p> + Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement in + her appearance was something marvelous. + </p> + <p> + “It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun and the + way she looked when she come to me from the charity school,” declared + Mother Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any + mother's heart, she'd be. + </p> + <p> + “If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all these + years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram.” + </p> + <p> + “They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness,” admitted + the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks,” responded Mrs. Atterson. + “But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be sorry some day.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?” demanded Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid of a + young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have many children + of their own. + </p> + <p> + “And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as that + lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another reason for + losing her in this great world.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson,” said Hiram, + shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! If she don't, it's no loss to her. It's loss to them,” declared the + old lady. “And I'd hate to have anybody come and take her away from us + now.” + </p> + <p> + Sister no longer wore her short hair in four “pigtails”. She had learned + to dress it neatly like other girls of her age, and although it would + never be like the beautiful blue-black tresses of Lettie Bronson, Hiram + had to admit that the soft brown of Sister's hair, waving so prettily over + her forehead, made the girl's features more than a little attractive. + </p> + <p> + She was an entirely different person, too, from the one who had helped + Lettie and her friends ashore from the grounded motor-boat that day, so + long ago—and so Lettie herself thought when she rode into the + Atterson yard one October day on her bay horse, and Sister met her on the + porch. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're Mrs. Atterson's girl, aren't you?” cried Lettie, leaning from + her saddle to offer her hand to Sister. “I wouldn't have known you.” + </p> + <p> + Sister was getting plump, she had roses in her cheeks, and she wore a + neat, whole, and becoming dress. + </p> + <p> + “You're Miss Bronson,” said Sister, gravely. “I wouldn't forget you.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps there was something in what Sister said that stung Lettie + Bronson's memory. She flushed a little; but then she smiled most + charmingly and asked for Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Husking corn, Miss, with Henry Pollock, down on the bottom-land.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! way down there? Well! you tell him—Why, I'll want you to come, + too,” laughed Lettie, quite at her best now. + </p> + <p> + Nobody could fail to answer Lettie Bronson's smile with its reflection, + when she chose to exert herself in that direction. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I just came to tell you both that on Friday we're going to have an + old-fashioned husking-bee for all the young folks of the neighborhood, at + our place. You must come yourself—er—Sister, and tell Hiram to + come, too. + </p> + <p> + “Seven o'clock, sharp, remember—and I'll be dreadfully disappointed + if you don't come,” added Lettie, turning her horse's head homeward, and + saying it with so much cordiality that her hearer's heart warmed. + </p> + <p> + “She is pretty,” mused Sister, watching the bay horse and its rider flying + along the road. “I don't blame Hiram for thinking she's the very finest + girl in these parts. + </p> + <p> + “She is,” declared Sister, emphatically, and shook herself. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had finished husking the lowland corn that day, with Henry's help, + and it was all drawn in at night. When the last measured basket was heaped + in the crib by lantern light, the young farmer added up the figures + chalked up on the lintel of the door. + </p> + <p> + “For goodness' sake, Hiram! it isn't as much as that, is it?” gasped + Henry, viewing the figures the young farmer wrote proudly in his + memorandum book. + </p> + <p> + “Six acres—six hundred and eighty baskets of sound corn,” crowed + “Hiram. And it's corn that is corn, as Mr. Bronson says. + </p> + <p> + “It's not quite as hard as the upland corn, for the growing season was not + quite long enough for it; but it's better than the average in the county——” + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred and forty bushel of shelled corn from six acres?” cried + Henry. “I should say it was! It's worth fifty cents now right at the crib—a + hundred and seventy dollars. Hiram! that'll make dad let me go to the + agricultural college.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Hiram, surprised and pleased. “Have you really got that idea + in your head?” + </p> + <p> + “I been gnawin' on it ever since you talked so last spring,” admitted his + friend, rather shyly. “I told father, and at first he pooh-poohed. + </p> + <p> + “But I kept on pointing out to him how much more you knowed than we did—” + </p> + <p> + “That's nonsense, Henry,” interrupted Hiram. “Only about some things. I + wouldn't want to set myself up over the farmers of this neighborhood as + knowing so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've proved it. Dad says so himself. He was taken all aback when + I showed him how you had beat him on the tomato crop. And I been talking + to him about your corn. + </p> + <p> + “That hit father where he lived,” chuckled Henry, “for father's a + corn-growing man—and always has been considered so in this county. + </p> + <p> + “He watched the way you tilled your crop, and he believed so much shallow + cultivating was wrong, and said so. But he says you beat him on poor + ground; and when I tell him what that lowland figures up, he'll throw up + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm going to take a course in fertilizers, farm management, and the + chemistry of soils,” continued Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say, I believe we have been planting the wrong crops on the + right land! Anyway, I'll find out. I believe we've got a good farm, but + we're not getting out of it what we should.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Henry,” admitted Hiram, slowly, “nothing's pleased me so much since + I came into this neighborhood, as to hear you say this. You get all you + can at the experiment station this winter, and I believe that your father + will soon begin to believe that there is something in 'book farming', + after all.” + </p> + <p> + If it had not been for the hair-hung sword over them, Mrs. Atterson and + Hiram would have taken great delight in the generous crops that had been + vouchsafed to them. + </p> + <p> + “Still, we can't complain,” said the old lady, “and for the first time for + more'n twenty years I'm going to be really thankful at Thanksgiving time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I believe you!” cried Sister, who heard her. “No boarders.” + </p> + <p> + “Nope,” said the old lady, quietly. “You're wrong. For we're going to have + boarders on Thanksgiving Day. I've writ to Crawberry. Anybody that's in + the old house now that wants to come to eat dinner with us, can come. I'm + going to cook the best dinner I ever cooked—and make a milkpail full + of gravy.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the good old soul, shaking her head, “that them two old + maids I sold out to have half starved them boys. We ought to be able to + stand even Fred Crackit, and Mr. Peebles, one day in the year.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” returned Sister, thoughtfully. “If you can stand 'em I can. I + never did think I could forgive 'em all—so mean they was to me—and + the hair-pulling and all. + </p> + <p> + “But I guess you're right, Mis' Atterson. It's heapin' coals of fire on + their heads, like what the minister at the chapel says.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Land o' Goshen, child!” exclaimed the old lady, briskly. “Hot coals + would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their stomachs for once.” + </p> + <p> + The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, indeed. There + was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the ear-corn in the husks—not + too much, for Lettie proposed having the floor cleared and swept for + square dancing, and later for the supper. + </p> + <p> + She had a lot of her school friends at the husking, and at first the + neighborhood boys and girls were bashful in the company of the city girls. + </p> + <p> + But after they got to work husking the corn, and a few red ears had been + found (for which each girl or boy had to pay a forfeit) they became a very + hilarious company indeed. + </p> + <p> + Now, Lettie, broadly hospitable, had invited the young folk far and wide. + Even those whom she had not personally seen, were expected to attend. + </p> + <p> + So it was not surprising that Pete Dickerson should come, despite the fact + that Mr. Bronson had once discharged him from his employ—and for + serious cause. + </p> + <p> + But Pete was not a thin-skinned person. Where there was anything “doing” + he wanted to cut a figure. And his desire to be important, and be marked + by the company, began to make him objectionable before the evening was + half over. + </p> + <p> + For instance, he thought it was funny to take a run down the long barn + floor and leap over the heads of those huskers squatting about a heap of + corn, and land with his heavy boots on the apex of the pile, thus + scattering the ears in all directions. + </p> + <p> + He got long straws, too, and tickled the backs, of the girls' necks; or he + dumped handfuls of bran down their backs, or shook oats into their hair—and + the oats stuck. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bronson could not see to everything; and Pete was very sly at his + tricks. A girl would shriek in one corner, and the lout would quickly + transport himself to a distant spot. + </p> + <p> + When the corn was swept aside, and the floor cleared for the dance, Pete + went beyond the limit, however. He had found a pail of soft-soap in the + shed and while the crowd was out of the barn, playing a “round game” in + the yard while it was being swept, Pete slunk in with the soap and a swab, + and managed to spread a good deal of the slippery stuff around on the + boards. + </p> + <p> + A broom would not remove this soft-soap. When the hostler swept, he only + spread it. And when the dancing began many a couple measured their length + on the planks, to Pete's great delight. + </p> + <p> + But the hired man had observed Pete sneaking about while he was removing + the last of the corn, and Hiram Strong discovered soft-soap on Pete's + clothes, and the smell of it strong upon his unwashed hands. + </p> + <p> + “You get out of here,” Mr. Bronson told the boy. “I had occasion to put + you off my land once, and don't let me have to do it a third time,” and he + shoved him with no gentle hand through the door and down the driveway. + </p> + <p> + But Pete laid it all to Hiram. He called back over his shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “I'll be square with you, yet, Hi Strong! You wait!” + </p> + <p> + But Hiram bad been threatened so often from that quarter by now, that he + was not much interested. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + </h2> + <p> + The fun went on after that with more moderation, and everybody had a + pleasant time. That is, so supposed Hiram Strong until, in going out of + the barn again to get a breath of cool air after one of the dances, he + almost stumbled over a figure hiding in a corner, and crying. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sister!” he cried, taking the girl by the shoulders, and turning her + about. “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want to go home, Hi. This isn't any place for me. Let me—me + run—run home!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not! Who's bothered you? Has that Pete Dickerson come back?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” sobbed Sister. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “They—they don't want me here. They don't like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who don't?” demanded Hiram, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Those—those girls from St. Beris. I—I tried to dance, and I + slipped on some of that horrid soap and—and fell down. And they said + I was clumsy. And one said: + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, all these country girls are like that. I don't see what Let wanted + them here for.' + </p> + <p> + “'So't we could all show off better,' said another, laughing some more. + </p> + <p> + “And I guess that's right enough,” finished Sister. “They don't want me + here. Only to make fun of. And I wish I hadn't come.” + </p> + <p> + Hiram was smitten dumb for a moment. He had danced once with Lettie, but + the other town girls had given him no opportunity to do so. And it was + plain that Lettie's school friends preferred the few boys who had come up + from town to any of the farmers' sons who had come to the husking. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're right, Sister. They don't want us—much,” admitted + Hiram, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Then let's both go home,” said Sister, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “No. That wouldn't be serving Mr. Bronson—or Lettie—right. We + were invited in good faith, I reckon, and the Bronsons haven't done + anything to offend us. + </p> + <p> + “But you and I'll go back there and dance together. You dance with me—or + with Henry; and I'll stick to the country girls. If Lettie Bronson's + friends from boarding school think they are so much better than us folks + out here in the country, let us show them that we can have a good time + without them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll go back with you, Hiram,” cried Sister, gladly, and the young + fellow was a bit conscience-stricken as he noted her changed tone and saw + the sparkle that came into her eye. + </p> + <p> + Had he neglected Sister because Lettie Bronson was about? Well! perhaps he + had. But he made up for it with the attention he paid to Sister during the + remainder of the evening. + </p> + <p> + They went home early, however, and Hiram felt somewhat grave after the + corn husking. Had Lettie Bronson invited the country-bred young folk + living about her father's home, to meet her boarding school friends, and + the town boys, merely that the latter might be compared with the + farmer-folk to their disfavor? + </p> + <p> + He could not believe that—really. Lettie Bronson might be + thoughtless, and a little proud; but she was still a princess to Hiram, + and he could not think this evil of her. + </p> + <p> + But there were too many duties every day for the young farmer to give much + thought to such problems. Harvesting was not complete yet, and soon + flurries of snow began to drive across the fields and threaten the + approach of winter. + </p> + <p> + Finally the wind came out of the northwest for more than a day, and toward + evening the flakes began to fall, faster and faster, thicker and thicker. + </p> + <p> + “It's going to be a snowy night—a real baby blizzard,” declared + Hiram, stamping his feet on the porch before coming into the warm kitchen + with the milkpail. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! And I thought you'd go over to Pollock's with me to-night, Hi,” + said Sister. + </p> + <p> + “Mabel an' I are goin' to make our Christmas presents together, and she's + expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks! 'Twon't be fit for a girl to go out if it snows,” said Mother + Atterson. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram saw that Sister was much disappointed, and he had tried to be + kinder to her since that night of the corn husking. + </p> + <p> + “What's a little snow?” he demanded, laughing. “Bundle up good, Sister, + and I'll go over with you. I want to see Henry, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Crazy young'uns,” observed Mother Atterson. But she made no real + objection. Whatever Hiram said was right, in the old lady's eyes. + </p> + <p> + They tramped through the snowy fields with a lantern, and found it + half-knee deep in some drifts before they arrived at the Pollocks, short + as had been the duration of the fall. + </p> + <p> + But they were welcomed vociferously at the neighbor's; preparations were + made for a long evening's fun; for with the snow coming down so steadily + there would be little work done out of doors the following day, so the + family need not seek their beds early. + </p> + <p> + The Pollock children had made a good store of nuts, like the squirrels; + and there was plenty of corn to pop, and molasses for candy, or + corn-balls, and red apples to roast, and sweet cider from the casks in the + cellar. + </p> + <p> + The older girls retired to a corner of the wide hearth with their + work-boxes, and Hiram and Henry worked out several problems regarding the + latter's eleven-week course at the agricultural college, which would begin + the following week; while the young ones played games until they fell fast + asleep in odd corners of the big kitchen. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight, indeed, when Hiram and Sister started home. And it + was still snowing, and snowing heavily. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to get all the plows out to-morrow morning!” Henry shouted + after them from the porch. + </p> + <p> + And it was no easy matter to wade home through the heavy drifts. + </p> + <p> + “I never could have done it without you, Hi,” declared the girl, when she + finally floundered onto the Atterson porch, panting and laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take a look around the barns before I come in,” remarked the careful + young farmer. + </p> + <p> + This was a duty he never neglected, no matter how late he went to bed, nor + how tired he was. Half way to the barn he halted. A light was waving + wildly by the Dickerson back door. + </p> + <p> + It was a lantern, and Hiram knew that it was being whirled around and + around somebody's head. He thought he heard, too, a shouting through the + falling snow. + </p> + <p> + “Something's wrong over yonder,” thought the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated but for a moment. He had never stepped upon the Dickerson + place, nor spoken to Sam Dickerson since the trouble about the turkeys. + The lantern continued to swing. Eagerly as the snow came down, it could + not blind Hiram to the waving light. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to see about this,” he muttered, and started as fast as he could + go through the drifts, across the fields. + </p> + <p> + Soon he heard the voice shouting. It was Sam Dickerson. And he evidently + had been shouting to Hiram, seeing his lantern in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Help, Strong! Help!” he called. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, man?” demanded Hiram, climbing the last pair of bars and + struggling through the drifts in the dooryard. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take my horse and go for the doctor? I don't know where Pete is—down + to Cale Schell's, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Mr. Dickerson?” + </p> + <p> + “Sarah's fell down the bark stairs—fell backward. Struck her head + an' ain't spoke since. Will you go, Mr. Strong?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Which horse will I take?” + </p> + <p> + “The bay's saddled-under the shed—get any doctor—I don't care + which one. But get him here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, Mr. Dickerson. Leave it to me,” promised Hiram, and ran to the + shed at once. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. “MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD” + </h2> + <p> + Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous night. It was + impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for the drifts were in some + places to the creature's girth. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem + and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons. + </p> + <p> + He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There were lights + and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were snowbound for the + night and were making merry with hard cider and provisions which Schell + was not loath to sell them. + </p> + <p> + Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news of his + mother's serious hurt. + </p> + <p> + He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It was nearly + two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was four o'clock when + the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh and behind a pair of mules, + reached the Dickerson farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + The woman had not returned to consciousness, and Mrs. Atterson remained + through the day to do what she could. But it was many a tedious week + before Mrs. Dickerson was on her feet again, and able to move about. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, more than one kindly act had Mother Atterson done for the + neighbors who had seemed so careless of her rights. Pete never appeared + when either Mrs. Atterson or Sister came to the house; but in his sour, + gloomy way, Sam Dickerson seemed to be grateful. + </p> + <p> + Hiram kept away, as there was nothing he could do to help them. And he saw + when Pete chanced to pass him, that the youth felt no more kindly toward + him than he had before. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him be as ugly as he wants to be—only let him keep away + from the place and let our things alone,” thought Hiram. “Goodness knows! + I'm not anxious to be counted among Pete Dickerson's particular friends.” + </p> + <p> + Thanksgiving came on apace, and every one of the old boarders of Mother + Atterson had written that he would come to the farm to spend the holiday. + Even Mr. Peebles acknowledged the invitation with thanks, but adding that + he hoped Sister would not forget he must “eschew any viands at all greasy, + and that his hot water was to be at 101, exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor ninny!” ejaculated Mother Atterson. “He doesn't know what he + wants. Sister only poured it out of the teakettle, and he had to wait for + it to cool, anyway, before he could drink it.” + </p> + <p> + But it was determined to give the city folk a good time, and this + determination was accomplished. Two of Sister's turkeys, bought and paid + for in hard cash by Mother Atterson, graced the long table in the + sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + Many of the good things with which the table was laden came from the farm. + And, without Hiram and Sister, and Old Lem Camp, Mrs. Atterson made even + Fred Crackit understand, these good things had not been possible! + </p> + <p> + But the Crawberry folk, as a whole, were much subdued. They had missed + Mother Atterson dreadfully; and, really, they had felt some affection for + their old landlady, after all. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Fred Crackit, in a speech that was designed to be humorous, + presented a massive silver plated water-pitcher with “Mother Atterson” + engraved upon it. And really, the old lady broke down at that. + </p> + <p> + “Good Land o' Goshen!” she exclaimed. “Why, you boys do think something of + the old woman, after all, don't ye? + </p> + <p> + “I must say that I got ye out here more than anything to show ye what we + could do in the country. 'Specially how it had improved Sister. And how + Hiram Strong warn't the ninny you seemed to think he was. And that Mr. + Camp only needed a chance to be something in the world again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! It wasn't a generous feeling I had toward you, mebbe; but I'm + glad you come and—I hope you all had enough gravy.” + </p> + <p> + So the occasion proved a very pleasant one indeed. And it made a happy + break in the hard work of preparing for the winter. + </p> + <p> + The crops were all gathered ere this, and they could make up their books + for the season just passed. + </p> + <p> + But there was wood to get in, for all along they had not had wood enough, + and to try and get wood out of the snowy forest in winter for immediate + use in the stoves was a task that Hiram did not enjoy. + </p> + <p> + He had Henry to help him saw a goodly pile before the first snow fell; and + Mr. Camp split most of it and he and Sister piled it in the shed. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to haul up enough logs by March—or earlier—to have + a wood sawing in earnest,” announced Hiram. “We must get a gasoline engine + and saw, and call on the neighbors for help, and have a sawing-bee.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will be the use of that if we've got to leave here in February?” + demanded Mrs. Atterson, worriedly. “The last time I saw that Pepper in + town he grinned at me in a way that made me want to break my old umbrel' + over his dratted head!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” said Hiram, sullenly. “I don't want to sit idle all + winter. I'll cut the logs, anyway, and draw 'em out from time to time. If + we have to leave, why, we have to, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “And we can't tell a thing to do about next year till we know what Pepper + is going to do,” groaned Mrs. Atterson. + </p> + <p> + “That is very true. But if he doesn't exercise his option before February + tenth, we needn't worry any more. And after that will be time enough to + make our plans for next season's crops,” declared Hiram, trying to speak + more cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Atterson went around with clouded brow again, and was heard to + whisper, more than once, something about “Mr. Damocles's sword.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + </h2> + <p> + Despite Hiram Strong's warning to his employer when they started work on + the old Atterson Eighty, that she must expect no profit for this season's, + work, the Christmas-tide, when they settled their accounts for the year, + proved the young fellow to have been a bad prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hiram, after I pay you this hundred dollars, I shall have a little + money left—I shall indeed. And all that corn in the crib—and + stacks of fodder, beside the barn loft full, and the roots, and the + chickens, and the pork, and the calf——” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hiram! I'm a richer woman to-day than when I came out here to the + farm, that's sure. How do you account for it?” + </p> + <p> + Hiram had to admit that they had been favored beyond his expectations. + </p> + <p> + “If that Pepper man would only come for'ard and say what he was going to + do!” sighed Mother Atterson. + </p> + <p> + That was the continual complaint now. As the winter advanced all four of + the family bore the option in mind continually. There was talk of the + railroad going before the Legislature to ask for the condemnation of the + property it needed, in the spring. + </p> + <p> + It seemed pretty well settled that the survey along the edge of the + Atterson Eighty would be the route selected. And, if that was the case, + why did Pepper not try to exercise his option? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Strickland had said that there was no way by which the real estate + man's hand could be forced; so they had to abide Pepper's pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “If we only knew we'd stay,” said Hiram, “I'd cut a few well grown pine + trees, while I am cutting the firewood, have them dragged to the mill, and + saw the boards we shall need if we go into the celery business this coming + season.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want boards for?” demanded Henry, who chanced to be home over + Christmas, and was at the house. + </p> + <p> + “For bleaching. Saves time, room, and trouble. Banking celery, even with a + plow, is not alone old-fashioned, and cumbersome, but is apt to leave the + blanched celery much dirtier.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll need an awful lot of board for six acres, Hiram!” gasped + Henry. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I shall run the trenches four feet apart, and you mustn't + suppose, Henry, that I shall blanch all six acres at once. The boards can + be used over and over again.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think of that,” admitted his friend. + </p> + <p> + Henry was eagerly interested in his selected studies at the experiment + station and college, and Abel Pollock followed his son's work there with + growing approval, too. + </p> + <p> + “It does beat all,” he admitted to Hiram, “what that boy has learned + already about practical things. Book-farming ain't all flapdoodle, that's + sure!” + </p> + <p> + So the year ended—quietly, peacefully, and with no little happiness + in the Atterson farmhouse, despite the cloud that overshadowed the + farm-title, and the doubts which faced them about the next season's work. + </p> + <p> + They sat up on New Year's eve to see the old year out and the new in, and + had a merry evening although there were only the family. When the distant + whistles blew at midnight they went out upon the back porch to listen. + </p> + <p> + It was a dark night, for thick clouds shrouded the stars. Only the + unbroken coverlet of snow (it had fallen that morning) aided them to see + about the empty fields. + </p> + <p> + In the far distance was the twinkle of a single light—that in an + upper chamber of the Pollock house. Dickersons' was mantled in shadow, and + those two houses were the only ones in sight of the Atterson place. + </p> + <p> + “And I was afraid when we came out here that I'd be dead of loneliness in + a month—with no near neighbors,” admitted Mother Atterson. “But I've + been so busy that I ain't never minded it—— + </p> + <p> + “What's that light, Hiram?” + </p> + <p> + Her cry was echoed by Sister. Behind the bam a sudden glow was spreading + against the low-hung clouds. It was too far away for one of their + out-buildings to be afire; but Hiram set off immediately, although he only + had slippers on, for the corner of the barnyard fence. + </p> + <p> + When he reached this point he saw that one of the fodder stacks in the + cornfield was afire. The whole top of the stack was ablaze. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried Sister, who had followed him. “What can we + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,”, said Hiram. “There's no wind, and it won't spread to another + stack. But that one is past redemption, for sure!” + </p> + <p> + Hiram hastened back to the house and put on his boots. But he did not wade + through the snow to the fodder stack that was burning so briskly. He + merely made a detour around it, at some yards distant. Nowhere did he see + the mark of a footprint. + </p> + <p> + How the stack had been set afire was a mystery. Hiram had stacked the + fodder himself, with the help of Sister, who had pitched the bundles up to + him. The young farmer did not smoke, and he seldom carried matches loose + in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, the idea that he had dropped a match in the fodder and a field + mouse, burrowing for some nubbin of corn, had come across the match, + nibbled the head, and so set the blaze, was scarcely feasible. + </p> + <p> + Yet, how else had the fire started? + </p> + <p> + When daylight came Hiram could find no footprint near the stack—only + his own where he had circled it while it was blazing. + </p> + <p> + It was the stack nearest to the Dickerson line. Hiram, naturally, thought + of Pete. + </p> + <p> + Since Mrs. Dickerson's sickness, Mother Atterson had been back and forth + to help her neighbor, and whenever Sam Dickerson saw Hiram he was as + friendly as it was in the nature of the man to be. + </p> + <p> + Hiram could not believe that Pete's father would now countenance any of + his son's meannesses; yet when the young farmer went along the line fence, + he saw fresh tracks across the Dickerson fields, and discovered where the + person had stood, on the Dickerson side of the fence opposite the burned + fodder stack. + </p> + <p> + But these footprints were all of three hundred feet from the stack, and + there was not a mark in the snow upon Hiram's side of the fence, saving + his own footprints. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe somebody merely ran across to look at the blaze. But it's strange I + did not see him,” thought Hiram. + </p> + <p> + He could not help being suspicious, however, and he prowled about the + stacks and the barns more than ever at night. He could not shake off the + feeling that the enemy in the dark was at work again. + </p> + <p> + January passed, and the fatal day—the tenth of February—drew + nearer and nearer. If Pepper proposed to exercise his option he must do it + on or before that date. + </p> + <p> + Neither Hiram nor Mrs. Atterson had seen the real estate man of late; but + they had seen Mr. Strickland, and on the final day they drove to town to + meet Pepper—if the man was going to show up—in the lawyer's + office. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't trouble him, if I were you,” advised the lawyer. “But if you + insist, I'll send over for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know what he means by all this,” declared Mrs. Atterson, + angrily. “He's kept me on tenter-hooks for ten months, and there ought to + be some punishment for the crime.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he has been within his rights,” said the lawyer, smiling; but + he sent his clerk for the real estate man, probably being very well + convinced of the outcome of the affair. + </p> + <p> + In came the snaky Mr. Pepper. The moment he saw Mrs. Atterson and Hiram he + began to cackle. + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't mean to say you come clean in here this stormy day to try and + sell that farm to me?” asked the real estate man. “No, ma'am! Not for no + sixteen hundred dollars. If you'll take twelve——” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson could not find words to reply to him; and Hiram felt like + seizing the scoundrel by the scruff of his neck and throwing him down to + the street. But it was Mr. Strickland who interposed: + </p> + <p> + “So you do not propose to exercise your option?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed-y!” + </p> + <p> + “How long since did you give up the idea of purchasing the Atterson + place?” asked the lawyer, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! I gave up the idee 'way back there last spring,” chuckled Pepper. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't the paper with you, have you, Mr. Pepper?” asked Mr. + Strickland, quietly. + </p> + <p> + The real estate man looked wondrous sly and tapped the side of his nose + with a lean finger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I tore up that old paper long ago. It warn't no good to me,” said + Pepper. “I wouldn't take the farm at that price for a gift,” and he + departed with a sneering smile upon his lips. + </p> + <p> + “And well he did destroy it,” declared Mr. Strickland. “It was a forgery—that + is what it was. And if we could have once got Pepper in court with it, he + would not have turned another scaly trick for some years to come.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. “CELERY MAD” + </h2> + <p> + The relief to the minds of Hiram Strong and Mrs. Atterson was tremendous. + </p> + <p> + Especially was the young farmer inspired to greater effort. He saw the + second growing season before him. And he saw, too, that now, indeed, he + had that chance to prove his efficiency which he had desired all the time. + </p> + <p> + The past year had cost him little for clothing or other expenses. He had + banked the hundred dollars Mrs. Atterson had paid him at Christmas. + </p> + <p> + But he looked forward to something much bigger than the other hundred when + the next Christmas-tide should come. Twenty-five per cent of all the + profit of the Atterson Eighty during this second year was to be his own. + </p> + <p> + The moment “Mr. Damocles's sword”, as Mother Atterson had called it, was + lifted the young farmer jumped into the work. + </p> + <p> + He had already cut enough wood to last the family a year; now he got Mr. + Pollock, with his team of mules, to haul it up to the house, and then sent + for the power saw, asked the neighbors to help, and in less than half a + day every stick was cut to stove length. + </p> + <p> + As he had time Hiram split this wood and Lem Camp piled it in the shed. + Hiram knocked together some extra cold-frames, too, and bought some + second-hand sash. + </p> + <p> + And he had already dug a pit for a twelve-foot hotbed. Now, a twelve-foot + hotbed will start an enormous number of plants. + </p> + <p> + Hiram did not plan to have quite so much small stuff in the garden this + year, however. He knew that he should have less time to work in the + garden. He proposed having more potatoes, about as many tomatoes as the + year before, but fewer roots to bunch, salads and the like. He must give + the bulk of his time to the big commercial crop that he hoped to put into + the bottom-land. + </p> + <p> + He had little fear of the river overflowing its banks late enough in the + season to interfere with the celery crop. For the seedlings were to be + handled in the cold-frames and garden-patch until it was time to set them + in the trenches. And that would not be until July. + </p> + <p> + He contented himself with having the logs he cut drawn to the sawmill and + the sawed planks brought down to the edge of the bottom-land, and did not + propose to put a plow into the land until late June. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile he started his celery seed in shallow boxes, and when the plants + were an inch and a half, or so, tall, he pricked them out, two inches + apart each way into the cold-frames. + </p> + <p> + Sister and Mr. Camp could help in this work, and they soon filled the + cold-frames with celery plants destined to be reset in the garden plat + later. + </p> + <p> + This “handling” of celery aids its growth and development in a most + wonderful manner. At the second transplanting, Hiram snipped back the + tops, and the roots as well, so that each plant would grow sturdily and + not be too “stalky”. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson declared they were all celery mad. “Whatever will you do + with so much of the stuff, I haven't the least idee, Hiram. Can you sell + it all? Why, it looks to me as though you had set out enough already to + glut the Crawberry market.” + </p> + <p> + “And I guess that's right,” returned Hiram. “Especially if I shipped it + all at once.” + </p> + <p> + But he was aiming higher than the Crawberry market. He had been in + correspondence with firms that handled celery exclusively in some of the + big cities, and before ever he put the plow into the bottom-land he had + arranged for the marketing of every stalk he could grow on his six acres. + </p> + <p> + It was a truth that the family of transplanted boarding house people + worked harder this second spring than they had the first one. But they + knew how better, too, and the garden work did not seem so arduous to + Sister and Old Lem Camp. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Atterson had a fine flock of hens, and they had laid well after the + first of December, and the eggs had brought good prices. She planned to + increase her flock, build larger yards, and in time make a business of + poultry raising, as that would be something that she and Sister could + practically handle alone. + </p> + <p> + Sister's turkeys had thrived so the year before that she had saved two + hens and a handsome gobbler, and determined to breed turkeys for the fall + market. + </p> + <p> + And Sister learned a few things before she had raised “that raft of + poults,” as Mother Atterson called them. Turkeys are certainly calculated + to breed patience—especially if one expects to have a flock of young + Toms and hens fit for killing at Thanksgiving-time. + </p> + <p> + She hatched the turkeys under motherly hens belonging to Mother Atterson, + striving to breed poults that would not trail so far from the house; but + as soon as the youngsters began to feel their wings they had their + foster-mothers pretty well worn out. One flock tolled the old hen off at + least a mile from the house and Hiram had some work enticing the poults + back again. + </p> + <p> + There was no raid made upon her turkey coops this year, however. Pete + Dickerson was not much in evidence during the spring and early summer. + Mrs. Atterson went back and forth to the neighbors; but although whenever + Hiram saw the farmer the latter put forth an effort to be pleasant to him, + the two households did not well “mix”. + </p> + <p> + Besides, during this busiest time of the year, when the crops were getting + started, there seemed to be little opportunity for social intercourse. At + least, so it seemed on the Atterson place. + </p> + <p> + They were a busy and well contented crew, and everything seemed to be + running like clockwork, when suddenly “another dish of trouble”, as Mother + Atterson called it, was served them in a most unexpected manner. + </p> + <p> + Hiram was coming up from the barn one evening, long after dark, and had + just caught sight of Sister standing on the porch waiting for him, when a + sudden glow against the dark sky, made him turn. + </p> + <p> + The flash of fire passed on the instant, and Sister called to him: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hiram! did you see that shooting-star?” + </p> + <p> + “You never wished on it, Sis,” said the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes I did!” she returned, dancing down the steps to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “That quick?” + </p> + <p> + “Just that quick,” she reiterated, seizing his arm and getting into step + with him. + </p> + <p> + “And what was the wish?” demanded Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Why—I won't ever get it if I tell you, will I?” she queried, shyly. + </p> + <p> + “Just as likely to as not, Sister,” he said, with serious voice. “Wishes + are funny things, you know. Sometimes the very best ones never come true.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm afraid mine will never come true,” she sighed. “Oh, dear! I guess + no amount of wishing will ever bring some things to pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe that's so, Sis,” he said, chuckling. “I fancy that getting out and + hustling for the thing you want is the best way to fulfill wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I can't do that in this case,” said the girl, shaking her head, + and still speaking very seriously as they came to the porch steps. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I can bring it about for you,” teased Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” she said. “I want so to be like other girls, Hiram! I'd + like to be like that pretty Lettie Bronson. I'm not jealous of her looks + and her clothes and her good times and all; no, that's not it,” proclaimed + Sister, with a little break in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “But I'd like to know who I really be. I want folks, and—and I want + to have a real name of my own!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless you!” exclaimed the young fellow, “'Sister' is a nice name, + I'm sure—and we all love it here.” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't a name. They call me Sissy Atterson at school. But it + doesn't belong to me. I—I've thought lots about choosing a name for + myself—a real fancy one, you know. There's lots of pretty, names,” + she said, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Cords of 'em,” Hiram agreed. + </p> + <p> + “But, you see, they wouldn't really be mine,” said the girl, earnestly. + “Not even after I had chosen them. I want my very own name! I want to know + who I am and all about myself. And”—with a half strangled sob—“I + guess wishing will never bring me that, will it, Hiram?” + </p> + <p> + Never before had the young fellow heard Sister express herself upon this + topic. He had no idea that the girl felt her unknown and practically + unnamed existence so strongly. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't care, Sis,” he said, patting her bent shoulders. “We love you + here just as well as we would if you had ten names! Don't forget that. + </p> + <p> + “And maybe it won't be all a mystery some day. Your folks may look you up. + They may come here and find you. And they'll be mighty proud of you—you've + grown so tall and good looking. Of course they will!” + </p> + <p> + Sister listened to him and gave a little contented sigh. “And then they + might want to take me away—and I'd fight, tooth and nail, if they + tried it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” gasped Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would!” said the girl. “Do you suppose I'd give up Mother + Atterson for a dozen families—or for clothes—and houses—or, + or anything?” and she ran into the house leaving the young farmer in some + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that the girl of it?” he muttered, at last. “Yet I bet she is in + earnest about wanting to know about her folks.” + </p> + <p> + And from that time Hiram thought more about Sister's problem himself than + he had before. Once, when he went to Crawberry, he went to the charitable + institution from which Mother Atterson had taken Sister. But the matron + had heard nothing of the lawyer who had once come to talk over the child's + affairs, and the path of inquiry seemed shut off right there by an + impassable barrier. + </p> + <p> + However, this is ahead of our story. On this particular night Hiram washed + at the pump, and then followed Sister in to supper. + </p> + <p> + Before they were half through Mr. Camp suddenly started from his chair and + pointed through the window. + </p> + <p> + Flames were rising behind the barn again! + </p> + <p> + “Another stack burning!” exclaimed Hiram, and be shot out of the door, + seizing a pail of water, hoping that he might put it out. + </p> + <p> + But the stack was doomed. He knew it the moment he saw the extent of the + blaze. + </p> + <p> + He kept away from it, as he had before; yet he did not expect to pick up + any trail of the incendiary near the stack. + </p> + <p> + “Twice in the same place is too much!” declared the young farmer, glowing + with wrath. “I'm going to have this mystery explained, or know the reason + why.” + </p> + <p> + He left Mr. Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks from the + stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went along the line fence + again. + </p> + <p> + Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But the + burning stack was even farther from the fence than the first one had been—and + there were no marks of feet in the soft earth on Mrs. Atterson's side of + the boundary. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. CLEANING UP A PROFIT + </h2> + <p> + Hiram crawled through the wires, and followed the plain foot-marks back to + the Dickerson sheds. He lost them there, of course, but he knew by the + size of the footprints that either Sam Dickerson or his oldest son had + been over to the line fence. + </p> + <p> + “And that shooting-star!” considered Hiram. “There was something peculiar + about that. I wonder if there wasn't a shooting star, also, away back + there at New Year's when our other stack of fodder was burned?” + </p> + <p> + He loitered about the sheds for a few moments. It appeared as though all + the Dickersons were indoors. Nobody interfered with him. + </p> + <p> + Of a sudden Hiram began to sniff an odor that seemed strange about a + cart-shed. At least, no wise farmer would have naphtha, or gasoline, in + his outbuildings, for it would make his insurance invalid. + </p> + <p> + But that was the smell Hiram discovered. And he was not long in finding + the cause of it. + </p> + <p> + Back in a dark corner, upon a beam, lay a big sling-shot—one of + those that boys swing around their heads with a stone in the heel of it, + and then let go one end to shoot the missile to a distance. + </p> + <p> + The leather loop was saturated with the gasoline, and it had been + scorched, too. The smell of burning, as well as the smell of gasoline, was + very distinct. + </p> + <p> + Hiram took the sling-shot with him, and went up to the Dickerson house. + </p> + <p> + He had got along so well with the Dickersons for these past months that he + honestly shrank from “starting anything” now. Yet he could not overlook + this flagrant piece of malicious mischief. Indeed, it was more than that. + Two stacks had already been burned, and it might be some of the + outbuildings—or even Mrs. Atterson's house—next time! + </p> + <p> + Besides, Hiram felt himself responsible for his employer's property. The + old lady could not afford to lose the fodder, and Hiram was determined + that both of the burned stacks should be paid for in full. + </p> + <p> + He looked through the window of the Dickerson kitchen. The family was + around the supper table-Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson, Pete, and the children, + little and big. It was a cheerful family group, after all. Rough and + uncouth as the farmer was, Dickerson likely had his feelings like other + people. Instead of bursting right in at the door as had been Hiram's + intention, and accusing Pete to his face, the indignant young fellow + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + He hadn't any sympathy for Pete, not the slightest. If he gave him—or + the elder Dickerson—a chance to clear up matters by making good to + Mrs. Atterson for what she had lost, Hiram Strong decided that he was + being very lenient indeed. + </p> + <p> + He stepped quietly onto the porch and rapped on the door. Then he backed + off and waited for some response from within. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Mr. Strong!” exclaimed the farmer, coming himself to the “door. + Why! is that your stack burning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Hiram, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Another one!” + </p> + <p> + “That is the second,” admitted Hiram. “But I don't propose that another + shall be set afire in just the same way.” + </p> + <p> + Sam Dickerson stepped suddenly down to the young farmer's level, and + asked: + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that? Do you know how it got afire?” + </p> + <p> + Hiram held out the sling-shot in the light of his lantern. + </p> + <p> + “A rag, saturated with gasoline, was wrapped around a pebble, then set + afire, and stone and blazing rag were shot from our line fence into the + fodderstack. + </p> + <p> + “I found the footprints of the incendiary on New Year's morning at the + same place. And I'll wager a good deal that your son Pete's boots will fit + the footprints over there at the line now!” + </p> + <p> + Sam Dickerson's face had turned exceedingly red, and then paled. But he + spoke very quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with him, Mr. Strong?” he asked. “It will be + five years for him at least, if you take it to court—and maybe + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe, Mr. Dickerson, that you have upheld Pete in all the mean + tricks he has played on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I haven't! And since I got a look at myself—back there when + the wife was hurt——” + </p> + <p> + Sam Dickerson's voice broke and he turned away for a moment so that his + visitor should not see his face. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he continued. “You've got Pete right this time—no doubt of + that. I dunno what makes him such a mean whelp. I'll lambaste him good for + this, now I tell you. But the stacks——” + </p> + <p> + “Make him pay for them out of his own money. Mrs. Atterson ought not to + lose the stacks,” said Hiram, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he'll do that, anyway, you can bet!” exclaimed Dickerson, with + conviction. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that sending a boy like him to jail will either improve + his morals, or do anybody else any good,” observed Hiram, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “And it'll jest about finish his mother,” spoke Sam. + </p> + <p> + “That's right, too,” said the young farmer. “I tell you. I don't want to + see him—not just now. But you do what you think is best about this + matter, and make Peter pay the bill—ten dollars for the two stacks + of fodder.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall do it, Mr. Strong,” declared Sam Dickerson, warmly. “And he + shall beg your pardon, too, or I'll larrup him until he can't stand. He's + too big for a lickin', but he ain't too big for me to lick!” + </p> + <p> + And the elder Dickerson was as good as his word. An hour later yells from + the cart shed denoted that Pete was finally getting what he should have + received when he was a younger boy. + </p> + <p> + Before noon Sam marched the youth over to Mrs. Atterson. Pete was very + puffy about the eyes, and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Nor did he + seem to care to more than sit upon the extreme edge of a chair. + </p> + <p> + But he paid Mrs. Atterson ten dollars, and then, nudged by his father, + turned to Hiram and begged the young farmer's pardon. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, etc.,” said Hiram, laying his hand upon the boy's + shoulder. “Just because we haven't got on well together heretofore, + needn't make any difference between us after this. + </p> + <p> + “Come over and see me. If you have time this summer and want the work, + I'll be glad to hire you to help handle my celery crop. + </p> + <p> + “Neighbors ought to be neighborly; and it won't do either of us any good + to hug to ourselves any injury which we fancy the other has done. We'll be + friends if you say so, Peter—though I tell you right now that if you + turn another mean trick against me, I'll take the law into my own hands + and give you worse than you've got already.” + </p> + <p> + Pete looked sheepish enough, and shook hands. He knew very well that Hiram + could do as he promised. + </p> + <p> + But from that time on the young farmer had no further trouble with him. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Hiram's crops on the Atterson Eighty grew almost as well this + second season as they had the first. There was a bad drouth this year, and + the upland corn did not do so well; yet the young farmer's corn crop + compared well with the crops in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + He had put in but eight acres of corn this year; but they had plenty of + old corn in the crib when it came time to take down this second season's + crop. + </p> + <p> + It was upon the celery that Hiram bent all his energies. He had to pay out + considerable for help, but that was no more than he expected. Celery takes + a deal of handling. + </p> + <p> + When the long, hot, dry days came, when the uplands parched and the earth + fairly seemed to radiate the heat, the acres of tender plants which Hiram + and his helpers had just set out in the trenches began to wilt most + discouragingly. + </p> + <p> + Henry Pollock, who did all he could to aid Hiram on the crop, shook his + head in despair. + </p> + <p> + “It's a-layin' down on you, Hiram—it's a-layin' down on you. Another + day like this and your celery crop will be pretty small pertaters!” + </p> + <p> + “And that would be a transformation worthy of the attention of all the + agricultural schools, Henry,” returned the young farmer, grimly laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You got a heart—to laugh at your own loss,” said Henry. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any loss—yet,” declared Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “But there's bound to be,” said his friend, a regular “Job's comforter” + for the nonce. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Henry; you'd have me give up too easy. 'Never say die!' That's + the farmer's motto.” + </p> + <p> + “Jinks!” exclaimed young Pollock, “they're dying all around us just the + same—and their crops, too. We ain't going to have half a corn crop + if this spell of dry weather keeps on. And the papers don't give us a sign + of hope.” + </p> + <p> + “When there doesn't seem to be a sign of hope is when the really + up-to-date farmer begins to actually work,” chuckled Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “And just tell me what you're going to do for this field of wilted + celery?” demanded Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Come on up to the house and I'll get Mother Atterson to give us an early + supper,” quoth Hiram. “I'm going to town and I invite you to go with me.” + </p> + <p> + Henry had got used by this time to Hiram's little mysteries. But this + seemed to him a case where man had done all that could be done for the + crop, and without Providential interposition, “the whole field would have + to go to pot”, as he expressed it. + </p> + <p> + And in his heart the young farmer knew that the outlook for a paying crop + of celery right then was very small indeed. He had done his best in + preparing the soil, in enriching it, in raising the sets and transplanting + them—up to this point he had brought his big commercial crop, at + considerable expense. If the drouth really “got” it, he would have, at the + most, but a poor and stunted crop to ship in the Fall. + </p> + <p> + But Hiram Strong was not the fellow to throw up his hands and own himself + beaten at such a time as this. Here was an obstacle that must be overcome. + The harder the problem looked the more determined he was to solve it. + </p> + <p> + The two boys drove to town that evening and Hiram sought out a man who + contracted to move houses, clean cisterns and wells, and various work of + that kind. He knew this man had just the thing he needed, and after a + conference with him, Hiram loaded some bulky paraphernalia into the light + wagon—it was so dark Henry could not see what it was—and they + drove home again. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know what the Jim Hickey you're about, Hiram,” sniffed Henry, + in disgust. “What's all this litter back here in the wagon?” + </p> + <p> + “You come over and give me a hand in the morning—early now, say by + sun-up—and you'll find out. I want a couple of husky chaps like + you,” chuckled Hiram. “I'll get Pete Dickerson to work against me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do, you tell Pete he'll have to work lively,” said Henry, with a + grin. “I don't know what it is you want us to do, but I reckon I can keep + my end up with Pete, from hoein' 'taters to cuttin' cord-wood.” + </p> + <p> + “You can keep your end up with him, can you?” chuckled Hiram. “Well! I bet + you can't in this game I'm going to put you two fellows up against.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Pete Dickerson beat me at anything—unless it's sleeping?” + grunted Henry, with vast disgust. “I'll keep my end up with him at + anything.” + </p> + <p> + And the more assured he was of this the more Hiram was amused. “Come on + over early, Henry,” said the young farmer, “and I'll show you that there's + at least one thing in which you can't keep your end up with Pete.” + </p> + <p> + His friend was almost angry when he started off across the fields for + home; but he was mighty curious, too. That curiosity, if nothing more, + would have brought him to the Atterson house in good season the following + morning. + </p> + <p> + Already, however, Hiram and Pete—with the light wagon—had gone + down to the riverside. Henry hurried after them and reached the celery + field just as the red face of the sun appeared. + </p> + <p> + There had been little dew during the night and the tender transplants had + scarcely lifted their heads. Indeed, the last acre set out the day before + were flat. + </p> + <p> + On the bank of the river, and near that suffering acre, were Hiram and + Pete Dickerson. Henry hurried to them, wondering at the thing he saw upon + the bank. + </p> + <p> + Hiram was already laying out between the celery rows a long hosepipe. This + was attached to a good-sized force-pump, the feedpipe of which was in the + river. It was a two-man pump and was worked by an up-and-down “brake.” + </p> + <p> + “Catch hold here, Henry,” laughed Hiram. “One of you on each side now, and + pump for all you're worth. And see if I'm not right, my boy. You can't + keep your end up with Pete at this job; for if you do, the water won't + flow!” + </p> + <p> + Henry admitted that he had, been badly sold by the joke; but he was + enthusiastic in his praise of Hiram's ingenuity, too. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, say!” said the young farmer, “what do you suppose the Good Lord gave + us brains for? Just so as to keep our fingers out of the fire? No, sir! + With all this perfectly good and wet water running past my field, could I + have the heart to let this celery die? I guess not!” + </p> + <p> + He had a fine spray nozzle on the pipe and the pipe itself was long enough + so that, by moving the pump occasionally, he could water every square foot + of the big piece. And the three young fellows, by changing about, went + over the field every other day in about four hours without difficulty. + </p> + <p> + By and by the celery plants got rooted well; they no longer drooped in the + morning; before the drouth was past the young farmer had as handsome a + field of celery as one would wish. Indeed, when he began to ship the crop, + even his earliest crates were rated A-1 by the produce men, and he bad no + difficulty in selling the entire crop at the top of the market, right + through the season. + </p> + <p> + The garden paid a profit; the potatoes did even better than the year + before, and Hiram harvested and sold seventy-five dollars' worth while the + price for new potatoes was high. + </p> + <p> + He shipped most of his tomatoes this year, for he could not pay attention + to the local market as he had the first season; but the tomato crop was a + good one. + </p> + <p> + They raised to eight weeks and sold, during the year, five pair of shoats, + and Mrs. Atterson bought a grade cow with her calf by her side, for a + hundred dollars, and made ten pounds of butter a week right through the + season. + </p> + <p> + Old Lem Camp, looking ten years younger than when he came to the farm, + muscular and brown, did all the work about the barns now, milked the cows, + and relieved Hiram of all the chores. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, with some little help about the plowing and cultivating, Hiram + knew very well that Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem could run the farm another + year without his help. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the old lady could not expect to put in any crop that would pay + her like the celery; for when they footed up their books, the bottom-land + had yielded, as Hiram had once prophesied to Mr. Bronson over four hundred + dollars the acre, net. + </p> + <p> + Twenty-four hundred dollars income from six acres; and the profit was more + than fifty per cent. Indeed, Hiram's share of the profit amounted to three + hundred and seventy dollars. + </p> + <p> + With his hundred dollar wage, and the money he had saved the previous + season, when the crops were harvested this second season, the young + farmer's bank book showed a balance of over five hundred dollars to his + credit. + </p> + <p> + “I'm eighteen years old and over,” soliloquized the young farmer. “And + I've got a capital of five hundred dollars. Can't I turn that capital some + way go as to give me a bigger—a broader—chance? + </p> + <p> + “Thus far I've been a one-horse farmer; I want to be something better than + that. Now, there's no use in my hanging around here, waiting for something + to turn up. I must get a move on me and turn something up for myself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. LOOKING AHEAD + </h2> + <p> + During this year Hiram had not seen much of Mr. Bronson, or Lettie. They + had gone back to the West over the summer vacation, and when Lettie had + returned for her last year at St. Beris, her father had not come on until + near Thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + Hiram had spoken with Lettie several times during the fail, and he thought + that she had vastly improved in one way, at least. + </p> + <p> + She could not be any prettier, it seemed to him; but her manner was more + cordial, and she always asked after Sister and Mrs. Atterson, and showed + that her interest in him was not a mere surface interest. + </p> + <p> + One day, when Hiram had been shipping some of the last of his celery, + Lettie met him on the street near the Scoville railroad station. Hiram was + in his high boots, and overalls; and Lettie was with two of her girl + friends. + </p> + <p> + But the girl stopped him and shook hands, and told him that her father had + arrived and wanted to see him. + </p> + <p> + “We want you to come to dinner Saturday evening, Hiram. Father insists, + and I shall be very much disappointed if you do not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's very kind of you, Miss Lettie,” responded the young farmer, + slowly, trying to find some good reason for refusing the invitation. He + was determined not to be patronized. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Hiram! This is very important. We want you to meet somebody,” said + Lettie, her eyes dancing. “Somebody very particular. Now! do say you'll + come like a good boy, and not keep me teasing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll come, Miss Lettie,” he finally agreed, and she gave him a most + charming smile. + </p> + <p> + Lettie's two friends had waited for her, very much amused. + </p> + <p> + “I declare, Let!” cried one of them—and her voice reached Hiram's + ears quite plainly. “You do have the queerest friends. Why did you stop to + speak to that yokel?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! he'll hear you,” said Miss Bronson; yet she smiled, too. “So you + think Hiram is a yokel, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hiram!” repeated her friend. “Goodness me! I should think the name was + enough. And those boots—and overalls!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lettie, still amused, “I've seen my own father in just such a + costume. And you know very well that he is a pretty good looking man, + dressed up.” + </p> + <p> + “But Let! your father's never a farmer$” gasped the other girl. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's just joking us,” laughed the third girl. “Of course he's a + farmer—he owns half a dozen farms. But he's the kind of a farmer who + rides around in his automobile and looks over his crops.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and this young man may do that—in time,” said Lettie. “At + least, my father believes Hi is aimed that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't look as though he had a cent,” said the third girl. + </p> + <p> + “He is putting away more money of his very own in the bank than any boy we + know, who works. Father says so,” declared Lettie. “He says Hi has done + wonderfully well with his crops this year—and he is only raising + them on shares. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, girls, the farmer is coming into his own, these days. + That is a great saying of father's. He believes that the man who produces + the food-stuffs for the rest of the world should have a satisfactory share + of the proceeds of their sale. And that is coming, father says. + </p> + <p> + “Farmers don't have to half starve, and be burdened by mortgages and + ignorance, any longer. The country sections are waking up. With good + schools and good roads, and the grange, and all, many rural districts are + already ahead of the cities in the things worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to Let lecture!” sniffed one of her friends. + </p> + <p> + “All right. You wait. Maybe you'll see that same young fellow—Hi + Strong—come through this town in his own auto before you graduate + from St. Beris.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” exclaimed the other. “If I do I'll ask him for a ride,” and the + discussion ended in a laugh. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, however, had Hiram heard all Lettie had said he would not have + been so doubtful in regard to fulfilling his promise about taking dinner + with Mr. Bronson and his daughter on Saturday evening. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank from the + ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one to show him the way + out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how terribly + disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's card in + the sewer excavation. + </p> + <p> + And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson and + come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity that + would never be offered him again. His contract was practically over with + his present employer, and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire greater + things in the farming line. + </p> + <p> + It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along + this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being + tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired very + strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn how to + handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a “one-horse farmer” + to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended by Hiram's refusal + to come to work for him when he gave him that opportunity? That was a + question that bit deep into the young farmer's mind. + </p> + <p> + When he went to the Bronson's house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. + Bronson met him cordially, in the library. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!” exclaimed the + Westerner. + </p> + <p> + “Done what?” queried Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever saw. + Is that right?” + </p> + <p> + “I've succeeded in what I set out to do,” said Hiram, modestly. + </p> + <p> + “And I did not believe myself that you could do it,” declared the + gentleman. “And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas,” added + Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a young + men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, and + finally take him back West with me. + </p> + <p> + “I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but good + farm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one—a young man. I + ran against a promising lad before you came to the Atterson place; but I + lost track of him. + </p> + <p> + “Had you been willing to leave Mrs. Atterson and come to me,” continued + Mr. Bronson, “I believe I could have licked you into shape last season so + that you would have suited me very well,” and he laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “But now I want you to meet my future farm-manager. He is the very fellow + I wanted before I offered the chance to you. I reckon you'll be glad to + see him——” + </p> + <p> + While he was talking, Mr. Bronson had put his hand on Hiram's shoulder, + and urged him down the length of the room. They had come to a heavy + portiere; Hiram thought it masked a doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the fellow himself,” exclaimed Bronson suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The curtain was whisked away. Hiram heard Lettie giggling somewhere in the + folds of it. And he found himself staring straight into a long mirror + which reflected both himself and the laughing Mr. Bronson. + </p> + <p> + “Hiram Strong!” spoke the Westerner, admonishingly, “why didn't you tell + me long ago that you were the lad who turned my horses out of the ditch + that evening back in Crawberry?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why——” + </p> + <p> + “His fatal modesty,” laughed Lettie, appearing and clapping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I guess it wasn't that,” said Hiram, slowly. “What was the use? I would + have been glad of your assistance at the time; but when I found you I had + already made a contract with Mrs. Atterson, and—what was the use?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps it would have made no difference. When I had dug up the + fact that you were the same fellow whom I had looked for at Dwight's + Emporium, it struck me that possibly the character that old scoundrel gave + you had some basis in fact. + </p> + <p> + “So I said nothing to you after you had refused to break your contract. + That, Hiram, was a good point in your favor. And what that little girl at + your house has told Lettie about you—and the way Mrs. Atterson + speaks of you, and all—long since convinced me that you were just + the lad I wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Hiram, I believe you know a good deal about farming that I don't + know myself. And, at any rate, if you can do what you have done with a + run-down place like the Atterson Eighty, I'd like to see what you can do + with a bigger and better farm. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? Will you come to me—if only for a year? I'll make + it worth your while.” + </p> + <p> + And that Hiram Strong did not let this opportunity slip past him will be + shown in the next volume of this series, entitled: “Hiram in the Middle + West; Or, A Young Farmer's Upward Struggle.” + </p> + <p> + He was sorry to leave Mrs. Atterson at Christmas time; but the old lady + saw that it was to Hiram's advantage to go. + </p> + <p> + “And good land o' Goshen, Hiram! I wouldn't stand in no boy's way—not + a boy like you, leastways. You've always been square with me, and you've + given me a new lease of life. For I never would have dared to give up the + boarding house and come to the farm if it hadn't been for you. + </p> + <p> + “This is your home—jest as much as it is Sister's home, and Old Lem + Camp's. Don't forgit that, Hiram. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find us all here whenever you want to come back to it. For I've + talked with Mr. Strickland and I'm going to adopt Sister, all reg'lar, and + she shall have what I leave when I die, only promising to give Mr. Camp a + shelter, if he should outlast me. + </p> + <p> + “Sister's folks may never look her up, and she may never git that money + the institution folk think is coming to her. But she'll be well fixed + here, that's sure.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, taking it all around, everybody of importance to the story seemed + to be “well fixed”, as Mother Atterson expressed it. She herself need + never be disturbed by the vagaries of boarders, or troubled in her mind, + either waking or sleeping, about the gravy—save on Thanksgiving Day. + </p> + <p> + Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions and Mrs. + Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons—even Pete—had become + friendly neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his father, and they were + running the Pollock farm on much more modern lines than before. + </p> + <p> + And Hiram himself was looking ahead to a scheme of life that suited him, + and to a chance “to make good” on a much larger scale than he had on the + Atterson Eighty where, nevertheless, he had made the soil pay. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hiram The Young Farmer, by Burbank L. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hiram The Young Farmer + +Author: Burbank L. Todd + +Posting Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1679] +Release Date: March, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER + +By Burbank L. Todd + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER I. THE CALL OF SPRING + +CHAPTER II. AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + +CHAPTER III. A DREARY DAY + +CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD + +CHAPTER V. THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + +CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + +CHAPTER VII. HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + +CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + +CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN IS MADE + +CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + +CHAPTER XI. A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + +CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + +CHAPTER XIII. THE UPROOTING + +CHAPTER XIV. GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + +CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE BREWS + +CHAPTER XV. ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + +CHAPTER XVII. MR. PEPPER APPEARS + +CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD + +CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY + +CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + +CHAPTER XXI. THE WELCOME TEMPEST + +CHAPTER XXII. FIRST FRUITS + +CHAPTER XXIII. TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + +CHAPTER XXIV. "CORN THAT'S CORN" + +CHAPTER XXV. THE BARBECUE + +CHAPTER XXVI. SISTER'S TURKEYS + +CHAPTER XXVII. RUN TO EARTH + +CHAPTER XXVIII. HARVEST + +CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + +CHAPTER XXX. ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + +CHAPTER XXXI. "MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD" + +CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + +CHAPTER XXXIII. "CELERY MAD" + +CHAPTER XXXIV. CLEANING UP A PROFIT + +CHAPTER XXXV. LOOKING AHEAD + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE CALL OF SPRING + +"Well, after all, the country isn't such a bad place as some city folk +think." + +The young fellow who said this stood upon the highest point of the Ridge +Road, where the land sloped abruptly to the valley in which lay the +small municipality of Crawberry on the one hand, while on the other open +fields and patches of woodland, in a huge green-and-brown checkerboard +pattern, fell more easily to the bank of the distant river. + +Dotted here and there about the farming country lying before the youth +as he looked westward were cottages, or the more important-looking +homesteads on the larger farms; and in the distance a white church spire +behind the trees marked the tiny settlement of Blaine's Smithy. + +A Sabbath calm lay over the fields and woods. It was mid-afternoon of +an early February Sunday--the time of the mid-winter thaw, that false +prophet of the real springtime. + +Although not a furrow had been turned as yet in the fields, and the snow +lay deep in some fence corners and beneath the hedges, there was, after +all, a smell of fresh earth--a clean, live smell--that Hiram Strong had +missed all week down in Crawberry. + +"I'm glad I came up here," he muttered, drawing in great breaths of +the clean air. "Just to look at the open fields, without any brick and +mortar around, makes a fellow feel fine!" + +He stretched his arms above his head and, standing alone there on the +upland, felt bigger and better than he had in weeks. + +For Hiram Strong was a country boy, born and bred, and the town stifled +him. Besides, he had begun to see that his two years in Crawberry had +been wasted. + +"As a hustler after fortune in the city I am not a howling success," +mused Hiram. "Somehow, I'm cramped down yonder," and he glanced back +at the squalid brick houses below him, the smoky roofs, and the ugly +factory chimneys. + +"And I declare," he pursued, reflectively, "I don't believe I can stand +Old Dan Dwight much longer. Dan, Junior, is bad enough--when he is +around the store; but the boss would drive a fellow to death." + +He shook his head, now turning from the pleasanter prospect of the +farming land and staring down into the town. + +"Maybe I'm not a success because I don't stick to one thing. I've had +six jobs in less'n two years. That's a bad record for a boy, I believe. +But there hasn't any of them suited me, nor have I suited them. + +"And Dwight's Emporium beats 'em all!" finished Hiram, shaking his head. + +He turned his back upon the town once more, as though to wipe his +failure out of his memory. Before him sloped a field of wheat and +clover. + +It had kept as green under the snow as though winter was an unknown +season. Every cloverleaf sparkled and the leaves of wheat bristled like +tiny spears. + +Spring was on the way. He could hear the call of it! + +Two years before Hiram had left the farm. He had no immediate relatives +after his father died. The latter had been a tenant-farmer only, and +when his tools and stock and the few household chattels had been sold +to pay the debts that had accumulated during his last illness, there was +very little money left for Hiram. + +There was nobody to say him nay when he packed his bag and started for +Crawberry, which was the metropolis of his part of the country. He had +set out boldly, believing that he could get ahead faster, and become +master of his own fortune more quickly in town than in the locality +where he was born. + +He was a rugged, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall, but +sturdy and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done a man's +work before he left the farm. + +Hiram's hands were calloused, he shuffled a bit when walked, and his +shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow handles since +he had been big enough to bridle his father's old mare. + +Yes, the work on the farm had been hard--especially for a growing boy. +Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had. + +Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has in store for +most country boys who cut loose from their old environment, Hiram Strong +felt to-day as though he must get back to the land. + +"There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium will +never get me anywhere," he thought, turning finally away from the open +country and starting down the steep hill. + +"Why, there are college boys working on our street cars here--waiting +for some better job to turn up. What chance does a fellow stand who's +only got a country school education? + +"And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry--fun that +doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more than enough to +pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a new suit of overalls +and a pair of shoes occasionally. + +"No, sir!" concluded Hiram. "There's nothing in it. Not for a fellow +like me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm--and I wish I was +there now." + +He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner at his +boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he had nothing to +look forward to as he returned but the stuffy parlor of Mrs. Atterson's +boarding house, the cold supper in the dining-room, which was attended +in a desultory fashion by such of the boarders as were at home, and then +a long, dull evening in his room, or bed after attending the evening +service at the church around the corner. + +Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house +table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks about Mrs. +Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his +class, or the grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid, or the +inane monologue of Old Lem Camp. + +And Mrs. Atterson herself--good soul though she was--had gotten on Hiram +Strong's nerves, too. With her heat-blistered face, near-sighted eyes +peering through beclouded spectacles, and her gown buttoned up hurriedly +and with a gap here and there where a button was missing, she was the +typically frowsy, hurried, nagged-to-death boarding house mistress. + +And as for "Sister," Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and +maid-of-all-work---- + +"Well, Sister's the limit!" smiled Hiram, as he turned into the street, +with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. "I believe Fred +Crackit has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps Sister instead of a +cat--so there'll be something to kick." + +The half-grown girl--narrow-chested, round shouldered, and sallow--had +been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity institution. "Sister," as +the boarders all called her, for lack of any other cognomen, would have +her yellow hair in four attenuated pigtails hanging down her back, and +she would shuffle about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old +shoes---- + +"By Jove! there she is now," exclaimed the startled youth. + +At the corner of the street several "slices" of the brick block had +been torn away and the lot cleared for the erection of some business +building. Running across this open space with wild shrieks and spilling +the milk from the big pitcher she carried--milk for the boarders' tea, +Hi knew--came Mrs. Atterson's maid. + +Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present "pigtails," +bounded a boy of about her own age--a laughing, yelling imp of a boy +whom Hiram knew very well. + +"That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the town!" +he said to himself. + +The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few +people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more or less +noise. + +Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk and told +Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, yelling to her to +"Get up!" and yanking as hard as he could on the braids. + +"Here! that's enough of that!" called Hiram, stepping quickly toward the +two. + +For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears. + +"Be off with you!" commanded Hiram. "You've plagued the girl enough." + +"Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!" returned Dan, Junior, grabbing at +Sister's hair again. + +Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him around. + +"You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister," he said, quietly. "No, you +don't!" he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. "You'll stop right +here." + +"Lemme be, Hi Strong!" bawled the other, when he found he could not +easily jerk away. "It'll be the worse for you if you don't." + +"Just you wait until the girl is home," returned Hiram, laughing. It was +an easy matter for him to hold the writhing Dan, Junior. + +"I'll fix you for this!" squalled the boy. "Wait till I tell my father." + +"You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth," laughed Hi. + +"I'll fix you," repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a vicious kick +at his captor. + +Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended--under Hi's kneecap--the +latter certainly would have been "fixed." But the country youth was too +agile for him. + +He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and then gave +him a backward thrust which sent the lighter boy spinning. + +Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path was +a puddle several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, staggered +back, tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed full length into +it. + +"Oh, oh!" he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he scrambled +out. "I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll catch it for this!" + +"You'd better run home before you catch cold," said Hiram, who could not +help laughing at the young rascal's plight. "And let girls alone another +time." + +To himself he said: "Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much more +in bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this escapade of his +precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, Junior, says. + +"Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for another job +in a very few days." + + + +CHAPTER II. AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + +When you came into "Mother" Atterson's front hall (the young men +boarders gave her that appellation in irony) the ghosts of many ancient +boiled dinners met you with--if you were sensitive and unused to the +odors of cheap boarding houses--a certain shock. + +He was starting up the stairs, on which the ragged carpet threatened to +send less agile persons than Mrs. Atterson's boarders headlong to +the bottom at every downward trip, when the clang of the gong in the +dining-room announced the usual cold spread which the landlady thought +due to her household on the first day of the week. + +Hiram hesitated, decided that he would skip the meal, and started up +again. But just then Fred Crackit lounged out of the parlor, with Mr. +Peebles following him. Dyspeptic as he was, Mr. Peebles never missed a +meal himself, and Crackit said: + +"Come on, Hi-Low-Jack! Aren't you coming down to the usual feast of +reason and flow of soul?" + +Crackit thought he was a natural humorist, and he had to keep up his +reputation at all times and seasons. He was rather a dissipated-looking +man of thirty years or so, given to gay waistcoats and wonderfully knit +ties. A brilliant as large as a hazel-nut--and which, in some lights, +really sparkled like a diamond--adorned the tie he wore this evening. + +"I don't believe I want any supper," responded Hiram, pleasantly. + +"What's the matter? Got some inside information as to what Mother +Atterson has laid out for us? You're pretty thick with the old girl, +Hi." + +"That's not a nice way to speak of her, Mr. Crackit," said Hi, in a low +voice. + +The other boarders--those who were in the house-straggled into the +basement dining-room one after the other, and took their places at the +long table, each in his customary manner. + +That dining-room at Mother Atterson's never could have been a cheerful +place. It was long, and low-ceiled, and the paper on the walls was +a dingy red, so old that the figure on it had retired into the +background--been absorbed by it, so to speak. + +The two long, dusty, windows looked upon an area, and were grilled half +way up by wrought-iron screens which, too, helped to shut out the light +of day. + +The long table was covered by a red figured table cloth. The "castors" +at both ends and in the middle were the ugliest--Hiram was sure--to be +found in all the city of Crawberry. The crockery was of the coarsest +kind. The knives and forks were antediluvian. The napkins were as coarse +as huck towels. + +But Mrs. Atterson's food--considering the cost of provisions and the +charge she made for her table--was very good. Only it had become a habit +for certain of the boarders, led by the jester, Crackit, to criticise +the viands. + +Sometimes they succeeded in making Mrs. Atterson angry; and sometimes, +Hiram knew, she wept, alone in the dining-room, after the harumscarum, +thoughtless crowd had gone. + +Old Lem Camp--nobody save Hiram thought to put "Mr." before the old +gentleman's name--sidled in and sat down beside the country boy, as +usual. He was a queer, colorless sort of person--a man who never looked +into the face of another if he could help it. He would look all around +Hiram when he spoke to him--at his shoulder, his shirtfront, his hands, +even at his feet if they were visible, but never at his face. + +And at the table he kept up a continual monologue. It was difficult +sometimes for Hiram to know when he was being addressed, and when poor +Mr. Camp was merely talking to himself. + +"Let's see--where has Sister put my napkin--Oh! here it is--You've been +for a walk, have you, young man?--No, that's not my napkin; I didn't +spill any gravy at dinner--Nice day out, but raw--Goodness me! can't I +have a knife and fork?--Where's my knife and fork?--Sister certainly has +forgotten my knife and fork.--Oh! Here they are--Yes, a very nice day +indeed for this time of year." + +And so on. It was quite immaterial to Mr. Camp whether he got an answer +to his remarks to Hiram, or not. He went on muttering to himself, all +through the meal, sometimes commenting upon what the others said at the +table--and that quite shrewdly, Hiram noticed; but the other boarders +considered him a little cracked. + +Sister smiled sheepishly at Hiram as she passed the tea. She drowned +his tea with milk and put in no less than four spoonfuls of sugar. But +although the fluid was utterly spoiled for Hiram's taste he drank it +with fortitude, knowing that the girl's generosity was the child of her +gratitude; for both sugar and milk were articles very scantily supplied +at Mother Atterson's table. + +The mistress herself did not appear. Now that he was down here in the +dining-room, Hiram lingered. He hated the thought of going up to his +lonely and narrow quarters at the top of the house. + +The other boarders trailed out of the room and up stairs, one after +another, Old Lem Camp being the last to go. Sister brought in a dish of +hot toast between two plates and set it at the upper end of the table. +Then Mrs. Atterson appeared. + +Hiram knew at once that something had gone wrong with the boarding +house mistress. She had been crying, and when a woman of the age of Mrs. +Atterson indulges in tears, her personal appearance is never improved. + +"Oh, that you, Hi?" she drawled, with a snuffle. "Did you get enough to +eat?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Atterson," returned the youth, starting to get up. "I have +had plenty." + +"I'm glad you did," said the lady. "And you're easy 'side of most of +'em, Hiram. You're a real good boy." + +"I reckon I get all I pay for, Mrs. Atterson," said her youngest +boarder. + +"Well, there ain't many of 'em would say that. And they was awful +provokin' this noon. That roast of veal was just as good meat as I could +find in market; and I don't know what any sensible party would want +better than that prune pie. + +"Well! I hope I won't have to keep a boarding house all my life. It's a +thankless task. An' it ties a body down so. + +"Here's my uncle--my poor mother's only brother and about the only +relative I've got in the world--here's Uncle Jeptha down with the grip, +or suthin', and goodness knows if he'll ever get over it. And I can't +leave to go and see him die peaceable." + +"Does he live far from here?" asked Hiram, politely, although he had no +particular reason for being interested in Uncle Jeptha. + +"He lives on a farm out Scoville way. He's lived there most all his +life. He used to make a right good living off'n that farm, too; but it's +run down some now. + +"The last time I was out there, two years ago, he was just keepin' along +and that's all. And now I expect he's dying, without a chick or child +of his own by him," and she burst out crying again, the tears sprinkling +the square of toast into which she continued to bite. + +Of course, it was ridiculous. A middle-aged woman weeping and eating +toast and drinking strong boiled tea is not a romantic picture. But as +Hiram climbed to his room he wished with all his heart that he could +help Mrs. Atterson. + +He wasn't the only person in the world who seemed to have got into +a wrong environment--lots of people didn't fit right into their +circumstances in life. + +"We're square pegs in round holes--that's what we are," mused Hiram. +"That's what I am. I wish I was out of it. I wish I was back on the +farm." + + + +CHAPTER III. A DREARY DAY + +Daniel Dwight's Emporium, the general store was called, and it was in a +very populous part of the town of Crawberry. Old Daniel was a driver, he +seldom had clerks enough to handle his trade properly, and nobody could +suit him. As general helper and junior clerk, Hiram Strong had remained +with the concern longer than any other boy Daniel had hired in years. + +When the early Monday morning rush was over, and there was moment's +breathing space, Hiram went to the door to re-arrange the trays of +vegetables which were his particular care. Hiram had a knack of making +a bank of the most plebeian vegetable and salads look like the +display-window of a florist. + +Now the youth looked out upon a typical city street, the dwellings +on either side being four and five story tenement houses, occupied by +artisans and mechanics. + +A few quarreling children paddled sticks, or sailed chip boats, in the +gutters. + +"Come on, now! Get a move on you, Hi!" sounded the raucous voice of +Daniel Dwight the elder, behind him in the store. + +Hiram went at his task with neither interest nor energy. + +All about him the houses and the street were grimy and depressing. It +had been a gray and murky morning; but overhead a patch of sky was as +blue as June. He suddenly saw a flock of pigeons wheeling above the +tunnel of the street, and the boy's heart leaped at the sight. + +He longed for freedom. He wished he could fly, up, up, up above the +housetops and the streets, like those feathered fowl. + +He knew he was stagnating here in this dingy store; the deadly sameness +of his life chafed him sorely. + +"I'd take another job if I could find one," he muttered, stirring up the +bunches of yellowing radish leaves and trying to make them look fresh. +"And Old Daniel is likely to give me a chance to hunt a job pretty +sudden--the way he talks. But if Dan, Junior, told him what happened +yesterday, I wonder the old gentleman hasn't been after me with a sharp +stick." + +From somewhere--out of the far-distant open country where it had been +breathing all night the quivering pines, and brown swamps, and the +white and gray checkered fields that would soon be upturned by the +plowshares--a vagrant wind wandered into the city street. + +The lingering, but faint perfume wafted here from God's open world to +die in this man-made town inspired in the youth thoughts and desires +that had been struggling within him for expression for days past. + +"I know what I want," said Hiram Strong, aloud. "I want to get back to +the land!" + +The progress of the day was not inducive to a hopeful outlook for +Hiram. When closing time came he was heartily sick of the business of +storekeeping, if he never had been before. + +And when he dragged himself home to the boarding house, he found the +atmosphere there as dreary as the street itself. The boarders were +grumpy and Mrs. Atterson was in a tearful state again. + +Hiram could not stay in his room. It was a narrow, cold place at the end +of the back hall at the top of the house. There was a little, painted +bureau in it, one leg of which had been replaced by a brick, and the +little glass was so blue and blurred that he never could see in it +whether his tie was straight or not. + +There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed. When the +bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he could not get the +door open. Had there ever been a fire at Atterson's at night, Hiram's +best chance for escape would have been by the window. + +So this evening, to kill the miserable stretch of time until sleep +should come to him, the boy went out and walked the streets. + +Two things had saved Hiram Strong from getting into bad company on these +evening rambles. One was the small amount of money he earned, and the +other was the naturally clean nature of the boy. The cheap amusements +which lured on either hand did not attract him. + +But the dangers are there in every city, and they lurk for every boy in +a like position. + +The main thoroughfare in this part of the town where Hiram boarded +was brightly lighted, gaudy electric signs attracting notice to cheap +picture shows, catch-penny arcades, cheap jewelry stores, and the ever +present saloons and pool rooms. + +It looked bright, and warm, and lively in many of these places; but the +country-bred boy was cautious. + +Now and then a raucous-voiced automobile shot along the street; the +electric cars made their usual clangor, and there was still some +ordinary traffic of the day dribbling away into the side streets, for it +was early in the evening. + +Hiram was about to turn into one of these side streets on his way back +to Mrs. Atterson's. Turning the corner was a handsome span of horses +attached to a comfortable but mud-bespattered carriage. It was plainly +from the country. + +The light at the corner of the street shone brightly into the carriage. +Hiram saw a well-built man in a gray greatcoat and slouch hat, holding +the reins over the backs of the spirited horses. + +Beside him sat a girl. She could have been no more than twelve or +fourteen--not so old as Sister, by a year or two. But how different she +was from the starved-looking, boarding house slavey! + +She was framed in furs--rich, gray and black furs that muffled her +from top to toe, only leaving her brilliant, dark little face with its +perfect features shining like a jewel in its setting. + +She was talking laughingly to the big man beside her, and he was looking +down at her. Perhaps this was why he did not see what lay just ahead--or +perhaps the glare of the street light blinded him, as it must have the +horses, as the equipage turned into the darker side street. + +But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry of +warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by the bridle +and pull both the high-steppers around. + +There was an excavation--an opening for a water-main--in this street. +The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, or malicious +boys had stolen it. + +Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation and +even now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over the edge of +the hole, and for the minute it was doubtful whether Hiram had saved the +occupants of the carriage by his quick action, or had accelerated the +catastrophe. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE LOST CARD + +Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and sturdy +withal, the excited horses would have broken away from him and the +carriage would certainly have gone into the ditch. + +But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be broken, +although the horses plunged and struck fire from the stones of the +street with their shoes. He dragged them forward, the carriage pitched +and rolled for a moment, and then stood upright again, squarely on its +four wheels. + +"All right, lad! I've got 'em!" exclaimed the gentleman in the carriage. + +He had a hearty, husky sort of voice--a voice that came from deep down +in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there was no quiver +of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in peril was much less +disturbed by the incident than was Hiram himself. + +Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now Hiram +heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses: + +"That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again." + +The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened team with +one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big coat with the +other. + +"He certainly has got some muscle, that lad," announced the gentleman. +"Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town again?" + +"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently. + +"All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy I like. +I'll surely look you up." + +He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth stepped +nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward and the carriage +rolled swiftly by him. + +The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, but +missed the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the street and the +shadow hid it completely from the boy's gaze. + +Had there been a lantern nearby, as there should have been, Hiram would +have taken it to search for the lost card. For he felt suddenly as +though Opportunity had brushed past him. + +The man in the carriage evidently lived out of town. He might be a +prosperous farmer. And, being a farmer, he might be able to give Hiram +just the sort of job he was looking for. + +The card, of course, would have put Hiram in touch with the man. And he +seemed like a hearty, good-natured individual. + +"And the girl--his daughter--was as pretty as a picture," thought Hiram, +as he turned wearily toward the boarding house. "Well! I don't know that +I'll ever see either of them again; but if I could learn that man's name +and address I'd certainly look him up." + +So much did this thought disturb him that he was up an hour earlier than +usual the next morning and hurried to work by the way of the excavation +in the street where the incident had occurred. + +But he could not find the card, although he got down into the ditch to +search for it. The loose sand, perhaps, rattling down from the sides of +the excavation during the night, had buried the bit of pasteboard, and +Hiram went on to Dwight's Emporium more disheartened than ever. + +The work there went worse that morning. Old Daniel Dwight drove the +young fellow from one task to another. The other clerks got a minute's +time to themselves now and then; but the proprietor of the store seemed +to have his keen eyes on Hiram continually. + +There was always a slow-up in the work about ten o'clock, and Hiram had +a request to make. He asked Old Daniel for an hour off. + +"An hour off--with all this work to do? What do you mean, boy?" roared +the proprietor. "What do you want an hour for?" + +"I've got an errand," replied Hiram, quietly. + +"Well, what is it?" snarled the old man, curiously. + +"Why--it's a private matter. I can't tell you," returned the youth, +coolly. + +"No good, I'll be bound--no good. I don't see why I should let you off +an hour----" + +"I work many an hour overtime for you, Mr. Dwight," put in Hiram. + +"Yes, yes; that's all right. That's the agreement. You knew you'd have +to when you came to work at the Emporium. Stick to your contract, boy." + +"Then why don't you stick to yours?" demanded the youth, boldly. + +"Eh! Eh! What do you mean by that?" cried Mr. Dwight, glaring at Hiram +through his spectacles. + +"I mean that when I came to work for you seven months ago, you promised +that, if I suited after six months, you would raise my wages. And you +haven't done so," said the young fellow, firmly. + +For a moment the proprietor of the Emporium was dumb. It was true. He +had promised just that. He had got the boy cheaper by so doing. But +never before had he hired a boy who stayed as long as six months, so he +had never had to raise his wages. + +"Well, well!" + +He stammered for a moment; then a shrewd thought came to his mind. +He actually smiled. When Mr. Dwight smiled it was worse than when he +didn't. + +"I told you that if you suited me I'd raise your pay, did I?" he +snarled. "Well, you don't suit me. You never have suited me. Therefore, +you get no raise, young man." + +Hiram was not astonished; he was only indignant. Another boy might have +expressed his anger by flaring up and tendering his resignation on the +spot. + +But Hiram had that fear of debt in his breast which is almost always a +characteristic of the frugal, country-bred person. He had saved little. +He had no prospect of another job. And every Saturday night he was +expected to pay Mrs. Atterson three dollars and a half. + +"At any rate, Mr. Dwight," he said, quietly, after a minute's silence, +"I want an hour to myself this morning." + +"And I'll dock ye ten cents for it," declared the old man. + +"You can do as you like about that," returned Hiram, and he walked into +the back room, took off his apron, and got into his coat. + +He had it in mind to go to the big market, where the farmers drove in +from out of town, and see if he could meet one of his old neighbors, +or anybody else who could tell him of prospect of work for the coming +season. It was early yet for farmers to be looking for extra hands; but +Hiram hoped that he might see something in prospect for the future. He +had made up his mind that, if possible, he would not take another job in +town. + +"And I can see pretty plainly that I've got about through at the +Emporium," he thought, as he approached the open space devoted by the +City of Crawberry to a market for the truckmen and farmers who drove in +with their wares from the surrounding country. + +At this time of day the bustle of market was over. The farmers would +have had their breakfasts in the little restaurants which encircled the +market-place, or would be preparing to drive home again. The hucksters +and push-cart merchants were picking up "seconds" and lot-ends of +vegetables for their trade. The cobbles of the market-place was a litter +of cabbage leaves, spilled sprouts, spoiled potatoes, and other refuse. + +Hiram walked about, looking for somebody whom he knew; but most of the +faces around the market were strange to him. Several farmers he spoke to +about work; but they were not hiring hands, so, when his hour was up, he +went back to the Emporium, more despondent than before. + + + +CHAPTER V. THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + +By chance that evening Hiram got home to his boarding house in good +season. The early boarders--"early birds" Crackit always termed +them--had not yet sat down to the long table in the dingy dining-room. + +Indeed, the supper gong had not been pounded by Sister, and some of the +young men were grouped impatiently in the half-lighted parlor. + +Through the swinging door into the steaming kitchen Hiram saw a huge +black woman waddling about the range, and heard her husky voice berating +Sister for not moving faster. Chloe only appeared when a catastrophe +happened at the boarding-house--and a catastrophe meant the removal of +Mrs. Atterson from her usual orbit. + +"She's gone to the funeral. That Uncle Jeptha of hern is dead," +whispered Sister in Hiram's ear when she put his soup in front of him. + +"Ah-ha!" observed Mr. Crackit, eyeing Hiram with his head on one side, +"secrets, eh? Inside information of what's in the pudding sauce?" + +Nothing went right at the boarding-house during the next two days. And +for Hiram Strong nothing seemed to go right anywhere! + +He demanded--and got the permission, with another ten-cent tax--another +hour off to visit the market. But he found nobody who would hire a boy +at once. Some of the farmers doubted if he knew as much about farm-work +as he claimed to know. He was, after all, a boy, and some of them would +not believe that he had even worked in the country. + +Affairs at the Emporium were getting strained, too. Daniel Dwight was as +shrewd a man as the next one. He saw plainly that his junior clerk was +getting ready--like the many who had gone before him--for a flitting. + +He knew the signs of discontent, although Hiram prided himself on doing +his work just as well as ever. + +Then, there was a squabble with Dan, Junior. The imp was always +underfoot on Saturdays. He was supposed to help--to run errands, and +take out in a basket certain orders to nearby customers who might be in +a hurry. + +But usually when you wanted the boy he was in the alley pitching buttons +with loafing urchins of his own kind--"alley rats" his father angrily +called them--or leading a predatory gang of the same unsavory companions +in raids on other stores in the neighborhood. + +And Dan, Junior "had it in" for Hiram. He had not forgiven the bigger +boy for pitching him into the puddle. + +"An' them was my best clo'es, and now maw says I've got to wear 'em just +the same on Sunday, and they're shrunk and stained," snarled the younger +Dan, hovering about Hiram as the latter re-dressed the fruit stand +during a moment's let-up in the Saturday morning rush. "Gimme an +orange." + +"What! At five cents apiece?" exclaimed Hiram. "Guess not. Go look in +the basket under the bench; maybe there's a specked one there." + +"Nope. Dad took 'em all home last night and maw cut out the specks and +sliced 'em for supper. Gimme a good orange." + +"Ask your father," said Hiram. + +"Naw, I won't!" declared young Dwight, knowing very well what his +father's answer would be. + +He suddenly made a grab for the golden globe on the apex of Hiram's +handsomest pyramid. + +"Let that alone, Dan!" cried Hiram, and seized the youngster by the +wrist. + +Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned, and +kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange from his +hand when Mr. Dwight came to the door. + +"What's this? What's this?" he demanded. "Fighting, are ye? Why don't +you tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?" + +At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs. He was a +good actor. + +"I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram," cried "Mr. Dwight, +That's what I've a mind to do." + +"I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?" suggested Hiram, +scornfully. + +"You can come in and git your money right now, young man," said the +proprietor of the Emporium. "Dan! let them oranges alone. And don't you +go away from here. I'll want you all day to-day. I shall be short-handed +with this young scalawag leaving me in the lurch like this." + +It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He had part +of his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work for Daniel Dwight +any longer. + +The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile of +money already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that he had +intended quarreling with Hiram and getting rid of him at this time, +for he had the young fellow's wages figured up to t hat very hour--and +twenty cents deducted for the two hours Hiram had had "off." + +"But that isn't fair. I'm willing to work to the end of the day. I ought +to get my wages in full for the week, save for the twenty cents," said +Hiram mildly. + +To tell the truth, now that he had lost his job--unpleasant as it had +been--Hiram was more than a little troubled. He was indeed about to be +cast adrift. + +"You'll git jest that sum, and not a cent more," declared Mr. Dwight, +sharply. "And if you start any trouble here I'll call in the officer on +the beat--yes, I will! I don't know but I ought to deduct the cost of +Dan, Junior's, spoiled suit, too. He says you an' he was skylarkin' on +Sunday and that's how he fell into the water." + +Hiram had no answer to make to this. What was the use? He took the +money, slipped it into his pocket, and went out. + +He did not linger around the Emporium. Nor was he scarcely out of sight +when a man driving a span of handsome bay horses halted his team before +the store, jumped out, and went in. + +"Are you the proprietor of Dwight's Emporium?" asked the man in the +gray coat and hat, in his hearty tones. "You are? Glad to meet you! I'm +looking for a young man who works for you." + +"Who's that? What do you want of him?" asked Dan, Senior, doubtfully, +and rubbing his hand, for the stranger's grip had been as hearty as his +voice. + +The other laughed in his jovial way. "Why, to tell the truth, I don't +know his name. I didn't ask him. He's not much more than a boy--a sturdy +youngster with a quick way with him. He did me a service the other +evening and I wanted to see him." + +"There ain't any boy working here," snapped Mr. Dwight. "Them's all +the clerks I got behind the counter--and there ain't one of 'em under +thirty, I'll be bound." + +"That's so," admitted the stranger. "And although it was so dark I could +not see that fellow's face, and I didn't ask his name, I am sure he was +young." + +"I jest discharged the only boy I had--and scamp enough he was," snarled +Mr. Dwight. "If you were looking for him, you'd have been sorry to find +him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a policeman to git him off +the premises." + +"What--what?" + +"That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy you +want--but you won't get no good of him when you find him. And I've no +idea where he's to be found now," and the old man turned his back on the +man in the gray coat and went into his office. + +The stranger climbed back into his buggy and took up the lines again +with a preoccupied headshake. + +"Now, I promised Lettie," he muttered, "that I'd find out all about that +boy--and maybe bring him home with me. Funny that man gave his such +a bad character. Wish I could have seen the lad's face the other +night--that would have told the story. + +"Well," and he dismissed the matter with a sigh, for he was busy man, +"if he's got my card, and he is out of a job, perhaps he'll look me up. +Then we'll see." + + + +CHAPTER VI. THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + +"I've sure got plenty of time now to look for a job," observed Hiram +Strong when he was two blocks away from Dwight's Emporium. "But I +declare I don't know where to begin." + +For his experience in talking with the farmers around the market had +rather dashed Hiram's hope of getting a place in the country at once. It +was too early in the season. Nor did it look so much like Spring as it +had a week ago. Already Hiram had to turn up the collar of his rough +coat, and a few flakes of snow were settling on his shoulders as he +walked. + +"It's winter yet," he mused. "If I can't get something to do in the +city for a few weeks to tide me over, I'm afraid I shall have to find a +cheaper place to board than at Mother Atterson's." + +After half an hour of strolling from street to street, however, Hiram +decided that there was nothing in that game. He must break in somewhere, +so he turned into the very next warehouse. + +"Want a job? I'll be looking for one myself pretty soon, if business +isn't better," was the answer he got from the first man he approached. + +But Hiram kept at it, and got short answers and long answers, pleasant +ones and some that were not so pleasant; but all could be summed up in +the single monosyllable: + +"No!" + +"I certainly am a failure here in town," Hiram thought, as he walked +through the snow-blown streets. "How foolish I was ever to have come +away from the country. + +"A fellow ought to stick to the job he is fitted for--and that's sure. +But I didn't know. I thought there would be forty chances in town to one +in the country. + +"And there doesn't seem to be a single chance right now. Why, I'll have +to leave Mrs. Atterson's, if I can't find a job before next week is out! + +"This mean old town is over-crowded with fellows like me looking for +work. And when it comes to office positions, I haven't a high-school +diploma, nor am I fitted for that kind of a job. + +"I want to be out of doors. Working in a stuffy office wouldn't suit me. +Oh, as a worker in the city I am a rank failure, and that's all there is +about it!" + +He went home to supper much more tired than he would have been had he +done a full day's work at Dwight's Emporium. Indeed, the job he had lost +now loomed up in his troubled mind as much more important than it had +seemed when he had desired to change it for another. + +Mother Atterson was at home. She hadn't more than taken off her bonnet, +however, and had had but a single clash with Chloe in the kitchen. + +"I smelled it burnin' the minute I set my foot on the front step!" +she declared. "You can't fool my nose when it comes to smelling burned +stuff. + +"Well, Hiram," she continued, too full of news to remark that he was at +home long before his time, "I saw the poor old soul laid away, at least. +I wish now I'd got Chloe in before, and gone to see Uncle Jeptha before +he was in his coffin. + +"But I didn't think I could afford it, and that's a fact. We poor folks +can't have many pleasures in this world of toil and trouble!" added +the boarding house mistress, to whom even the break of a funeral, or a +death-bed visit, was in the nature of a solemn amusement. + +"And there the old man went and made his will years ago, unbeknownst to +anybody, and me bein' his only blood relation, as you might say, though +it was years since I seen him much, but he remembered my mother with +love," and she began to wipe her eyes. + +"Poor old man! And me with a white-faced cow that I'm afraid of my life +of, and an old horse that looks like a moth-eaten hide trunk we to +have in our garret at home when I was a little girl, and belonged to my +great-great-grandmother Atterson---- + +"And there's a mess of chickens that eat all day long and don't lay an +egg as far as I could see, besides a sow and a litter of six pigs that +squeal worse than the the switch-engine down yonder in the freight +yard---- + +"And they're all to be fed, and how I'm to do it, and feed the boarders, +too, I don't for the life of me see!" finished Mrs. Atterson, completely +out of breath. + +"What do you mean?" cried Hiram, suddenly waking to the significance of +the old lady's chatter. "Do you mean he willed you these things?" + +"Of course," she returned, smoothing down her best black skirt. "They +go with the house and outbuildings--`all the chattels and appurtenances +thereto', the will read." + +"Why, Mrs. Atterson!" gasped Hiram. "He must have left you the farm." + +"That's what I said," returned the old lady, complacently. "And what I'm +to do with it I've no more idea than the man in the moon." + +"A farm!" repeated Hiram, his face flushing and his eyes beginning to +shine. + +Now, Hiram Strong was not a particularly handsome youth, but in his +excitement he almost looked so. + +"Eighty acres, so many rods, and so many perches," pursued Mrs. +Atterson, nodding. "That's the way it reads. The perches is in the +henhouse, I s'pose--though why the description included them and not the +hens' nests I dunno." + +"Eighty acres of land!" repeated Hiram in a daze. + +"All free and clear. Not a dollar against it--only encumbrances is the +chickens, the cow, the horse and the pigs," declared Mrs. Atterson. "If +it wasn't for them it might not be so bad. Scoville's an awfully nice +place, and the farm's on an automobile road. A body needn't go blind +looking for somebody to go by the door occasionally. + +"And if it got so bad here finally that I couldn't make a livin' keeping +boarders," pursued the lady, "I might go out there and live in the old +house--which isn't much, I know, but it's a shelter, and my tastes are +simple, goodness knows." + +"But a farm, Mrs. Atterson!" broke in Hiram. "Think what you can do with +it!" + +"That's what I'd like to have, you, or somebody else tell me," exclaimed +the old lady, tartly. "I ain't got no more use for a farm than a cat has +for two tails!" + +"But--but isn't it a good farm?" queried Hiram, puzzled. + +"How do I know?" snapped the boarding house mistress. "I wouldn't know +one farm from another, exceptin' two can't be in exactly the same spot. +Oh! do you mean, could I sell it?" + +"No----" + +"The lawyer advised me not to sell just now. He said something about the +state of the real estate market in that section. Prices would be better +in a year or two. And then, the old place is mighty run down." + +"That's what I mean," Hiram hastened to say. "Has it been cropped to +death? Is the soil worn out? Can't you run it and make something out of +it?" + +"For pity's sake!" ejaculated the good lady, "how should I know? And I +couldn't run it--I shouldn't know how. + +"I've got a neighbor-woman in the house just now to 'tend to things--and +that's costin' me a dollar and a half a week. And there'll be taxes to +pay, and--and--Well, I just guess I'll have to try and sell it now and +take what I can get. + +"Though that lawyer says that if the place was fixed up a little and +crops put in it would make a thousand dollars' difference in the selling +price. That is, after a year or two. + +"But bless us and save us" cried Mrs. Atterson, "I'd be swamped with +expenses before that time." + +"Mebbe not," said Hiram Strong, trying to repress his eagerness. "Why +not try it?" + +"Try to run that farm?" cried she. "Why, I'd jest as lief go up in one +o' those aeroplanes and try to run it. I wouldn't be no more up in the +air then than I would be on a farm," she added, grimly. + +"Get somebody to run it for you--do the outside work, I mean, Mrs. +Atterson," said Hiram. "You could keep house out there just as well as +you do here. And it would be easy for you to learn to milk----" + +"That whitefaced cow? My goodness! I'd just as quick learn to milk a +switch-engine!" + +"But it's only her head that looks so wicked to you," laughed Hiram. +"And you don't milk that end." + +"Well--mebbe," admitted Mrs. Atterson, doubtfully. "I reckon I could +make butter again--I used to do that when I was a girl at my aunt's. And +either I'd make those hens lay or I'd have their dratted heads off! + +"And my goodness me! To get rid of the boarders--Oh, stop your talkin', +Hi Strong! That is too good to ever be true. Don't talk to me no more." + +"But I want to talk to you, Mrs. Atterson," persisted the youth, +eagerly. + +"Well, who'd I get to do the outside work--put in crops, and 'tend 'em, +and look out for that old horse?" + +Hiram almost choked. This opportunity should not get past him if he +could help it! + +"Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what I can +do," he cried. "Let me run the farm for you!" + +"Why--why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?" demanded +his landlady, in wonder. + +"Other farms pay; why not this one?" rejoined Hiram, sententiously. "Of +course," he added, his native caution coming to the surface, "I'd want +to see the place--to look it over pretty well, in fact--before I made +any agreement. And I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no chance +of both you and me making something out of it I should tell you so." + +"But--but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going out +there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday." + +"I'll take the early train Monday morning," said the youth, promptly. + +"But what will they say at the store? Mr. Dwight----" + +"He turned me off to-day," said Hiram, steadily. "So I won't lose +anything by going out there. + +"I tell you what I'll do," he added briskly. "I won't have any too much +money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be out there at +Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, it's probable. + +"So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I should +pay you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own expenses out +there at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all well and good." + +Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on to +survey the boy's earnest face. + +"Do you mean to say you can run a farm, Hi Strong?" she asked. + +"I do," and he smiled confidently at her. + +"And make it pay?" + +"Perhaps not much profit the first season; but if the farm is fertile, +and the marketing conditions are right, I know I can make it pay us both +in two years." + +"I've got a little money saved up. I could sell the house in a week, for +it's always full and there are always lone women like me with a little +driblet of money to exchange for a boarding house--heaven help us for +the fools we are!" Mrs. Atterson exclaimed. + +"And I expect you could raise vegetables enough to part keep us, Hi, +even if the farm wasn't a great success?" + +"And eggs, and chickens, and the pigs, and milk from the cow," suggested +Hiram. + +"Well! I declare, that's so," admitted Mrs. Atterson. "I'd been lookin' +on all them things as an expense. They could be made an asset, eh?" + +"I should hope so," responded Hiram, smiling. + +"And I could get rid of these boarders--My soul and body!" gasped +the tired woman, suddenly. "Do you suppose it's true, Hi? Get rid of +worryin' about paying the bills, and whether the boarders are all going +to keep their jobs and be able to pay regularly--And the gravy! + +"Hiram Strong! If you can show me a way out of this valley of +tribulation I'll be the thankfullest woman that you ever seen. It's a +bargain. Don't you pay me a cent for this coming week. And I shouldn't +have taken it, anyway, when you're throwed out of work so. That's a +mighty mean man, that Daniel Dwight. + +"You go right ahead and look that farm over. If it looks good, you come +back and we'll strike a bargain, I know. And--and--Just to think +of getting rid of this house and these boarders!" and Mrs. Atterson +finished by wiping her eyes again vigorously. + + + +CHAPTER VII. HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + +Hiram Strong was up betimes on Monday morning--Sister saw to that. She +rapped on his door at four-thirty. + +Sometimes Hiram wondered when the girl ever slept. She was still +dragging about the kitchen or dining-room when he went to bed, and she +was first down in the morning--even earlier than Mrs. Atterson herself. + +The boarding house mistress was not intentionally severe with Sister; +but the much harassed lady had never learned to make her own work easy, +so how should she be expected to be easy on Sister? + +Once or twice Hiram had talked with the orphan. Sister had a dreadful +fear of returning to the "institution" from which Mrs. Atterson had +taken her. And Sister's other fearful remembrance was of an old woman +who beat her and drank much gin and water. + +Not that she had been ill-treated at the institution; but she had been +dressed in an ugly uniform, and the girls had been rough and pulled her +"pigtails" like Dan, Junior. + +"Once a gentleman came to see me," Sister confided to Hiram. "He was +a lawyer gentleman, the matron told me. He knew my name--but I've +forgotten it now. + +"And he said that somebody who once belonged to me--or I once belonged +to them--had died and perhaps there would be some money coming to me. +But it couldn't have been the old woman I lived with, for she never had +only money enough for gin! + +"Anyhow, I was glad. I axed him how much money--was it enough to treat +all the girls in the institution one round of ice-cream soda, and he +laffed, he did. And he said yes--just about enough for that, if he could +get it for me. And I ran away and told the girls. + +"I promised them all a treat. But the man never came again, and by and +by the big girls said they believed I storied about it, and one night +they came and dragged me out of bed and hung me out of the window by my +wrists, till I thought my arms would be pulled right out of the sockets. +They was awful cruel--them girls. But when I axed the matron why the +man didn't come no more, she put me off. I guess he was only +foolin'," decided Sister, with a sigh. "Folks like to fool me--like Mr. +Crackit--eh?" + +But Mrs. Atterson told Hiram, when he asked about Sister's meagre little +story, that the institution had promised to let her know if the lawyer +ever returned to make further inquiries about the orphan. Somebody +really had died who was of kin to the girl, but through some error the +institution had not made a proper record of her pedigree and the lawyer +who had instituted the search a seemed to have dropped out of sight. + +But Hiram was not troubled by poor Sister's private affairs upon this +Monday morning. It was the beginning of a new week, indeed, to him. He +had turned over a new leaf of experience. He hoped that he was pretty +near to the end of his harsh city existence. + +He hurried downstairs, long in advance of the other boarders, and Mrs. +Atterson served him some breakfast, although there was no milk for the +coffee. + +"I dunno where that plague o' my life, Sister's, gone," sputtered the +old lady, fussing about, between dining-room and kitchen. "I sent her +out ten minutes ago for the milk. And if you want to get that first +train to Scoville you've got to hurry." + +"Never mind the milk," laughed the young fellow. "The train's more +important this morning." + +So he bolted the remainder of his breakfast, swallowed the black coffee, +and ran out. + +He arrived at Scoville while the morning was still young. It was not his +intention to go at once to the Atterson farm. There were matters which +he desired to look into in addition to judging the quality of the soil +on the place and the possibility of making it pay. + +He went to the storekeepers and asked questions about the prices paid +for garden truck. He walked about the town and saw the quality of +the residences, and noted what proportion of the townsfolk cultivated +gardens of their own. + +There was a big girls' boarding-school, and two small, but +well-patronized hotels. The proprietors of these each owned a farm; +but they told Hiram that it was necessary for them to buy much of their +table vegetables from city produce men, as the neighboring farmers did +not grow much. + +In talking with one storekeeper Hiram mentioned the fact that he was +going to look at the Atterson place with a view to farming it for its +new owner. When he walked out of the store he found himself accosted +by a lean, snaky-looking man who had stood within the store the moment +before. + +"What's this widder woman goin' to do with the farm old Jeptha left +her?" inquired the man, looking at Hiram slyly. + +"We don't know yet, sir, what we shall do with it," the young fellow +replied. + +"You her son?" + +"No. I may work for her--can't tell till I've looked at the place." + +"It ain't much to look at," said the man, quickly. "I come near buying +it once, though. In fact--" + +He hesitated, still eyeing Hiram sideways. The boy waited for him to +speak again. He did not wish to be impolite; but he did not like the +man's appearance. + +"What do y' reckon this Mis' Atterson would sell for?" finally demanded +the man. + +"She has been advised not to sell--at present." + +"Who by?" + +"Mr. Strickland, the lawyer." + +"Humph! Mebbe I'd buy it--and give her a good price for it--right now." + +"What do you consider a good price?" asked Hiram, quietly. + +"Twelve hundred dollars," said the man. + +"I will tell her. But I do not think she would sell for that +price--nothing like it, in fact." + +"Well, mebbe she'll feel different when she comes to think it over. +No use for a woman trying to run a farm. And if she has to pay for +everything to be done, she'll be in a hole at the end of the season. I +guess she ain't thought of that?" + +"It wouldn't be my place to point it out to her," returned Hiram, +"coolly, if it were so, and I wanted to work for her." + +"Humph! Mebbe not. Well, my name's Pepper. Mebbe I'll be out to see her +some day," he said, and turned away. + +"He's one of the people who will discourage Mrs. Atterson," thought +Hiram. "And he has an axe to grind. If I decide to take the job of +making this farm pay, I'm going to have the agreement in black and +white with Mrs. Atterson; for there will be a raft of Job's comforters, +perhaps when we get settled on the place." + +It was late in the afternoon before Hiram was ready to start for the +farm itself. He had made some enquiries, and had decided to stop at a +neighbor's for overnight, instead of going to the house where a lone +woman had been left in charge by Mrs. Atterson. + +The Pollocks had been recommended to Hiram, and by leaving the road +within half a mile of the Atterson farm, and cutting across the fields, +he came into the dooryard of the Pollock place. A well-grown boy, not +much older than himself, was splitting some chunks at the woodpile. He +stopped work to gaze at the visitor with much curiosity. + +"From what they told me in town," Hi said, holding out his hand with a +smile, "you must be Henry Pollock?" + +The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand. + +"That's what they call me--Henry Pollock--when they don't call me Hen." + +"Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry," laughed Hiram. "I don't +like to have my name cut off short, either. My name's Hiram Strong. So +if you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll always call you `Henry.'" + +"It's a go!" returned the other, shaking hands again. "You going to live +around here? Or are you jest visiting?" + +"I don't know yet," confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. "You +see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place." + +"That's right over yonder. You can see the roof if you stand up," said +Henry, quickly. + +Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a +glimpse of the roof in question. + +"Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left it to?" +asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. "Or are you going to rent it?" + +"What do you think of renting it?" queried Hiram, showing that he had +Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another. + +"Well--it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old man +couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who farmed it +for him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell you!" + +"Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what I'll do," said +Hiram, slowly. "And of course I can't do that to-night. They told me in +town that sometimes you take boarders?" + +"In the summer we do," returned Henry. + +"Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?" + +"Why, I reckon so--Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come right +in," added Henry, hospitably, "and I'll ask mother." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + +The Pollocks proved to be a neighborly family--and a large one. As Henry +said, there was a "whole raft of young 'uns" younger than he was. They +made Hiram very welcome at the supper table, and showed much curiosity +about his personal affairs. + +But the young fellow had been used to just such people before. They were +not a bad sort, and if they were keenly interested in the affairs of +other people, it was because they had few books and newspapers, and +small chance to amuse themselves in the many ways which city people +have. + +Hiram slept with Henry that night, and Henry agreed to show the visitor +over the Atterson place the next day. + +"I know every stick and stone of it as well as I do ourn," declared +Henry. "And Dad won't mind my taking time now. Later--Whew! I tell you, +we hafter just git up an' dust to make a crop. Not much chance for fun +after a week or two until the corn's laid by." + +"You know all the boundaries of the Atterson farm, do you?" Hiram asked. + +"Yes, sir!" replied Henry, eagerly. "And say! do you like to fish?" + +"Of course; who doesn't?" + +"Then we'll take some lines and hooks along--and mother'll lend us a pan +and kettle. Say! We'll start early--'fore anybody's a-stir--and I bet +there'll be a big trout jumping in the pool under the big sycamore." + +"That certain-sure sounds good to me!" cried Hiram, enthusiastically. + +So it was agreed, and before day, while the mist was yet rolling across +the fields, and the hedge sparrows were beginning to chirp, the two set +forth from the Pollock place, crossed the wet fields, and the road, and +set off down the slope of a long hill, following, as Henry said, near +the east boundary of the Atterson farm--the line running from the +automobile road to the river. + +It was a dull spring morning. The faint breeze that stirred on the +hillside was damp, but odorous with new-springing herbs. As Hiram +and Henry descended the aisle of the pinewood, the treetops whispered +together as though curious of these bold humans who disturbed their +solitude. + +"It doesn't look as though anybody had been here at the back end of old +Jeptha Atterson's farm for years," said Hiram. + +"And it's a fact that nobody gets down this way often," Henry responded. + +The brown tags sprung under their feet; now and then a dew-wet branch +swept Hiram's cheek, seeking with its cold fingers to stay his progress. +It was an enchanted forest, and the boy, heart-hungry from his two years +of city life, was enchanted, too! + +Hiram learned from talking with his companion that at one time the +piece of thirty-year-old timber they were walking through had been +tilled--after a fashion. But it had never been properly cleared, as the +hacked and ancient stumpage betrayed. + +Here and there the lines of corn rows which had been plowed when the +last crop was laid by were plainly revealed to Hiram's observing eye. +Where corn had grown once, it should grow again; and the pine timber +would more than pay for being cut, for blowing out the big stumps with +dynamite, and tam-harrowing the side hill. + +Finally they reached a point where the ground fell away more abruptly +and the character of the timber changed, as well. Instead of the stately +pines, this more abrupt declivity was covered with hickory and oak. The +sparse brush sprang out of rank, black mold. + +Charmed by the prospect, Hiram and Henry descended this hill and came +suddenly, through a fringe of brush, to the border of an open cove, or +bottom. + +At some time this lowland, too, had been cleared and cultivated; but now +young pines, quick-springing and lush, dotted the five or six acres of +practically open land which was as level as one's palm. + +It was two hundred yards, or more, in width and at the farther side +a hedge of alders and pussywillows grew, with the green mist of young +leaves upon them, and here and there a ghostly sycamore, stretching its +slender bole into the air, edged the course of the river. + +Hiram viewed the scene with growing delight. His eyes sparkled and +a smile came to his lips as he crossed, with springy steps, the open +meadow on which the grass was already showing green in patches. + +Between the line of the wood they had left and the breadth of the meadow +was a narrow, marshy strip into which a few stones had been cast, and on +these they crossed dry shod. The remainder of the bottom-land was firm. + +"Ain't this jest a scrumptious place?" demanded Henry, and Hiram agreed. + +At the river's edge they parted the bushes and looked down upon the +oily-flowing brown flood. It was some thirty feet broad and with the +melting of the snows in the mountains was so deep that no sign was +apparent here of the rocks which covered its bed. + +Henry led the way up the bank of the stream toward a huge sycamore that +leaned lovingly over the water. An ancient wild grape vine, its +butt four inches through and its roots fairly in the water, had a +strangle-hold upon this decrepit forest monarch, its tendrils reaching +the sycamore's topmost branch. + +Under the tree was a deep hole where flotsam leaves and twigs performed +an endless treadmill dance in the grasp of the eddy. + +Suddenly, while their gaze clung to the dimpling water, there was a +flash of a bronze body--a streak of light along the surface of the +pool--and two widening circles showed where the master of the hole had +leaped for some insect prey. + +"See him?" called Henry, but under his breath. + +Hiram nodded, but squeezed his companion's hand for silence. He almost +held his own breath for the moment, as they moved back from the pool +with the soundless step of an Indian. + +"That big feller is my meat," declared Henry. + +"Go to it, boy!" urged Hiram, and set about preparing the camp. + +He cut with his big jack-knife and set up a tripod of green rods in a +jiffy, skirmished for dry wood, lit his fire, filled the kettle from the +river at a little distance from the eddy, and hung it over the blaze to +boil. + +Meanwhile Henry fished out a line and an envelope of hooks from an inner +pocket, cut a springy pole back on the hillside, rigged his line and +hook, and kicked a hole in the soft, rich soil until he unearthed a fat +angleworm. + +With this impaled upon the hook he cautiously approached the pool under +the sycamore and cast gently. The struggling worm sank slowly; the water +wrinkled about the line; but there followed no tug at the hook, although +Henry stood patiently for several moments. He cast again, and yet again, +with like result. + +"Ah, ba!" muttered Hiram, in his ear; "this fellow's appetite needs +tickling. He is being fed too well and turns up his nose at a common +earthworm, does he? Let me show you a wrinkle, Henry." + +Henry drew the line ashore again and shook off the useless bait. + +"You're, not fishing," Hiram continued with a grim smile. "You've just +been drowning a worm. But I'll show that old fellow sulking down below +there that he is no match this early in the spring for a pair of hungry +boys!" + +He recrossed the meadow, and the stepping stones, to the wood. He had +noticed a log lying in the path as he descended the hillside. With the +toe of his boot he kicked a patch of bark from the log, and thereby lay +bare the wavering trail of a busy grub. Following the trail he quickly +found the fat, juicy insect, which immediately took the earthworm's +place upon the hook. + +Again Henry cast and this time, before the grub even touched the surface +of the pool, the fish leaped and swallowed the tempting morsel, hook and +all! + +There was no playing of the fish on Henry's part. A quick jerk and the +gasping spotted beauty, a pound and a quarter, or more, in weight, lay +upon the sward beside the crackling fire. + +"Whoop-ee!" called Henry, excitedly. "That's Number One!" + +While Hiram dexterously scaled and cleaned the first trout, Henry caught +a couple more. Hiram brought forth, too, the coffee, salt and pepper, +sugar, a piece of fat salt pork and two table knives and forks. + +He raked a smooth bed in the glowing coals, sliced the pork thin, laid +some slices in the pan and set that upon the coals, where the pork began +to sputter almost at once. + +The water in the kettle was boiling and he made the coffee. Then he laid +the trout upon the pan with three slices of pork upon each, and sat +back upon his haunches beside Henry enjoying the delicious odor in +anticipation of the more solid delights of breakfast. + +They had hard crackers and with these, and drinking the coffee from +the kettle itself, when it was cool enough, the two boys feasted like +monarchs. + +"By Jo!" exclaimed Henry. "This beats maw's soda biscuit and fat meat +gravy!" + +But as he ate, Hiram's gaze traveled again and again across the +scrub-grown meadow. The lay of the land pleased him. The richness of the +soil had been revealed when they dug the earthworm. + +For thousands of years the riches of yonder hillside had been washing +down upon the bottom, and this alluvial was rich beyond computation. + +Here were several acres, the young farmer knew, which, however +over-cropped the remainder of Uncle Jeptha's land had been, could not be +impoverished in many seasons. + +"It's as rich as cream!" muttered he, thoughtfully. "Grubbing out these +young pines wouldn't take long. There's a heavy sod and it would have +to be ploughed deeply. Then a crop of corn this year, perhaps--late corn +for fear the river might overflow it in June. And then---- + +"Great Scot!" ejaculated Hiram, slapping his knee, "what wouldn't grow +on this bottom land?" + +"Yes, it's mighty rich," agreed Henry. "But it's a long way from the +house--and then, the river might flood it over. I've seen water running +over this bottom two feet deep--once." + +They finished the al fresco meal and Hiram leaped up, inspired by his +thoughts to brisker movements. + +"Whatever else this old farm has on it, I vow and declare," he said, +"this five or six acres alone might be made to pay a profit on the whole +investment!" + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE BARGAIN IS MADE + +Henry showed Hiram the "branch", a little stream flowing into the river, +which marked the westerly boundary of the farm for some ways, and they +set off up the steep bank of this stream. + +This back end of the farm--quite forty acres, or half of the whole +tract--had been entirely neglected by the last owner of the property for +a great many years. It was some distance from the house, for the farm +was a long and narrow strip of land from the highway to the river, and +Uncle Jeptha had had quite all he could do to till the uplands and the +fields adjacent to his home. + +They came upon these open fields--many of them filthy with dead weeds +and littered with sprouting bushes--from the rear. Hiram saw that the +fences were in bad repair and that the back of the premises gave every +indication of neglect and shiftlessness. + +Perhaps not exactly the latter; Uncle Jeptha had been an old man and +unable to do much active work for some years. But he had cropped certain +of his fields "on shares" with the usual results--impoverished soil, +illy-tilled crops, and the land left in a slovenly condition which +several years of careful tillage would hardly overcome. + +Now, although Hiram's father had been of the tenant class, he had farmed +other men's land as he would his own. Owners of outlying farms had been +glad to get Mr. Strong to till their fields. + +He had known how to work, he knew the reasons for every bit of labor +he performed, and he had not kept his son in ignorance of them. As they +worked together the father had explained to the son what he did, and why +he did it, The results of their work spoke for themselves, and Hiram had +a retentive memory. + +Mr. Strong, too, had been a great, reader--especially in the winter when +the farmer naturally has more time in-doors. + +Yet he was a "twelve months farmer"; he knew that the winter, despite +the broken nature of the work, was quite as valuable to the successful +farmer as the other seasons of the year. + +The elder Strong knew that men with more money, and more time for +experimenting than he had, were writing and publishing all the time +helps for the wise farmer. He subscribed for several papers, and read +and digested them carefully. + +Hiram, even during his two years in the city, had continued his +subscription (although it was hard to find the money sometimes) to two +or three of those publications that his father had most approved. And +the boy had read them faithfully. + +He was as up-to-date in farming lore now, if not in actual practise, as +he had been when he left the country to try his fortune in Crawberry. + +Beyond the place where the branch turned back upon itself and hid its +source in the thicker timber, Hiram saw that the fields were open on +both sides of this westerly line of the farm. + +"Who's our neighbor over yonder, Henry?" he asked. + +"Dickerson--Sam Dickerson," said Henry. "And he's got a boy, Pete, no +older than us. Say, Hiram, you'll have trouble with Pete Dickerson." + +"Oh, I guess not," returned the young farmer, laughing. "Trouble is +something that I don't go about hunting for." + +"You don't have to hunt it when Pete is round," said Henry with a wry +grin. "But mebbe he won't bother you, for he's workin' near town--for +that new man that's moved into the old Fleigler place. Bronson's his +name. But if Pete don't bother you, Sam may." + +"Sam's the father?" + +"Yep. And one poor farmer and mean man, if ever there was one! Oh, Pete +comes by his orneriness honestly enough." + +"Oh, I hope I'll have no trouble with any neighbor," said Hiram, +hopefully. + +They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to Mrs. Atterson's newly +acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the hog lot. She looked like a good +sow, and the six-weeks-old shoats were in good condition. In a couple of +weeks they would be big enough to sell if Mrs. Atterson did not care to +raise them. + +The shoats were worth six dollars a pair, too; he had inquired the day +before about them. There was practically eighteen dollars squealing in +that pen--and eighteen dollars would go a long way toward feeding the +horse and cow until there was good pasturage for them. + +These animals named were in the small fenced barnyard. In the fall and +winter the old man had fed a good deal of fodder and other roughage, and +during the winter the horse and cow had tramped this coarse material, +and the stable scrapings, into a mat of fairly good manure. + +He looked the horse and cow over with more care. It was a fact that +the horse looked pretty shaggy; but he had been used little during +the winter, and had been seldom curried. A ragged coat upon a horse +sometimes covers quite as many good points as the same quality of +garment does upon a man. + +When Hiram spoke to the beast it came to the fence with a friendly +forward thrust of its ears, and the confidence of a horse that has been +kindly treated and looks upon even a strange human as a friend. + +It was a strong and well-shaped animal, more than twelve years old, +as Hiram discovered when he opened the creature's mouth, but seemingly +sound in limb. Nor was he too large for work on the cultivator, while +sturdy enough to carry a single plow. + +Hiram passed him over with a satisfactory pat on the nose and turned +to look at the white-faced cow that had so terrified Mrs. Atterson. She +wasn't a bad looking beast, either, and would freshen shortly. Her calf +would be worth from twelve to fifteen dollars if Mrs. Atterson did not +wish to raise it. Another future asset to mention to the old lady when +he returned. + +The youth turned his attention to the buildings themselves--the barn, +the cart shed, the henhouse, and the smaller buildings. That famous old +decorating firm of Wind & Weather had contracted for all painting done +around the Atterson place for the many years; but the buildings were not +otherwise in a bad state of repair. + +A few shingles had been blown off the roofs; here and there a board was +loose. With a hammer and a few nails, and in a few hours, many of these +small repairs could be accomplished. And a coat or two of properly +mixed and applied whitewash would freshen up the whole place and--like +charity--cover a multitude of sins. + +Henry bade him good-bye now, they shook hands, and Hiram agreed to let +his new friend know at once if he decided to come with Mrs. Atterson to +the farm. + +"We can have heaps of fun--you and me," declared Henry. + +"It isn't so bad," soliloquized the young farmer when he was alone. +"There'd be time to put the buildings and fences in good shape before +the spring work came on with a rush. There's fertilizer enough in the +barnyard and the pig pen and the hen run--with the help of a few pounds +of salts and some bone meal, perhaps--to enrich a right smart kitchen +garden and spread for corn on that four acre lot yonder. + +"Of course, this land up here on the hill needs humus. If it has been +cropped on shares, as Henry says, all the enrichment it has received +has been from commercial fertilizers. And necessarily they have made the +land sour. It probably needs lime badly. + +"Yes, I can't encourage Mrs. Atterson to look for a profit in anything +this year. It will take a year to get that rich bottom into shape +for--for what, I wonder? Onions? Celery? It would raise 'em both. I'll +think about that and look over the market prospects more fully before I +decide." + +For already, you see, Hiram had come to the decision that this old farm +could be made to pay. Why not? The true farmer has to have imagination +as well as the knowledge and the perseverance to grow crops. He must be +able in his mind's eye to see a field ready for the reaping before he +puts in a seed. + +He did not go to the house on this occasion, but after casually +examining the tools and harness, and the like, left by the old man, he +cut off across the upper end of the farm and gave the neglected open +fields of this upper forty a casual examination. + +"If she had the money to invest, I'd say buy sheep and fence these +fields and so get rid of the weeds. They've grown very foul through +neglect, and cultivating them for years would not destroy the weeds as +sheep would in two seasons. + +"But wire fencing is expensive--and so are good sheep to begin with. No. +Slow but sure must be our motto. I mustn't advise any great outlay of +money--that would scare her to death. + +"It will be hard enough for her to put out money all season long before +there are any returns. We'll go, slow," repeated Hiram. + +But when he left the farm that afternoon he went swiftly enough to +Scoville and took the train for the not far distant city of Crawberry. +This was Tuesday evening and he arrived just about supper time at Mrs. +Atterson's. + +The reason for Hiram's absence, and the matter of Mrs. Atterson's legacy +altogether, had been kept from the boarders. And there was no time until +after the principal meal of the day was off the lady's mind for Hiram to +say anything to her. + +"She's a good old soul," thought Hiram. "And if it's in my power to make +that farm pay, and yield her a competency for her old age, I'll do it." + +Meanwhile he was not losing sight of the fact that there was something +due to him in this matter. He was bound to see that he got his +share--and a just share--of any profits that might accrue from the +venture. + +So, after the other boarders had scattered, and Mrs. Atterson had eaten +her own late supper, and Sister was swashing plates and knives and forks +about in a big pan of hot water in the kitchen sink, (between whiles +doing her best to listen at the crack of the door) the landlady and +Hiram Strong threshed out the project fully. + +It was not all one-sided; for Mrs. Atterson, after all, had been +bargaining all her life and could see the "main chance" as quickly as +the next one. She had not bickered with hucksters, chivvied grocerymen, +fought battles royal with butchers, and endured the existence of a Red +Indian amidst allied foes for two decades without having her wits ground +to a razor edge. + +On the other hand, Hiram Strong, although a boy in years, had been his +own master long enough to take care of himself in most transactions, and +withal had a fund of native caution. They jotted down memoranda of the +points on which they were agreed, which included the following: + +Mrs. Atterson, as "party of the first part", agreed to board Hiram until +the crops were harvested the second year. In addition she was to pay +him one hundred dollars at Christmas time this first year, and another +hundred at the conclusion of the agreement--i. e., when the second +year's crop was harvested. + +Beside, of the estimated profits of the second year's crop, Hiram was +to have twenty-five per cent. This profit was to be that balance in the +farm's favor (if such balance there was) over and above the actual cost +of labor, seed, and such purchased fertilizer or other supplies as were +necessary. Mrs. Atterson agreed likewise to supply one serviceable horse +and such tools as might be needed, for the place was to be run as "a +one-horse farm." + +On the other hand Hiram agreed to give his entire time to the farm, to +work for Mrs. Atterson's interest in all things, to make no expenditures +without discussing them first with her, and to give his best care and +attention generally to the farm and all that pertained thereto. Of +course, the old lady was taking Hiram a good deal on trust. But she had +known the boy almost two years and he had been faithful and prompt in +discharging his debts to her. + +But it was up to the young fellow to "make good." He could not expect +to make any profit for his employer the first year; but he would be +expected to do so the second season, or "show cause." + + +When these matters were all discussed and the little memorandum +signed, Hiram Strong, in his own room, thought the situation over very +seriously. He was facing the biggest responsibility that he had obliged +to assume in his whole life. + +This was no boyish job; it was man's work. He had put his hand to an +agreement that might influence his whole future, and certainly would +make or break his credit as a trustworthy youth and one of his word. + +During these past days Hiram had determined to "get back to the soil" +and to get back to it in a business-like way. He desired to make good +for Mrs. Atterson so that he might some time have the chance to make +good for somebody else on a bigger scale. + +He did not propose to be "a one-horse farmer" all his days. + + + +CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + +On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's hands. On +Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at it. They came again +on Thursday and again on Friday. + +Friday being considered an "unlucky" day they did not bind the bargain; +but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers of the house were +to take possession in a week. Not until then were the boarders informed +of Mother Atterson's change of circumstances, and the fact that she was +going to graduate from the boarding house kitchen to the farm. + +After all, they were sorry--those light-headed, irresponsible young +men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, who could +not easily remember some special kindness that marked the old lady's +intercourse with him. + +As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had changed +hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild gabble of voices, +over the supper table that night. Crackit led the chorus. + +"It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many cattle to +the highest bidder. Ungrateful--right down ungrateful, I call it," he +declared. "What do you say, Feeble?" + +"It is particularly distasteful to me just now," complained the invalid. +"When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at just the right +temperature," and he took a sip of that innocent beverage. "Don't you +suppose we could prevail upon the old lady to renig?" + +"She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of the time +she stays," declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. "She's got +nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and leave--after she +gets hers." + +"That's always the way," feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. "Just as soon as I +really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, something happens." + +Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly ten +years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place. + +The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism for the +mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said nothing whatever; +even his usual mumblings to himself were not heard. + +He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table when +all the others had departed. + +Mrs. Atterson started into the dining-room with her own supper between +two plates when she saw the old man sitting there despondent in looks +and attitude, his head resting on one clawlike hand, his elbow on the +soiled table cloth. + +He did not look up, nor move. The mistress glanced back over her +shoulder, and there was Sister, sniffling and occasionally rubbing her +wrist into her red eyes as she scraped the tower of plates from the +dinner table. + +"My soul and body!" gasped Mother Atterson, almost dropping her supper +on the floor. "There's Sister--and there's Old Lem Camp! Whatever will I +do with 'em?" + +Meanwhile Hiram Strong had already left for the farm on the Wednesday +previous. The other boarders knew nothing about his agreement with +Mother Atterson; he had agreed to go to the place and begin work, and +take care of the stock and all, "choring for himself", as the good lady +called it, until she could complete her city affairs and move herself +and her personal chattels to the farm. + +Hiram bore a note to the woman who had promised to care for the Atterson +place, and money to pay her what the boarding-house mistress had agreed. + +"You can 'bach' it in the house as well as poor old Uncle Jeptha did, I +reckon," this woman told the youth. + +She showed him where certain provisions were--the pork barrel, ham and +bacon of the old man's curing, and the few vegetables remaining from the +winter's store. + +"The cow was about gone dry, anyway," said the woman, Mrs. Larriper, who +was a widow and lived with her married daughter some half-mile down the +road toward Scoville, "so I didn't bother to milk her. + +"You'll have to go to town to buy grain, if you want to feed her up--and +for the chickens and the horse. The old man didn't make much of a crop +last year--or them shiftless Dickersons didn't make much for him. + +"I saw Sam Dickerson around here this morning. He borrowed some of the +old man's tools when Uncle Jeptha was sick, and you'll have to go after +'em, I reckon. + +"Sam's the best borrower that ever was; but he never can remember to +bring things back. He says it's bad enough to have to borrow; it's too +much to expect the same man to return what he borrows. + +"Now, Mrs. Dickerson," pursued Mrs. Larriper, "was as nice a girl before +she married--she was a Stepney--as ever walked in shoe-leather. And I +guess she'd be right friendly with the neighbors if Sam would let her. + +"But the poor thing never gits to go out--no, sir! She's jest tied to +the house. They lost a child once--four year ago. That's the only time +I remember of seeing Sarah Stepney in church since the day she was +married--and she's got a boy--Pete--as old as you be. + +"Now, on the other side o' ye there's Darrell's tract, and you won't +have no trouble there, for there ain't a house on his place, and he lets +it lie idle. Waiting for a rise in price, I 'spect. + +"Some rich folks is comin' in and buying up pieces of land and making +what they calls 'gentlemen's estates' out o' them. A family named +Bronson--Mr. Stephen Bronson, with one little girl--bought the Fleigler +place only last month. + +"They're nice folks," pursued this amiable but talkative lady, "and +they don't live but a mile or so along the Scoville road. You passed the +place--white, with green shutters, and a water-tower in the back, when +you walked up." + +"I remember it," said Hiram, nodding. + +"They're western folk. Come clear from out in Injiany, or Illiny, or +the like. The girl's going to school and she ain't got no mother, so her +father's come on East with her to be near the school. + +"Well, I can't help you no more. Them hens! Well, I'd sell 'em if I was +Mis' Atterson. + +"Hens ain't much nowadays, anyhow; and I expect a good many of those are +too old to lay. Uncle Jeptha couldn't fuss with chickens, and he didn't +raise only a smitch of 'em last year and the year before--just them that +the hens hatched themselves in stolen nests, and chanced to bring up +alive. + +"You better grease the cart before you use it. It's stood since they +hauled in corn last fall. + +"And look out for Dickerson. Ask him for the things he borrowed. You'll +need 'em, p'r'aps, if you're goin' to do any farmin' for Mis' Atterson." + +She bustled away. Hiram thought he had heard enough about his neighbors +for a while, and he went out to look over the pasture fencing, which was +to be his first repair job. He would have that ready to turn the cow and +her calf into as soon as the grass began to grow. + +He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half workshop +in Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a pair of wire +cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. + +With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which was +likewise the pasture fence on the west side, between Mrs. Atterson's and +Dickerson's. + +Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire. In other places +the wires had sagged and were loose. The claw-hammer fixed these like +a charm. Slipping the wire into the claw, a single twist of the wrist +would usually pick up the sag and make the wire taut again at that +point. + +He drove a few staples, as needed, as he walked along. The pasture +partook of the general conformation of the farm--it was rather long and +narrow. + +It had grown to clumps of bushes in spots, and there was sufficient +shade. But he did not come to the water until he reached the lower end +of the lot. + +The branch trickled from a spring, or springs, farther east. It made +an elbow at the corner of the pasture--the lower south-west corner--and +there a water-hole had been scooped out at some past time. + +This waterhole was deep enough for all purposes, and was shaded by a +great oak that had stood there long before the house belonging to Jeptha +Atterson had been built. + +Here Hiram struck something that puzzled him. The boundary fence crossed +this water-hole at a tangent, and recrossed to the west bank of the +outflowing branch a few yards below, leaving perhaps half of the +water-hole upon the neighbor's side of the fence. + +Some of this wire at the water-hole was practically new. So were the +posts. And after a little Hiram traced the line of old postholes which +had followed a straight line on the west side of the water-hole. + +In other words, this water-privilege for Dickerson's land was of recent +arrangement--so recent indeed, that the young farmer believed he could +see some fresh-turned earth about the newly-set posts. + +"That's something to be looked into, I am afraid," thought Hiram, as he +moved along the southern pasture fence. + +But the trickle of the branch beckoned him; he had not found the +fountain-head of the little stream when he had walked over a part of the +timbered land with Henry Pollock, and now he struck into the open woods +again, digging into the soil here and there with his heavy boot, marking +the quality and age of the timber, and casting-up in his mind the +possibilities and expense of clearing these overgrown acres. + +"Mrs. Atterson may have a very valuable piece of land here in time," +muttered Hiram. "A sawmill set up in here could cut many a hundred +thousand feet of lumber--and good lumber, too. But it would spoil the +beauty of the farm." + +However, as must ever be in the case of the utility farm, the house was +set on its ugliest part. The cleared fields along the road had nothing +but the background of woods on the south and east to relieve their +monotony. + +On the brow of the steeper descent, which he had noted on his former +visit to the back end of the farm, he found a certain clearing in the +wood. Here the pines surrounded the opening on three sides. + +To the south, through a break in the wooded hillside, he obtained a +far-reaching view of the river valley as it lay, to the east and to the +west. The prospect was delightful. + +Here and there, on the farther bank of the river, which rose less +abruptly there than on this side, lay several cheerful looking +farmsteads. The white dwellings and outbuildings dotted the checkered +fields of green and brown. + +Cowbells tinkled in the distance, for the weather tempted farmers to let +their cattle run in the pastures even so early in the season. A horse +whinnied shrilly to a mate in a distant field. + +The creaking of the heavy wheels of a laden farm-cart was a mellow sound +in Hiram's ears. Beyond a fir plantation, high on the hillside, the +sharply outlined steeple of a little church lay against the soft blue +horizon. + +"A beauty-spot!" Hiram muttered. "What a site for a home! And yet people +want to build their houses right on an automobile road, and in sight of +the rural mail box!" + +His imagination began to riot, spurred by the outlook and by the nearer +prospect of wood and hillside. The sun now lay warmly upon him as he sat +upon a stump and drank in the beauty of it all. + +After a time his ear, becoming attuned to the multitudinous voices +of the wood, descried the silvery note of falling water. He arose and +traced the sound. + +Less than twenty yards away, and not far from the bluff, a vigorous +rivulet started from beneath the half-bared roots of a monster beech, +and fell over an outcropping boulder into a pool so clear that sand +on its bottom, worked mysteriously into a pattern by the action of the +water, lay revealed. + +Hiram knelt on a mossy rock beside the pool, and bending put his lips +to the water. It was the sweetest, most satisfying drink, he had imbibed +for many a day. + +But the morning was growing old, and Hiram wanted to trace the farther +line of the farm. He went down to the river, crossed the open meadow +again where they had built the campfire the morning before, and found +the deeply scarred oak which stood exactly on the boundary line between +the Atterson and Darrell tracts. + +He turned to the north, and followed the line as nearly as might be. The +Darrell tract was entirely wooded, and when he reached the uplands +he kept on in the shadowy aisles of the sap-pines which covered his +neighbor's property. + +He came finally to where the ground fell away again, and the yellow, +deeply-rutted road lay at his feet. The winter had played havoc with the +automobile track. + +The highway was unfenced and the bank dropped fifteen feet to the beaten +path. A leaning oak overhung the road and Hiram lingered here, lying +on its broad trunk, face upward, with his hat pulled over his eyes to +shield them from the sunlight which filtered through the branches. + +This land hereabout was beautiful. The boy could appreciate the beauty +as well as the utility of the soil. It was so pleasing to the eye that +he wished with all his heart it had been his own land he had surveyed. + +"And I'll not be a tenant farmer all my life, nor a farm-foreman, as +father was," determined the boy. "I'll get ahead. If I work for the +benefit of other people for a few years, surely I'll win the chance in +time to at last work for myself." + +In the midst of his ruminations a sound broke upon his ear--a jarring +note in the peaceful murmur of the woodland life. It was the thud of a +horse's hoofs. + +Not the sedate tunk-tunk of iron-shod feet on the damp earth, but +an erratic and rapid pounding of hoof-beats which came on with such +startling swiftness that Hiram sat up instantly, and craned his neck to +see up the road. + +"That horse is running away!" gasped the young farmer, and he swung +himself out upon the lowest branch of the leaning tree which overhung +the carttrack, the better to see along the highway. + + + +CHAPTER XI. A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + +There was no bend in the highway for some distance, but the overhanging +trees masked the track completely, save for a few hundred yards. The +horse, whether driven or running at large, was plainly spurred by +fright. + +Into the peacefulness of this place its hoof-beats were bringing the +element of peril. + +Lying prostrate on the sloping trunk, Hiram could see much farther up +the road. The outstretched head and lathered breast of a tall bay horse +leaped into view, and like a picture in a kinetoscope, growing larger +and more vivid second by second, the maddened animal came down the road. + +Hiram could see that the beast was not riderless, but it was a moment +or two--a long-drawn, anxious space of heart-beaten seconds--ere he +realized what manner of rider it was who clung so desperately to the +masterless creature. + +"It's a girl--a little girl!" gasped Hiram. + +She was only a speck of color, with white, drawn face, on the back of +the racing horse. + +Every plunge of the oncoming animal shook the little figure as though +it must fall from the saddle. But Hiram could see that she hung with +phenomenal pluck to the broken bridle and to the single horn of her +side-saddle. + +If the horse fell, or if she were shaken free, she would be flung to +instant death, or be fearfully bruised under the pounding hoofs of the +big horse. + +The young farmer's appreciation of the peril was instant; unused as he +was to meeting such emergency, there was neither panic nor hesitancy in +his actions. + +He writhed farther out upon the limb of the leaning oak until he was +direct above the road. The big bay naturally kept to the middle, for +there was no obstruction in its path. + +To have dropped to the highway would have put Hiram to instant +disadvantage; for before he could have recovered himself after the drop +the horse would have been upon him. + +Now, swinging with both legs wrapped around the tough limb, and his left +hand gripping a smaller branch, but with his back to the plunging brute, +the youth glanced under his right armpit to judge the distance and the +on-rush of the horse and its helpless rider. + +He knew she saw him. Swift as was the steed's approach, Hiram had seen +the change come into the expression of the girl's face. + +"Clear your foot of the stirrup!" he shouted, hoping the girl would +understand. + +With a confusing thunder of hoofbeats the bay came on--was beneath +him--had passed! + +Hiram's right arm shot out, curved slightly, and as his fingers gripped +her sleeve, the girl let go. She was whisked out of the saddle and the +horse swept on without her. + +The strain of the girl's slight weight upon his arm lasted but a moment, +for Hiram let go with his feet, swung down, and dropped. + +They alighted in the roadway with so slight a jar that he scarcely +staggered, but set the girl down gently, and for the passing of a breath +her body swayed against him, seeking support. + +Then she sprang a little away, and they stood looking at each +other--Hiram panting and flushed, the girl with wide-open eyes out of +which the terror had not yet faded, and cheeks still colorless. + +So they stood, for fully half a minute, speechless, while the thunder of +the bay's hoofs passed further and further away and finally was lost in +the distance. + +And it wasn't excitement that kept the boy dumb; for that was all over, +and he had been as cool as need be through the incident. But it +was unbounded amazement that made him stare so at the slight girl +confronting him. + +He had seen her brilliant, dark little face before. Only once--but that +one occasion had served to photograph her features on his memory. + +For the second time he had been of service to her; but he knew +instantly--and the fact did not puzzle him--that she did not recognize +him. + +It had been so dark in the unlighted side street back in Crawberry the +evening of their first meeting that Hiram believed (and was glad) that +neither she nor her father would recognize him as the boy who had kept +their carriage from going into the open ditch. + +And he had played rescuer again--and in a much more heroic manner. +This was the daughter of the man whom he had thought to be a prosperous +farmer, and whose card Hiram had lost. + +He had hoped the gentleman might have a job for him; but now Hiram was +not looking for a job. He had given himself heartily to the project of +making the old Atterson farm pay; nor was he the sort of fellow to show +fickleness in such a project. + +Before either Hiram or the girl broke the silence--before that silence +could become awkward, indeed--there started into hearing the ring of +rapid hoofbeats again. But it was not the runaway returning. + +The mate of the latter appeared, and he came jogging along the road, +very much in hand, the rider seemingly quite unflurried. + +This was a big, ungainly, beak-nosed boy, whose sleeves were much too +short, and trousers-legs likewise, to hide Nature's abundant gift to him +in the matter of bone and knuckle. He was freckled and wore a grin that +was not even sheepish. + +Somehow, this stolidity and inappreciation of the peril the girl had so +recently escaped, made Hiram feel sudden indignation. + +But the girl herself took the lout to task--before Hiram could say a +word. + +"I told you that horse could not bear the whip, Peter!" she exclaimed, +with wrathful gaze. "How dared you strike him?" + +"Aw--I only touched him up a bit," drawled the youth. "You said you +could ride anything, didn't you?" and his grin grew wider. "But I see ye +had to get off." + +Here Hiram could stand it no longer, and he blurted out: + +"She might have been killed! I believe that horse is running yet----" + +"Well, why didn't you stop it?" demanded the other youth, "impudently. +You had a chance." + +"He saved me," cried the girl, looking at Hiram now with shining eyes. +"I don't know how to thank him." + +"He might have stopped the horse while he was about it," growled the +fellow, picking up his own reins again. "Now I'll have to ride after +it." + +"You'd better," said the little lady, sharply. "If father knew that +horse had run away with me he would be dreadfully put out. You hurry +after him, Peter." + +The lout never said a word in reply, but his horse carried him swiftly +out of sight in the wake of the runaway. Then the girl turned again to +Hiram and the young farmer knew that he was being keenly examined by her +bright black eyes. + +"I am very sure father will not keep him," declared the girl, looking at +Hiram thoughtfully. "He is too careless--and I don't like him, anyway. +Do you live around here?" + +"I expect to," replied Hiram, smiling. "I have just come. I am going to +stay at this next house, along the road." + +"Oh! where the old gentleman died last week?" + +"Yes. Mrs. Atterson was left the place by her uncle, and I am going to +run it for her." + +"Oh, dear! then you've got a place to work?" queried the little lady, +with plain disappointment in her tone. "I am sure father would like to +have you instead of Peter." + +But Hiram shook his head slowly, though still smiling, + +"I'm obliged to you," he said; "but I have agreed to stop with Mrs. +Atterson for a time." + +"I want father to meet you just the same," she declared. + +She had a way about her that impressed Hiram with the idea that she +seldom failed in getting what she wanted. If she was not a spoiled +child, she certainly was a very much indulged one. + +But she was pretty! Dark, petite, with a brilliant smile, flashing +eyes, and a riot of blue-black curls, she was verily the daintiest and +prettiest little creature the young farmer had ever seen. + +"I am Lettie Bronson," she said, frankly. "I live down the road toward +Scoville. We have only just come here." + +"I know where you live," said Hiram, smiling and nodding. + +"You must come and see us. I want you to know father. He's the very +nicest man there is, I think." + +"He came all the way East here so as to live near my school--I go to the +St. Beris school in Scoville. It's awfully nice, and the girls are very +fashionable; but I'd be too lonely to live if daddy wasn't right near me +all the time. + +"What is your name?" she asked suddenly. + +Hiram told her. + +"Why! that's a regular farmer's name, isn't it--Hiram?" and she +laughed--a clear and sweet sound, that made an inquisitive squirrel that +had been watching them scamper away to his hollow, chattering. + +"I don't know about that," returned the young farmer, shaking his +head and smiling. "I ought by good rights to be 'a worker in brass', +according to the Bible. That was the trade of Hiram, of the tribe of +Naphtali, who came out of Tyre to make all the brass work for Solomon's +temple." + +"Oh! and there was a King Hiram, of Tyre, too, wasn't there," cried +Lettie, laughing. "You might be a king, you know." + +"That seems to be an unprofitable trade now-a-days," returned the young +fellow, shaking his head. "I think I will be the namesake of Hiram, the +brass-smith, for it is said of him that he was 'filled with wisdom and +understanding' and that is what I want to be if I am going to run Mrs. +Atterson's farm and make it pay." + +"You're a funny boy," said the girl, eyeing him furiously. +"You're--you're not at all like Pete--or these other boys about +Scoville." + +"And that Pete Dickerson isn't any good at all! I shall tell daddy all +about how he touched up that horse and made him run. Here he comes now!" + +They had been walking steadily along the road toward the Atterson house, +and in the direction the runaway had taken. Pete Dickerson appeared, +riding one of the bays and leading the one that had been frightened. + +The latter was all of a lather, was blowing hard, and before the horses +reached them, Hiram saw that the runaway was in bad shape. + +"Hold on!" he cried to the lout. "Breathe that horse a while. Let him +stand. He ought to be rubbed down, too. Don't you see the shape he is +in?" + +"Aw, what's eatin' you?" demanded Pete, eyeing the speaker with much +disfavor. + +The horse, when he stopped, was trembling all over. His nostrils were +dilated and as red as blood, and strings of foam were dripping from his +bit. + +"Don't let him stand there in the shade," spoke Hiram, more "mildly. +He'll take a chill. Here! let me have him." + +He approached the still frightened horse, and Pete jerked the +bridle-rein. The horse started back and snorted. + +"Stand 'round there, ye 'tarnal nuisance!" exclaimed Pete. + +But Hiram caught the bridle and snatched it from the other fellow's +hand. + +"Just let me manage him a minute," said Hiram, leading the horse into +the sunshine. + +He patted him, and soothed him, and the horse ceased trembling and his +ears pricked up. Hiram, still keeping the reins in his hand, loosened +the cinches and eased the saddle so that the animal could breathe +better. + +There were bunches of dried sage-grass growing by the roadside, and the +young farmer tore off a couple of these bunches and used them to wipe +down the horse's legs. Pretty soon the creature forgot his fright and +looked like a normal horse again. + +"If he was mine I'd give him whip a-plenty--till he learned better," +drawled Pete Dickerson, finally. + +"Don't you ever dare touch him with the whip again!" cried the girl, +stamping her foot. "He will not stand it. You were told----" + +"Aw, well," said the fellow, "'I didn't think he was going to cut up as +bad as that. These Western horses ain't more'n half broke, anyway." + +"I think he is perfectly safe for you to ride now, Miss Bronson," said +Hiram, quietly. "I'll give you a hand up. But walk him home, please." + +He had tightened the cinches again. Lettie put her tiny booted foot in +his hand (she wore a very pretty dark green habit) and with perfect ease +the young farmer lifted her into the saddle. + +"Good-bye--and thank you again!" she said, softly, giving him her free +hand just as the horse started. + +"Say! you're the fellow who's going to live at Atterson's place?" +observed Pete. "I'll see you later," and he waved his hand airily as he +rode off. + +"So that's Pete Dickerson, is it?" ruminated Hiram, as he watched the +horses out of sight. "Well, if his father, Sam, is anything like him, we +certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!" + + + +CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + +That afternoon Hiram hitched up the old horse and drove into town. + +He went to see the lawyer who had transacted Uncle Jeptha Atterson's +small business in the old man's lifetime, and had made his will--Mr. +Strickland. Hiram judged that this gentleman would know as much about +the Atterson place as anybody. + +"No--Mr. Atterson never said anything to me about giving a neighbor +water-rights," the lawyer said. "Indeed, Mr. Atterson was not a man +likely to give anything away--until he had got through with it himself. + +"Dickerson once tried to buy a right at that corner of the Atterson +pasture; but he and the old gentleman couldn't come to terms. + +"Dickerson has no water on his place, saving his well and his rights on +the river. It makes it bad for him, I suppose; but I do not advise Mrs. +Atterson to let that fence stand. Give that sort of a man an inch and +he'll take a mile." + +"But what shall I do?" + +"That's professional advice, young man," returned the lawyer, "smiling. +But I will give it to you without charge. + +"Merely go and pull the new posts up and replace them on the line. If +Dickerson interferes with you, come to me and we'll have him bound over +before the Justice of the Peace. + +"You represent Mrs. Atterson and are within her rights. That's the best +I can tell you." + +Now, Hiram was not desirous of starting any trouble--legal or +otherwise--with a neighbor; but neither did he wish to see anybody take +advantage of his old boarding mistress. He knew that, beside farming +for her, he would probably have to defend her from many petty annoyances +like the present case. + +So he bought the wire he needed for repairs, a few other things that +were necessary, and drove back to the farm, determined to go right ahead +and await the consequences. + +Among his purchases was an axe. In the workshop on the farm was a fairly +good grindstone; only the treadle was broken and Hiram had to repair +this before he could make much headway in grinding the axe. Henry +Pollock lived too far away to be called upon in such a small emergency. + +Being obliged to work alone sharpens one's wits. The young farmer had to +resort to shifts and expedients on every hand, as he went along. + +The day before, while wandering in the wood, he had marked several white +oaks of the right size for posts. He would have preferred cedars, of +course; but those trees were scarce on the Atterson tract--and they +might be needed for some more important job later on. + +When he came up to the house at noon to feed the stock and make his own +frugal meal in the farm house kitchen, the posts were cut. After dinner +he harnessed the horse to the farm wagon, and went down for the posts, +taking the rolls of wire along to drop beside the fence. + +The horse was a steady, willing creature, and seemed to have no tricks. +He did not drive very well on the road, of course; but that wasn't what +they needed a horse for. + +Driving was a secondary matter. + +Hiram loaded his posts and hauled them to the pasture, driving inside +the fence line and dropping a post wherever one had rotted out. + +Yet posts that had rotted at the ground were not so easy to draw out, as +the young farmer very well knew, and he set his wits to work to make the +removal of the old posts easy of accomplishment. + +He found an old, but strong, carpenter's horse in the shed, to act as +a fulcrum, and a seasoned bar of hickory as a lever. There was never +an old farm yet that didn't have a useful heap of junk, and Hiram had +already scratched over Uncle Jeptha's collection of many years' standng. + +He found what he sought in a wrought iron band some half inch in +thickness with a heavy hook attached to it by a single strong link. +He fitted this band upon the larger end of the hickory bar, wedging it +tightly into place. + +A short length of trace chain completed his simple post-puller. And he +could easily carry the outfit from place to place as it was needed. + +When he found a weak or rotting post, he pulled the staples that held +the strands of wire to it and and then set the trestle alongside the +post. Resting the lever on the trestle, he dropped the end link of the +chain on the hook, looped the chain around the post, and hooked on with +another link. Bearing down on the lever brought the post out of the +ground every time. + +With a long-handled spade Hiram cleaned out the old holes, or enlarged +them, and set his new posts, one after the other. He left the wires to +be tightened and stapled later. + +It was not until the next afternoon that he worked down as far as the +water-hole. Meanwhile he had seen nothing of the neighbors and neither +knew, nor cared, whether they were watching him or not. + +But it was evident that the Dickersons had kept tabs on the young +farmer's progress, for, he had no more than pulled the posts out of +the water-hole and started to reset them on the proper line, than the +long-legged Pete Dickerson appeared. + +"Hey, you!" shouted Pete. "What are you monkeying with that line fence +for?" + +"Because I won't have time to fix it later," responded Hiram, calmly. + +"Fresh Ike, ain't yer?" demanded young Dickerson. + +He was half a head taller than Hiram, and plainly felt himself safe in +adopting bullying tactics. + +"You put them posts back where you found 'em and string the wires again +in a hurry--or I'll make yer." + +"This is Mrs. Atterson's fence," said Hiram, quietly. "I have made +inquiries about the line, and I know where it belongs." + +"No part of this water-hole belongs on your side of the fence, +Dickerson, and as long as I represent Mrs. Atterson it's not going to be +grabbed." + +"Say! the old man gave my father the right to a part of this hole long +ago." + +"Show your legal paper to that effect," promptly suggested Hiram. "Then +we will let it stand until the lawyers decide the matter." + +Pete was silent for a minute; meanwhile Hiram continued to dig his hole, +and finally set the first post into place. + +"I tell you to take that post out o' there, Mister," exclaimed Pete, +suddenly approaching the other. "I don't like you, anyway. You helped +git me turned off up there to Bronson's yesterday. If you wouldn't have +put your fresh mouth in about the horse that gal wouldn't have knowed +so much to tell her father. Now you stop foolin' with this fence or I'll +lick you." + +Hiram Strong's disposition was far from being quarrelsome. He only +laughed at first and said: + +"Why, that won't do you any good in the end, Peter. Thrashing me won't +give you and your father the right to usurp rights at this water-hole. + +"There was very good reason, as I can see, for old Mr. Atterson refusing +to let you water your stock here. In time of drouth the branch probably +furnished no more water than his own cattle needed. And it will be the +same with my employer." + +"You'd better have less talk about it, and set back them posts," +declared Pete, decidedly, laying off his coat and pulling up his shirt +sleeves. + +"I hope you won't try anything foolish, Peter," said Hiram, resting on +his shovel handle. + +"Huh!" grunted Pete, eyeing him sideways as might an evil-disposed dog. + +"We're not well matched," observed Hiram, quietly, "and whether you +thrashed me, or I thrashed you, nothing would be proved by it in regard +to the line fence." + +"I'll show you what I can prove!" cried Pete, and rushed for him. + +In a catch-as-catch-can wrestle Pete Dickerson might have been able +to overturn Hiram Strong. But the latter did not propose to give the +long-armed youth that advantage. + +He dropped the spade, stepped nimbly aside, and as Pete lunged past +him the young farmer doubled his fist and struck his antagonist solidly +under the ear. + +That was the only blow struck--that and the one when Pete struck the +ground. The bigger fellow rolled over, grunted, and gazed up at Hiram +with amazement struggling with the rage expressed in his features. + +"I told you we were not well matched, Peter," spoke Hiram, calmly. "Why +fight about it? You have no right on your side, and I do not propose to +see Mrs. Atterson robbed of this water privilege." + +Pete climbed to his feet slowly, and picked up his coat. He felt of his +neck carefully and then looked at his hand, with the idea evidently that +such a heavy blow must have brought blood. But of course there was none. + +"I'll tell my dad--that's what I'll do," ejaculated the bully, at +length, and he started immediately across the field, his long legs +working like a pair of tongs in his haste to get over the ground. + +But Hiram completed the setting of the posts at the water-hole without +hearing further from any member of the Dickerson family. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE UPROOTING + +These early Spring days were busy ones for Hiram Strong. The mornings +were frosty and he could not get to his fencing work until midforenoon. +But there were plenty of other tasks ready to his hand. + +There were two south windows in the farmhouse kitchen. He tried to keep +some fire in the stove there day and night, sleeping as he did in Uncle +Jeptha's old bedroom nearby. + +Before these two windows he erected wide shelves and on these he set +shallow boxes of rich earth which he had prepared under the cart shed. +There was no frost under there, the earth was dry and the hens had +scratched in it during the winter, so Hiram got all the well-sifted +earth he needed for his seed boxes. + +He used a very little commercial fertilizer in each box, and planted +some of the seeds he had bought in Crawberry at an agricultural +warehouse on Main Street. + +Mrs. Atterson had expressed the hope that he would put in a variety of +vegetables for their own use, and Hiram had followed her wishes. When +the earth in the boxes had warmed up for several days he put in the +long-germinating seeds, like tomato, onions, the salads, leek, celery, +pepper, eggplant, and some beet seed to transplant for the early garden. +It was too early yet to put in cabbage and cauliflower. + +These boxes caught the sun for a good part of the day. In the afternoon +when the sun had gone, Hiram covered the boxes with old quilts and did +not uncover them again until the sun shone in the next morning. He had +decided to start his early plants in this way because he hadn't the time +at present to build frames outside. + +During the early mornings and late afternoons, too, he began to make the +small repairs around the house and outbuildings. Hiram was handy with +tools; indeed, a true farmer should be a good mechanic as well. He must +often combine carpentry and wheelwrighting and work at the forge, with +his agricultural pursuits. Hiram was something better than a "cold-iron +blacksmith." + +When it came to stretching the wire of the pasture fence he had to +resort to his inventive powers. There are plenty of wire stretchers that +can be purchased; but they cost money. + +The young farmer knew that Mrs. Atterson had no money to waste, and he +worked for her just as he would have worked for himself. + +One man working alone cannot easily stretch wire and make a good job +of it without some mechanism to help him. Hiram's was simple and easily +made. + +A twelve-inch section of perfectly round post, seven or eight inches +through, served as the drum around which to wind the wire, and two +twenty-penny nails driven into the side of the drum, close together, +were sufficient to prevent the wire from slipping. + +To either end of the drum Hiram passed two lengths of Number 9 wire +through large screweyes, making a double loop into which the hook of a +light timber chain would easily catch. Into one end of the drum he drove +a headless spike, upon which the hand-crank of the grindstone fitted, +and was wedged tight. + +In using this ingenious wire stretcher, he stapled his wire to post +number one, carried the length past post number two, looped the chain +around post number three, having the chain long enough so that he might +tauten the wire and hold the crankhandle steady with his knee or left +arm while he drove the holding staple in post number two. And so repeat, +ad infinitum. + +After he had made this wire-stretcher the young fellow got along +famously upon his fencing and could soon turn his attention to other +matters, knowing that the cattle would be perfectly safe in the pasture +for the coming season. + +The old posts he collected on the wagon and drew into the dooryard, +piling them beside the woodshed. There was not an overabundant supply +of firewood cut and Hiram realized that Mrs. Atterson would use +considerable in her kitchen stove before the next winter, even if she +did not run a sitting room fire for long this spring. + +Using a bucksaw is not only a thankless job at any time, but it is no +saving of time or money. There was a good two-handed saw in the shed and +Hiram found a good rat-tail file. With the aid of a home-made saw-holder +and a monkey wrench he sharpened and set this saw and then got Henry +Pollock to help him for a day. + +Henry wasn't afraid of work, and the two boys sawed and split the old +and well-seasoned posts, and some other wood, so that Hiram was enabled +to pile several tiers of stove-wood under the shed against the coming of +Mrs. Atterson to her farm. + +"If the season wasn't so far advanced, I could cut a lot of wood, draw +it up, and hire a gasoline engine and saw to come on the place and saw +us enough to last a year. I'll do that next winter," Hiram said. + +"That's what we all ought to do," agreed his friend. + +Henry Pollock was an observing farmer's boy and through him Hiram gained +many pointers as to the way the farmers in that locality put in their +crops and cultivated them. + +He learned, too, through Henry who was supposed to be the best farmer +in the neighborhood, who had special success with certain crops, and who +had raised the best seedcorn in the locality. + +It was not particularly a trucking community; although, since Scoville +had begun to grow so fast and many city people had moved into that +pleasant town, the local demand for garden produce had increased. + +"It used to be a saying here," said Henry, "that a bushel of winter +turnips would supply all the needs of Scoville. But that ain't exactly +so now. + +"The stores all want green stuff in season, and are beginning to pay +cash for truck instead of only offering to exchange groceries for the +stuff we raise. I guess if a man understood truck raising he could make +something in this market." + +Hiram decided that this was so, on looking over the marketing +possibilities of Scoville. + +There was a canning factory which put up string beans, corn, and +tomatoes; but the prices per hundred-weight for these commodities did +not encourage Hiram to advise Mrs. Atterson to try and raise anything +for the canneries. A profit could not be made out of such crops on a +one-horse farm. + +For instance, the neighboring farmers did not plant their tomato seeds +until it was pretty safe to do so in the open ground. The cannery did +not want the tomato pack to come on until late in August. By that time +the cream of the prices for garden-grown tomatoes had been skimmed by +the early truckers. + +The same with sweet corn and green beans. The cannery demanded these +vegetables at so late a date that the market-price was generally low. + +These facts Hiram bore in mind as he planned his season's work, and +especially the kitchen garden. This latter he planned to be about two +acres in extent--rather a large plot, but he proposed to set his rows +of almost every vegetable far enough apart to be worked with a horse +cultivator. + +Some crops--for instance onions, carrots, and other "fine stuff"--must +be weeded by hand to an extent, and if the soil is rich enough rows +twelve or fifteen inches apart show better results. + +Between such rows a wheelhoe can be used to good advantage, and that +was one tool--with a seed-sowing combination--that Hiram had told Mrs. +Atterson she must buy if he was to practically attend to the whole farm +for her. Hand-hoeing, in both field and garden crops, is antediluvian. + +Thus, during this week and a half of preparation, Hiram made ready for +the uprooting of Mrs. Atterson from the boarding house in Crawberry to +the farm some distance out of Scoville. + +The good lady had but one wagon load of goods to be transferred from +her old quarters to the new home. Many of the articles she brought were +heirlooms which she had stored in the boarding house cellar, or articles +associated with her happy married life, which had been shortened by her +husband's death when he was comparatively a young man. + +These Mrs. Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday morning, +and she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside the driver +herself and riding with him all the way. + +The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two spinster +ladies had already taken possession, and had served breakfast to the +disgruntled members of Mother Atterson's family. + +"You'll be back again," prophesied Mr. Crackit, shaking the old lady by +the hand. "And when you do, just let me know. I'll come and board with +you." + +"I wouldn't have you in my house again, Fred Crackit, for two farms," +declared the ex-boarding house keeper, with asperity. + +"I hope you told these people about my hot water, Mrs. Atterson," +croaked Mr. Peebles, from the step, where he stood muffled in a shawl +because of the raw morning air. + +"If I didn't you can tell 'em yourself," returned she, with +satisfaction. + +And so it went--the good-byes of these unappreciative boarders selfish +to the last! Mother Atterson sighed--a long, happy, and satisfying +sigh--when the lumbering wagon turned the first corner. + +"Thanks be!" she murmured. "I sha'n't care if they don't have a driblet +of gravy at supper tonight." + +Then she shook herself and stared straight ahead. On the very next +corner--she had insisted that none of the other people at the house +should observe their flitting--stood two figures, both forlorn. + +Old Lem Camp, with a lean suit-case at his feet, and Sister with a +bulging carpetbag which she had brought with her months before from the +charity institution, and into which she had stuffed everything she owned +in the world. + +Their faces brightened perceptibly when they beheld Mrs. Atterson +perched high beside the driver on the load of furniture and bedding. The +driver drew in his span of big horses and the wheels grated against the +curb. + +"You climb right in behind, Mr. Camp," said the good lady. "There's room +for you up under the canvas top--and I had him spread a mattress so't +you can take it easy all the way, if you like. + +"Sister, you scramble up here and sit in betwixt me and this man. And do +look out--you're spillin' things out o' that bag like it was a Christmas +cornucopia. Come on, now! Toss it behind us, onto them other things. +There! we'll go on--and no more stops, I hope, till we reach the farm." + +But that couldn't be. It was a long drive, and the man was good to his +team. He rested them at the top of every hill, and sometimes at the +bottom. They had to stop two hours for dinner and to "breathe 'em," as +the man said. + +At that time Mother Atterson produced a goodsized market basket--her +familiar companion when she had hunted bargains in the city--and it was +filled with sandwiches, and pickles, and crackers, and cookies, and +a whole boiled fowl (fowl were cheaper and more satisfying than the +scrawny chickens then in market) and hard-boiled eggs, and cheese, with +numbers of other less important eatables tucked into corners of the +basket to "wedge" the larger packages of food. + +The four picnicked in the sun, with the furniture wagon to break the +keen wind, passing around hot coffee in a can, from hand to hand, the +driver having built a campfire to heat the coffee beside the country +road. + +But after that stop--for they were well into the country now--there was +no keeping Sister on the wagon-seat. She had learned to drop down and +mount again as lively as a cricket. + +She tore along the edge of the road, with her hair flying, and her hat +hanging by its ribbons. She chased a rabbit, and squirrels, and picked +certain green branches, and managed to get her hands and the front of +her dress all "stuck up" with spruce gum in trying to get a piece big +enough to chew. + +"Drat the young'un!" exclaimed Mother Atterson. "I can see plainly +I'd never ought to brought her, but should have sent her back to the +institution. She'll be as wild as Mr. March's hare--whoever he was--out +here in the country." + +But Old Lem Camp gave her no trouble. He effaced himself just as he had +at the boarding house supper table. He seldom spoke--never unless he was +spoken to; and he lay up under the roof of the furniture wagon, whether +asleep, or no, Mrs. Atterson could not tell. + +"He's as odd as Dick's hat-band," the ex-boarding house mistress +confided to the driver. "But, bless you! the easiest critter to get +along with--you never saw his beat. If I'd a house full of Lem Camps to +cook for, I'd think I was next door to heaven." + +It was dusk when they arrived in sight of the little house beside the +road in which Uncle Jeptha Atterson had lived out his long life. Hiram +had a good fire going in both the kitchen and sitting room, and the +lamplight flung through the windows made the place look cheerful indeed +to the travelers. + +"My soul and body!" croaked the good lady, when she got down from the +wagon and Hiram caught her in his arms to save her from a fall. "I'm as +stiff as a poker--and that's a fact. But I'm glad to get here." + +Hiram's amazement when he saw Sister and Old Lem Camp was only expressed +in his look. He said nothing. The driver of the wagon backed it to the +porch step and then took out his team and, with Hiram's help, led them +to the stable, fed them, and bedded them down for the night. He was to +sleep in one of the spare beds and go back to town the following day. + +Mother Atterson took off her best dress, slipped into a familiar old +gingham and bustled around the kitchen as naturally as though she had +been there all her life. + +She fried ham and eggs, and made biscuit, and opened a couple of tins of +peaches she had brought, and finally set before them a repast satisfying +if not dainty, and seasoned with a cheerful spirit at least. + +"I vum!" she exclaimed, sitting down for the first time in years "at the +first table." "If this don't beat Crawberry and them boarders, I'm crazy +as a loon. Pour the coffee, Sister--and don't be stingy with the milk. +Milk's only five cents a quart here, and it's eight in town. But, +gracious, child! sugar don't cost no less." + +Old Lem Camp sat beside Hiram, as he had at the boarding-house table. He +had scarcely spoken since his arrival; but now, under cover of the talk +of Mother Atterson, the driver of the furniture van, and Sister, he +began one of his old-time monologues: + +"Old, old--nothing to look forward to--then the prospect opens up--just +like light breaking through the clouds after a storm--let's see; I want +a piece of bread--bread's on Sister's side--I can reach it--hum! no +Crackit to-night--fool jokes--silly fellow--ah! the butter--Where's the +butterknife?--Sister's forgotten the butter-knife--no! here 'tis--That +woman's an angel--nothing less--an angel in a last season's bonnet and a +shabby gown--Hah! practical angels couldn't use wings--they'd be in the +way in the kitchen--ham and eggs--gravy--fit for gods to eat--and not to +worry again where next week's victuals are to come from!" + +Hiram noted all the old mail said, and the last phrase enlightened him +immensely as to why Old Lem Camp was so "queer." That was the trouble +on the old man's mind--the trouble that had stifled him, and made him +appear "half cracked" as the boarding-house jester and Peebles had said. + +Lem Camp, too old to ever get another job in the city, had for five +years been worrying from day to day about his bare existence. And +evidently he saw that bogie of the superannuated disappearing in the +distance. + +After the truck driver had gone to bed, and Camp himself, and Sister had +fallen asleep over the last of the dish-wiping, Mother Atterson confided +in Hiram, to a degree. + +"Now, this gal can be made useful. She can help me in the house, and she +can help outside, too. + +"She's a poor, unfortunate creature--I know and humbly is no name for +her looks! But mebbe we can send her to the school nearby, and she ought +to get some color in her face if she's out o' doors some--and some flesh +on her skinny body. + +"I don't know as I could get along without Sister," ruminated Mother +Atterson, shaking her head. + +"And as for Lem Camp--bless you! he won't eat more'n a fly, and who else +would give him houseroom? Why, Hiram, I just had to bring him with me. +If I hadn't, I'd felt just as conscience-stricken as though I'd moved +and left a cat behind in an empty house!" + + + +CHAPTER XIV. GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + +Mother Atterson had breakfast the next morning by lamplight, because the +truckman wanted to make an early start. + +Hiram had already begun early rising, however, for the farmer who does +not get up before the sun in the spring needs must do his chores at +night by lantern-light. The eight-hour law can never be a rule on the +farm. + +But Sister was up, too, and out of the house, running as wild as a +rabbit. Hiram caught her in the barnyard trying to clamber on the cow's +back to ride her about the enclosure. Sister was afraid of nothing that +lived and walked, having all the courage of ignorance. + +She found that she could not in safety clamber over the pig-lot fence +and catch one of the shoats. Old Mother Hog ran at her with open mouth +and Sister came back from that expedition with a torn frock and some new +experience. + +"I never knew anything so fat could run," she confided to Hiram. "Old +Missus Poundly, who lived on our block, and weighed three hundred +pounds, couldn't run, I bet!" + +Mr. Camp was not disturbed by Mrs. Atterson, but was allowed to sleep as +long as he liked, while she kept a little breakfast hot for him and the +coffeepot on the back of the stove. + +The old lady became interested at once in all Hiram had done toward +beginning the spring work. She learned about the seed in the window +boxes (some of them were already breaking the soil) about watering them +and covering them properly and immediately took those duties off Hiram's +hands. + +"If Sister an' me can't do the light chores around this place and leave +you to 'tend to the bigger things, then we ain't no good and had better +go back to the boarding house," she announced. + +"Oh, Mis' Atterson! You wouldn't go back to town, would you?" pleaded +Sister. "Why, there's real hens--and a cow that will give milk bimeby, +Hi says--and a horse that wiggles his ears and talks right out loud when +he's hungry, for I heard him--and pigs that squeal and run, an' they're +jest as fat as butter----" + +"Well, to stay here we've all got to work, Sister," declared her +mistress. "So get at them dishes now and be quick about it. +There's forty times more chores to do here than there was back in +Crawberry--But, thanks be! there ain't no gravy to worry about." + +"And there ain't no boarders to make fun of me," said Sister, +thoughtfully. Then, she announced, after some rumination: "I like pigs +better than I do boarders Mis' Atterson." + +"Well, I should think you would!" exclaimed that lady, tartly. "Pigs has +got some sense." + +Hiram laughed at this. "You'll find the pigs demanding gravy, just the +same--and very urgent about it they are, too," he told them. + +But he was glad to give the small chores over into their hands, and went +to work immediately to prepare for putting in the early crops. + +He had already cleared the rubbish off the piece of ground selected +for the garden, and had burned it. He hauled out stable manure from +the barnyard and gave an acre and a half of this piece of land a good +dressing. + +The other half-acre was for early potatoes, and he wished to put the +manure in the furrow for them, so did not top dress that strip of land. +The frost was pretty well out of the ground by now; but even if some +remained, plowing this high, well-drained piece would do no harm. +Beside, Hiram was eager to get in early crops. + +It was a still, hazy morning when he geared the old horse to the plow +and headed him into the garden piece. He had determined to plow the +entire plot at once, and instead of plowing "around and around" had +paced off his lands and started in the middle, plowing "gee" instead of +"haw". + +This system is a bit more particular, and hard for the careless plowman; +but it overcomes that unsightly "dead-furrow" in the middle of a field +and brings the "finishing-furrow" on the edge. This insures better +surface drainage and is a more scientific method of tillage. + +The plow was rusty and the point was not in the very best condition; but +after the first few rounds the share was cleaned off, and it began to +slip through the moist earth and roll it over in a long, brown ribbon +behind him. + +Hiram Strong clung to the plow handles, a rope-rein in each hand, and +watched the plow and the horse and the land ahead with an eye as keen as +that of a river-pilot. + +As the strip of turned earth grew wider and longer Sister ran out to see +him work. She watched the plow turn the mulch into the furrow and lay +the brown, greasy mold upon it, with wide-open eyes. + +"Why!" cried she, "wouldn't it be nice if we could go right along with +a plow and bury our past like that--cover everything mean and nasty +up, and forget it! That institution they put me in--and the old woman +I lived with before that, who drank so much gin and beat me--and the +boarders--and that boy who used to pull my braids whenever he met me--My +that would be fine!" + +"I reckon that is what Life does do for us," returned Hiram, +thoughtfully, stopping at the end of the furrow to mop his brow and let +the old horse breathe. "Yes, sir! Life plows all the experience under, +and it ought to enrich our future existence, just as this stuff I'm +plowing under here will decay and enrich the soil." + +"But the plow don't turn it quite under in spots," said Sister, with +a sigh. "Leastways, I can't help remembering the bad things once in a +while." + +There were certain other individuals who found out very soon that Hiram +was plowing, too. Those were the hens. There were not more than fifteen +or twenty of the scrubby creatures, and they began to follow the plow +and pick up grubs and worms. + +"I tell you one thing that I've got to do before we put in much," Hiram +told the ex-boarding house mistress at noon. + +"What's that, Hi? Don't go very deep down into my pocket, for it won't +stand it. After paying my bills, and paying for moving out here, I ain't +got much money left--and that's a fact!" + +"It won't cost much, but we've got to have a yard for the hens. Hens and +a garden will never mix successfully. Unless you enclose them you might +as well have no garden in that spot where I'm plowing." + +"There warn't but five eggs to-day," said Mrs. Atterson. "Mebbe we'd +better chop the heads off 'em, one after the other, and eat 'em." + +"They'll lay better as it grows warmer. That henhouse must be fixed +before next winter. It's too draughty," said Hi. "And then, hens can't +lay well--especially through the winter--if they haven't the proper kind +of food." + +"But three or four of the dratted things want to stay on the nest all +the time," complained the old lady. + +"If I was you, Mrs. Atterson," Hiram said, soberly, "I'd spend five +dollars for a hundred eggs of well-bred stock. + +"I'd set these hens as fast as they get broody, and raise a decent flock +of biddies for next year. Scrub hens are just as bad as scrub cows. The +scrubs will eat quite as much as full-bloods, yet the returns from the +scrubs are much less." + +"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Atterson, "a hen's always been just a hen +to me--one's the same as another, exceptin' the feathers on some is +prettier." + +"To-night I'll show you some breeders' catalogs and you can think the +matter over as to what kind of a fowl you want," said the young farmer. + +He went back to his job after dinner and kept steadily at work until +three o'clock before there came a break. Then he saw a carriage drive +into the yard, and a few moments later a man In a long gray coat came +striding across the lot toward him. + +Hiram knew the gentleman at once--it was Mr. Bronson, the father of +the girl he had saved from the runaway. To tell the truth, the boy +had rather wondered about his non-appearance during the days that +had elapsed. But now he came with hand held out, and his first words +explained the seeming omission: + +"I've been away for more than a week, my boy, or I should have seen you +before. You're Hiram Strong, aren't you--the boy my little girl has been +talking so much about?" + +"I don't know how much Miss Lettie has been talking about me," laughed +Hiram. "Full and plenty, I expect." + +"And small blame to her," declared Mr. Bronson. "I won't waste time +telling you how grateful I am. I had just time to turn that boy of +Dickerson's off before I was called away. Now, my lad, I want you to +come and work for me." + +"Why, much as I might like to, sir, I couldn't do that," said Hiram. + +"Now, now! we'll fix it somehow. Lettie has set her heart on having you +around the place. + +"You're the second young man I've been after whom I was sure would suit +me, since we moved on to the old Fleigler place. The first fellow I +can't find; but don't tell me that I am going to be disappointed in you, +too." + +"Mr. Bronson," said Hiram, gravely, "I'm sorry to say 'No.' A little +while ago I'd have been delighted to take up with any fair offer you +might have made me. But I have agreed with Mrs. Atterson to run her +place for two seasons." + +"Two years!" exclaimed Mr. Bronson. + +"Yes, sir. Practically. I must put her on her feet and make the old farm +show a profit." + +"You're pretty young to take such responsibility upon your shoulders, +are you not?" queried the gentleman, eyeing him curiously. + +"I'm seventeen. I began to work with my father as soon as I could lift +a hoe. I love farm work. And I've passed my word to stick to Mrs. +Atterson." + +"That's the old lady up to the house?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"But she wouldn't hold you to your bargain if she saw you could better +yourself, would she?" + +"She would not have to," Hiram said, firmly, and he began to feel a +little disappointed in his caller. "A bargain's a bargain--there's no +backing out of it." + +"But suppose I should make it worth her while to give you up?" pursued +Mr. Bronson. "I'll sound her a bit, eh? I tell you that Lettie has set +her heart on having you, as we cannot find another chap whom we were +looking for." + +Now, Hiram knew that this referred to him; but he said nothing. Besides, +he did not feel too greatly pleased that the strongest reason for Mr. +Bronson's wishing to hire him was his little daughter's demand. It was +just a fancy of Miss Lettie's. And another day, she might have the fancy +to turn him off. + +"No, sir," spoke Hiram, more firmly. "It is useless. I am obliged to +you; but I must stick by Mrs. Atterson." + +"Well, my lad," said the Westerner, putting out his hand again. "I am +glad to see you know how to keep a promise, even if it isn't to your +advantage. And I am grateful to you for turning that trick for my little +girl the other day." + +"I hope you'll come over and see us--and I shall watch your work here. +Most of these fellows around here are pretty slovenly farmers in my +estimation; I hope you will do better than the average." + +He went back across the field and Hiram returned to his plowing. The +young farmer saw the bay horses driven slowly out of the yard and along +the road. + +He saw the flutter of a scarf from the carriage and knew that Lettie +Bronson was with her father; but she did not look out at him as he +toiled behind the old horse in the furrow. + +However, there was no feeling of disappointment in Hiram Strong's +mind--and this fact somewhat surprised him. He had been so attracted by +the girl, and had wished in the beginning so much to be engaged by Mr. +Bronson, that he had considered it a mighty disappointment when he had +lost the Westerner's card. + +However, his apathy in the matter was easily explained. He had taken +hold of the work on the Atterson place. His plans were growing in his +mind for the campaign before him. His interest was fastened upon the +contract he had made with the old lady. + +His hand was, literally now, "to the plow"--and he was not looking back. + +He finished the piece that day, and likewise drew out some lime that he +had bought at Scoville and spread it broadcast upon all the garden patch +save that in which he intended to put potatoes. + +Although it is an exploded doctrine that the application of lime to +potato ground causes scab, it is a fact that it will aid in spreading +the disease. Hiram was sure enough--because of the sheep-sorrel on the +piece--that it all needed sweetening, but he decided against the lime at +this time. + +As soon as Hiram had drag-harrowed the piece he laid off two rows down +the far end, as being less tempting to the straying hens, and planted +early peas--the round-seeded variety, hardier than the wrinkled kinds. +These pea-rows were thirty inches apart, and he dropped the peas by hand +and planted them very thickly. + +It doesn't pay to be niggardly with seed in putting in early peas, at +any rate--the thicker they come up the better, and in these low bush +varieties the thickly growing vines help support each other. + +This garden piece--almost two acres--was oblong in shape. An acre is +just about seventy paces square. Hiram's garden was seventy by a hundred +and forty paces, or thereabout. + +Therefore, the young farmer had two seventy-yard rows of peas, or over +four hundred feet of drill. He planted two quarts of peas at a cost of +seventy cents. + +With ordinary fortune the crop should be much more than sufficient for +the needs of the house while the peas were in a green state, for being a +quick growing vegetable, they are soon past. + +Hiram, however, proposed putting in a surplus of almost everything he +planted in this big garden--especially of the early vegetables--for he +believed that there would be a market for them in Scoville. + +The ground was very cold yet, and snow flurries swept over the field +every few days; but the peas were under cover and were off his mind; +Hiram knew they would be ready to pop up above the surface just as soon +as the warm weather came in earnest, and peas do not easily rot in the +ground. + +In two weeks, or when the weather was settled, he proposed planting +other kinds of peas alongside these first two rows, so as to have a +succession up to mid-summer. + +Next the young farmer laid off his furrows for early potatoes. He had +bought a sack of an extra-early variety, yet a potato that, if left +in the ground the full length of the season, would make a good winter +variety--a "long keeper." + +His potato rows he planned to have three feet apart, and he plowed the +furrows twice, so as to have them clean and deep. + +Henry Pollock happened to come by while he was doing this, and stopped +to talk and watch Hiram. To tell the truth, Henry and his folks were +more than a little interested in what the young farmer would do with the +Atterson place. + +Like other neighbors they doubted if the stranger knew as much about the +practical work of farming as he claimed to know. "That feller from +the city," the neighbors called Hiram behind his back, and that is an +expression that completely condemns a man in the mind of the average +countryman. + +"What yer bein' so particular with them furrers for, Hiram?" asked +Henry. + +"If a job's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well, isn't it?" +laughed the young farmer. + +"We spread our manure broadcast--when we use any at all--for potatoes," +said Henry, slowly. "Dad says if manure comes in contact with potatoes, +they are apt to rot." + +"That seems to be a general opinion," replied Hiram. "And it may be so +under certain conditions. For that reason I am going to make sure that +not much of this fertilizer comes in direct contact with my seed." + +"How'll you do that?" "I'll show you," said Hiram. + +Having run out his rows and covered the bottom of each furrow several +inches deep with the manure, he ran his plow down one side of each +furrow and turned the soil back upon the fertilizer, covering it and +leaving a well pulverized seed bed for the potatoes to lie in. + +"Well," said Henry, "that's a good wrinkle, too." + +Hiram had purchased some formalin, mixed it with water according to the +Government expert's instructions, and from time to time soaked his seed +potatoes two hours in the antiseptic bath. In the evening he brought +them into the kitchen and they all--even Old Lem Camp--cut up the +potatoes, leaving two or three good eyes in each piece. + +"I'd ruther do this than peel 'em for the boarders," remarked Sister, +looking at her deeply-stained fingers reflectively. "And then, nobody +won't say nothin' about my hands to me when I'm passin' dishes at the +table." + +The following day she helped Hiram drop the seed, and by night he had +covered them by running his plow down the other side of the row and +then smoothed the potato plat with a home-made "board" in lieu of a +land-roller. + +It was the twentieth of March, and not a farmer in the locality had yet +put in either potatoes, or peas. Some had not as yet plowed for early +potatoes, and Henry Pollock warned Hiram that he was "rushing the +season." + +"That may be," declared the young farmer to Mrs. Atterson. "But I +believe the risk is worth taking. If we do get 'em good, we'll get 'em +early and skim the cream of the local market. Now, you see!" + + + +CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE BREWS + +"Old Lem Camp," as he had been called for so many years that there +seemed no disrespect in the title, was waking up. Not many mornings was +he a lie-abed. And the lines in his forehead seemed to be smoothing out, +and his eyes had lost something of their dullness. + +It was true that, at first, he wandered about the farmstead muttering +to himself in his old way--an endless monologue which was a jumble of +comment, gratitude, and the brief memories of other days. It took some +time to adjust his poor mind to the fact that he had no longer to +fear that Poverty which had stalked ever before him like a threatening +spirit. + +Gratitude spurred him to the use of his hands. He was not a broken +man--not bodily. Many light tasks soon fell to his share, and Mrs. +Atterson told Hiram and Sister to let him do what he would. To busy +himself would be the best thing in the world for the old fellow. + +"That's what's been the matter with Mr. Camp for years," she declared, +with conviction. "Because he passed the sixty-year mark, and it was +against the practise of the paper company to keep employees on the +payroll over that age, they turned Lem Camp off. + +"Ridiculous! He was just as well able to do the tasks that he had +learned to do mechanically as he had been any time for the previous +twenty years. He had worked in that office forty years, and more, you +understand. + +"That's the worst thing about a corporation of that kind--it has no +thought beyond its 'rules.' Old Mr. Bundy remembered Lem--that's all. +If he hadn't so much stock in the concern they'd turn him off, too. I +expect he knows it and that's what softened his heart to Old Lem. + +"Now, let Lem take hold of whatever he can do, and git interested in +it," declared the practical Mrs. Atterson, "and he'll show you that +there's work left in him yet. Yes-sir-ree-sir! And if he'll work in the +open air, all the better for him." + +There was plenty for everybody to do, and Hiram would not say the old +man nay. The seed boxes needed a good deal of attention, for they were +to be lifted out into the air on warm days, and placed in the sun. And +Old Lem could do this--and stir the soil in them, and pull out the grass +and other weeds that started. + +Hiram had planted early cabbage and cauliflower and egg-plant in other +boxes, and the beets were almost big enough to transplant to the open +ground. Beets are hardy and although hair-roots are apt to form on +transplanted garden beets, the transplanting aids the growth in other +ways and Hiram expected to have table-beets very early. + +In the garden itself he had already run out two rows of later beets, the +width of the plot. Bunched beets will sell for a fair price the whole +season through. + +Hiram was giving his whole heart and soul to the work--he was wrapped up +in the effort to make the farm pay. And for good reason. + +It was "up to him" to not alone turn a profit for his employer, and +himself; but he desired--oh, how strongly!--to show the city folk who +had sneered at him that he could be a success in the right environment. + +Besides, and in addition, Hiram Strong was ambitious--very ambitious +indeed for a youth of his age. He wanted to own a farm of his own in +time--and it was no "one-horse farm" he aimed at. + +No, indeed! Hiram had read of the scientific farming of the Middle West, +and the enormous tracts in the Northwest devoted to grain and other +staple crops, where the work was done for the most part by machinery. + +He longed to see all this--and to take part in it. He desired the big +things in farming, nor would he ever be content to remain a helper. + +"I'm going to be my own boss, some day--and I'm going to boss other men. +I'll show these fellows around here that I know what I want, and when I +get it I'll handle it right!" Hiram soliloquized. + +"It's up to me to save every cent I can. Henry thinks I'm niggardly, +I expect, because I wouldn't go to town Saturday night with him. But I +haven't any money to waste. + +"The hundred I'm to get next Christmas from Mrs. Atterson I don't wish +to draw on at all. I'll get along with such old clothes as I've got." + +Hiram was not naturally a miser; he frequently bought some little thing +for Sister when he went to town--a hair-ribbon, or the like, which he +knew would please the girl; but for himself he was determined to be +saving. + +At the end of his contract with Mrs. Atterson he would have two hundred +dollars anyway. But that was not the end and aim of Hiram Strong's +hopes. + +"It's the clause in our agreement about the profits of our second season +that is my bright and shining star," he told the good lady more than +once. "I don't know yet what we had better put in next year to bring us +a fortune; but we'll know before it comes time to plant it." + +Meanwhile the wheel-hoe and seeder he had insisted upon Mrs. Atterson +buying had arrived, and Hiram, after studying the instructions which +came with it, set the machine up as a seed-sower. Later, after the +bulk of the seeds were in the ground, he would take off the seeding +attachment and bolt on the hoe, or cultivator attachments, with which to +stir the soil between the narrower rows of vegetables. + +As he made ready to plant seeds such as carrot, parsnip, onion, salsify, +and leaf-beet, as well as spring spinach, early turnips, radishes and +kohlrabi, Hiram worked that part of his plowed land over again and again +with the spike harrow, finally boarding the strips down smoothly as +he wished to plant them. The seedbed must be as level as a floor, and +compact, for good use to be made of the wheel-seeder. + +When he had lined out one row with his garden line, from side to side of +the plowed strip, the marking arrangement attached to his seeder would +mark the following lines plainly, and at just the distance he desired. + +Onions, carrots, and the like, he put in fifteen inches apart, intending +to do all the cultivating of those extremely small plants with the +wheel-hoe, after they were large enough. But he foresaw the many hours +of cultivating before him and marked the rows for the bulk of the +vegetables far enough apart, as he had first intended, to make possible +the use of the horse-hoe. + +Meanwhile he spike-harrowed the potato patch, running cross-wise of the +rows to break the crust and keep down the quick-springing weed seeds. +The early peas were already above ground and when they were two inches +high Hiram ran his 14-tooth cultivator--or "seed harrow" as it is called +in some localities--close to the rows so as to throw the soil toward the +plants, almost burying them from sight again. This was to give the peas +deep rootage, which is a point necessary for the quick and stable growth +of this vegetable. + +In odd moments Hiram had cut and set a few posts, bought poultry netting +in Scoville, and enclosed Mrs. Atterson's chicken-run. She had taken his +advice and sent for eggs, and already had four hens setting and expected +to set the remainder of the of the eggs in a few days. + +Sister took an enormous interest in this poultry-raising venture. She +"counted chickens before they were hatched" with a vengeance, and after +reading a few of the poultry catalogs she figured out that, in three +years, from the increase of Mother Atterson's hundred eggs, the +eighty-acre farm would not be large enough to contain the flock. + +"And all from five dollars!" gasped Sister. "I don't see why everybody +doesn't go to raising chickens--then there'd be no poor folks, everybody +would be rich--Well! I expect there'd always have to be institutions for +orphans--and boarding houses!" + +The new-springing things from the ground, the "hen industry" and the +repairing and beautifying of the outside of the farmhouse did not take +up all their attention. There were serious matters to be discussed in +the evening, after the others had gone to bed, 'twixt Hiram and his +employer. + +There was the five or six acres of bottom land--the richest piece of +soil of the entire eighty. Hiram had not forgotten this, and the second +Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole family had attended +service at a chapel less than half a mile up the road, he had urged Mrs. +Atterson to walk with him through the timber to the riverside. + +"For the Land o' Goshen!" the ex-boarding house mistress had finally +exclaimed. "To think that I own all of this. Why, Hi, it don't seem as +if it was so. I can't get used to it. And this timber, you say, is all +worth money? And if I cut it off, it will grow up again----" + +"In thirty to forty years the pine will be worth cutting again--and some +of the other trees," said Hiram, with a smile. + +"Well! that would be something for Sister to look forward to," said +the old lady, evidently thinking aloud. "And I don't expect her +folks--whoever they be--will ever look her up now, Hiram." + +"But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would have a +very valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage--valuable for almost any +crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the sun," said the young +farmer, ignoring the other's observation. + +"Well, well! it's wonderful," returned Mrs. Atterson. + +But she listened attentively to what he had to say about clearing the +bottom land, which was a much more easily accomplished task, as Hiram +showed her. It would cost something to put the land into shape for +late corn, and so prepare it for some more valuable crop the following +season. + +"Well, nothing ventured, nothing have!" Mrs. Atterson finally agreed. +"Go ahead--if it won't cost much more than what you say to get the corn +in. I understand it's a gamble, and I'm taking a gambler's chance. +If the river rises and floods the corn in June, or July, then we get +nothing this season?" + +"That is a possibility," admitted Hiram. + +"Go ahead," exclaimed Mother Atterson. "I never did know that there was +sporting blood in me; but I kinder feel it risin', Hi, with the sap in +the trees. We'll chance it!" + +Occasionally Hiram had stepped down to the pasture and squinted across +to the water-hole. The grass was not long enough yet to turn the cow +into the field, so he was obliged to make these special trips to the +pasture. + +He had seen nothing of the Dickersons--to speak to, that is--since his +trouble with Pete. And, of a sudden, just before dinner one noon, Hiram +took a look at the pasture and beheld a figure seemingly working down in +the corner. + +Hiram ran swiftly in that direction. Half-way there he saw that it was +Pete, and that he had deliberately cut out a panel of the fence and was +letting a pair of horses he had been plowing with, drink at the pool, +before he took them home to the Dickerson stable. + +Hiram stopped running and recovered his breath before he reached the +lower corner of the pasture. Pete saw him coming, and grinned impudently +at him. + +"What are you doing here, Dickerson?" demanded the young farmer, +indignantly. + +"Well, if you wanter keep us out, you'd better keep up your fences +better," returned Pete. "I seen the wires down, and it's handy----" + +"You cut those wires!" interrupted Hiram, angrily. + +"You're another," drawled Pete, but grinning in a way to exasperate the +young farmer. + +"I know you did so." + +"Wal, if you know so much, what are you going to do about it?" demanded +the other. "I guess you'll find that these wires will snap 'bout as fast +as you can mend 'em. Now, you can put that in your pipe an' smoke it!" + +"But I don't smoke." Hiram observed, growing calm immediately. There was +no use in giving this lout the advantage of showing anger with him. + +"Mr. Smartie!" snarled Pete Dickerson. "Now, you see, there's somebody +just as smart as you be. These horses have drunk there, and they're +going to drink again." + +"Is that your father yonder?" demanded Hiram, shortly. + +"Yes, it is." + +"Call him over here." + +"Why, if he comes over here, he'll eat you alive!" cried Pete, +laughing. "You don't know my dad." + +"I don't; but I want to," Hiram said, calmly. "That's why you'd better +call him over. I have got pretty well acquainted with you, and the rest +of your family can't be any worse, as I look at it. Call him over," and +the young farmer stepped nearer to the lout. + +"You call him yourself!" cried Pete, beginning to back away, for he +remembered how he had been treated at his previous encounter with Hiram. + +Hiram seized the bridles of the work horses, and shook them out of +Pete's clutch. + +"Tell your father to come here," commanded the young farmer, fire in his +eyes. "We'll settle this thing here and now. + +"These horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land. I know the county stock +law as well as you do. You cut this fence, and your cattle are on her +ground. + +"It will cost you a dollar a head to get them off again--if Mrs. +Atterson wishes to demand it. Now, call your father." + +Pete raised a yell which startled the long-legged man striding over the +hill toward the Dickerson farmhouse. Hiram saw the older Dickerson turn, +stare, and then start toward them. + +Pete continued to beckon, and began to yell: + +"Dad! Dad! He won't let me have the hosses!" + +Sam Dickerson came striding down to the waterhole--a lean, long, +sour-looking man he was, with a brown face knotted into a continual +scowl, and hard, bony hands. Yet Hiram was not afraid of him. + +"What's the trouble here?" growled the farmer. + +"He's got the hosses. I told you the fence was down and I was goin' to +water 'em----" + +"Shut up!" commanded his father, eyeing Hiram. "I'm talking to this +fellow: What's the trouble here?" + +"Your horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land," Hiram said, quietly. "You +know that stock which strays can be held for a dollar a head--damage or +no damage to crops. I warn you, keep your horses on your own land." + +"That's your fence; if you don't keep it up, who's fault is it if my +horses get on your land?" growled Dickerson, evidently making the matter +a personal one with Hiram. + +"Your boy here cut the wires." + +"No I didn't, Dad!" interposed Pete. + +Quick as a flash Hiram dropped the bridle reins, sprang for Pete, seized +him in a wrestler's grip, twisted him around, and tore from his pocket a +pair of heavy wire-cutters. + +"What were you doing with these in your pocket, then?" demanded Hiram, +disdainfully, tossing the plyers upon the ground at Pete's feet, and +stepping back to keep the restless horses from leaving the edge of the +water-hole. + +Sam Dickerson seemed to take a grim pleasure in his son's overthrow. He +growled: + +"He's got you there, Pete. You'd better stop monkeyin' around here. Pick +up them bridles and come on." + +He turned to depart without another word to Hiram; but the latter did +not propose to be put off that way. + +"Hold on!" he called. "Who's going to mend this fence, Mr. Dickerson?" + +Dickerson turned and eyed him coldly again. + +"What's that to me? Mend your own fence," he said. + +"Then I shall take these horses up to our barn. You can come and settle +the matter with Mrs. Atterson--unless you wish to pay me two dollars +here and now," said the young farmer, his voice carrying clearly to +where the man stood upon the rising ground above him. + +"Why, you young whelp!" roared Dickerson, suddenly starting down the +slope. + +But Hiram Strong neither moved nor showed fear. Somehow, this sturdy +young fellow, in the high laced boots, with his flannel shirt open at +the throat, raw as was the day, his sleeves rolled back to his elbows, +was a figure to make even a more muscular man than Sam Dickerson +hesitate. + +"Pete!" exclaimed the farmer, harshly, still eyeing Hiram. "Run up to +the house and bring my shotgun. Be quick about it." + +Hiram said never a word, and the horses, yoked together, began to crop +the short grass springing upon the bank of the water-hole. + +"You'll find out you're fooling with the wrong man, you whippersnapper!" +promised Dickerson. + +"You can pay me two dollars and I'll mend the fence; or you can mend the +fence and we'll call it square," said Hiram, slowly, and evenly. "I'm a +boy, but I'm not to be frightened with a threat----" + +Pete's long legs brought him flying back across the fields. Nothing he +had done in a long while pleased him quite as much as this errand. + +Hiram turned, jerked at the horses' bridle-reins, turned them around, +and with a sharp slap on the nigh one's flank, sent them both trotting +up into the Atterson pasture. + +"Stop that, you rascal!" cried Dickerson, grabbing the gun from his +hopeful son, and losing his head now entirely. "Bring that team back!" + +"You mend the fence, and I will," declared Hiram, unshaken. + +The angry man sprang down to his level, flourishing the gun in a way +that would have been dangerous indeed had Hiram believed it to be +loaded. And as it was, the young farmer was very angry. + +The right was on his side; if he allowed these Dickersons, father and +son, to browbeat him this once, it would only lead to future trouble. + +This thing had to be settled right here and now. It would never do for +Hiram to show fear. And if both of the long-legged Dickersons pitched +upon him, of course, he would be no match for them. + +But Sam Dickerson stumbled and almost fell as he reached the edge of the +water-hole, and before he could recover himself, Hiram leaped upon him, +seized the shotgun, and wrenched it from his hands. + +He reversed the weapon in a flash, clubbed it, and raised it over his +head with a threatening swing that made Pete yell from the top of the +bank: + +"Look out, Dad! He's a-goin' ter swat yer!" + +Sam tried to scramble out of the way. But down came the gun butt with +all the force of Hiram's good muscle, and--the stock was splintered and +the lock shattered upon the big stone that here cropped out of the bank. + +"There's your gun--what's left of it," panted the young farmer, tossing +the broken weapon from him. "Now, don't you ever threaten me with a gun +again, for if you do I'll have you arrested. + +"We've got to be neighbors, and we've got to get along in a neighborly +manner. But I'm not going to allow you to take advantage of Mrs. +Atterson, because she is a woman. + +"Now, Mr. Dickerson," he added, as the man scrambled up, glaring at him +evidently with more surprise than anger, "if you'll make Pete mend this +fence, you can have your horses. Otherwise I'm going to 'pound' them +according to the stock law of the county." + +"Pete," said his father, briefly, "go get your hammer and staples and +mend this fence up as good as you found it." + +"And now," said Hiram, "I'm going home to gear the horse to the wagon, +and I'll drive over to your house, Mr. Dickerson. From time to time you +have borrowed while Uncle Jeptha was alive quite a number of tools. I +want them. I have made inquiries and I know what tools they are. Just be +prepared to put them into my wagon, will you?" + +He turned on his heel without further words and left the Dickersons +to catch their horses, and to repair the fence--both of which they did +promptly. + +Not only that, but when Hiram drove into the Dickerson dooryard an hour +later he had no trouble about recovering the tools which the neighbor +had borrowed and failed to return. + +Pete scowled at him and muttered uncomplimentary remarks; but Sam +phlegmatically smoked his pipe and sat watching the young farmer without +any comment. + +"And so, that much is accomplished," ruminated Hiram, as he drove home. +"But I'm not sure whether hostilities are finished, or have just begun." + + + +CHAPTER XV. ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + +"The old Atterson place" as it was called in the neighborhood, began to +take on a brisk appearance these days. Sister, with the help of Old Lem +Camp, had long since raked the dooryard clean and burned the rubbish +which is bound to gather during the winter. + +Years before there had been flower beds in front; but Uncle Jeptha had +allowed the grass to overrun them. It was a month too early to think of +planting many flowers; but Hiram had bought some seeds, and he showed +Sister how to prepare boxes for them in the sunny kitchen windows, along +with the other plant boxes; and around the front porch he spaded up a +strip, enriched it well, and almost the first seeds put into the ground +on the farm were the sweet peas around this porch. Mother Atterson was +very fond of these flowers and had always managed to coax some of them +to grow even in the boarding-house back yard. + +At the side porch she proposed to have morning-glories and moon-flowers, +while the beds in front would be filled with those old-fashioned flowers +which everybody loves. + +"But if we can't make our own flower-beds, we can go without them, Hi," +said the bustling old lady. "We mustn't take you from your other work +to spade beds for us. Every cat's got to catch mice on this place, now I +tell ye!" + +And Hiram certainly was busy enough these days. The early seeds were all +in, however, and he had run the seed-harrow over the potato rows again, +lengthwise, to keep the weeds out until the young plants should get a +start. + +Despite the raw winds and frosts at night, the potatoes had come up well +and, with the steadily warming wind and sun, would now begin to grow. +Other farmers' potatoes in the vicinity were not yet breaking the +ground. + +Early on Monday morning Henry Pollock appeared with bush-axe and +grubbing hoe, and Hiram shouldered similar tools and they started for +the river bottom. It was so far from the house that Mrs. Atterson agreed +to send their dinner to them. + +"Father says he remembers seeing corn growing on this bottom," said +Henry, as they set to work, "so high that the ears were as high up as a +tall man. It's splendid corn land--if it don't get flooded out." + +"And does the river often over-ran its banks?" queried Hiram, anxiously. + +"Pretty frequent. It hasn't yet this year; there wasn't much snow last +winter, you see, and the early spring floods weren't very high. But +if we have a long wet spell, as we do have sometimes as late as July, +you'll see water here." + +"That's not very encouraging," said Hiram. "Not for corn prospects, at +least." + +"Well, corn's our staple crop. You see, if you raise corn enough you're +sure of feed for your team. That's the main point." + +"But people with bigger farms than they have around here can raise corn +cheaper than we can. They use machinery in harvesting it, too. Why not +raise a better paying crop, and buy the extra corn you may need?" + +"Why," responded Henry, shaking his head, "nobody around here knows much +about raising fancy crops. I read about 'em in the farm papers--oh, yes, +we take papers--the cheap ones. There is a lot of information in 'em, I +guess; but father don't believe much that's printed." + +"Doesn't believe much that's printed?" repeated Hiram, curiously. + +"Nope. He says it's all lies, made up out of some man's head. You see, +we useter take books out of the Sunday School library, and we had story +papers, too; and father used to read 'em as much as anybody." + +"But one summer we had a summer boarder--a man that wrote things. He +had one of these dinky little merchines with him that you play on like a +piano, you know----" + +"A typewriter?" suggested Hiram, with a smile. + +"Yep. Well, he wrote stories. Father learnt as how all that stuff was +just imaginary, and so he don't take no stock in printed stuff any more." + +"That man just sat down at that merchine, and rattled off a story that +he got real money for. It didn't have to be true at all. + +"So father soured on it. And he says the stuff in the farm papers is +just the same." + +"I'm afraid that your father is mistaken there," said Hiram, hiding +his amusement. "Men who have spent years in studying agricultural +conditions, and experimenting with soils, and seeds, and plants, and +fertilizers, and all that, write what facts they have learned for our +betterment. + +"No trade in the world is so encouraged and aided by Governments, and by +private corporations, as the trade of farming. There is scarcely a State +which does not have a special agricultural college in which there are +winter courses for people who cannot give the open time of the year to +practical experiment on the college grounds. + +"That is what you need in this locality, I guess," added Hiram. "Some +scientific farming." + +"Book farming, father calls it," said Henry. "And he says it's no good." + +"Why don't you save your money and take a course next winter in some +side line and so be able to show him that he's wrong?" suggested Hiram. +"I want to do that myself after I have fulfilled my contract with Mrs. +Atterson. + +"I won't be able to do so next winter, for I shall be on wages. You're +going to be a farmer, aren't you?" + +"I expect to. We've got a good farm as farms go around here. But it +seems about all we can do to pay our fertilizer bills and get a living +off it." + +"Then why don't you go about fitting yourself for your job?" "asked +Hiram. Be a good farmer--an up-to-date farmer. + +"No fellow expects to be a machinist, or an electrician, or the like, +without spending some time under good instructors. Most that I know +about soils, and fertilizers, and plant development, and the like, I +learned from my father, who kept abreast of the times by reading and +experiment. + +"You can stumble along, working at your trade of farming, and only half +knowing it all your life; that's what most farmers do, in fact. They are +too lazy to take up the scientific side of it and learn why. + +"That's the point--learn why you do things that your father did, and his +father did, and his father before him. There's usually good reason why +they did it--a scientific reason which somebody dug out by experiment +ages ago; but you ought to be able to tell why." + +"I suppose that's so," admitted Henry, as they worked on, side by side. +"But I don't know what father would say if I sprung a college course on +him!" + +"I'd find out," returned Hiram, laughing. "You'd better spend your money +that way than for a horse and buggy. That's the highest ambition of most +boys in the country." + +The labor of bushing and grubbing these acres of lowland was no light +one. Hiram insisted that every stub and root be removed that a heavy +plow could not tear out. They had made some progress by noon, however, +when Sister came down with their dinner. + +Hiram built a campfire over which the coffee was re-heated, and the +three ate together, Sister enjoying the picnic to the full. She insisted +on helping in the work by piling the brush and roots into heaps for +burning, and she remained until midafternoon. + +"I like that Henry boy," she confided to Hiram. "He don't pull my braids, +or poke fun at me." + +But Sister was developing and growing fast these days. She was putting +on flesh and color showed in her cheeks. They were no longer hollow and +sallow, and she ran like a colt-and was almost as wild. + +The work of clearing the bottom land could not be continued daily; but +the boys got in three full days that week, and Saturday morning. Henry, +did not wish to work on Saturday afternoon, for in this locality almost +all the farmers knocked off work at noon Saturday and went to town. + +But when Henry shouldered his tools to go home at noon, Sister appeared +as usual with the lunch, and she and Hiram cut fishing rods and planned +to have a real picnic. + +Trout and mullet were jumping in the pools under the bank; and they +caught several before stopping to eat their own meal. The freshly caught +fish were a fine addition to the repast. + +They went back to fishing after a while and caught enough for supper at +the farmhouse. Just as they were reeling up their lines the silence of +the place was disturbed by a strange sound. + +"There's a motorcycle coming!" cried Sister, jumping up and looking all +around. + +There was a bend in the river below this bottom, and another above; so +they could not see far in either direction unless they climbed to the +high ground. For a minute Hiram could not tell in which direction the +sound was coming; but he knew the steady put-put-put must be the exhaust +of a motor-boat. + +It soon poked its nose around the lower turn. It was a good-sized boat +and instantly Hiram recognized at least one person aboard. + +Miss Lettie Bronson, in a very pretty boating costume, was in the bow. +There were half a dozen other girls with her--well dressed girls, who +were evidently her friends from the St. Beris school at Scoville. + +"Oh, oh! what a pretty spot!" cried Lettie, on the instant. "We'll go +ashore here and have our luncheon, girls." + +She did not see Hiram and Sister for a moment; but the latter tugged at +Hiram's sleeve. + +"I've seen that girl before," she whispered. "She came in the carriage +with the man who spoke to you--you remember? She asked me if I had +always lived in the country, and how I tore my frock." + +"Isn't she pretty?" returned Hiram. + +"Awfully. But I'm not sure that I like her yet." + +Suddenly Lettie saw Hiram and the girl beside him. She started, flushed +a little, and then gave Hiram a cool little nod and turned her gaze from +him. Her manner showed that he was not "down in her good books," and the +young fellow flushed in turn. + +"I don't know as we'd better try to make the bank here, Miss," said the +man who was directing the motor-boat. "The current's mighty sharp." + +"I want to land here," said Lettie, decidedly. "It's the prettiest spot +we've seen--isn't it, girls?" + +Her friends agreed. Hiram, casting a quick eye over the ruffled surface +of the river, saw that the man was right. How well the stream below was +fitted for motor-boating he did not know; but he was pretty sure that +there were too many ledges just under the surface here to make it safe +for the boat to go farther. + +"I intend to land here-right by that big tree!" commanded Lettie +Bronson, stamping her foot. + +"Well, I dunno," drawled the man; and just then the bow of the boat +swung around, was forced heavily down stream by the current, and slam it +went against a reef! + +The man shot off the engine instantly. The bow of the boat was lodged +on the rock, and tip-tilted considerably. The girls screamed, and Lettie +herself was almost thrown into the water, for she was standing. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. MR. PEPPER APPEARS + +But Hiram noted again that Lettie Bronson did not display terror. While +her friends were screaming and crying, she sat perfectly quiet, and for +a minute said never a word. + +"Can't you back off?" Hi heard her ask the boatman. + +"Not without lightening her, Miss. And she may have smashed a plank up +there, too. I dunno." + +The Western girl turned immediately to Hiram, who had now come to the +bank's edge. She smiled at him charmingly, and her eyes danced. She +evidently appreciated the fact that the young farmer had her at a +disadvantage--and she had meant to snub him. + +"I guess you'll have to help me again, Mr. Strong," she said. "What will +we do? Can you push out a plank to us, or something?" + +"I'm afraid not, Miss Bronson," he returned. "I could cut a pole and +reach it to the boat; but you girls couldn't walk ashore on it." + +"Oh, dear! have we got to wade?" cried one of Lettie's friends. + +"You can't wade. It's too deep between the shore and the boat," Hiram +said, calmly. + +"Then--then we'll stay here till the tide rises and dr-dr-drowns us!" +wailed another of the girls, giving way to sobs. + +"Don't be a goose, Myra Carroll!" exclaimed Lettie. "If you waited here +for the tide to rise you'd be gray-haired and decrepit. The tide doesn't +rise here. But maybe a spring flood would wash you away." + +At that the frightened one sobbed harder than ever. She was one of +those who ever see the dark side of adventure. There was no hope on her +horizon. + +"I dunno what you can do for these girls," said the man. "I'd git out +and push off the boat, but I don't dare with them aboard." + +But Hiram's mind had not been inactive, if he was standing in seeming +idleness. Sister tugged at his sleeve again and whispered: + +"Have they got to stay there and drown, Hi?" + +"I guess not," he returned, slowly. "Let's see: this old sycamore +leans right out over them. I can shin up there with the aid of the big +grapevine. Then, if I had a rope----" + +"Shall I run and get one?" demanded Sister, listening to him. + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Hiram, speaking to the man in the boat. + +"Well?" asked the fellow. + +"Haven't you got a coil of strong rope aboard?" + +"There's the painter," said the man. + +"Toss it ashore here," commanded Hiram. + +"Oh, Hiram Strong!" cried Lettie. "You don't expect us to walk +tightrope, do you?" and she began to giggle. + +"No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it clear--that's +it," said Hiram. "And it's long enough, I can see." + +"For what?" asked Sister. + +"Wait and you'll see," returned the young farmer, hastily coiling the +rope again. + +He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big sycamore. +He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very quickly, for the huge +grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way. + +"Whatever are you going to do?" cried Lettie Bronson, looking up at him, +as did the other girls. + +"Now," said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which was +almost directly over the stranded launch, "if you girls have any pluck +at all, I can get you ashore, one by one." + +"What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?" repeated Lettie. + +The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the line--not a +slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody bearing upon it. This +he dropped down to the boat and Lettie caught it. + +"Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson," he +commanded. "Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out of the boat +and swing you back and forth--there's none of you so heavy that I can't +do this, and if you wet your feet a little, what's the odds?" + +"Oh, dear! I can never do that!" squealed one of the other girls. + +"Guess you'll have to do it if you don't want to stay here all night," +returned Lettie, promptly. "I see what you want, Hiram," she added, and +quickly adjusted the loop. + +"Now, when you swing out over the bank, Sister will grab you, and steady +you. It will be all right if you have a care. Now!" cried Hiram. + +Lettie Bronson showed no fear at all as he drew her up and she swung +out of the boat over the swiftly-running current. Hiram laid along the +tree-trunk in an easy position, and began swinging the girl at the end +of the rope, like a pendulum. + +The river bank being at least three feet higher than the surface of the +water; he did not have to shift the rope again as he swung the girl back +and forth. + +Sister, clinging with her left hand to the grapevine, leaned forward and +clutched Lettie's hand. When she seized it, Sister backed away, and the +swinging girl landed upright upon the bank. + +"Oh, that's fun!" Lettie cried, laughing, loosing herself from "the +loop. Now you come, Mary Judson!" + +Thus encouraged they responded one by one, and even the girl who had +broken down and cried agreed to be rescued by this simple means. The +boatman then, after removing his shoes and stockings and rolling up his +trousers, stepped out upon the sunken rock and pushed off the boat. + +But it was leaking badly. He dared not take aboard his passengers again, +but turned around and went down stream as fast as he could go so as to +beach the boat in a safe place. + +"Now how'll we get back to Scoville?" cried one of Lettie's friends. "I +can never walk that far." + +Sister had dropped back, shyly, behind Hiram, when he descended the +tree. She had aided each girl ashore; but only Lettie had thanked her. +Now she tugged at Hiram's sleeve. + +"Take 'em home in our wagon," she whispered. + +"I can take you to Scoville--or to Miss Bronson's--in the farm wagon," +Hiram said, smiling. "You can sit on straw in the bottom and be +comfortable." + +"Oh, a straw ride!" cried Lettie. "What fun! And he can drive us right +to St. Beris--And think what the other girls will say and how they'll +stare!" + +The idea seemed a happy one to all the girls save the cry-baby, Myra +Carroll. And her complaints were drowned in the laughter and chatter of +the others. + +Hiram picked up the tools, Sister got the string of fish, and they set +out for the Atterson farmhouse. Lettie chatted most of the way with +Hiram; but to Sister, walking on the other side of the young farmer, the +Western girl never said a word. + +At the house it was the same. While Hiram was cleaning the wagon and +putting a bed of straw into it, and currying the horse and gearing him +to the wagon, Mrs. Atterson brought a crock of cookies out upon the +porch and talked with the girls from St. Beris. Sister had run indoors +and changed her shabby and soiled frock for a new gingham; but when she +came down to the porch, and stood bashfully in the doorway, none of the +girls from town spoke to her. + +Hiram drove up with the farm-wagon. Most of the girls had accepted the +adventure in the true spirit now, and they climbed into the wagon-bed +on the clean straw with laughter and jokes. But nobody invited Sister to +join the party. + +The orphan looked wistfully after the wagon as Hiram drove out of +the yard. Then she turned, with trembling lip, to Mother Atterson: +"She--she's awfully pretty," she said, "and Hiram likes her. But +she--they're all proud, and I guess they don't think much of folks like +us, after all." + +"Shucks, Sister! we're just good as they be, every bit," returned Mrs. +Atterson, bruskly. + +"I know; mebbe we be," admitted Sister, slowly. "But it don't feel so." + +And perhaps Hiram had some such thought, too, after he had driven the +girls to the big boarding school in Scoville. For they all got out +without even thanking him or bidding him good-bye--all save Lettie. + +"Really, we are a thousand times obliged to you, Hiram Strong," she +said, in her very best manner, and offering him her hand. "As the girls +were my guests I felt I must get them home again safely--and you were +indeed a friend in need." + +But then she spoiled it utterly, by adding: + +"Now, how much do I owe you, Hiram?" and took out her purse. "Is two +dollars enough?" This put Hiram right in his place. He saw plainly that, +friendly as the Bronsons were, they did not look upon a common farm-boy +as their equal--not in social matters, at least. + +"I could not take anything for doing a neighbor a favor, Miss Bronson," +said Hiram, quietly. "Thank you. Good-day." + +Hiram drove back home feeling quite as depressed as Sister, perhaps. +Finally he said to himself: + +"Well, some day I'll show 'em!" + +After that he put the matter out of his mind and refused to be troubled +by thoughts of Lettie Bronson, or her attitude toward him. + +Spring was advancing apace now. Every day saw the development of bud, +leaf and plant. Slowly the lowland was cleared and the brush and roots +were heaped in great piles, ready for the torch. + +Hiram could not depend upon this six acres as their only piece of +corn, however. There was the four-acre lot between the barnyard and the +pasture in which he proposed to plant the staple crop. + +He drew out the remainder of the coarse manure and spread it upon this +land, as far as it would go. For enriching the remainder of the corn +crop he would have to depend upon a commercial fertilizer. He drew, too, +a couple of tons of lime to be used on this corn land, and left it in +heaps to slake. + +And then, out of the clear sky of their progress, came a bolt as +unexpected as could be. They had been less than a month upon the farm. +Uncle Jeptha had not been in his grave thirty days, and Hiram was just +getting into the work of running the place, with success looming ahead. + +He had refused Mr. Bronson's offer of a position and had elected to +stick by Mrs. Atterson. He had looked forward to nothing to disturb the +contract between them until the time should be fulfilled. + +Yet one afternoon, while he was at work in the garden, Sister came out +to him all in a flurry. + +"Mis' Atterson wants you! Mis' Atterson wants you!" cried the girl. "Oh, +Hiram! something dreadful's going to happen. I know, by the way Mis' +Atterson looks. And I don' like the looks o' that man that's come to see +her." + +Hiram unhooked the horse at the end of the row and left Sister to lead +him to the stable. He went into the house after knocking the mud off his +boots. + +There, sitting in the bright kitchen, was the sharp-featured, +snaky-looking man with whom Hiram had once talked in town. He knew his +name was Pepper, and that he did something in the real estate line, and +insurance, and the like. + +"Jest listen to what this man says, Hiram," said Mrs. Atterson, grimly. + +"My name's Pepper," began the man, eyeing Hiram curiously. + +"So I hear," returned the young farmer. + +"Before old Mr. Atterson died we got to talking one day when he was in +town about his selling." + +"Well?" returned Hiram. "You didn't say anything about that when you +offered twelve hundred for this place." + +"Well," said the man, stubbornly, "that was a good offer." + +Hiram turned to Mrs. Atterson. "Do you want to sell for that price?" + +"No, I don't, Hi," she said. + +"Then that settles it, doesn't it? Mrs. Atterson is the owner, and she +knows her own mind." + +"I made Uncle Jeptha a better offer," said Mr. Pepper, "and I'll make +Mrs. Atterson the same--sixteen hundred dollars. It's a run-down farm, +of course----" + +"If Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell," interrupted Hiram, but here his +employer intervened. + +"There's something more, Hi," she said, her face working "strangely. +Tell him, you Pepper!" + +"Why, the old man gave me an option on the place, and I risked a twenty +dollar bill on it. The option had--er--a year to run; dated February +tenth last; and I've decided to take the option up," said Mr. Pepper, +his shrewd little eyes dancing in their gaze from Hiram to the old lady +and back again. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. A HEAVY CLOUD + +Now, a rattlesnake is poisonous, but he gives fair warning; a swamp +moccasin lies in wait for the unwary and strikes without sign or sound. +Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the thought that Mr. Pepper was +striking like his prototype of the swamps. + +A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper--sly, a hand-rubber as he talked, +with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean mouth. When he +opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked tongue run out. + +At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was no more +to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take a word that the +man said on trust. + +He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real estate man +had caused, and he uttered no expression of either surprise, or trouble. +Mrs. Atterson he could see was vastly disturbed by the statement; but +somebody had to keep a cool bead in this matter. + +"Let's see your option," Hiram demanded, bruskly. + +"Why--if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it----" + +"You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man," snapped the old lady. "I wouldn't +do a thing without his advice." + +"Oh, well, if you consider a boy's advice material----" + +"I know Hi's honest," declared the old lady, tartly. "And that's what +I'm sure you ain't! Besides," she added, sadly, "Hi's as much interested +in this thing as I be. If the farm's got to be sold, it puts Hi out of a +job." + +"Oh, very well," said the real estate man, and he drew a rather soiled, +folded paper from his inner pocket. + +He seemed to hesitate the fraction of a second about showing the paper. +It increased Hi's suspicion--this hesitancy. If the man had a perfectly +good option on the farm, why didn't he go about the matter boldly? + +But when he got the paper in his own hands he could see nothing wrong +with it. It seemed written in straight-forward language, the signatures +were clear enough, and as he had seen and read Uncle Jeptha's will, +he was quite sure that this was the old man's signature to the option +which, for the sum of twenty dollars in hand paid to him, he agreed to +sell his farm, situated so-and-so, for sixteen hundred dollars, cash, +same to be paid over within one year of date. + +"Of course," said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper--indeed, Pepper +had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all the time--"Of +course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before she agrees to +anything." + +"Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer," exclaimed the old lady. + +"Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will," Hiram said to her. +Then he turned to Pepper: + +"What's the name of the witness to that old man's signature?" + +"Abel Pollock." + +"Oh! Henry's father?" + +"Yes. He's got a son named Henry." + +"And who's the Notary Public?" + +"Caleb Schell. He keeps the store just at the crossroads as you go into +town." + +"I remember the store," said Hiram, thoughtfully. + +"But Hiram!" cried Mrs. Atterson, "I don't want to sell the farm." + +"We'll be sure this paper is all straight before you do sell, Mrs. +Atterson." + +"Why, I just won't sell!" she exclaimed. "Uncle Jeptha never said +nothing in his will about giving this option. And that lawyer says that +in a couple of years the farm will be worth a good deal more than this +Pepper offers." + +"Why, Mrs. Atterson!" exclaimed the real estate man, cheerfully, "as +property is selling in this locality now, sixteen hundred dollars is a +mighty good offer for your farm. You ask anybody. Why, Uncle Jeptha knew +it was; otherwise he wouldn't have given me the option, for he didn't +believe I'd come up with the price. He knew it was a high offer." + +"And if it's worth so much to you, why isn't it worth more to Mrs. +Atterson to keep?" demanded Hiram, sharply. + +"Ah! that's my secret--why I want it," said Pepper, nodding. "Leave that +to me. If I get bit by buying it, I shall have to suffer for my lack of +wisdom." + +"You ain't bought it yet--you Pepper," snapped Mrs. Atterson. + +"But I'm going to buy it, ma'am," replied he, rather viciously, as he +stood up, ready to depart. "I shall expect to hear from you no later +than Monday." + +"I won't sell it!" + +"You'll have to. If you refuse to sign I'll go to the Chancery Court. +I'll make you." + +"Well. Mebbe you will. But I don't know. I never was made to do anything +yet. By no man named Pepper--you can take that home with you," she flung +after him as he walked out and climbed into the buggy. + +But whereas Mrs. Atterson showed anger, Hiram went back to work in the +field with a much deeper feeling racking his mind. If the option was all +right--and of course it must be--this would settle their occupancy of +the farm. + +Of course he could not hold Mrs. Atterson to her contract. She could not +help the situation that had now arisen. + +His Spring's work had gone for nothing. Sixteen hundred dollars, even in +cash, would not be any great sum for the old lady. And she had burdened +herself with the support of Sister--and with Old Lem Camp, too! + +"Surely, I can't be a burden on her. I'll have to hustle around and find +another job. I wonder if Mr. Bronson would take me on now?" + +But he knew that the Westerner already had a man who suited him, since +Hiram had refused the chance Bronson offered. And, then, Lettie had +shown that she felt he had not appreciated their offer. Perhaps her +father felt the same way. + +Besides, Hiram had a secret wish not to put himself under obligation +to the Bronsons. This feeling may have sprung from a foolish source; +nevertheless it was strong with the young farmer. + +It looked very much to him as though this sudden turn of circumstances +was "a facer". If Mrs. Atterson had to sell the farm he was likely to be +thrown on his own resources again. + +For his own selfish sake Hiram was worried, too. After all, he would +be unable to "make good" and to show people that he could make the old, +run-down farm pay a profit to its owner. + +But Hiram Strong couldn't believe it. + +The more he milled over the thing in his mind, the less he understood +why Uncle Jeptha, who was of acute mind right up to the hour of his +death, so all the neighbors said, should have neglected to speak about +the option he had given Pepper on the farm. + +And here they were, right in the middle of the Spring work, with crops +in the ground and--as Mrs. Atterson agreed--it would be too late to go +hunting a farm for this present season. + +But Hiram kept to work. He had Sister and Old Lem Camp out in the +garden, hand-weeding and thinning the carrots, onions, and other tender +plants. That Saturday he went through the entire garden--that part +already planted--with either the horse cultivator, or his wheel-hoe. + +In planting parsnips, carrots, and other slow-germinating seeds, he had +mixed a few radish seed in the seeding machine; these sprang up quickly +and defined the rows, so that the space between rows could be cultivated +before the other plants had scarcely broke the surface of the soil. + +Now these radish were beginning to be big enough to pull. Hiram brought +in a few bunches for their dinner on Saturday--the first fruits of the +garden. + +"Now, I dunno why it is," said Mrs. Atterson, complacently, after +setting her teeth in the first radish and relishing its crispness, +"but this seems a whole lot better than the radishes we used to buy in +Crawberry. I 'spect what's your very own always seems better than other +folks's," and she sighed and shook her head. + +She was thinking of the thing she had to face on Monday. Hiram hated to +see them all so downhearted. Sister's eyes were red from weeping; Old +Lem Camp sat at the table, muttering and playing with his food again +instead of eating. + +But Hiram felt as though he could not give up to the disaster that had +come to them. The thought that--in some way--Pepper was taking an unfair +advantage of Mother Atterson knocked continually at the door of his +mind. + +He went over, to himself, all that had passed in the kitchen the day +before when the real estate man had come to speak with Mrs. Atterson. +How had Pepper spoken about the option? Hadn't there been some hesitancy +in the fellow's manner--in his speech, indeed? Just what had Pepper +said? Hiram concentrated his mind upon this one thing. What had the man +said? + +"The option had--er--one year to run." + +Those were the fellow's very words. He hesitated before he pronounced +the length of time. And he was not a man who, in speaking, had any +stammering of tongue. + +Why had he hesitated? Why should it trouble him to state the time limit +of the option? + +Was it because he was speaking a falsehood? + +The thought stung Hiram like a thorn in the flesh. He put away the tool +with which he was working, slipped on a coat, and started for Henry +Pollock's house, which lay not more than half a mile from the Atterson +farm, across the fields. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY + +HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram opened his +business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. Mr. Pollock scratched +his head, listened attentively, and then sat down to digest the news. + +"You gotter move--jest when you've got rightly settled on that place?" +he demanded. "Well, that's 'tarnal bad! And from what Henry tells me, +you're a young feller with idees, too." + +"I don't care so much for myself," Hiram hastened to say. "It's Mrs. +Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her mind that she +was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, I don't think it is a +wise thing to sell the property at that price." + +"No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred dollars." + +"But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option signed by +her Uncle Jeptha----" + +"Jeptha Atterson was no fool," interrupted Pollock. "I can't understand +his giving an option on the farm, with all this talk of the railroad +crossing the river." + +"But, Mr. Pollock!" exclaimed Hiram, eagerly, "you must know all about +this option. You signed as a witness to Uncle Jeptha's signature." + +"No! you don't mean that?" exclaimed the farmer. "My name to it, too?" + +"Yes. And it was signed before Caleb Schell the notary public." + +"So it was--so it was, boy!" declared the other, suddenly smiting his +knee. "I remember I witnessed Uncle Jeptha's signature once. But that +was way back there in the winter--before he was took sick." + +"Yes, sir?" said Hiram, eagerly. + +"That was an option on the old farm. So it was. But goodness me, boy, +Pepper must have got him to renew it, or something. That option wouldn't +have run till now." + +Hiram told him the date the paper was executed. + +"That's right, by Jo! It was in February." + +"And it was for a year?" + +Mr. Pollock stared at him in silence, evidently thinking deeply. + +"If you remember all about it, then," Hiram continued, "it's hardly +worth while going to Mr. Schell, I suppose." + +"I remember, all right," said Pollock, slowly. "It was all done right +there in Cale Schell's store. It was one rainy afternoon. There was +several of us sitting around Cale's stove. Pepper was one of us. In +comes Uncle Jeptha. Pepper got after him right away, but sort of on the +quiet, to one side. + +"I heard 'em. Pepper had made him an offer for the farm that was 'way +down low, and the old man laughed at him. + +"We hadn't none of us heard then the talk that came later about the +railroad. But Pepper has a brother-in-law who's in the office of the +company, and he thinks he gits inside information. + +"So, for some reason, he thought the railroad was going to touch +Uncle Jeptha's farm. O' course, it ain't. It's goin' over the river by +Ayertown. + +"I don't see what Pepper wants to take up the option for, anyway. Unless +he sees that you're likely to make suthin' out o' the old place, and +mebbe he's got a city feller on the string, to buy it." + +"It doesn't matter what his reason is. Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to +sell, and if that option is all right, she must," said Hiram. "And you +are sure Uncle Jeptha gave it for twelve months?" + +"Twelve months?" ejaculated Pollock, suddenly. "Why--no--that don't seem +right," stammered the farmer, scratching his head. + +"But that's the way the option reads." + +"Well--mebbe. I didn't just read it myself--no, sir. They jest says to +me: + +"'Come here, Pollock, and witness these signatures' So, I done +it--that's all. But I see Cale put on his specs and read the durn thing +through before he stamped it. Yes, sir. Cale's the carefulest notary +public we ever had around here. + +"Say!" said Mr. Pollock. "You go to Cale and ask him. It don't seem to +me the old man give Pepper so long a time." + +"For how long was the option to run, then?" queried Hiram, excitedly. + + + +"Wal, I wouldn't wanter say. I don't wanter git inter trouble with no +neighbor. If Cale says a year is all right, then I'll say so, too. I +wouldn't jest trust my memory." + +"But there is some doubt in your mind, Mr. Pollock?" + +"There is. A good deal of doubt," the farmer assured him. "But you ask +Cale." + +This was all that Hiram could get out of the elder Pollock. It was not +very comforting. The young farmer was of two minds whether he should see +Caleb Schell, or not. + +But when he got back to the house for supper, and saw the doleful faces +of the three waiting there, he couldn't stand inaction. + +"If you don't mind, I want to go to town tonight, Mrs. Atterson," he +told the old lady. + +"All right, Hiram. I expect you've got to look out for yourself, boy. +If you can get another job, you take it. It's a 'tarnal shame you didn't +take up with that Bronson's offer when he come here after you." + +"You needn't feel so," said Hiram. "You're no more at fault than I am. +This thing just happened--nobody could foretell it. And I'm just as +sorry as I can be for you, Mother Atterson." + +The old woman wiped her eyes. + +"Well, Hi, there's other things in this world to worry over besides +gravy, I find," she said. "Some folks is born for trouble, and mebbe +we're some of that kind." + +It was not exactly Mr. Pollock's doubts that sent Hiram Strong down +to the crossroads store that evening. For the farmer had seemed so +uncertain that the boy couldn't trust to his memory at all. + +No. It was Hiram's remembrance of Pepper's stammering when he spoke +about the option. He hesitated to pronounce the length of time the +option had been drawn for. Was it because he knew there was some trick +about the time-limit? + +Had the real estate man fooled old Uncle Jeptha in the beginning? The +dead man had been very shrewd and careful. Everybody said so. + +He was conscious and of acute mind right up to his death. If there was +an option on the farm be surely would have said something about it to +Mr. Strickland, or to some of the neighbors. + +It looked to Hiram as though the old farmer must have believed that the +option had expired before the day of his death. + +Had Pepper only got the old man's promise for a shorter length of time, +but substituted the paper reading "one year" when it was signed? Was +that the mystery? + +However, Hiram could not see how that would help Mrs. Atterson, for even +testimony of witnesses who heard the discussion between the dead man and +the real estate agent, could not controvert a written instrument. The +young fellow knew that. + +He harnessed the old horse to the light wagon and drove to the +crossroads store kept by Caleb Schell. Many of the country people liked +to trade with this man because his store was a social gathering-place. + +Around a hot stove in the winter, and a cold stove at this time of year, +the men gathered to discuss the state of the country, local politics, +their neighbors' business, and any other topic which was suggested to +their more or less idle minds. + +On the outskirts of the group of older loafers, the growing crop of men +who would later take their places in the soap-box forum lingered; while +sky-larking about the verge of the crowd were smaller boys who were +learning no good, to say the least, in attaching themselves to the older +members of the company. + +There will always be certain men in every community who take delight in +poisoning the minds of the younger generation. We muzzle dogs, or shoot +them when they go mad. The foul-mouthed man is far more vicious than the +dog, and should be impounded. + +Hiram hitched his horse to the rack before the store and entered the +crowded place. The fumes of tobacco smoke, vinegar, cheese, and various +other commodities gave a distinctive flavor to Caleb Schell's store--and +not a pleasant one, to Hiram's mind. + +Ordinarily he would have made any purchases he had to make, and gone out +at once. But Schell was busy with several customers at the counter and +he was forced to wait a chance to speak with the old man. + +One of the first persons Hiram saw in the store was young Pete +Dickerson, hanging about the edge of the crowd. Pete scowled at him and +moved away. One of the men holding down a cracker-keg sighted Hiram and +hailed him in a jovial tone: + +"Hi, there, Mr. Strong! What's this we been hearin' about you? They +say you had a run-in with Sam Dickerson. We been tryin' to git the +pertic'lars out o' Pete, here, but he don't seem ter wanter talk about +it," and the man guffawed heartily. + +"Hear ye made Sam give back the tools he borrowed of the old man?" said +another man, whom Hiram knew to be Mrs. Larriper's son-in-law. + +"You are probably misinformed," said Hiram, quietly. "I know no reason +why Mr. Dickerson and I should have trouble--unless other neighbors make +trouble for us." + +"Right, boy--right!" called Cale Schell, from behind the counter, where +he could hear and comment upon all that went on in the middle of the +room, despite the attention he had to give to his customers. + +"Well, if you can git along with Sam and Pete, you'll do well," laughed +another of the group. + +The Dickersons seemed to be in disfavor in the community, and nobody +cared whether Pete repeated what was said to his father, or not. + +"I was told," pursued the first speaker, screwing up one eye and +grinning at Hiram, "that you broke Sam's gun over his head and chased +Pete a mile. That right, son?" + +"You will get no information from me," returned Hiram, tartly. + +"Why, Pete ought to be big enough to lick you alone, Strong," continued +the tantalizer. "Hey, Pete! Don't sneak out. Come and tell us why you +didn't give this chap the lickin' you said you was going to?" + +Pete only glared at him and slunk out of the store. Hiram turned his +back on the whole crowd and waited at the end of the counter for Mr. +Schell. The storekeeper was a tall, portly man, with a gray mustache and +side-whiskers, and a high bald forehead. + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Strong?" he asked, finally having got rid of +the customers who preceded Hiram. + +Hiram, in a low voice, explained his mission. Schell nodded his head at +once. + +"Oh, yes," he said; "I remember about the option. I had forgotten it, +for a fact; but Pepper was in here yesterday talking about it. He had +been to your house." + +"Then, sir, to the best of your remembrance, the option is all right?" + +"Oh, certainly! Pollock witnessed it, and I put my seal on it. Yes, sir; +Pepper can make the old lady sell. It's too bad, if she wants to remain +there; but the price he is to pay isn't so bad----" + +"You have no reason to doubt the validity of the option?" cried Hiram, +in desperation. + +"Assuredly not." + +"Then why didn't Uncle Jeptha speak of it to somebody before he died, if +the option had not run out at that time?" + +"Humph!" + +"You grant the old man was of sound mind?" + +"Sound as a pine knot," agreed the storekeeper, still reflective. + +"Then how is it he did not speak to his lawyer about the option when he +saw Mr. Strickland within an hour of his death?" + +"That does seem peculiar," admitted the storekeeper, slowly. + +"And Mr. Pollock says he thinks there is something wrong about the +option," went on Hiram, eagerly. + +"Oh, Pollock! Pah!" returned Schell. "I don't suppose he even read it." + +"But you did?" + +"Assuredly. I always read every paper. If they don't want me to know +what the agreement is, they can take it to some other Notary," declared +the storekeeper with a jolly laugh. + +"And you are sure that the option was to run a year?" + +"Of course the option's all right--Hold on! A year, did you say? +Why--seems to me--let's look this thing up," concluded Caleb Schell, +suddenly. + +He dived into his little office and produced a ledger from the safe. +This he slapped down on the counter between them. + +"I'm a careful man, I am," he told Hiram. "And I flatter myself I've got +a good memory, too. Pepper was in here yesterday sputtering about the +option and I remember now that he spoke of its running a year. + +"But it seems to me," said Schell, pawing over the leaves of his ledger, +"that the talk between him and old Uncle Jeptha was for a short time. +The old man was mighty cautious--mighty cautious." + +"That's what Mr. Pollock says," cried Hiram, eagerly. + +"But you've seen the option? + +"Yes." + +"And it reads a year? + +"Oh, yes." + +"Then how you going to get around that?" demanded Schell, with +conviction. + +"But perhaps Uncle Jeptha signed the option thinking it was for a +shorter time." + +"That wouldn't help you none. The paper was signed. And why should +Pepper have buncoed him--at that time?" + +"Why should he be so eager to get the farm now?" asked Hiram. + +"Well, I'll tell you. It ain't out yet. But two or three days ago the +railroad board abandoned the route through Ayertown and it is agreed +that the new bridge will be built along there by your farm somewhere. + +"The river is as narrow there as it is anywhere for miles up and down, +and they will stretch a bridge from the high bank on your side, across +the meadows, to the high bank on the other side. It will cut out grades, +you see. That's what has started Pepper up to grab off the farm while +the option is valid." + +"But, Mr. Schell, is the option valid?" cried Hiram, anxiously. + +"I don't see how you're going to get around it. Ah! here's the place. +When I have sealed a paper I make a note of it--what the matter was +about and who the contracting parties were. I've done that for years. +Let--me--see." + +He adjusted his spectacles. He squinted at the page, covered closely +with writing. Hiram saw him whispering the words he read to himself. +Suddenly the blood flooded into the old man's face, and he looked up +with a start at his interrogator. + +"Do you mean to say that option's for a year? he demanded. + +"That is the way it reads--now," whispered Hiram, watching him closely. + +The old man turned the book around slowly on the counter. His stubbed +finger pointed to the two or three scrawled lines written in a certain +place. + +Hiram read them slowly, with beating heart. + + + +CHAPTER XX. AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + +The whispered conference between Hiram Strong and the storekeeper could +not be heard by the curious crowd around the cold stove; nor did it last +for long. + +Caleb Schell finally closed his ledger and put it away. Hiram shook +hands with him and walked out. + +On the platform outside, which was illuminated by a single smoky +lantern, a group of small boys were giggling, and they watched Hiram +unhitch the old horse and climb into the spring wagon with so much +hilarity that the young farmer expected some trick. + +The horse started off all right, he missed nothing from the wagon, and +so he supposed that he was mistaken. The boys had merely been laughing +at him because he was a stranger. + +But as Hiram got some few yards from the hitching rack, the seat was +suddenly pulled from under him, and he was left sprawling on his back in +the bottom of the wagon. + +A yell of derision from the crowd outside the store assured him that +this was the cause of the boys' hilarity. Luckily his old horse was of +quiet disposition, and he stopped dead in his tracks when the seat flew +out of the back of the wagon. + +A joke is a joke. No use in showing wrath over this foolish amusement of +the crossroads boys. But Hiram got a little the best of them, after all. + +The youngsters had scattered when the "accident" occurred. Hiram, +getting out to pick up the seat, found the end of a strong hemp line +fastened to it. The other end was tied to the hitching rack in front of +the store. + +Instead of casting off the line from the seat, Hiram walked back to the +store and cast that end off. + +"At any rate, I'm in a good coil of hemp rope," he said to one of the +men who had come out to see the fun. "The fellow who owns it can come +and prove property; but I shall ask a few questions of him." + +There was no more laughter. The young farmer walked back to his wagon, +set up the seat again, and drove on. + +The roadway was dark, but having been used all his life to country +roads at night, Hiram had no difficulty in seeing the path before him. +Besides, the old horse knew his way home. + +He drove on some eighth of a mile. Suddenly he felt that the wagon +was not running true. One of the wheels was yawing. He drew in the old +horse; but he was not quick enough. + +The nigh forward wheel rolled off the end of the axle, and down came the +wagon with a crash! + +Hiram was thrown forward and came sprawling--on hands and knees--upon +the ground, while the wheel rolled into the ditch. He was little hurt, +although the accident might have been serious. + +And in truth, he knew it to be no accident. A burr does not easily work +off the end of an axle. He had greased the old wagon just before he +started for the store, and he knew he had replaced each nut carefully. + +This was a deliberately malicious trick--no boy's joke like the tying of +the rope to his wagon seat. And the axle was broken. Although he had +no lantern he could see that the wagon could not be used again without +being repaired. + +"Who did it?" was Hiram's unspoken question, as he slowly unharnessed +the old horse, and then dragged the broken wagon entirely out of the +road so that it would not be an obstruction for other vehicles. + +His mind set instantly upon Pete Dickerson. He had not seen the boy +when he came out of the crossroads store. If the fellow had removed this +burr, he had done it without anybody seeing him, and had then run home. + +The young farmer, much disturbed over this incident, mounted the back +of the old horse, and paced home. He only told Mrs. Atterson that he had +met with an accident and that the light wagon would have to be repaired +before it could be used again. + +That necessitated their going to town on Monday in the heavy wagon. And +Hiram dragged the spring wagon to the blacksmith shop for repairs, on +the way. + +But before that, the enemy in the dark had struck again. When Hiram +went to the barnyard to water the stock, Sunday morning, he found that +somebody had been bothering the pump. + +The bucket, or pump-valve, was gone. He had to take it apart, cut a new +valve out of sole leather, and put the pump together again. + +"We'll have to get a cross dog, if we remain here," he told Mrs. +Atterson. "There is somebody in the neighborhood who means us harm." + +"Them Dickersons!" exclaimed Mrs. Atterson. + +"Perhaps. That Pete, maybe. If I once caught him up to his tricks I'd +make him sorry enough." + +"Tell the constable, Hi," cried Sister, angrily. + +"That would make trouble for his folks. Maybe they don't know just how +mean Pete is. A good thrashing--and the threat of another every time he +did anything mean--would do him lots more good." + +This wasn't nice Sunday work, but it was too far to carry water from the +house to the horse trough, so Hiram had to repair the pump. + +On Monday morning he routed out Sister and Mr. Camp at daybreak. He had +been up and out for an hour himself, and on a bench under the shed he +had heaped two or three bushels of radishes which he had pulled and +washed, ready for bunching. + +He showed his helpers how the pretty scarlet balls were to be bunched, +and found that Sister took hold of the work with nimble fingers, while +Mr. Camp did very well at the unaccustomed task. + +"I don't know, Hi," said Mrs. Atterson, despondently, "that it's worth +while your trying to sell any of the truck, if we're going to leave here +so soon." + +"We haven't left yet," he returned, trying to speak cheerfully. "And you +might as well get every penny back that you can. Perhaps an arrangement +can be made whereby we can stay and harvest the garden crop, at any +rate." + +"You can make up your mind that that Pepper man won't give us any +leeway; he isn't that kind," declared Mother Atterson, with conviction. + +Hiram made a quick sale of the radishes at several of the stores, where +he got eighteen cents a dozen bunches; but some he sold at the big +boarding-school--St. Beris--at a retail price. + +"You can bring any other fresh vegetables you may have from time +to time," the housekeeper told him. "Nobody ever raised any early +vegetables about Scoville before. They are very welcome." + +"Once we get a-going," said Hiram to Mrs. Atterson, "you or Sister can +drive in with the spring wagon and dispose of the surplus vegetables. +And you might get a small canning outfit--they come as cheap as fifteen +dollars--and put up tomatoes, corn, peas, beans, and other things. Good +canned stuff always sells well." + +"Good Land o' Goshen, Hiram!" exclaimed the old lady, in desperation. +"You talk jest as though we were going to stay on the farm." + +"Well, let's go and see Mr. Strickland," replied the young farmer, and +they set out for the lawyer's office. + +Mrs. Atterson sat in the ante-room while Hiram asked to speak with the +old lawyer in private for a minute. The conference was not for long, and +when Hiram came back to his employer he said: + +"Mr. Strickland has sent his junior clerk out for Pepper. He thinks we'd +better talk the matter over quietly. And he wants to see the option, +too." + +"Oh, Hiram! There ain't no hope, is there?" groaned the old lady. + +"Well, I tell you what!" exclaimed the young fellow, "we won't give in +to him until we have to. Of course, if you refuse to sign a deed he +can go to chancery and in the end you will have to pay the costs of the +action. + +"But perhaps, even at that, it might be well to hold him off until you +have got the present crop out of the ground." + +"Oh, I won't go to law," said Mrs. Atterson, decidedly. "No good ever +come of that." + +After a time Mr. Strickland invited them both into his private office. +The attorney spoke quietly of other matters while they waited for +Pepper. + +But the real estate man did not appear. By and by Mr. Strickland's clerk +came back with the report that Pepper had been called away suddenly on +important business. + +"They tell me he went Saturday," said the clerk. "He may not be back +for a week. But he said he was going to buy the Atterson place when he +returned--he's told several people around town so." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Strickland, slowly. "Then he has left that threat +hanging, like the Sword of Damocles--over Mrs. Atterson's head?" + +"I don't know nothin' about that sword, Mr. Strickland, nor no +other sword, 'cept a rusty one that my father carried when he was a +hoss-sodger in the Rebellion," declared Mother Atterson, nervously. "But +if that Pepper man's got one belonging to Mr. Damocles, I shouldn't be +at all surprised. That Pepper looked to me like a man that would take +anything he could lay his hands on--if he warn't watched!" + +"Which is a true and just interpretation of Pepper's character, I +believe," observed the lawyer, smiling. + +"And we've got to give up the farm at his say-so--at any time?" demanded +the old lady. + +"If his option is good," said Mr. Strickland. "But I want to see the +paper--and I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, that I shall subject it to +the closest possible scrutiny. + +"There is a possibility that Pepper's option may be questioned before +the courts. Do not build too many hopes on this," he added, quickly, +seeing the old lady's face light up. + +"You have a very good champion in this young man," and the lawyer nodded +at Hiram. + +"He suspected all was not right with the option and he has dug up the +fact that the witness to your uncle's signature, and the man before whom +the paper was attested, both believed the option was for a short time. + +"Caleb Schell's book shows that it was for thirty days. Uncle Jeptha +undoubtedly thought it was for that length of time and therefore the +option expired several days before he died. + +"Mr. Pepper may have fallen under temptation. He considered heretofore, +like everybody else, that the railroad would pass us by in this section. +Pepper gambled twenty dollars on its coming along the boundary of the +Atterson farm--between you and Darrell's tract--and thought he had lost. + +"Then suddenly the railroad board turned square around and voted for the +condemnation of the original route. Pepper remembered the option he had +risked twenty dollars on. If it was originally for thirty days, it was +void, of course; but Uncle Jeptha is dead, and he hopes perhaps, that +nobody else will dispute the validity of it." + +"It's a forgery, then?" cried Mrs. Atterson. + +"It may be a forgery. We do not know," said the lawyer, hastily. "At any +rate, he has the paper, and he is a shrewd rascal." + +Mrs. Atterson's face was a study. + +"Do you mean to tell me we have got to lose the farm?" she demanded. + +"My dear lady, that I cannot tell you. I must see this option. We must +put it to the test----" + +"But Schell and Pollock will testify that the option was for thirty +days," cried Hiram. + +"Perhaps. To the best of their remembrance and belief, it was for +thirty days. A shrewd lawyer, however--and Pepper would employ a shrewd +one--would turn their evidence inside out. + +"No evidence--in theory, at least--can controvert a written instrument, +signed, sealed, and delivered. Even Cale Schell's memoranda book cannot +be taken as evidence, save in a contributory way. It is not direct. It +is the carelessly scribbled record, in pencil, of a busy man. + +"No. If Pepper puts forward the option we have got to see if that +option has been tampered with--the paper itself, I mean. If the fellow +substituted a different instrument, at the time of signing, from the one +Uncle Jeptha thought he signed, you have no case--I tell you frankly, my +dear lady." + +"Then, it ain't no use. We got to lose the place, Hiram," said Mrs. +Atterson, when they left the lawyer's office. + +"I wouldn't lose heart. If Pepper is scared, he may not trouble you +again." + +"It's got ten months more to run," said she. "He can keep us guessin' all +that time." + +"That is so," agreed Hiram, nodding thoughtfully. "But, of course, as +Mr. Strickland says, by raising a doubt as to the validity of the option +we can hold him off for a while--maybe until we have made this year's +crop." + +"It's goin' to make me lay awake o' nights," sighed the old lady. "And +I thought I'd got through with that when I stopped worryin' about the +gravy." + +"Well, we won't talk about next year," agreed Hiram. "I'll do the best I +can for you through this season, if Pepper will let us alone. We've got +the bottom land practically cleared; we might as well plough it and put +in the corn there. If we make a crop you'll get all your money back and +more. Mr. Strickland told me privately that the option, unless it read +that way, would not cover the crops in the ground. And I read the option +carefully. Crops were not mentioned." + +So it was decided to go ahead with the work as already planned; +but neither the young farmer, nor his employer, could look forward +cheerfully to the future. + +The uncertainty of what Pepper would eventually do was bound to be in +their thought, day and night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. THE WELCOME TEMPEST + +To some youths this matter of the option would have been such a clog +that they would have lost interest and slighted the work. But not so +with Hiram Strong. + +He counted this day a lost one, however; he hated to leave the farm for +a minute when there was so much to do. + +But the next morning he got the plow into the four-acre corn lot; and +he did nothing but the chores that week until the ground was entirely +plowed. Then Henry Pollock came over and gave him another day's work and +they finished grubbing the lowland. + +The rubbish was piled in great heaps down there, ready for burning. As +long as the rain held off, Hiram did not put fire to the bush-heaps. + +But early in the following week the clouds began to gather in a quarter +for rain, and late in the afternoon, when the air was still, he took a +can of coal oil, and with Sister and Mr. Camp, and even Mrs. Atterson, +at his heels, went down to the riverside to burn the brush heaps. + +"There's not much danger of the fire spreading to the woods; but if it +should," Hiram said, warningly, "it might, at this time of year, do your +timber a couple of hundred dollars' worth of damage." + +"Goodness me!" exclaimed Mother Atterson. "It does seem ridiculous to +hear you talk that a-way. I never owned nothin' but a little bit of +furniture before, and I expected the boarders to tear that all to +pieces. I'm beginning to feel all puffed up and wealthy." + +Hiram cut them all green pineboughs for beaters, and then set the fires, +one after another. There were more than twenty of the great piles and +soon the river bottom, from bend to bend, was filled with rolling clouds +of smoke. As the dusk dropped, the yellow glare of the fire illuminated +the scene. + +Sister clapped her hands and cried: + +"Ain't this bully? It beats the Fourth of July celebration in Crawberry. +Oh, I'd rather be on the farm than go to heaven!" + +They had brought their supper with them, and leaving the others to watch +the fires, and see that the grass did not tempt the flames to the edge +of the wood, Hiram cast bait into the river and, in an hour, drew out +enough mullet and "bull-heads" to satisfy them all, when they were +broiled over the hot coals of the first bonfire to be lighted. + +They ate with much enjoyment. Between nine and ten o'clock the fires had +all burned down to coals. + +A circle of burned-over grass and rubbish surrounded each fire. There +seemed no possibility that the flames could spread to the mat of dry +leaves on the side hill. + +So they went home, a lantern guiding their feet over the rough path +through the timber, stopping at the spring for a long, thirst-quenching +draught. + +The sky was as black as ink. Now and again a faint flash in the westward +proclaimed a tempest in that direction. But not a breath of wind was +stirring, and the rain might not reach this section. + +A dull red glow was reflected on the clouds over the river-bottom. When +Hiram looked from his window, just as he was ready for bed, that glow +seemed to have increased. + +"Strange," he muttered. "It can't be that those fires have spread. There +was no chance for them to spread. I--don't--understand it!" + +He sat at the window and stared out through the darkness. There was +little wind as yet; it was a fact, however, that the firelight flickered +on the low-hung clouds with increasing radiance. + +"Am I mad?" demanded the young farmer, suddenly leaping up and drawing +on his garments again. "That fire is spreading." + +He dressed fully, and ran softly down the stairs and left the house. +When he came out in the clear the glow had not receded. There was a fire +down the hillside, and it seemed increasing every moment. + +He remembered the enemy in the dark, and without stopping to rouse the +household, ran on toward the woods, his heart beating heavily in his +bosom. + +Slipping, falling at times, panting heavily because of the rough ground, +Hiram came at last through the more open timber to the brink of that +steep descent, at the bottom of which lay the smoky river-bottom. + +And indeed, the whole of the lowland seemed filled with stifling clouds +of smoke. Yet, from a dozen places along the foot of the hill, yellow +flames were starting up, kindling higher, and devouring as fast as might +be the leaves and tinder left from the wrack of winter. + +The nearest bonfire had been a hundred yards from the foot of this hill. +His care, Hiram knew, had left no chance of the dull coals in any of the +twenty heaps spreading to the verge of the grove. + +Man's hand had done this. An enemy, waiting and watching until they had +left the field, had stolen down, gathered burning brands, and spread +them along the bottom of the hill, where the increasing wind might +scatter the fire until the whole grove was in a blaze. + +Not only was Mrs. Atterson's timber in danger, but Darrell's tract +and that lying beyond would be overwhelmed by the flames if they were +allowed to spread. + +On the other side, Dickerson had cut his timber a year or two before, +clear to the river. The fire would not burn far over his line. Whoever +had done this dastardly act, Dickerson's property would not be damaged. + +But Hiram lent no time to trouble. His work was cut out for him right +here and now--and well he knew it! + +He had brought the small axe with him, having caught it up from the +doorstep. Now he used it to cut a green bough, and then ran with the +latter down the hill and set upon the fire-line like a madman. + +The smoke, spread here and there by puffs of rising wind, half choked +him. It stung his eyes until they distilled water enough to blind him. +He thrashed and fought in the fumes and the murk of it, stumbling and +slipping, one moment half-knee deep in quick-springing flames, the next +almost overpowered by the smudge that rose from the beaten mat of leaves +and rubbish. + +It was a lone fight. He had to do it all. There had been no time to +rouse either the neighbors, or the rest of the family. + +If he did not overcome these flames--and well he knew it--Mother +Atterson would arise in the morning to see all her goodly timber +scorched, perhaps ruined! + +"I must beat it out--beat it out!" thought Hiram, and the repetition +of the words thrummed an accompaniment upon the drums of his ears as he +thrashed away with a madman's strength. + +For no sane person would have tackled such a hopeless task. Before +him the flames suddenly leaped six feet or more into the air. They +overtopped him as they writhed through a clump of green-briars. The wind +puffed the flame toward him, and his face was scorched by the heat. + +He lost his eyebrows completely, and the hair was crisped along the +front brim of his hat. + +Then with a laughing crackle, as though scorning his weakness, the +flames ran up a climbing vine and the next moment wrapped a tall pine in +lurid yellow. + +This pine, like a huge torch, began to give off a thick, black smoke. +Would some wakeful neighboring farmer, seeing it, know the danger that +menaced and come to Hiram's help? + +For yards he had beaten flat the flames and stamped out every spark. +Behind him was naught but rolling smoke. It was dark there. No flames +were eating up the slope. + +But toward Darrell's tract the fire seemed on the increase. He could not +catch up with it. And this solitary, sentinel pine, ablaze now in all +its head, threatened to fling sparks for a hundred yards. + +If the wind continued to rise, the forest was doomed! + +His green branch had burned to a crisp. He had lost his axe in the +darkness and the smoke, and now he tore another bough, by main strength, +from its parent stem. + +Hiram Strong worked as though inspired; but to no purpose in the end. +For the flames increased. Puff after puff of wind drove the fire on, +scattering brands from the blazing pine; and now another, and another, +tree caught. The glare of the conflagration increased. + +He flung down the useless bough. Fire was all about him. He had to leap +suddenly to one side to escape a burst of flame that had caught in a +jungle of green-briars. + +Then, of a sudden, a crash of thunder rolled and reverberated through +the glen. Lightning for an instant lit up the meadows and the river. +The glare of it almost blinded the young farmer and, out of the line of +fire, he sank to the earth and covered his eyes, seared by the sudden, +compelling light. + +Again and again the thunder rolled, following the javelins of lightning +that seemed to dart from the clouds to the earth. The tempest, so long +muttering in the West, had come upon him unexpectedly, for he had given +all his attention to the spreading fire. + +And now came the rain--no refreshing, sweet, saturating shower; but a +thunderous, blinding fall of water that first set the burning woods to +steaming and then drowned out every spark of fire on upland as well as +lowland. + +It was a cloudburst--a downpour such as Hiram had seldom experienced +before. Exhausted, he lay on the bank and let the pelting rain soak him +to the skin. + +He did not care. Half drowned by the beating rain, he only crowed his +delight at the downpour. Every spark of fire was flooded out. The danger +was past. + +He finally arose, and staggered through the downpour to the house, only +happy that--by a merciful interposition of Providence--the peril had +been overcome. + +He tore off his clothing on the stoop, there in the pitch darkness, and +crept up to his bedroom where he rubbed himself down with a crash-towel, +and finally tumbled into bed and slept like a log till broad daylight. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. FIRST FRUITS + +For the first time since they had come to the farm, Hiram was the +last to get up in the house. And when he came down to breakfast, +still trembling from the exertion of the previous night, Mrs. Atterson +screamed at the sight of him. + +"For the good Land o' Goshen!" she cried. "You look like a singed +chicken, Hiram Strong! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" + +He told them of the fight he had had while they slept. But he could talk +about it jokingly now, although Sister was inclined to snivel a little +over his danger. + +"That Dickerson boy ought to be lashed--Nine and thirty lashes--none too +much--This sausage is good--humph!--and pancakes--fit for the gods--But +he'll come back--do more damage--the butter, yes I I want butter--and +syrup, though two spreads is reckless extravagance--Eh? eh? can't prove +anything against that Dickerson lout?-well, mebbe not." + +So Old Lem Camp commented upon the affair. But Hiram could not prove +that the neighbor's boy had done any of these things which pointed to a +malicious enemy. + +The young farmer began to wonder if he could not lay a trap, and so +bring about his undoing. + +As soon as the ground was in fit condition again (for the nights rain +had been heavy) Hiram scattered the lime he had planned to use upon +the four acres of land plowed for corn, and dragged it in with a +spike-toothed harrow. + +Working as he was with one horse alone, this took considerable time, +and when this corn land was ready, it was time for him to go through the +garden piece again with the horse cultivator. + +Sister and Lem Camp, both, had learned to use the man-weight wheel-hoe, +and the fine stuff was thinned and the weeds well cut out. From time +to time the young farmer had planted peas--both the dwarf and taller +varieties--and now he risked putting in some early beans--"snap" and +bush limas--and his first planting of sweet corn. + +Of the latter he put in four rows across the garden, each, of sixty-five +day, seventy-five day, and ninety day sugar corn--all of well-known +kinds. He planned later to put in, every fortnight, four rows of a +mid-length season corn, so as to have green corn for sale, and for the +house, up to frost. + +The potatoes were growing finely and he hilled them up for the first +time. He marked his four-acre lot for field corn--cross-checking it +three-feet, ten inches apart. This made twenty-seven hundred and fifty +hills to the acre, and with the hand-planter--an ingenious but cheap +machine--he dropped two and three kernels to the hill. + +This upland, save where he had spread coarse stable manure, was +not rich. Upon each corn-hill he had Sister throw half a handful of +fertilizer. She followed him as he used the planter, and they planted +and fertilized the entire four acres in less than two days. + +The lime he had put into the land would release such fertility as +remained dormant there; but Hiram did not expect a big crop of corn on +that piece. If he made two good ears to the hill he would be satisfied. + +He had knocked together a rough cold-frame, on the sunny side of the +woodshed, to fit some old sash he had found in the barn. Into the rich +earth sifted to make the bed in this frame, he transplanted tomato, +egg-plant, pepper and other plants of a delicate nature. Early cabbage +and cauliflower had already gone into the garden plot, and in the midst +of an early and saturating rain, all day long, he had transplanted +table-beets into the rows he had marked out for them. + +This variety of vegetables were now all growing finely. He sold nearly +six dollars' worth of radishes in town, and these radishes he showed +Mrs. Atterson were really "clear profit." They had all been pulled from +the rows of carrots and other small seeds. + +There were several heavy rains after the tempest which had been so +Providential; the ground was well saturated, and the river had risen +until it roared between its banks in a voice that could be heard, on a +still day, at the house. + +The rains started the vegetation growing by leaps and bounds; weeds +always increase faster than any other growing thing. + +There was plenty for Hiram to do in the garden, and he kept Sister and +Old Lem Camp busy, too. They were at it from the first faint streak of +light in the morning until dark. + +But they were well--and happy. Mother Atterson, her heart troubled by +thought of "that Pepper-man," could not always repress her smiles. If +the danger of losing the farm were past, she would have had nothing in +the world to trouble her. + +The hundred eggs she had purchased for five dollars had proven more than +sixty per cent fertile. Some advice that Hiram had given her enabled +Mrs. Atterson to handle the chickens so that the loss from disease was +very small. + +He knocked together for her a couple of pens, eight feet square, which +could be moved about on the grass every day. In these pens the seventy, +or more, chicks thrived immensely. And Sister was devoted to them. + +Meanwhile the old white-faced cow, that had been a terror to Mother +Atterson at the start, had found her calf, and it was a heifer. + +"Take my advice and raise it," said Hiram. "She is a scrub, but she is a +pretty good scrub. You'll see that she will give a good measure of milk. +And what this farm needs is cattle. + +"If you could make stable manure enough to cover the cleared acres a +foot deep, you could raise almost any crop you might name--and +make money by it. The land is impoverished by the use of commercial +fertilizers, unbalanced by humus." + +"Well, I guess You know, Hiram," admitted Mrs. Atterson. "And that +calf certainly is a pretty creeter. It would be too bad to turn it into +veal." + +Hiram did not intend to raise the calf expensively, however. He took it +away from its mother right at the start, and in two weeks it was eating +grass, and guzzling skimmed milk and calf-meal, while the old cow was +beginning to show her employer her value. + +Mrs. Atterson bought a small churn and quickly learned that "slight" at +butter-making which is absolutely essential if one would succeed in the +dairy business. + +The cow turned out to pasture early in May, too; so her keep was not +so heavy a burden. She lowed some after the calf; but the latter was +growing finely under Hiram's care, and Mrs. Atterson had at least two +pounds of butter for sale each week, and the housekeeper at the St. +Beris school paid her thirty-five cents a pound for it. + +Hiram gradually picked up a retail route in the town, which customers +paid more for the surplus vegetables--and butter--than could be obtained +at the stores. He had taught Sister how to drive, and sometimes even +Mrs. Atterson went in with the vegetables. + +This relieved the young farmer and allowed him to work in the fields. +And during these warm, growing May days, he found plenty to do. Just as +the field corn pushed through the ground he went into the lot with his +14-tooth harrow and broke up the crust and so killed the ever-springing +weeds. + +With the spikes on the harrow "set back," no corn-plants were dragged +out of the ground. This first harrowing, too, mixed the fertilizer with +the soil, and gave the corn the start it so sadly needed. + +Busy as bees, the four transplanted people at the Atterson farmhouse +accomplished a great deal during these first weeks of the warming +season. And all four of them--Mrs. Atterson, Sister, Old Lem, and Hiram +himself--enjoyed the work to the full. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + +Hiram Strong had decided that the market prospects of Scoville +prophesied a good price for early tomatoes. He advised, therefore, a +good sized patch of this vegetable. + +He had planted in the window boxes seed of several different varieties. +He had transplanted to the coldframe strong plants numbering nearly five +hundred. He believed that, under garden cultivation, a tomato plant that +would not yield fifty cents worth of fruit was not worth bothering +with, while a dollar from a single plant was not beyond the bounds of +probability. + +It was safe, Hiram very well knew, to set out tomato plants in this +locality much before the middle of May; yet he was willing to take some +risks, and go to some trouble, for the sake of getting early ripened +tomatoes into the Scoville market. + +As Henry Pollock had prophesied, Hiram did not see much of his friend +during corn-planting time. The Pollocks put nearly fifty acres in corn, +and the whole family helped in the work, including Mrs. Pollock herself, +and down to the child next to the baby. This little toddler amused his +younger brother, and brought water to the field for the workers. + +Other families in the neighborhood did the same, Hiram noticed. They all +strained every effort to put in corn, cultivating as big a crop as they +possibly could handle. + +This was why locally grown vegetables were scarce in Scoville. And the +young farmer proposed to take advantage of this condition of affairs to +the best of his ability. + +If they were only to remain here on the farm long enough to handle this +one crop, Hiram determined to make that crop pay his employer as well as +possible, although he, himself, had no share in such profit. + +Henry Pollock, however, came along while Hiram was making ready his plat +in the garden for tomatoes. The young farmer was setting several rows of +two-inch thick stakes across the garden, sixteen feet apart in the row, +the rows four feet apart. The stakes themselves were about four feet out +of the ground. + +"What ye doin' there, Hiram?" asked Henry, curiously. "Building a +fence?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Ain't goin' to have a chicken run out here in the garden, be ye?" + +"I should hope not! The chickens on this place will never mix with the +garden trucks, if I have any say about it," declared Hiram, laughing. + +"By Jo!" exclaimed Henry. "Dad says Maw's dratted hens eat up a couple +hundred dollars' worth of corn and clover every year for him-runnin' +loose as they do." + +"Why doesn't he build your mother proper runs, then, plant green stuff +in several yards, and change the flock over, from yard to yard?" "Oh, +hens won't do well shut up; Maw says so," said Henry, repeating the +lazy farmer's unfounded declaration-probably originated ages ago, when +poultry was first domesticated. + +"I'll show you, next year, if we are around here," said Hiram, "whether +poultry will do well enclosed in yards." + +"I told mother you didn't let your chickens run free, and had no hens +with them," said Henry, thoughtfully. + +"No. I do not believe in letting anything on a farm get into lazy +habits. A hen is primarily intended to lay eggs. I send them back to +work when they have hatched out their brood. + +"Those home-made brooders of ours keep the chicks quite as warm, and +never peck the little fellows, or step upon them, as the old hen often +does." + +"That's right, I allow," admitted Henry, grinning broadly. + +"And some hens will traipse chicks through the grass and weeds as far +as turkeys. No, sir! Send the hens back to business, and let the chicks +shift for themselves. They'll do better." + +"Them there in the pens certainly do look healthy," said his friend. +"But you ain't said what you was doin' here, Hiram, setting these +stakes?" + +"Why, I'll tell you," returned Hiram. "This is my tomato patch." + +"By Jo!" ejaculated Henry. "You don't want to set tomatoes so fur apart, +do you?" + +"No, no," laughed Hiram. "The posts are to string wires on. The tomatoes +will be two feet apart in the row. As they grow I tie them to the wires, +and so keep the fruit off the ground. + +"The tomato ripens better and more evenly, and the fruit will come +earlier, especially if I pinch back the ends of the vine from time to +time, and remove some of the side branches." + +"We don't do all that to raise a tomato crop. And we'll put in five +acres for the cannery this year, as usual," said Henry, with some scorn. + +"We run the rows out four feet apart, like you do, throwing up a list, +in fact. Then father goes ahead with a stick, making a hole for the +plant every three feet, so't they'll be check-rowed and we can cultivate +them both ways--and we all set the plants. + +"We never hand-hoe 'em--it don't pay. The cannery isn't giving but +fifteen cents a basket this year--and it's got to be a full five-eighths +basket, too, for they weigh 'em." + +Hiram looked at him with a quizzical smile. + +"So you set about thirty-six hundred and forty plants to the acre?" he +said. + +"I reckon so." + +"And you'll have five acres of tomatoes?" + +"Yep. So Dad says. He has contracted for that many. But our plants +don't begin to be big enough to set out yet. We have to keep 'em covered +nights." + +"And I expect to have about five hundred plants in this patch," said +Hiram, smiling. "I tell you what, Henry." + +"Huh?" said the other boy. "I bet I take in from my patch--net income, I +mean--this year as much as your father gets at the cannery for his whole +crop." + +"Nonsense!" cried Henry. "Maybe Dad'll make a hundred, or a hundred and +twenty-five dollars. Sometimes tomatoes run as high as thirty dollars an +acre around here." + +"Wait and see," said Hiram, laughing. "It is going to cost me more to +raise my crop, and market it, that's true. But if your father doesn't do +better with his five acres than you say, I'll beat him." + +"You can't do it, Hiram," cried Henry. "I can try, anyway," said Hiram, +more quietly, but with confidence. "We'll see." + +"And say," Henry added, suddenly, "I was going to tell you something. +You won't raise these tomatoes--nor no other crop--if Pete Dickerson can +stop ye." + +"What's the matter with Pete now?" asked Hiram, troubled by thought of +the secret enemy who had already struck at him in the dark. + +"He was blowing about what he'd do to you down at the crossroads last +evening," said Henry. "He and his father both hate you like poison, I +expect. + +"And the fellers down to Cale Schell's are always stirrin' up trouble. +They think it is sport. Why, Pete got so mad last night he could ha' +chewed tacks!" + +"I have said nothing about Pete to anybody," said Hiram, firmly. + +"That don't matter. They say you have. They tell Pete a whole lot of +stuff just to see him git riled. + +"And last night he slopped over. He said if you reported around that he +put fire to Mis' Atterson's woods, he'd put it to the house and barns! +Oh, he was wild." + +Hiram's face flushed, and then paled. + +"Did Pete try to bum the woods, Hiram?" queried Henry, shrewdly. + +"I never even said I thought so to you, have I?" asked the young farmer, +sternly. + +"Nope. I only heard that fire got into the woods by accident, when I +was in town. Somebody was hunting through there for coon, and saw the +burned-over place. That's all the fellers at Cale's place knew, too, I +reckon; but they jest put it up to Pete to mad him." + +"And they succeeded, did they?" said Hiram, sternly. + +"I reckon." + +"Loose-mouthed people make more trouble in a community than downright +mean ones," declared Hiram. "If I have any serious trouble with the +Dickersons, like enough it will be because of the interference of the +other neighbors." + +"But," said Henry, preparing to go on, "Pete wouldn't dare fire your +stable now--after sayin' he'd do it. He ain't quite so big a fool as all +that." + +But Hiram was not so sure. He had this additional trouble on his mind +from this very hour, though he never said a word to Mrs. Atterson about +it. + +But every night before he went to bed be made around of the outbuildings +to make sure that everything was right before he slept. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. "CORN THAT'S CORN" + +Hiram caught sight of Pepper in town one day and went after him. He knew +the real estate man had returned from his business trip, and the fact +that the matter of the option was hanging fire, and troubling Mrs. +Atterson exceedingly, urged Hiram go counter to Mr. Strickland's advice. + +The lawyer had said: "Let sleeping dogs lie." Pepper had made no move, +however, and the uncertainty was very trying both for the young farmer +and his employer. + +"How about that option you talked about, Mr. Pepper?" asked the "youth. +Are you going to exercise it?" + +"I've got time enough, ain't I?" returned the real estate man, eyeing +Hiram in his very slyest way. + +"I expect you have--if it really runs a year." + +"You seen it, didn't you?" demanded Pepper. + +"But we'd like Mr. Strickland to see it." + +"He's goin' to act for Mrs. Atterson?" queried the man, with a scowl. + +"Oh, yes." + +"Well, he'll see it-when I'm ready to take it up. Don't you fret," +retorted Pepper, and turned away. + +This did not encourage the young farmer, nor was there anything in the +man's manner to yield hope to Mrs. Atterson that she could feel secure +in her title to the farm. So Hiram said nothing to her about meeting the +man. + +But the youth was very much puzzled. It really did seem as though Pepper +was afraid to show that paper to Mr. Strickland. + +"There's something queer about it, I believe," declared the youth to +himself. "Somewhere there is a trick. He's afraid of being tripped up on +it. But, why does he wait, if he knows the railroad is going to demand a +strip of the farm and he can get a good price for it? + +"Perhaps he is waiting to make sure that the railroad will condemn a +piece of Mrs. Atterson's farm. If the board should change the route +again, Pepper would have a farm on his hands that he might not be able +to sell immediately at a profit. + +"For we must confess, that sixteen hundred dollars, as farms have sold +in the past around here, is a good price for the Atterson place. That's +why Uncle Jeptha was willing to give an option for a month--if that was, +in the beginning, the understanding the old man had of his agreement +with Pepper. + +"However, we might as well go ahead with the work, and take what comes +to us in the end. I know no other way to do," quoth Hiram, with a sigh. + +For he could not be very cheerful with the prospect of making only a +single crop on the place. His profit was to have come out of the second +year's crop--and, he felt, out of that bottom land which had so charmed +him on the day he and Henry Pollock had gone over the Atterson Place. + +Riches lay buried in that six acres of bottom. Hiram had read up on +onion culture, and he believed that, if he planted his seed in hot beds, +and transplanted the young onions to the rich soil in this bottom, he +could raise fully as large onions as they did in either Texas or the +Bermudas. + +"Of course, they have the advantage of a longer season down there," +thought Hiram, "and cheap labor. But maybe I can get cheap labor right +around here. The children of these farmers are used to working in the +fields. I ought to be able to get help pretty cheap. + +"And when it comes to the market--why, I've got the Texas growers, at +least, skinned a little! I can reach either the Philadelphia or New York +market in a day. Yes; given the right conditions, onions ought to pay +big down there on that lowland." + +But this was not the only crop possibility be turned over in his mind. +There were other vegetables that would grow luxuriantly on that bottom +land--providing, always, the flood did not come and fulfill Henry +Pollock's prophecy. + +"Two feet of water on that meadow, eh?" thought Hiram. "Well, that +certainly would be bad. I wouldn't want that to happen after the ground +was plowed this year, even. It would tear up the land, and sour it, and +spoil it for a corn-crop, indeed." + +So he was down a good deal to the river's edge, watching the ebb and +flow of the stream. A heavy rain would, over night, fill the river to +its very brim and the open field, even beyond the marshy spot, would be +a-slop with standing water. + +"It sure wouldn't grow alfalfa," chuckled Hiram to himself one day. "For +the water rises here a good deal closer to the surface than four feet, +and alfalfa farmers declare that if the springs rise that high, there is +no use in putting in alfalfa. Why! I reckon just now the water is within +four inches of the top of the ground." + +If the river remained so high, and the low ground so saturated with +water, he knew, too, that he could not get the six acres plowed in time +to put in corn this year. And it was this year's crop he must think +about first. + +Even if Pepper did not exercise his option, and turn Mrs. Atterson +out of the place, a big commercial crop of onions, or any other +better-paying crop, could only be tried the second year. + +Hiram had got his seed corn for the upland piece of the man who raised +the best corn in the community. He had tried the fertility of each ear, +discarded those which proved weakly, or infertile, and his stand of corn +for the four acres, which was now half hand high, was the best of any +farmer between the Atterson place and town. + +But this corn was a hundred-and-ten-day variety. The farmer he got it of +told him that he had raised a crop from a piece planted the day before +the Fourth of July; but it was safer to get it in at least by June +fifteenth. + +And here it was past June first, and the meadow land had not yet been +plowed. + +"However," Hiram said to Henry, when they walked down to the riverside +on Sunday afternoon, "I'm going ahead on Faith--just as the minister +said in church this morning. If Faith can move mountains, we'll give it +a chance to move something right down here." + +"I dunno, Hiram," returned the other boy, shaking his head. "Father says +he'll git in here for you with three head and a Number 3 plow by the +middle of this week if you say so--'nless it rains again, of course. But +he's afeared you're goin' to waste Mrs. Atterson's money for her." + +"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," quoted Hiram, grimly. "If a farmer +didn't take chances every year, the whole world would starve to death!" + +"Well," returned Henry, smiling too, "let the other fellow take the +chances--that's dad's motter." + +"Yes. And the 'chancey' fellow skims the cream of things every time. +No, sir!" declared the young fellow, "I'm going to be among the +cream-skimmers, or I won't be a farmer at all." + +So the plow was put into the bottom-land Wednesday--and put in deep. By +Friday night the whole piece was plowed and partly harrowed. + +Hiram had drawn lime for this bottom-land, proposing to use beside only +a small amount of fertilizer. He spread this lime from his one-horse +wagon, while Henry drag-harrowed behind him, and by Saturday noon the +job was done. + +The horses had not mired at all, much to Mr. Pollock's surprise. And the +plow had bit deep. All the heavy sod of the piece was covered well, and +the seed bed was fairly level--for corn. + +Although the Pollocks did not work on Saturday afternoon, Hiram did +not feel as though he could stop at this time. Most of the farmers had +already planted their last piece of corn. Monday would be the fifteenth +of the month. + +So the young farmer got his home-made corn-row marker down to the +river-bottom and began marking the piece that afternoon. + +This marker ran out three rows at each trip across the field, and with +a white stake at either end, the youth managed to run his rows very +straight. He had a good eye. + +In this case he did not check-row his field. The land was +rich--phenomenally rich, he believed. If he was going to have a crop of +corn here, he wanted a crop worth while. + +On the uplands the farmers were satisfied with from thirty to fifty +baskets of ear-corn to the acre. If this lowland was what he believed it +was, Hiram was sure it would make twice that. + +And at that his corn crop here would only average twenty-five dollars to +the acre--not a phenomenal profit for Mrs. Atterson in that. + +But the land would be getting into shape for a better crop, and although +corn is a crop that will soon impoverish ground, if planted year after +year on the same piece, Hiram knew that the humus in this soil on the +lowland was almost inexhaustible. + +So he marked his rows the long way of the field--running with the river. + +One of the implements left by Uncle Jeptha had been a one-horse +corn-planter with a fertilizer attachment. Hiram used this, dropping +two or three grains twenty-four inches apart, and setting the fertilizer +attachment to one hundred and fifty pounds to the acre. + +He was until the next Wednesday night planting the piece. Meanwhile it +had not rained, and the river continued to recede. It was now almost +as low as it had been the day Lettie Bronson's boating party had been +"wrecked" under the big sycamore. + +Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the time he +got his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the Atterson yard, and +found Hiram cultivating his first corn with the five-tooth cultivator. + +"Well, well, Hiram!" exclaimed the Westerner, looking with a broad smile +over the field. "That's as pretty a field of corn as I ever saw. I don't +believe there is a hill missing." + +"Only a few on the far edge, where the moles have been at work." + +"Moles don't eat corn, Hiram." + +"So they say," returned the young farmer, quietly. "I never could make +up my mind about it. + +"I'm sure, however, that if they are only after slugs and worms which +are drawn to the corn hills by the commercial fertilizer, the moles do +fully as much damage as the slugs would. + +"You see, they make a cavity under the corn hill, and the roots of the +plant wither. Excuse me, but I'd rather have Mr. Mole in somebody else's +garden." + +Mr. Bronson laughed. "Well, what the little gray fellows eat won't kill +us. But they do spoil otherwise handsome rows. How did you get such a +good stand of corn, Hiram?" + +"I tested the seed in a seed box early in the spring. I wouldn't plant +corn any other way. Aside from the hills the moles have spoiled, and a +few an old crow pulled up, I've got no re-planting to do. + +"And replanted hills are always behind the crop, and seldom make +anything but fodder. If it wasn't for the look of the field, I'd never +re-plant a hill of corn. + +"Of course, I've got to thin this--two grains in the hill is enough on +this land." + +Mr. Bronson looked at him with growing surprise. + +"Why, my boy, you talk just as though you had tilled the ground for a +score of years. Who taught you so much about farming?" + +"One of the best farmers who ever lived," said Hiram, with a smile. "My +father. And he taught me to go to the correct sources for information, +too." + +"I believe you!" exclaimed Mr. Bronson. "And you're going to have 'corn +that's corn', as we say in my part of the country, on this piece of +land." + +"Wait!" said Hiram, smiling and shaking his head. + +"Wait for what?" + +"Wait till you see the corn on my bottom-land--if the river down there +doesn't drown it out. If we don't have too much rain, I'm going to have +corn on that river-bottom that will beat anything in this county, Mr. +Bronson." + +And the young farmer spoke with assurance. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. THE BARBECUE + +On the seventeenth day of June Hiram had "grappled out" a mess of +potatoes for their dinner. They were larger than hen's eggs and came +upon the table mealy and white. + +Potatoes were selling at retail in Scoville for two dollars the bushel. +Before the end of that week--after the lowland corn was planted--Hiram +dug two rows of potatoes, sorted them, and carted them to town, together +with some bunched beets, a few bunches of young carrots, radishes and +salad. + +The potatoes he sold for fifty cents the five-eighth basket, from house +to house, and he brought back, for his load of vegetables, ten dollars +and twenty cents, which he handed to Mrs. Atterson, much to that lady's +joy. + +"My soul and body, Hiram!" she exclaimed. "This is just a God-send--no +less. Do you know that we've sold nigh twenty-five dollars' worth of +stuff already this spring, besides that pair of pigs I let Pollock have, +and the butter to St. Beris?" + +"And it's only a beginning," Hiram told her. "Wait til' the peas come +along--we'll have a mess for the table in a few days now. And the sweet +corn and tomatoes. + +"If you and Sister can do the selling, it will help out a whole lot, of +course. I wish we had another horse." + +"Or an automobile," said Sister, clapping her hands. "Wouldn't it be +fine to run into town in an auto, with a lot of vegetables? Then Hiram +could keep right at work with the horse and not have to stop to harness +up for us." + +"Shucks, child!" admonished Mrs. Atterson. "What big idees you do get in +that noddle o' yourn." + +The girls' boarding school and the two hotels proved good customers for +Hiram's early vegetables; for nobody around Scoville had potatoes +at this time, and Hiram's early peas were two weeks ahead of other +people's. + +Having got a certain number of towns folks to expect him at least thrice +a week, when other farmers had green stuff for sale they could not +easily "cut out" Hiram later in the season. + +And not always did the young farmer have to leave his work at home to +deliver the vegetables and Mrs. Atterson's butter. Sister, or the old +lady herself, could go to town if the load was not too heavy. + +Of course, it cost considerable to live. And hogfood and grain for the +horse and cow had to be bought. Hiram was fattening four of the spring +shoats against winter. Two they could sell and two kill for their own +use. + +"Goin' to be big doin's on the Fourth this year, Hiram," said Henry +Pollock, meeting the young farmer on the road from town one day. "Heard +about it?" + +"In Scoville, do you mean? They're going to have a 'Safe and Sane' +Fourth, the Banner says." + +"Nope. We don't think much of goin' to town Fourth of July. And this +year there's goin' to be a big picnic in Langdon's Grove--that's up the +river, you know." + +"A public picnic?" + +"Sure. A barbecue, we call it," said Henry. "We have one at the Grove +ev'ry year. This time the two Sunday Schools is goin' to join and have a +big time. You and Sister don't want to miss it. That Mr. Bronson's goin' +to give a whole side o' beef, they tell me, to roast over the fires." + +"A big banquet is in prospect, is it?" asked Hiram, smiling. + +"And a stew! Gee! you never eat one o' these barbecue stews, did ye? +Some of us will go huntin' the day before, and there'll be birds, and +squirrels, as well as chickens in that stew--and lima beans, and corn, +and everything good you can think of!" and Henry smacked his lips in +prospect. + +Then he added, bethinking himself of his errand: + +"Everybody chips in and gives the things to eat. What'll you give, +Hiram?" + +"Some vegetables," said Hiram, quickly. "Mrs. Atterson won't object, I +guess. Do they want tomatoes for their stew?" + +"Won't be no tomatoes ripe, Hiram," said Henry, decidedly. + +"There won't, eh? You come out and take a look at mine," said Hiram, +laughing. + +Of all the rows of vegetables in Hiram's garden plot, the thriftiest +and handsomest were the trellised tomato plants. It took nearly half of +Sister's time to keep the plants tied up and pinched back, as Hiram had +taught her. + +But the stalks were already heavily laden with fruit; and those hanging +lowest on the sturdy vines were already blushing. + +"By Jo!" gasped Henry. "You've done it, ain't you? But the cannery won't +take 'em yet awhile--and they'll all be gone before September." + +"The cannery won't get many of my tomatoes," laughed Hiram. "And these +vines properly trained and cultivated as they are, will bear fruit up to +frost. You wait and see." + +"I'll have to tell dad to come and look at these. I dunno, Hiram, if you +can sell 'em at retail, but you'll git as much for 'em as dad does for +his whole crop--just as you said." + +"That's what I'm aiming for," responded Hiram. "But would the ladies who +cook the barbecue stew care for tomatoes, do you think?" + +"We never git tomatoes this early," said Henry. "How about potatoes? And +there ain't many folks dug any of theirn yet, but you." + +So, after speaking with Mrs. Atterson, Hiram agreed to supply a barrel +of potatoes for the barbecue, and the day before the Fourth, one of the +farmers came with a wagon to pick up the supplies. + +Everybody at the Atterson farm would go to the grove--that was +understood. + +"If one knocks off work, the others can," declared Mother Atterson. "You +see that things is left all right for the critters, Hiram, and we'll +tend to things indoors so that we can be gone till night." + +"And do, Hiram, look out for my poults the last thing," cried Sister. + +Mrs. Larriper had given Sister a setting of ten turkey eggs and every +one of them had hatched under one of Mrs. Atterson's motherly old hens. +At first the girl had kept the young turkeys and their foster mother +right near the house, so that she could watch them carefully. + +But poults are rangy, and these being particularly strong and thrifty, +they soon ran the old hen pretty nearly to death. + +So Hiram had built a coop into which they could go at night, safe from +any vermin, and set it far down in the east lot, near the woods. Sister +usually went down with a little grain twice a day to call them up, and +keep them tame. + +"But when they get big enough to roost in the fall, I expect we'll have +to gather that crop with a gun," Hiram told her, laughing. + +Many of the farmers teams were strung out along the road long before +Hiram was ready to set out. He had made sure that the spring wagon was +in good shape, and he had built an extra seat for it, so that the four +rode very comfortably. + +Like every other Fourth of July, the sun was broiling hot! And the dust +rose in clouds as the faster teams passed their slow old nag. + +Mrs. Atterson sat up very primly in her best silk, holding a parasol and +wearing a pair of lace mits that had appeared on state occasions for the +past twenty years, at least. + +Sister was growing like a weed, and it was hard to keep her skirts and +sleeves at a proper length. But she was an entirely different looking +girl from the boarding house slavey whom Hiram remembered so keenly back +in Crawberry. + +As for Old Lem Camp, he was as cheerful as Hiram had ever seen him, and +showed a deal of interest in everything about the farm, and had proved +himself, as Mrs. Atterson had prophesied, a great help. + +Scarcely a house along the road was not shut up and the dooryard +deserted--for everybody was going to the barbecue. All but the Dickerson +family. Sam was at work in the fields, and the haggard Mrs. Dickerson +looked dumbly from her porch, with a crying baby in her scrawny arms as +the Attersons and Hiram passed. + +But Pete was at the barbecue. He was there when Hiram arrived, and he +was making himself quite as prominent as anybody. + +Indeed, he made himself so obnoxious finally, that one of the rough men +who was keeping up the fires threatened to chuck Pete into the biggest +one, and then cool him off in the river. + +Otherwise, however, the barbecue passed off very pleasantly. The men who +governed it saw that no liquor was brought along, and the unruly element +to which Pete belonged was kept under with an iron hand. + +There was so little "fun", of a kind, in Pete's estimation that, after +the big event of the day--the banquet--he and some of his friends +disappeared. And the picnicking ground was a much quieter and pleasanter +place after their departure. + +The newcomers into the community made many friends and acquaintances +that day. Sister was going to school in the fall, and she found many +girls of her age whom she would meet there. + +Mrs. Atterson met the older ladies, and was invited to join no less than +two "Ladies' Aids", and, as she said, "if she called on all the +folks she'd agreed to visit, she'd be goin' ev'ry day from then till +Christmas!" + +As for Hiram, the men and older boys were rather inclined to jolly him +a bit. Not many of them had been upon the Atterson place to see what +he had done, but they had heard some stories of his proposed crops that +amused them. + +When Mr. Bronson, however, whom the local men knew to be a big farmer in +the Middle West, and who owned many farms out there now, spoke favorably +of Hiram's work, the local men listened respectfully. + +"The boy's got it in him to do something," the Westerner said, in his +hearty fashion. "You're eating his potatoes now, I understand. Which one +of you can dig early potatoes like those? + +"And he's got the best stand of corn in the county." + +"On that river-bottom, you mean?" asked one. + +"And on the upland, too. You fellows want to look about you a little. +Most of you don't see beyond the end of your noses. You watch out, +or Hiram Strong is going to beat every last one of you this year--and +that's a run-down farm he's got, at that." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. SISTER'S TURKEYS + +But Lettie was not at the barbecue, and to tell the truth, Hiram Strong +was disappointed. + +Despite the fact that she had seemed inclined to snub him, the young +farmer was vastly taken with the pretty girl. He had seen nobody about +Scoville as attractive as Lettie--nor anywhere else, for that matter! + +He was too proud to call at the Bronson place, although Mr. Bronson +invited him whenever he saw Hiram. And at first, Lettie had asked him to +come, too. + +But the Western girl did not like being thwarted in any matter--even the +smallest. And when Hiram would not come to take Pete Dickerson's place, +the very much indulged girl had showed the young farmer that she was +offended. + +However, the afternoon at Langdon's Grove passed very pleasantly, and +Hiram and his party did not arrive at the farm again until dusk had +fallen. + +"I'll go down and shut your turkeys up for the night, Sister," Hiram +said, after he had done the other chores for he knew the girl would be +afraid to go so far from the house by lantern-light. + +And when he reached the turkey coop, 'way down in the field, Hiram was +very glad indeed that he had come instead of the girl. + +For the coop was empty. There wasn't a turkey inside, or thereabout. It +had been dark an hour and more, then, and the poults should long since +have been hovered in the coop. + +Had some marauding fox, or other "varmint", run the young turkeys off +their reservation? That seemed improbable at this time of year--and so +early in the evening. Foxes do not usually go hunting before midnight, +nor do other predatory animals. + +Hiram had brought the barn lantern with him, and he took a look around +the neighborhood of the empty coop. + +"My goodness!" he mused, "Sister will cry her eyes out if anything's +happened to those little turks. Now, what's this?" + +The ground was cut up at a little distance from the coop. He examined +the tracks closely. + +They were fresh--very fresh indeed. The wheel tracks of a light wagon +showed, and the prints of a horse's shod hoofs. + +The wagon had been driven down from the main road, and had turned +sharply here by the coop. Hiram knew, too, that it had stood there for +some time, for the horse had moved uneasily. + +Of course, that proved the driver had gotten out of the wagon and left +the horse alone. Doubtless there was but one thief--for it was +positive that the turkeys had been removed by a two-footed--not a +four-footed--marauder. + +"And who would be mean enough to steal Sister's turkeys? Almost +everybody in the neighborhood has a few to fatten for Thanksgiving and +Christmas. Who--did--this?" + +He followed the wheel marks of the wagon to the road. He saw the track +where it turned into the field, and where it turned out again. And +it showed plainly that the thief came from town, and returned in that +direction. + +Of course, in the roadway it was impossible to trace the particular +tracks made by the thief's horse and wagon. Too many other vehicles had +been over the road within the past hour. + +The thief must have driven into the field just after night-fall, plucked +the ten young turkeys, one by one, out of the coop, tying their feet +and flinging them into the bottom of his wagon. Covered with a bag, the +frightened turkeys would never utter a peep while it remained dark. + +"I hate to tell Sister--I can't tell her," Hiram said, as he went slowly +back to the house. For Sister had been "counting chickens" again, and +she had figured that, at eighteen cents per pound, live weight, the ten +turkeys would pay for all the clothes she would need that winter, and +give her "Christmas money", too. + +The young farmer shrank from meeting the girl again that night, and he +delayed going into the house as long as possible. Then he found they had +all retired, leaving him a cold supper at the end of the kitchen table. + +The disappearance of the turkeys kept Hiram tossing, wakeful, upon his +bed for some hours. He could not fail to connect this robbery with the +other things that had been done, during the past weeks, to injure those +living at the Atterson farm. + +Was the secret enemy really Peter Dickerson? And had Pete committed this +crime now? + +Yet the horse and wagon had come from the direction opposite the +Dickerson farm, and had returned as it came. + +"I don't know whether I am accusing that fellow wrongfully, or not," +muttered Hiram, at last. "But I am going to find out. Sister isn't going +to lose her turkeys without my doing everything in my power to get them +back and punish the thief." + +He usually arose in the morning before anybody else was astir, so it +was easy for Hiram to slip out of the house and down to the field to the +empty turkey coop. + +The marks of horse and wagon were quite as plain in the faint light of +dawn as they had been the night before. In the darkness the thief +had driven his wagon over some small stumps, amid which his horse had +scrambled in some difficulty, it was plain. + +Hiram, tracing out these marks as a Red Indian follows a trail, +saw something upon the edge of one of the half-decayed stumps that +interested him greatly. + +He stood up the next moment with this clue in his hand--a white, coarse +hair, perhaps four inches in length. + +"That was scraped off the horse's fetlock as he scrambled over this +stump," muttered Hiram. "Now, who drives a white horse, or a horse with +white feet, in this neighborhood? + +"Can I narrow the search down in this way, I wonder?" and for some +moments the youth stood there, in the growing light of early morning, +canvassing the subject from that angle. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. RUN TO EARTH + +A broad streak of crimson along the eastern horizon, over the treetops, +announced the coming of the sun when Hiram Strong reached the automobile +road to which he, on the previous night, had traced the thief that had +stolen Sister's poults. + +Now he looked at the track again. It surely had come from the direction +of Scoville, and it turned back that way. + +Yet he looked at the white horse-hair scraped off upon the stump, and +he turned his back upon these signs and strode along the road toward his +own home. + +Smoke was just curling from the Atterson chimney; Sister, or Mrs. +Atterson, was just building the fire. But they did not see Hiram as he +went by. + +Hiram's quest led him past the place and to the Dickerson farm. There +nobody was yet astir, save the mules and horses in the barnyard, who +called as he went by, hoping for their breakfast. + +Hiram knew that the Dickersons had turkeys and, like most of the other +farmers, cooped them in distant fields away from the house. He found +three coops in the middle of an old oat-field tinder a spreading beech. + +The old turks roosted upon the limbs of the beech at night; they were +already up and away, hunting grasshoppers for breakfast. But quite a few +poults were running and peeping about the coops, with two hen turkeys +playing guard to them. + +Hiram saw where a wagon had been driven in here, and turned, too. The +tracks were made recently. And one of the coops was shut tight, although +he knew by the rustling within that there were young turkeys in it. + +It was too dark within the hutch, however, for the youth to number the +poults confined there. + +He strolled back across the fields to the rear of the Dickerson house. +Passing the barnyard first, he halted and examined the bright bay horse, +with white feet--the one that Pete had driven to the barbecue the day +before--the only one Pete was ever allowed to drive off the farm. + +The Dickersons, father and son, were not as early risers as most farmers +in those parts. At least, they were not up betimes on this morning. + +But Mrs. Dickerson had built the fire now and was stirring about the +porch when Hiram arrived at the step, filling her kettle at the pump. + +"Mornin', Mr. Strong," she said, in her startled way, eyeing Hiram +askance. + +She was a lean, sharp-featured woman, with a hopeless droop to her +shoulders. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Dickerson," said Hiram, gravely. "How many young +turkeys have you this year?" + +The woman shrank back and almost dropped the kettle she had filled to +the pump-bench. Her eyes glared. + +Somewhere in the house a baby squatted; then a door banged and Hiram +heard Dickerson's heavy step descending the stair. + +"You have a coop of poults down there, Mrs. Dickerson," continued Hiram, +confidently, "that I know belongs to us. I traced Pete's tracks with the +wagon and the white-footed horse. Now, this is going to make trouble for +Pete----" + +"What's the matter with Pete, now?" demanded Dickerson's harsh voice, +and he came out upon the porch. + +He scowled at sight of Hiram, and continued: + +"What are you roaming around here for, Strong? Can't you keep on your +own side of the fence?" + +"It's little I'll ever trouble you, Mr. Dickerson," said Hiram, +"sharply, if you and yours don't trouble me, I can assure you." + +"What's eating you now?" demanded the man, roughly. + +"Why, I'll tell you, Mr. Dickerson," said Hiram, quickly. "Somebody's +stolen our turkeys--ten of them. And I have found them down there where +your turkeys roost. The natural inference is that somebody here knows +about it----" + +Dickerson--just out of his bed and as ugly as many people are when they +first get up--leaped for the young farmer from the porch, and had him in +his grip before Hiram could help himself. + +The woman screamed. There was a racket in the house, for some of the +children had been watching from the window. + +"Dad's goin' to lick him!" squalled one of the girls. + +"You come here and intermate that any of my family's thieves, do you?" +the angry man roared. + +"Stop that, Sam Dickerson!" cried his wife. She suddenly gained courage +and ran to the struggling pair, and tried to haul Sam away from Hiram. + +"The boy's right," she gasped. "I heard Pete tellin' little Sam last +night what he'd done. It's come to a pretty pass, so it has, if you are +goin' to uphold that bad boy in thieving----" + +"Hush up, Maw!" cried Pete's voice from the house. + +"Come out here, you scalawag!" ordered his father, relaxing his hold on +Hiram. + +Pete slouched out on the porch, wearing a grin that was half sheepish, +half worried. + +"What's this Strong says about turkeys?" demanded Sam Dickerson, +sternly. + +"'Tain't so!" declared Pete. "I ain't seen no turkeys." + +"I have found them," said Hiram, quietly. "And the coopful is down +yonder in your lot. You thought to fool me by turning into our farm from +the direction of Scoville, and driving back that way; but you turned +around in the road under that overhanging oak, where I picked Lettie +Bronson off the back of the runaway horse last Spring. + +"Now, those ten turkeys belong to Sister. She'll be heart-broken if +anything happens to them. You have played me several mean tricks since I +have been here, Pete Dickerson----" + +"No, I ain't!" interrupted the boy. + +"Who took the burr off the end of my axle and let me down in the road +that night?" demanded Hiram, his rage rising. + +Pete could not forbear a grin at this remembrance. + +"And who tampered with our pump the next morning? And who watched and +waited till we left the lower meadow that night we burned the rubbish, +and then set fire to our woods----" + +Mrs. Dickerson screamed again. "I knew that fire never come by +accident," she moaned. + +"You shut up, Maw!" admonished her hopeful son again. + +"And now, I've got you," declared Hiram, with confidence. "I can tell +those ten poults. I marked them for Sister long ago so that, if they +went to the neighbors, they could be easily identified. + +"They're in that shut-up coop down yonder," continued Hiram, "and unless +you agree to bring them back at once, and put them in our coop, I shall +hitch up and go to town, first thing, and get out a warrant for your +arrest." + +Sam had remained silent for a minute, or two. Now he said, decidedly: + +"You needn't threaten no more, young feller. I can see plain enough that +Pete's been carrying his fun too far----" + +"Fun!" ejaculated Hiram. + +"That's what I said," growled Sam. "He'll bring the turkeys back-and +before he has his breakfast, too." + +"All right," said Hiram, knowing full well that there was nothing to +be made by quarreling with Sam Dickerson. "His returning the turkeys, +however, will not keep me from speaking to the constable the very next +time Pete plays any of his tricks around our place. + +"It may be 'fun' for him; but it won't look so funny from the inside of +the town jail." + +He walked off after this threat. And he was sorry he had said it. For he +had no real intention of having Pete arrested, and an empty threat is of +no use to anybody. + +The turkeys came back; Sister did not even know that they had been +stolen, for when she went down to feed them about the middle of the +forenoon, all ten came running to her call. + +But Pete Dickerson ceased from troubling for a time, much to Hiram's +satisfaction. + +Meanwhile the crops were coming on finely. Hiram's tomatoes were +bringing good prices in Scoville, and as he had such a quantity and was +so much earlier than the other farmers around about, he did, as he told +Henry he would do, "skim the cream off the market." + +He bought some crates and baskets in town, too, and shipped some of +the tomatoes to a produce man he knew in Crawberry--a man whom he could +trust to treat him fairly. During the season that man's checks to Mrs. +Atterson amounted to fifty-four dollars. + +Three times a week the spring wagon went to town with vegetables for the +school, the hotels, and their retail customers. The whole family worked +long hours, and worked hard; but nobody complained. + +No rain fell of any consequence until the latter part of July; and then +there was no danger of the river overflowing and drowning out the corn. + +And that corn! By the last of July it was waist high, growing rank and +strong, and of that black-green color which delights the farmer's eye. + +Mr. Bronson walked down to the river especially to see it. Like Hiram's +upland corn, there was scarcely a hill missing, save where the muskrats +had dug in from the river bank and disturbed the corn hills. + +"That's the finest-looking corn in this county, bar none, Hiram," +declared Bronson. "I have seldom seen better looking in the rich +bottom-lands of the West. And you certainly do keep it clean, boy." + +"No use in putting in a crop if you don't 'tend it," said the young +farmer, sententiously. + +"And what's this along here?" asked the gentleman, pointing to a row or +two of small stuff along the inner edge of the field. + +"I'm trying onions and celery down here. I want to put a commercial crop +into this field next year--if we are let stay here--that will pay Mrs. +Atterson and me a real profit," and Hiram laughed. + +"What do you call a real profit?" inquired Mr. Bronson, seriously. + +"Four hundred dollars an acre, net," said the young farmer, promptly. + +"Why, Hiram, you can't do that!" cried the gentleman. + +"It's being done--in other localities and on soil not so rich as +this--and I believe I can do it." + +"With onions or celery?" "Yes, sir." "Which--or both?" asked the +Westerner, interested. + +"I am trying them out here, as you see. I believe it will be celery. +This soil is naturally wet, and celery is a glutton for water. Then, it +is a late piece, and celery should be transplanted twice before it is +put in the field, I believe." + +"A lot of work, boy," said Mr. Bronson, shaking his head. + +"Well, I never expect to get something for nothing," remarked Hiram. + +"And how about the onions?" + +"Why, they don't seem to do so well. There is something lacking in the +land to make them do their best. I believe it is too cold. And, then, I +am watching the onion market, and I am afraid that too many people +have gone into the game in certain sections, and are bound to create an +over-supply." + +The gentleman looked at him curiously. + +"You certainly are an able-minded youngster, Hiram," he observed. "I +s'pose if you do so well here next year as you expect, a charge of +dynamite wouldn't blast you away from the Atterson farm?" + +"Why, Mr. Bronson," responded the young farmer, "I don't want to run a +one-horse farm all my life. And this never can be much more. It isn't +near enough to any big city to be a real truck farm--and I'm interested +in bigger things. + +"No, sir. The Atterson Eighty is only a stepping stone for me. I hope +I'll go higher before long." + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. HARVEST + +But Hiram was not at all sure that he would ever see a celery crop in +this bottom-land. Pepper still "hung fire" and he would not go to Mr. +Strickland with his option. + +"I don't hafter," he told Hiram. "When I git ready I'll let ye know, be +sure o' that." + +The fact was that the railroad had made no further move. Mr. Strickland +admitted to Mrs. Atterson that if the strip along the east boundary +of the farm was condemned by the railroad, she ought to get a thousand +dollars for it. + +"But if the railroad board should change its mind again," added the +lawyer, "sixteen hundred dollars would not be a speculative price to pay +for your farm--and well Pepper knows it." + +"Then Mr. Damocles's sword has got to hang over us, has it?" demanded +the old lady. + +"I am afraid so," admitted the lawyer, smiling. + +Mrs. Atterson could not be more troubled than was Hiram himself. Youth +feels the sting of such arrows of fortune more keenly than does age. We +get "case-hardened" to trouble as the years bend our shoulders. + +The thought that he might, after all, get nothing but a hundred dollars +and his board for all the work he had done in preparation for the second +year's crop sometimes embittered Hiram's thoughts. + +Once, when he spoke to Pepper, and the snaky man sneered at him and +laughed, the young farmer came near attacking him then and there in the +street. + +"I certainly could have given that Pepper as good a thrashing as ever he +got," muttered Hiram. "And even Pete Dickerson never deserved one more +than Pepper." + +Pete fought shy of Hiram these days, and as the summer waned the young +farmer gradually became less watchful and expectant of trouble from the +direction of the west boundary of the Atterson Eighty. + +But there was little breathing spell for him in the work of the farm. + +"When we lay by the corn, you bet dad an' me goes fishing!" Henry +Pollock told Hiram, one day. + +But it wasn't often that the young farmer could take half a day off for +any such pleasure. + +"You've bit off more'n you kin chaw," observed Henry. + +"That's all right; I'll keep chewing at it, just the same," returned +Hiram cheerfully. + +For the truck crop was bringing them in a bigger sum of money than even +Hiram had expected. The season had been very favorable, indeed; Hiram's +vegetables had come along in good time, and even the barrels of sweet +corn he shipped to Crawberry brought a fair price--much better than he +could have got at the local cannery. + +When the tomato pack came on, however, he did sell many baskets of his +"seconds" to the cannery. But the selected tomatoes he continued to ship +to Crawberry, and having established a reputation with his produce man +for handsome and evenly ripened fruit, the prices received were good all +through the season. + +He saw the sum for tomatoes pass the hundred and fifty dollar mark +before frost struck the vines. Even then he was not satisfied. There was +a small cellar under the Atterson house, and when the frosty nights of +October came, Hiram dragged up the vines still bearing fruit, by the +roots, and hung them in the cellar, where the tomatoes continued to +ripen slowly nearly up to Thanksgiving. + +Other crops did almost as well in proportion. He had put in no late +potatoes; but in September he harvested the balance of his early crop +and, as they were a good keeping variety, he knew there would be enough +to keep the family supplied until the next season. + +Of other roots, including a patch of well-grown mangels for Mrs. +Atterson's handsome flock of chickens, there were plenty to carry the +family over the winter. + +As the frosts became harder Hiram dug his root pits in the high, light +soil of the garden, drew pinetags to cover them, and, gradually, as the +winter advanced, heaped the earth over the various piles of roots to +keep them through the winter. + +Meanwhile, in September, corn harvest had come on. The four acres Hiram +had planted below the stables yielded a fair crop, that part of the +land he had been able to enrich with coarse manure showing a much better +average than the remainder. + +The four acres yielded them something over one hundred and sixty baskets +of sound corn which, as corn was then selling for fifty cents per +bushel, meant that the crop was worth about forty dollars. + +As near as Hiram could figure it had cost about fifteen dollars to raise +the crop; therefore the profit to Mrs. Atterson was some twenty-five +dollars. + +Besides the profit from some of the garden crops, this was very small +indeed; as Hiram said, it did not pay well enough to plant small patches +of corn for them to fool with it much. + +"The only way to make a good profit out of corn corn a place like this," +he said to Henry, who would not be convinced, "is to have a big drove of +hogs and turn them into the field to fatten on the standing corn." + +"But that would be wasteful!" cried Henry, shocked at the suggestion. + +"Big pork producers do not find it so," returned Hiram, confidently. "Or +else one wants a drove of cattle to fatten, and cuts the corn green and +shreds it, blowing it into a silo. + +"The idea is to get the cost of the corn crop back through the price +paid by the butcher for your stock, or hogs." + +"Nobody ever did that around here," declared young Pollock. + +"And that's why nobody gets ahead very fast around here. Henry, why +don't you strike out and do something new--just to surprise 'em? + +"Stop selling a little tad of this, and a little tad of that off the +farm and stick to the good farmer's rule: 'Never sell anything off the +place that can't walk off.'" + +"I've heard that before," said Henry, sighing. + +"And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers +or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the +corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold." + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + +Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened--in September. +She was delighted, for although she had had "lessons" at the +"institution", they had not been like this regular attendance, with +other free and happy children, at a good country school. + +Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement +in her appearance was something marvelous. + +"It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun +and the way she looked when she come to me from the charity school," +declared Mother Atterson. + +"Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any +mother's heart, she'd be. + +"If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all +these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram." + +"They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness," +admitted the young farmer. + +"Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks," responded Mrs. +Atterson. "But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be sorry some day." + +"You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?" demanded Hiram. + +"No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid of +a young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have many +children of their own. + +"And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as that +lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another reason for +losing her in this great world." + +"I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson," said +Hiram, shaking his head. + +"Huh! If she don't, it's no loss to her. It's loss to them," declared +the old lady. "And I'd hate to have anybody come and take her away from +us now." + +Sister no longer wore her short hair in four "pigtails". She had learned +to dress it neatly like other girls of her age, and although it would +never be like the beautiful blue-black tresses of Lettie Bronson, Hiram +had to admit that the soft brown of Sister's hair, waving so prettily +over her forehead, made the girl's features more than a little +attractive. + +She was an entirely different person, too, from the one who had helped +Lettie and her friends ashore from the grounded motor-boat that day, so +long ago--and so Lettie herself thought when she rode into the Atterson +yard one October day on her bay horse, and Sister met her on the porch. + +"Why, you're Mrs. Atterson's girl, aren't you?" cried Lettie, leaning +from her saddle to offer her hand to Sister. "I wouldn't have known +you." + +Sister was getting plump, she had roses in her cheeks, and she wore a +neat, whole, and becoming dress. + +"You're Miss Bronson," said Sister, gravely. "I wouldn't forget you." + +Perhaps there was something in what Sister said that stung Lettie +Bronson's memory. She flushed a little; but then she smiled most +charmingly and asked for Hiram. + +"Husking corn, Miss, with Henry Pollock, down on the bottom-land." + +"Oh! way down there? Well! you tell him--Why, I'll want you to come, +too," laughed Lettie, quite at her best now. + +Nobody could fail to answer Lettie Bronson's smile with its reflection, +when she chose to exert herself in that direction. + +"Why, I just came to tell you both that on Friday we're going to have an +old-fashioned husking-bee for all the young folks of the neighborhood, +at our place. You must come yourself--er--Sister, and tell Hiram to +come, too. + +"Seven o'clock, sharp, remember--and I'll be dreadfully disappointed if +you don't come," added Lettie, turning her horse's head homeward, and +saying it with so much cordiality that her hearer's heart warmed. + +"She is pretty," mused Sister, watching the bay horse and its rider +flying along the road. "I don't blame Hiram for thinking she's the very +finest girl in these parts. + +"She is," declared Sister, emphatically, and shook herself. + +Hiram had finished husking the lowland corn that day, with Henry's help, +and it was all drawn in at night. When the last measured basket was +heaped in the crib by lantern light, the young farmer added up the +figures chalked up on the lintel of the door. + +"For goodness' sake, Hiram! it isn't as much as that, is it?" gasped +Henry, viewing the figures the young farmer wrote proudly in his +memorandum book. + +"Six acres--six hundred and eighty baskets of sound corn," crowed +"Hiram. And it's corn that is corn, as Mr. Bronson says. + +"It's not quite as hard as the upland corn, for the growing season was +not quite long enough for it; but it's better than the average in the +county----" + +"Three hundred and forty bushel of shelled corn from six acres?" cried +Henry. "I should say it was! It's worth fifty cents now right at the +crib--a hundred and seventy dollars. Hiram! that'll make dad let me go +to the agricultural college." + +"What?" cried Hiram, surprised and pleased. "Have you really got that +idea in your head?" + +"I been gnawin' on it ever since you talked so last spring," admitted +his friend, rather shyly. "I told father, and at first he pooh-poohed. + +"But I kept on pointing out to him how much more you knowed than we +did--" + +"That's nonsense, Henry," interrupted Hiram. "Only about some things. I +wouldn't want to set myself up over the farmers of this neighborhood as +knowing so much." + +"Well, you've proved it. Dad says so himself. He was taken all aback +when I showed him how you had beat him on the tomato crop. And I been +talking to him about your corn. + +"That hit father where he lived," chuckled Henry, "for father's a +corn-growing man--and always has been considered so in this county. + +"He watched the way you tilled your crop, and he believed so much +shallow cultivating was wrong, and said so. But he says you beat him +on poor ground; and when I tell him what that lowland figures up, he'll +throw up his hands. + +"And I'm going to take a course in fertilizers, farm management, and the +chemistry of soils," continued Henry. + +"Just as you say, I believe we have been planting the wrong crops on the +right land! Anyway, I'll find out. I believe we've got a good farm, but +we're not getting out of it what we should." + +"Well, Henry," admitted Hiram, slowly, "nothing's pleased me so much +since I came into this neighborhood, as to hear you say this. You get +all you can at the experiment station this winter, and I believe that +your father will soon begin to believe that there is something in 'book +farming', after all." + +If it had not been for the hair-hung sword over them, Mrs. Atterson and +Hiram would have taken great delight in the generous crops that had been +vouchsafed to them. + +"Still, we can't complain," said the old lady, "and for the first time +for more'n twenty years I'm going to be really thankful at Thanksgiving +time." + +"Oh, I believe you!" cried Sister, who heard her. "No boarders." + +"Nope," said the old lady, quietly. "You're wrong. For we're going +to have boarders on Thanksgiving Day. I've writ to Crawberry. Anybody +that's in the old house now that wants to come to eat dinner with us, +can come. I'm going to cook the best dinner I ever cooked--and make a +milkpail full of gravy." + +"I know," said the good old soul, shaking her head, "that them two old +maids I sold out to have half starved them boys. We ought to be able to +stand even Fred Crackit, and Mr. Peebles, one day in the year." + +"Well!" returned Sister, thoughtfully. "If you can stand 'em I can. I +never did think I could forgive 'em all--so mean they was to me--and the +hair-pulling and all. + +"But I guess you're right, Mis' Atterson. It's heapin' coals of fire on +their heads, like what the minister at the chapel says." + +"Good Land o' Goshen, child!" exclaimed the old lady, briskly. "Hot +coals would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their stomachs for +once." + +The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, indeed. +There was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the ear-corn in +the husks--not too much, for Lettie proposed having the floor cleared +and swept for square dancing, and later for the supper. + +She had a lot of her school friends at the husking, and at first the +neighborhood boys and girls were bashful in the company of the city +girls. + +But after they got to work husking the corn, and a few red ears had been +found (for which each girl or boy had to pay a forfeit) they became a +very hilarious company indeed. + +Now, Lettie, broadly hospitable, had invited the young folk far and +wide. Even those whom she had not personally seen, were expected to +attend. + +So it was not surprising that Pete Dickerson should come, despite the +fact that Mr. Bronson had once discharged him from his employ--and for +serious cause. + +But Pete was not a thin-skinned person. Where there was anything "doing" +he wanted to cut a figure. And his desire to be important, and be marked +by the company, began to make him objectionable before the evening was +half over. + +For instance, he thought it was funny to take a run down the long barn +floor and leap over the heads of those huskers squatting about a heap +of corn, and land with his heavy boots on the apex of the pile, thus +scattering the ears in all directions. + +He got long straws, too, and tickled the backs, of the girls' necks; or +he dumped handfuls of bran down their backs, or shook oats into their +hair--and the oats stuck. + +Mr. Bronson could not see to everything; and Pete was very sly at his +tricks. A girl would shriek in one corner, and the lout would quickly +transport himself to a distant spot. + +When the corn was swept aside, and the floor cleared for the dance, Pete +went beyond the limit, however. He had found a pail of soft-soap in the +shed and while the crowd was out of the barn, playing a "round game" +in the yard while it was being swept, Pete slunk in with the soap and a +swab, and managed to spread a good deal of the slippery stuff around on +the boards. + +A broom would not remove this soft-soap. When the hostler swept, he +only spread it. And when the dancing began many a couple measured their +length on the planks, to Pete's great delight. + +But the hired man had observed Pete sneaking about while he was removing +the last of the corn, and Hiram Strong discovered soft-soap on Pete's +clothes, and the smell of it strong upon his unwashed hands. + +"You get out of here," Mr. Bronson told the boy. "I had occasion to put +you off my land once, and don't let me have to do it a third time," +and he shoved him with no gentle hand through the door and down the +driveway. + +But Pete laid it all to Hiram. He called back over his shoulder: + + +"I'll be square with you, yet, Hi Strong! You wait!" + +But Hiram bad been threatened so often from that quarter by now, that he +was not much interested. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + +The fun went on after that with more moderation, and everybody had a +pleasant time. That is, so supposed Hiram Strong until, in going out of +the barn again to get a breath of cool air after one of the dances, he +almost stumbled over a figure hiding in a corner, and crying. + +"Why, Sister!" he cried, taking the girl by the shoulders, and turning +her about. "What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I want to go home, Hi. This isn't any place for me. Let me--me +run--run home!" she sobbed. + +"I guess not! Who's bothered you? Has that Pete Dickerson come back?" + +"No!" sobbed Sister. + +"What is it, then?" + +"They--they don't want me here. They don't like me." + +"Who don't?" demanded Hiram, sternly. + +"Those--those girls from St. Beris. I--I tried to dance, and I slipped +on some of that horrid soap and--and fell down. And they said I was +clumsy. And one said: + +"'Oh, all these country girls are like that. I don't see what Let wanted +them here for.' + +"'So't we could all show off better,' said another, laughing some more. + +"And I guess that's right enough," finished Sister. "They don't want me +here. Only to make fun of. And I wish I hadn't come." + +Hiram was smitten dumb for a moment. He had danced once with Lettie, but +the other town girls had given him no opportunity to do so. And it was +plain that Lettie's school friends preferred the few boys who had come +up from town to any of the farmers' sons who had come to the husking. + +"I guess you're right, Sister. They don't want us--much," admitted +Hiram, slowly. + +"Then let's both go home," said Sister, sadly. + +"No. That wouldn't be serving Mr. Bronson--or Lettie--right. We were +invited in good faith, I reckon, and the Bronsons haven't done anything +to offend us. + +"But you and I'll go back there and dance together. You dance with +me--or with Henry; and I'll stick to the country girls. If Lettie +Bronson's friends from boarding school think they are so much better +than us folks out here in the country, let us show them that we can have +a good time without them." + +"Oh, I'll go back with you, Hiram," cried Sister, gladly, and the young +fellow was a bit conscience-stricken as he noted her changed tone and +saw the sparkle that came into her eye. + +Had he neglected Sister because Lettie Bronson was about? Well! perhaps +he had. But he made up for it with the attention he paid to Sister +during the remainder of the evening. + +They went home early, however, and Hiram felt somewhat grave after the +corn husking. Had Lettie Bronson invited the country-bred young folk +living about her father's home, to meet her boarding school friends, +and the town boys, merely that the latter might be compared with the +farmer-folk to their disfavor? + +He could not believe that--really. Lettie Bronson might be thoughtless, +and a little proud; but she was still a princess to Hiram, and he could +not think this evil of her. + +But there were too many duties every day for the young farmer to give +much thought to such problems. Harvesting was not complete yet, and +soon flurries of snow began to drive across the fields and threaten the +approach of winter. + +Finally the wind came out of the northwest for more than a day, and +toward evening the flakes began to fall, faster and faster, thicker and +thicker. + +"It's going to be a snowy night--a real baby blizzard," declared Hiram, +stamping his feet on the porch before coming into the warm kitchen with +the milkpail. + +"Oh, dear! And I thought you'd go over to Pollock's with me to-night, +Hi," said Sister. + +"Mabel an' I are goin' to make our Christmas presents together, and +she's expecting me." + +"Shucks! 'Twon't be fit for a girl to go out if it snows," said Mother +Atterson. + +But Hiram saw that Sister was much disappointed, and he had tried to be +kinder to her since that night of the corn husking. + +"What's a little snow?" he demanded, laughing. "Bundle up good, Sister, +and I'll go over with you. I want to see Henry, anyway." + +"Crazy young'uns," observed Mother Atterson. But she made no real +objection. Whatever Hiram said was right, in the old lady's eyes. + +They tramped through the snowy fields with a lantern, and found it +half-knee deep in some drifts before they arrived at the Pollocks, short +as had been the duration of the fall. + +But they were welcomed vociferously at the neighbor's; preparations were +made for a long evening's fun; for with the snow coming down so steadily +there would be little work done out of doors the following day, so the +family need not seek their beds early. + +The Pollock children had made a good store of nuts, like the squirrels; +and there was plenty of corn to pop, and molasses for candy, or +corn-balls, and red apples to roast, and sweet cider from the casks in +the cellar. + +The older girls retired to a corner of the wide hearth with their +work-boxes, and Hiram and Henry worked out several problems regarding +the latter's eleven-week course at the agricultural college, which would +begin the following week; while the young ones played games until they +fell fast asleep in odd corners of the big kitchen. + +It was nearly midnight, indeed, when Hiram and Sister started home. And +it was still snowing, and snowing heavily. + +"We'll have to get all the plows out to-morrow morning!" Henry shouted +after them from the porch. + +And it was no easy matter to wade home through the heavy drifts. + +"I never could have done it without you, Hi," declared the girl, when +she finally floundered onto the Atterson porch, panting and laughing. + +"I'll take a look around the barns before I come in," remarked the +careful young farmer. + +This was a duty he never neglected, no matter how late he went to bed, +nor how tired he was. Half way to the barn he halted. A light was waving +wildly by the Dickerson back door. + +It was a lantern, and Hiram knew that it was being whirled around and +around somebody's head. He thought he heard, too, a shouting through the +falling snow. + +"Something's wrong over yonder," thought the young farmer. + +He hesitated but for a moment. He had never stepped upon the Dickerson +place, nor spoken to Sam Dickerson since the trouble about the turkeys. +The lantern continued to swing. Eagerly as the snow came down, it could +not blind Hiram to the waving light. + +"I've got to see about this," he muttered, and started as fast as he +could go through the drifts, across the fields. + +Soon he heard the voice shouting. It was Sam Dickerson. And he evidently +had been shouting to Hiram, seeing his lantern in the distance. + +"Help, Strong! Help!" he called. + +"What is it, man?" demanded Hiram, climbing the last pair of bars and +struggling through the drifts in the dooryard. + +"Will you take my horse and go for the doctor? I don't know where Pete +is--down to Cale Schell's, I expect." + +"What's the matter, Mr. Dickerson?" + +"Sarah's fell down the bark stairs--fell backward. Struck her head an' +ain't spoke since. Will you go, Mr. Strong?" + +"Certainly. Which horse will I take?" + +"The bay's saddled-under the shed--get any doctor--I don't care which +one. But get him here." + +"I will, Mr. Dickerson. Leave it to me," promised Hiram, and ran to the +shed at once. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. "MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD" + +Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous night. It +was impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for the drifts were in +some places to the creature's girth. + +He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and Old +Lem and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons. + +He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There were lights +and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were snowbound for the +night and were making merry with hard cider and provisions which Schell +was not loath to sell them. + +Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news of his +mother's serious hurt. + +He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It was +nearly two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was four +o'clock when the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh and behind a +pair of mules, reached the Dickerson farmhouse. + +The woman had not returned to consciousness, and Mrs. Atterson remained +through the day to do what she could. But it was many a tedious week +before Mrs. Dickerson was on her feet again, and able to move about. + +Meanwhile, more than one kindly act had Mother Atterson done for the +neighbors who had seemed so careless of her rights. Pete never appeared +when either Mrs. Atterson or Sister came to the house; but in his sour, +gloomy way, Sam Dickerson seemed to be grateful. + +Hiram kept away, as there was nothing he could do to help them. And he +saw when Pete chanced to pass him, that the youth felt no more kindly +toward him than he had before. + +"Well, let him be as ugly as he wants to be--only let him keep away from +the place and let our things alone," thought Hiram. "Goodness knows! I'm +not anxious to be counted among Pete Dickerson's particular friends." + +Thanksgiving came on apace, and every one of the old boarders of +Mother Atterson had written that he would come to the farm to spend the +holiday. Even Mr. Peebles acknowledged the invitation with thanks, but +adding that he hoped Sister would not forget he must "eschew any viands +at all greasy, and that his hot water was to be at 101, exactly." + +"The poor ninny!" ejaculated Mother Atterson. "He doesn't know what he +wants. Sister only poured it out of the teakettle, and he had to wait +for it to cool, anyway, before he could drink it." + +But it was determined to give the city folk a good time, and this +determination was accomplished. Two of Sister's turkeys, bought and +paid for in hard cash by Mother Atterson, graced the long table in the +sitting-room. + +Many of the good things with which the table was laden came from the +farm. And, without Hiram and Sister, and Old Lem Camp, Mrs. Atterson +made even Fred Crackit understand, these good things had not been +possible! + +But the Crawberry folk, as a whole, were much subdued. They had missed +Mother Atterson dreadfully; and, really, they had felt some affection +for their old landlady, after all. + +After dinner Fred Crackit, in a speech that was designed to be humorous, +presented a massive silver plated water-pitcher with "Mother Atterson" +engraved upon it. And really, the old lady broke down at that. + +"Good Land o' Goshen!" she exclaimed. "Why, you boys do think something +of the old woman, after all, don't ye? + +"I must say that I got ye out here more than anything to show ye what we +could do in the country. 'Specially how it had improved Sister. And how +Hiram Strong warn't the ninny you seemed to think he was. And that Mr. +Camp only needed a chance to be something in the world again. + +"Well, well! It wasn't a generous feeling I had toward you, mebbe; but +I'm glad you come and--I hope you all had enough gravy." + +So the occasion proved a very pleasant one indeed. And it made a happy +break in the hard work of preparing for the winter. + +The crops were all gathered ere this, and they could make up their books +for the season just passed. + +But there was wood to get in, for all along they had not had wood +enough, and to try and get wood out of the snowy forest in winter for +immediate use in the stoves was a task that Hiram did not enjoy. + +He had Henry to help him saw a goodly pile before the first snow fell; +and Mr. Camp split most of it and he and Sister piled it in the shed. + +"We've got to haul up enough logs by March--or earlier--to have a wood +sawing in earnest," announced Hiram. "We must get a gasoline engine and +saw, and call on the neighbors for help, and have a sawing-bee." + +"But what will be the use of that if we've got to leave here in +February?" demanded Mrs. Atterson, worriedly. "The last time I saw that +Pepper in town he grinned at me in a way that made me want to break my +old umbrel' over his dratted head!" + +"I don't care," said Hiram, sullenly. "I don't want to sit idle all +winter. I'll cut the logs, anyway, and draw 'em out from time to time. +If we have to leave, why, we have to, that's all." + +"And we can't tell a thing to do about next year till we know what +Pepper is going to do," groaned Mrs. Atterson. + +"That is very true. But if he doesn't exercise his option before +February tenth, we needn't worry any more. And after that will be time +enough to make our plans for next season's crops," declared Hiram, +trying to speak more cheerfully. + +But Mrs. Atterson went around with clouded brow again, and was heard to +whisper, more than once, something about "Mr. Damocles's sword." + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + +Despite Hiram Strong's warning to his employer when they started work +on the old Atterson Eighty, that she must expect no profit for this +season's, work, the Christmas-tide, when they settled their accounts for +the year, proved the young fellow to have been a bad prophet. + +"Why, Hiram, after I pay you this hundred dollars, I shall have a little +money left--I shall indeed. And all that corn in the crib--and stacks of +fodder, beside the barn loft full, and the roots, and the chickens, and +the pork, and the calf----" + +"Why, Hiram! I'm a richer woman to-day than when I came out here to the +farm, that's sure. How do you account for it?" + +Hiram had to admit that they had been favored beyond his expectations. + +"If that Pepper man would only come for'ard and say what he was going to +do!" sighed Mother Atterson. + +That was the continual complaint now. As the winter advanced all four +of the family bore the option in mind continually. There was talk of the +railroad going before the Legislature to ask for the condemnation of the +property it needed, in the spring. + +It seemed pretty well settled that the survey along the edge of the +Atterson Eighty would be the route selected. And, if that was the case, +why did Pepper not try to exercise his option? + +Mr. Strickland had said that there was no way by which the real estate +man's hand could be forced; so they had to abide Pepper's pleasure. + +"If we only knew we'd stay," said Hiram, "I'd cut a few well grown pine +trees, while I am cutting the firewood, have them dragged to the mill, +and saw the boards we shall need if we go into the celery business this +coming season." + +"What do you want boards for?" demanded Henry, who chanced to be home +over Christmas, and was at the house. + +"For bleaching. Saves time, room, and trouble. Banking celery, even with +a plow, is not alone old-fashioned, and cumbersome, but is apt to leave +the blanched celery much dirtier." + +"But you'll need an awful lot of board for six acres, Hiram!" gasped +Henry. + +"I don't know. I shall run the trenches four feet apart, and you mustn't +suppose, Henry, that I shall blanch all six acres at once. The boards +can be used over and over again." + +"I didn't think of that," admitted his friend. + +Henry was eagerly interested in his selected studies at the experiment +station and college, and Abel Pollock followed his son's work there with +growing approval, too. + +"It does beat all," he admitted to Hiram, "what that boy has learned +already about practical things. Book-farming ain't all flapdoodle, +that's sure!" + +So the year ended--quietly, peacefully, and with no little happiness +in the Atterson farmhouse, despite the cloud that overshadowed the +farm-title, and the doubts which faced them about the next season's +work. + +They sat up on New Year's eve to see the old year out and the new in, +and had a merry evening although there were only the family. When the +distant whistles blew at midnight they went out upon the back porch to +listen. + +It was a dark night, for thick clouds shrouded the stars. Only the +unbroken coverlet of snow (it had fallen that morning) aided them to see +about the empty fields. + +In the far distance was the twinkle of a single light--that in an upper +chamber of the Pollock house. Dickersons' was mantled in shadow, and +those two houses were the only ones in sight of the Atterson place. + +"And I was afraid when we came out here that I'd be dead of loneliness +in a month--with no near neighbors," admitted Mother Atterson. "But I've +been so busy that I ain't never minded it---- + +"What's that light, Hiram?" + +Her cry was echoed by Sister. Behind the bam a sudden glow was spreading +against the low-hung clouds. It was too far away for one of their +out-buildings to be afire; but Hiram set off immediately, although he +only had slippers on, for the corner of the barnyard fence. + +When he reached this point he saw that one of the fodder stacks in the +cornfield was afire. The whole top of the stack was ablaze. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Sister, who had followed him. "What can we +do?" + +"Nothing,", said Hiram. "There's no wind, and it won't spread to another +stack. But that one is past redemption, for sure!" + +Hiram hastened back to the house and put on his boots. But he did not +wade through the snow to the fodder stack that was burning so briskly. +He merely made a detour around it, at some yards distant. Nowhere did he +see the mark of a footprint. + +How the stack had been set afire was a mystery. Hiram had stacked the +fodder himself, with the help of Sister, who had pitched the bundles up +to him. The young farmer did not smoke, and he seldom carried matches +loose in his pockets. + +Therefore, the idea that he had dropped a match in the fodder and a +field mouse, burrowing for some nubbin of corn, had come across the +match, nibbled the head, and so set the blaze, was scarcely feasible. + +Yet, how else had the fire started? + +When daylight came Hiram could find no footprint near the stack--only +his own where he had circled it while it was blazing. + +It was the stack nearest to the Dickerson line. Hiram, naturally, +thought of Pete. + +Since Mrs. Dickerson's sickness, Mother Atterson had been back and forth +to help her neighbor, and whenever Sam Dickerson saw Hiram he was as +friendly as it was in the nature of the man to be. + +Hiram could not believe that Pete's father would now countenance any +of his son's meannesses; yet when the young farmer went along the line +fence, he saw fresh tracks across the Dickerson fields, and discovered +where the person had stood, on the Dickerson side of the fence opposite +the burned fodder stack. + +But these footprints were all of three hundred feet from the stack, and +there was not a mark in the snow upon Hiram's side of the fence, saving +his own footprints. + +"Maybe somebody merely ran across to look at the blaze. But it's strange +I did not see him," thought Hiram. + +He could not help being suspicious, however, and he prowled about the +stacks and the barns more than ever at night. He could not shake off the +feeling that the enemy in the dark was at work again. + +January passed, and the fatal day--the tenth of February--drew nearer +and nearer. If Pepper proposed to exercise his option he must do it on +or before that date. + +Neither Hiram nor Mrs. Atterson had seen the real estate man of late; +but they had seen Mr. Strickland, and on the final day they drove to +town to meet Pepper--if the man was going to show up--in the lawyer's +office. + +"I wouldn't trouble him, if I were you," advised the lawyer. "But if you +insist, I'll send over for him." + +"I want to know what he means by all this," declared Mrs. Atterson, +angrily. "He's kept me on tenter-hooks for ten months, and there ought +to be some punishment for the crime." + +"I am afraid he has been within his rights," said the lawyer, smiling; +but he sent his clerk for the real estate man, probably being very well +convinced of the outcome of the affair. + +In came the snaky Mr. Pepper. The moment he saw Mrs. Atterson and Hiram +he began to cackle. + +"Ye don't mean to say you come clean in here this stormy day to try and +sell that farm to me?" asked the real estate man. "No, ma'am! Not for no +sixteen hundred dollars. If you'll take twelve----" + +Mrs. Atterson could not find words to reply to him; and Hiram felt like +seizing the scoundrel by the scruff of his neck and throwing him down to +the street. But it was Mr. Strickland who interposed: + +"So you do not propose to exercise your option?" + +"No, indeed-y!" + +"How long since did you give up the idea of purchasing the Atterson +place?" asked the lawyer, curiously. + +"Pshaw! I gave up the idee 'way back there last spring," chuckled +Pepper. + +"You haven't the paper with you, have you, Mr. Pepper?" asked Mr. +Strickland, quietly. + +The real estate man looked wondrous sly and tapped the side of his nose +with a lean finger. + +"Why, I tore up that old paper long ago. It warn't no good to me," said +Pepper. "I wouldn't take the farm at that price for a gift," and he +departed with a sneering smile upon his lips. + +"And well he did destroy it," declared Mr. Strickland. "It was a +forgery--that is what it was. And if we could have once got Pepper in +court with it, he would not have turned another scaly trick for some +years to come." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. "CELERY MAD" + +The relief to the minds of Hiram Strong and Mrs. Atterson was +tremendous. + +Especially was the young farmer inspired to greater effort. He saw the +second growing season before him. And he saw, too, that now, indeed, +he had that chance to prove his efficiency which he had desired all the +time. + +The past year had cost him little for clothing or other expenses. He had +banked the hundred dollars Mrs. Atterson had paid him at Christmas. + +But he looked forward to something much bigger than the other hundred +when the next Christmas-tide should come. Twenty-five per cent of all +the profit of the Atterson Eighty during this second year was to be his +own. + +The moment "Mr. Damocles's sword", as Mother Atterson had called it, was +lifted the young farmer jumped into the work. + +He had already cut enough wood to last the family a year; now he got Mr. +Pollock, with his team of mules, to haul it up to the house, and then +sent for the power saw, asked the neighbors to help, and in less than +half a day every stick was cut to stove length. + +As he had time Hiram split this wood and Lem Camp piled it in the shed. +Hiram knocked together some extra cold-frames, too, and bought some +second-hand sash. + +And he had already dug a pit for a twelve-foot hotbed. Now, a +twelve-foot hotbed will start an enormous number of plants. + +Hiram did not plan to have quite so much small stuff in the garden this +year, however. He knew that he should have less time to work in the +garden. He proposed having more potatoes, about as many tomatoes as the +year before, but fewer roots to bunch, salads and the like. He must give +the bulk of his time to the big commercial crop that he hoped to put +into the bottom-land. + +He had little fear of the river overflowing its banks late enough in the +season to interfere with the celery crop. For the seedlings were to be +handled in the cold-frames and garden-patch until it was time to set +them in the trenches. And that would not be until July. + +He contented himself with having the logs he cut drawn to the sawmill +and the sawed planks brought down to the edge of the bottom-land, and +did not propose to put a plow into the land until late June. + +Meanwhile he started his celery seed in shallow boxes, and when the +plants were an inch and a half, or so, tall, he pricked them out, two +inches apart each way into the cold-frames. + +Sister and Mr. Camp could help in this work, and they soon filled the +cold-frames with celery plants destined to be reset in the garden plat +later. + +This "handling" of celery aids its growth and development in a most +wonderful manner. At the second transplanting, Hiram snipped back the +tops, and the roots as well, so that each plant would grow sturdily and +not be too "stalky". + +Mrs. Atterson declared they were all celery mad. "Whatever will you do +with so much of the stuff, I haven't the least idee, Hiram. Can you sell +it all? Why, it looks to me as though you had set out enough already to +glut the Crawberry market." + +"And I guess that's right," returned Hiram. "Especially if I shipped it +all at once." + +But he was aiming higher than the Crawberry market. He had been in +correspondence with firms that handled celery exclusively in some of the +big cities, and before ever he put the plow into the bottom-land he +had arranged for the marketing of every stalk he could grow on his six +acres. + +It was a truth that the family of transplanted boarding house people +worked harder this second spring than they had the first one. But they +knew how better, too, and the garden work did not seem so arduous to +Sister and Old Lem Camp. + +Mrs. Atterson had a fine flock of hens, and they had laid well after the +first of December, and the eggs had brought good prices. She planned to +increase her flock, build larger yards, and in time make a business of +poultry raising, as that would be something that she and Sister could +practically handle alone. + +Sister's turkeys had thrived so the year before that she had saved two +hens and a handsome gobbler, and determined to breed turkeys for the +fall market. + +And Sister learned a few things before she had raised "that raft +of poults," as Mother Atterson called them. Turkeys are certainly +calculated to breed patience--especially if one expects to have a flock +of young Toms and hens fit for killing at Thanksgiving-time. + +She hatched the turkeys under motherly hens belonging to Mother +Atterson, striving to breed poults that would not trail so far from the +house; but as soon as the youngsters began to feel their wings they had +their foster-mothers pretty well worn out. One flock tolled the old hen +off at least a mile from the house and Hiram had some work enticing the +poults back again. + +There was no raid made upon her turkey coops this year, however. Pete +Dickerson was not much in evidence during the spring and early summer. +Mrs. Atterson went back and forth to the neighbors; but although +whenever Hiram saw the farmer the latter put forth an effort to be +pleasant to him, the two households did not well "mix". + +Besides, during this busiest time of the year, when the crops were +getting started, there seemed to be little opportunity for social +intercourse. At least, so it seemed on the Atterson place. + +They were a busy and well contented crew, and everything seemed to be +running like clockwork, when suddenly "another dish of trouble", as +Mother Atterson called it, was served them in a most unexpected manner. + +Hiram was coming up from the barn one evening, long after dark, and had +just caught sight of Sister standing on the porch waiting for him, when +a sudden glow against the dark sky, made him turn. + +The flash of fire passed on the instant, and Sister called to him: + +"Oh, Hiram! did you see that shooting-star?" + +"You never wished on it, Sis," said the young farmer. + +"Oh, yes I did!" she returned, dancing down the steps to meet him. + +"That quick?" + +"Just that quick," she reiterated, seizing his arm and getting into step +with him. + +"And what was the wish?" demanded Hiram. + +"Why--I won't ever get it if I tell you, will I?" she queried, shyly. + +"Just as likely to as not, Sister," he said, with serious voice. "Wishes +are funny things, you know. Sometimes the very best ones never come +true." + +"And I'm afraid mine will never come true," she sighed. "Oh, dear! I +guess no amount of wishing will ever bring some things to pass." + +"Maybe that's so, Sis," he said, chuckling. "I fancy that getting out +and hustling for the thing you want is the best way to fulfill wishes." + +"Oh, but I can't do that in this case," said the girl, shaking her head, +and still speaking very seriously as they came to the porch steps. + +"Maybe I can bring it about for you," teased Hiram. + +"I guess not," she said. "I want so to be like other girls, Hiram! I'd +like to be like that pretty Lettie Bronson. I'm not jealous of her +looks and her clothes and her good times and all; no, that's not it," +proclaimed Sister, with a little break in her voice. + +"But I'd like to know who I really be. I want folks, and--and I want to +have a real name of my own!" + +"Why, bless you!" exclaimed the young fellow, "'Sister' is a nice name, +I'm sure--and we all love it here." + +"But it isn't a name. They call me Sissy Atterson at school. But it +doesn't belong to me. I--I've thought lots about choosing a name for +myself--a real fancy one, you know. There's lots of pretty, names," she +said, reflectively. + +"Cords of 'em," Hiram agreed. + +"But, you see, they wouldn't really be mine," said the girl, earnestly. +"Not even after I had chosen them. I want my very own name! I want to +know who I am and all about myself. And"--with a half strangled sob--"I +guess wishing will never bring me that, will it, Hiram?" + +Never before had the young fellow heard Sister express herself upon this +topic. He had no idea that the girl felt her unknown and practically +unnamed existence so strongly. + +"I wouldn't care, Sis," he said, patting her bent shoulders. "We love +you here just as well as we would if you had ten names! Don't forget +that. + +"And maybe it won't be all a mystery some day. Your folks may look you +up. They may come here and find you. And they'll be mighty proud of +you--you've grown so tall and good looking. Of course they will!" + +Sister listened to him and gave a little contented sigh. "And then they +might want to take me away--and I'd fight, tooth and nail, if they tried +it." + +"What?" gasped Hiram. + +"Of course I would!" said the girl. "Do you suppose I'd give up Mother +Atterson for a dozen families--or for clothes--and houses--or, or +anything?" and she ran into the house leaving the young farmer in some +amazement. + +"Ain't that the girl of it?" he muttered, at last. "Yet I bet she is in +earnest about wanting to know about her folks." + +And from that time Hiram thought more about Sister's problem himself +than he had before. Once, when he went to Crawberry, he went to the +charitable institution from which Mother Atterson had taken Sister. But +the matron had heard nothing of the lawyer who had once come to talk +over the child's affairs, and the path of inquiry seemed shut off right +there by an impassable barrier. + +However, this is ahead of our story. On this particular night Hiram +washed at the pump, and then followed Sister in to supper. + +Before they were half through Mr. Camp suddenly started from his chair +and pointed through the window. + +Flames were rising behind the barn again! + +"Another stack burning!" exclaimed Hiram, and be shot out of the door, +seizing a pail of water, hoping that he might put it out. + +But the stack was doomed. He knew it the moment he saw the extent of the +blaze. + +He kept away from it, as he had before; yet he did not expect to pick up +any trail of the incendiary near the stack. + +"Twice in the same place is too much!" declared the young farmer, +glowing with wrath. "I'm going to have this mystery explained, or know +the reason why." + +He left Mr. Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks from +the stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went along the line +fence again. + +Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But the +burning stack was even farther from the fence than the first one +had been--and there were no marks of feet in the soft earth on Mrs. +Atterson's side of the boundary. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. CLEANING UP A PROFIT + +Hiram crawled through the wires, and followed the plain foot-marks back +to the Dickerson sheds. He lost them there, of course, but he knew by +the size of the footprints that either Sam Dickerson or his oldest son +had been over to the line fence. + +"And that shooting-star!" considered Hiram. "There was something peculiar +about that. I wonder if there wasn't a shooting star, also, away back +there at New Year's when our other stack of fodder was burned?" + +He loitered about the sheds for a few moments. It appeared as though all +the Dickersons were indoors. Nobody interfered with him. + +Of a sudden Hiram began to sniff an odor that seemed strange about a +cart-shed. At least, no wise farmer would have naphtha, or gasoline, in +his outbuildings, for it would make his insurance invalid. + +But that was the smell Hiram discovered. And he was not long in finding +the cause of it. + +Back in a dark corner, upon a beam, lay a big sling-shot--one of those +that boys swing around their heads with a stone in the heel of it, and +then let go one end to shoot the missile to a distance. + +The leather loop was saturated with the gasoline, and it had been +scorched, too. The smell of burning, as well as the smell of gasoline, +was very distinct. + +Hiram took the sling-shot with him, and went up to the Dickerson house. + +He had got along so well with the Dickersons for these past months +that he honestly shrank from "starting anything" now. Yet he could not +overlook this flagrant piece of malicious mischief. Indeed, it was more +than that. Two stacks had already been burned, and it might be some of +the outbuildings--or even Mrs. Atterson's house--next time! + +Besides, Hiram felt himself responsible for his employer's property. The +old lady could not afford to lose the fodder, and Hiram was determined +that both of the burned stacks should be paid for in full. + +He looked through the window of the Dickerson kitchen. The family was +around the supper table-Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson, Pete, and the children, +little and big. It was a cheerful family group, after all. Rough and +uncouth as the farmer was, Dickerson likely had his feelings like other +people. Instead of bursting right in at the door as had been Hiram's +intention, and accusing Pete to his face, the indignant young fellow +hesitated. + +He hadn't any sympathy for Pete, not the slightest. If he gave him--or +the elder Dickerson--a chance to clear up matters by making good to Mrs. +Atterson for what she had lost, Hiram Strong decided that he was being +very lenient indeed. + +He stepped quietly onto the porch and rapped on the door. Then he backed +off and waited for some response from within. + +"Hullo, Mr. Strong!" exclaimed the farmer, coming himself to the "door. +Why! is that your stack burning?" + +"Yes, sir," said Hiram, quietly. + +"Another one!" + +"That is the second," admitted Hiram. "But I don't propose that another +shall be set afire in just the same way." + +Sam Dickerson stepped suddenly down to the young farmer's level, and +asked: + +"What do you mean by that? Do you know how it got afire?" + +Hiram held out the sling-shot in the light of his lantern. + +"A rag, saturated with gasoline, was wrapped around a pebble, then set +afire, and stone and blazing rag were shot from our line fence into the +fodderstack. + +"I found the footprints of the incendiary on New Year's morning at the +same place. And I'll wager a good deal that your son Pete's boots will +fit the footprints over there at the line now!" + +Sam Dickerson's face had turned exceedingly red, and then paled. But he +spoke very quietly. + +"What are you going to do with him, Mr. Strong?" he asked. "It will be +five years for him at least, if you take it to court--and maybe longer." + +"I don't believe, Mr. Dickerson, that you have upheld Pete in all the +mean tricks he has played on me." + +"Indeed I haven't! And since I got a look at myself--back there when the +wife was hurt----" + +Sam Dickerson's voice broke and he turned away for a moment so that his +visitor should not see his face. + +"Well!" he continued. "You've got Pete right this time--no doubt of +that. I dunno what makes him such a mean whelp. I'll lambaste him good +for this, now I tell you. But the stacks----" + +"Make him pay for them out of his own money. Mrs. Atterson ought not to +lose the stacks," said Hiram, slowly. + +"Oh, he'll do that, anyway, you can bet!" exclaimed Dickerson, with +conviction. + +"I don't believe that sending a boy like him to jail will either improve +his morals, or do anybody else any good," observed Hiram, reflectively. + +"And it'll jest about finish his mother," spoke Sam. + +"That's right, too," said the young farmer. "I tell you. I don't want +to see him--not just now. But you do what you think is best about this +matter, and make Peter pay the bill--ten dollars for the two stacks of +fodder." + +"He shall do it, Mr. Strong," declared Sam Dickerson, warmly. "And he +shall beg your pardon, too, or I'll larrup him until he can't stand. +He's too big for a lickin', but he ain't too big for me to lick!" + +And the elder Dickerson was as good as his word. An hour later yells +from the cart shed denoted that Pete was finally getting what he should +have received when he was a younger boy. + +Before noon Sam marched the youth over to Mrs. Atterson. Pete was very +puffy about the eyes, and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Nor did +he seem to care to more than sit upon the extreme edge of a chair. + +But he paid Mrs. Atterson ten dollars, and then, nudged by his father, +turned to Hiram and begged the young farmer's pardon. + +"That's all right, etc.," said Hiram, laying his hand upon the boy's +shoulder. "Just because we haven't got on well together heretofore, +needn't make any difference between us after this. + +"Come over and see me. If you have time this summer and want the work, +I'll be glad to hire you to help handle my celery crop. + +"Neighbors ought to be neighborly; and it won't do either of us any good +to hug to ourselves any injury which we fancy the other has done. We'll +be friends if you say so, Peter--though I tell you right now that if you +turn another mean trick against me, I'll take the law into my own hands +and give you worse than you've got already." + +Pete looked sheepish enough, and shook hands. He knew very well that +Hiram could do as he promised. + +But from that time on the young farmer had no further trouble with him. + +Meanwhile Hiram's crops on the Atterson Eighty grew almost as well this +second season as they had the first. There was a bad drouth this year, +and the upland corn did not do so well; yet the young farmer's corn crop +compared well with the crops in the neighborhood. + +He had put in but eight acres of corn this year; but they had plenty of +old corn in the crib when it came time to take down this second season's +crop. + +It was upon the celery that Hiram bent all his energies. He had to pay +out considerable for help, but that was no more than he expected. Celery +takes a deal of handling. + +When the long, hot, dry days came, when the uplands parched and the +earth fairly seemed to radiate the heat, the acres of tender plants +which Hiram and his helpers had just set out in the trenches began to +wilt most discouragingly. + +Henry Pollock, who did all he could to aid Hiram on the crop, shook his +head in despair. + +"It's a-layin' down on you, Hiram--it's a-layin' down on you. Another +day like this and your celery crop will be pretty small pertaters!" + +"And that would be a transformation worthy of the attention of all +the agricultural schools, Henry," returned the young farmer, grimly +laughing. + +"You got a heart--to laugh at your own loss," said Henry. + +"There isn't any loss--yet," declared Hiram. + +"But there's bound to be," said his friend, a regular "Job's comforter" +for the nonce. + +"Look here, Henry; you'd have me give up too easy. 'Never say die!' +That's the farmer's motto." + +"Jinks!" exclaimed young Pollock, "they're dying all around us just the +same--and their crops, too. We ain't going to have half a corn crop if +this spell of dry weather keeps on. And the papers don't give us a sign +of hope." + +"When there doesn't seem to be a sign of hope is when the really +up-to-date farmer begins to actually work," chuckled Hiram. + +"And just tell me what you're going to do for this field of wilted +celery?" demanded Henry. + +"Come on up to the house and I'll get Mother Atterson to give us an +early supper," quoth Hiram. "I'm going to town and I invite you to go +with me." + +Henry had got used by this time to Hiram's little mysteries. But this +seemed to him a case where man had done all that could be done for the +crop, and without Providential interposition, "the whole field would +have to go to pot", as he expressed it. + +And in his heart the young farmer knew that the outlook for a paying +crop of celery right then was very small indeed. He had done his best +in preparing the soil, in enriching it, in raising the sets and +transplanting them--up to this point he had brought his big commercial +crop, at considerable expense. If the drouth really "got" it, he would +have, at the most, but a poor and stunted crop to ship in the Fall. + +But Hiram Strong was not the fellow to throw up his hands and own +himself beaten at such a time as this. Here was an obstacle that must +be overcome. The harder the problem looked the more determined he was to +solve it. + +The two boys drove to town that evening and Hiram sought out a man who +contracted to move houses, clean cisterns and wells, and various work +of that kind. He knew this man had just the thing he needed, and after +a conference with him, Hiram loaded some bulky paraphernalia into the +light wagon--it was so dark Henry could not see what it was--and they +drove home again. + +"I'd like to know what the Jim Hickey you're about, Hiram," sniffed +Henry, in disgust. "What's all this litter back here in the wagon?" + +"You come over and give me a hand in the morning--early now, say by +sun-up--and you'll find out. I want a couple of husky chaps like you," +chuckled Hiram. "I'll get Pete Dickerson to work against me." + +"If you do, you tell Pete he'll have to work lively," said Henry, with +a grin. "I don't know what it is you want us to do, but I reckon I can +keep my end up with Pete, from hoein' 'taters to cuttin' cord-wood." + +"You can keep your end up with him, can you?" chuckled Hiram. "Well! I +bet you can't in this game I'm going to put you two fellows up against." + +"What! Pete Dickerson beat me at anything--unless it's sleeping?" +grunted Henry, with vast disgust. "I'll keep my end up with him at +anything." + +And the more assured he was of this the more Hiram was amused. "Come +on over early, Henry," said the young farmer, "and I'll show you that +there's at least one thing in which you can't keep your end up with +Pete." + +His friend was almost angry when he started off across the fields for +home; but he was mighty curious, too. That curiosity, if nothing +more, would have brought him to the Atterson house in good season the +following morning. + +Already, however, Hiram and Pete--with the light wagon--had gone down +to the riverside. Henry hurried after them and reached the celery field +just as the red face of the sun appeared. + +There had been little dew during the night and the tender transplants +had scarcely lifted their heads. Indeed, the last acre set out the day +before were flat. + +On the bank of the river, and near that suffering acre, were Hiram and +Pete Dickerson. Henry hurried to them, wondering at the thing he saw +upon the bank. + +Hiram was already laying out between the celery rows a long hosepipe. +This was attached to a good-sized force-pump, the feedpipe of which was +in the river. It was a two-man pump and was worked by an up-and-down +"brake." + +"Catch hold here, Henry," laughed Hiram. "One of you on each side now, +and pump for all you're worth. And see if I'm not right, my boy. You +can't keep your end up with Pete at this job; for if you do, the water +won't flow!" + +Henry admitted that he had, been badly sold by the joke; but he was +enthusiastic in his praise of Hiram's ingenuity, too. + +"Aw, say!" said the young farmer, "what do you suppose the Good Lord +gave us brains for? Just so as to keep our fingers out of the fire? No, +sir! With all this perfectly good and wet water running past my field, +could I have the heart to let this celery die? I guess not!" + +He had a fine spray nozzle on the pipe and the pipe itself was long +enough so that, by moving the pump occasionally, he could water every +square foot of the big piece. And the three young fellows, by changing +about, went over the field every other day in about four hours without +difficulty. + +By and by the celery plants got rooted well; they no longer drooped in +the morning; before the drouth was past the young farmer had as handsome +a field of celery as one would wish. Indeed, when he began to ship the +crop, even his earliest crates were rated A-1 by the produce men, and he +bad no difficulty in selling the entire crop at the top of the market, +right through the season. + +The garden paid a profit; the potatoes did even better than the year +before, and Hiram harvested and sold seventy-five dollars' worth while +the price for new potatoes was high. + +He shipped most of his tomatoes this year, for he could not pay +attention to the local market as he had the first season; but the tomato +crop was a good one. + +They raised to eight weeks and sold, during the year, five pair of +shoats, and Mrs. Atterson bought a grade cow with her calf by her side, +for a hundred dollars, and made ten pounds of butter a week right +through the season. + +Old Lem Camp, looking ten years younger than when he came to the farm, +muscular and brown, did all the work about the barns now, milked the +cows, and relieved Hiram of all the chores. + +Indeed, with some little help about the plowing and cultivating, Hiram +knew very well that Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem could run the farm another +year without his help. + +Of course, the old lady could not expect to put in any crop that would +pay her like the celery; for when they footed up their books, the +bottom-land had yielded, as Hiram had once prophesied to Mr. Bronson +over four hundred dollars the acre, net. + +Twenty-four hundred dollars income from six acres; and the profit was +more than fifty per cent. Indeed, Hiram's share of the profit amounted +to three hundred and seventy dollars. + +With his hundred dollar wage, and the money he had saved the previous +season, when the crops were harvested this second season, the young +farmer's bank book showed a balance of over five hundred dollars to his +credit. + +"I'm eighteen years old and over," soliloquized the young farmer. "And +I've got a capital of five hundred dollars. Can't I turn that capital +some way go as to give me a bigger--a broader--chance? + +"Thus far I've been a one-horse farmer; I want to be something better +than that. Now, there's no use in my hanging around here, waiting for +something to turn up. I must get a move on me and turn something up for +myself." + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. LOOKING AHEAD + +During this year Hiram had not seen much of Mr. Bronson, or Lettie. They +had gone back to the West over the summer vacation, and when Lettie +had returned for her last year at St. Beris, her father had not come on +until near Thanksgiving. + +Hiram had spoken with Lettie several times during the fail, and he +thought that she had vastly improved in one way, at least. + +She could not be any prettier, it seemed to him; but her manner was more +cordial, and she always asked after Sister and Mrs. Atterson, and showed +that her interest in him was not a mere surface interest. + +One day, when Hiram had been shipping some of the last of his celery, +Lettie met him on the street near the Scoville railroad station. Hiram +was in his high boots, and overalls; and Lettie was with two of her girl +friends. + +But the girl stopped him and shook hands, and told him that her father +had arrived and wanted to see him. + +"We want you to come to dinner Saturday evening, Hiram. Father insists, +and I shall be very much disappointed if you do not come." + +"Why, that's very kind of you, Miss Lettie," responded the young farmer, +slowly, trying to find some good reason for refusing the invitation. He +was determined not to be patronized. + +"Now, Hiram! This is very important. We want you to meet somebody," said +Lettie, her eyes dancing. "Somebody very particular. Now! do say you'll +come like a good boy, and not keep me teasing." + +"Well, I'll come, Miss Lettie," he finally agreed, and she gave him a +most charming smile. + +Lettie's two friends had waited for her, very much amused. + +"I declare, Let!" cried one of them--and her voice reached Hiram's ears +quite plainly. "You do have the queerest friends. Why did you stop to +speak to that yokel?" + +"Hush! he'll hear you," said Miss Bronson; yet she smiled, too. "So you +think Hiram is a yokel, do you?" + +"Hiram!" repeated her friend. "Goodness me! I should think the name was +enough. And those boots--and overalls!" + +"Well," said Lettie, still amused, "I've seen my own father in just such +a costume. And you know very well that he is a pretty good looking man, +dressed up." + +"But Let! your father's never a farmer$" gasped the other girl. + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, she's just joking us," laughed the third girl. "Of course he's a +farmer--he owns half a dozen farms. But he's the kind of a farmer who +rides around in his automobile and looks over his crops." + +"Well, and this young man may do that--in time," said Lettie. "At least, +my father believes Hi is aimed that way." + +"Nonsense!" + +"He doesn't look as though he had a cent," said the third girl. + +"He is putting away more money of his very own in the bank than any boy +we know, who works. Father says so," declared Lettie. "He says Hi has +done wonderfully well with his crops this year--and he is only raising +them on shares. + +"Let me tell you, girls, the farmer is coming into his own, these +days. That is a great saying of father's. He believes that the man +who produces the food-stuffs for the rest of the world should have a +satisfactory share of the proceeds of their sale. And that is coming, +father says. + +"Farmers don't have to half starve, and be burdened by mortgages and +ignorance, any longer. The country sections are waking up. With good +schools and good roads, and the grange, and all, many rural districts +are already ahead of the cities in the things worth while." + +"Listen to Let lecture!" sniffed one of her friends. + +"All right. You wait. Maybe you'll see that same young fellow--Hi +Strong--come through this town in his own auto before you graduate from +St. Beris." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed the other. "If I do I'll ask him for a ride," and the +discussion ended in a laugh. + +Perhaps, however, had Hiram heard all Lettie had said he would not have +been so doubtful in regard to fulfilling his promise about taking dinner +with Mr. Bronson and his daughter on Saturday evening. + +To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank from +the ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one to show him +the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how +terribly disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's +card in the sewer excavation. + +And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson +and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity +that would never be offered him again. His contract was practically +over with his present employer, and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire +greater things in the farming line. + +It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along +this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being +tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired +very strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn +how to handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a "one-horse +farmer" to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended +by Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that +opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young farmer's +mind. + +When he went to the Bronson's house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. +Bronson met him cordially, in the library. + +"Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!" exclaimed the +Westerner. + +"Done what?" queried Hiram. + +"Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever +saw. Is that right?" + +"I've succeeded in what I set out to do," said Hiram, modestly. + +"And I did not believe myself that you could do it," declared the +gentleman. "And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas," added +Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's. + +"You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a +young men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, +and finally take him back West with me. + +"I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but good +farm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one--a young man. I +ran against a promising lad before you came to the Atterson place; but I +lost track of him. + +"Had you been willing to leave Mrs. Atterson and come to me," continued +Mr. Bronson, "I believe I could have licked you into shape last season +so that you would have suited me very well," and he laughed outright. + +"But now I want you to meet my future farm-manager. He is the very +fellow I wanted before I offered the chance to you. I reckon you'll be +glad to see him----" + +While he was talking, Mr. Bronson had put his hand on Hiram's shoulder, +and urged him down the length of the room. They had come to a heavy +portiere; Hiram thought it masked a doorway. + +"Here is the fellow himself," exclaimed Bronson suddenly. + +The curtain was whisked away. Hiram heard Lettie giggling somewhere +in the folds of it. And he found himself staring straight into a long +mirror which reflected both himself and the laughing Mr. Bronson. + +"Hiram Strong!" spoke the Westerner, admonishingly, "why didn't you tell +me long ago that you were the lad who turned my horses out of the ditch +that evening back in Crawberry?" + +"Why--why----" + +"His fatal modesty," laughed Lettie, appearing and clapping her hands. + +"I guess it wasn't that," said Hiram, slowly. "What was the use? I would +have been glad of your assistance at the time; but when I found you I +had already made a contract with Mrs. Atterson, and--what was the use?" + +"Well, perhaps it would have made no difference. When I had dug up the +fact that you were the same fellow whom I had looked for at Dwight's +Emporium, it struck me that possibly the character that old scoundrel +gave you had some basis in fact. + +"So I said nothing to you after you had refused to break your contract. +That, Hiram, was a good point in your favor. And what that little girl +at your house has told Lettie about you--and the way Mrs. Atterson +speaks of you, and all--long since convinced me that you were just the +lad I wanted. + +"Now, Hiram, I believe you know a good deal about farming that I don't +know myself. And, at any rate, if you can do what you have done with a +run-down place like the Atterson Eighty, I'd like to see what you can do +with a bigger and better farm. + +"What do you say? Will you come to me--if only for a year? I'll make it +worth your while." + +And that Hiram Strong did not let this opportunity slip past him will be +shown in the next volume of this series, entitled: "Hiram in the Middle +West; Or, A Young Farmer's Upward Struggle." + +He was sorry to leave Mrs. Atterson at Christmas time; but the old lady +saw that it was to Hiram's advantage to go. + +"And good land o' Goshen, Hiram! I wouldn't stand in no boy's way--not +a boy like you, leastways. You've always been square with me, and you've +given me a new lease of life. For I never would have dared to give up +the boarding house and come to the farm if it hadn't been for you. + +"This is your home--jest as much as it is Sister's home, and Old Lem +Camp's. Don't forgit that, Hiram. + +"You'll find us all here whenever you want to come back to it. For I've +talked with Mr. Strickland and I'm going to adopt Sister, all reg'lar, +and she shall have what I leave when I die, only promising to give Mr. +Camp a shelter, if he should outlast me. + +"Sister's folks may never look her up, and she may never git that money +the institution folk think is coming to her. But she'll be well fixed +here, that's sure." + +Indeed, taking it all around, everybody of importance to the story +seemed to be "well fixed", as Mother Atterson expressed it. She herself +need never be disturbed by the vagaries of boarders, or troubled in her +mind, either waking or sleeping, about the gravy--save on Thanksgiving +Day. + +Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions and +Mrs. Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons--even Pete--had become friendly +neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his father, and they were running +the Pollock farm on much more modern lines than before. + +And Hiram himself was looking ahead to a scheme of life that suited him, +and to a chance "to make good" on a much larger scale than he had on the +Atterson Eighty where, nevertheless, he had made the soil pay. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Hiram The Young Farmer, by Burbank L. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +HIRAM THE YOUNG FARMER + +BY BURBANK L. TODD + + + + + +CONTENTS + +I THE CALL OF SPRING +II AT MRS. ATTERSONS +III A DREARY DAY +IV THE LOST CARD +V THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSONS +VI THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM +VII HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWM +VIII THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS +IX THE BARGAIN IS MADE +X THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS +XI A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE +XII SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE +XIII THE UPROOTING +XIV GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS +XV TROUBLE BREWS +XVI ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON +XVII MR. PEPPER APPEARS +XVIII A HEAVY CLOUD +XIX THE REASON WHY +XX AN ENEMY IN THE DARK +XXI THE WELCOME TEMPEST +XXII FIRST FRUITS +XXIII TOMATOES AND TROUBLE +XXIV "CORN THAT'S CORN" +XXV THE BARBECUE +XXVI SISTER'S TURKEYS +XXVII RUN TO EARTH +XXIX HARVEST +XXX ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT +XXXI "MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD" +XXXII THE CLOUD IS LIFTED +XXXIII "CELERY MAD" +XXXIV CLEANING UP A PROFIT +XXXV LOOKING AHEAD + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CALL OF SPRING + +"Well, after all, the country isn't such a bad place as some city +folk think." + +The young fellow who said this stood upon the highest point of +the Ridge Road, where the land sloped abruptly to the valley in +which lay the small municipality of Crawberry on the one hand, +while on the other open fields and patches of woodland, in a huge +green-and-brown checkerboard pattern, fell more easily to the +bank of the distant river. + +Dotted here and there about the farming country lying before +the youth as he looked westward were cottages, or the more +important-looking homesteads on the larger farms; and in the +distance a white church spire behind the trees marked the tiny +settlement of Blaine's Smithy. + +A Sabbath calm lay over the fields and woods. It was +mid-afternoon of an early February Sunday--the time of the +mid-winter thaw, that false prophet of the real springtime. + +Although not a furrow had been turned as yet in the fields, and +the snow lay deep in some fence corners and beneath the hedges, +there was, after all, a smell of fresh earth--a clean, live +smell--that Hiram Strong had missed all week down in Crawberry. + +"I'm glad I came up here," he muttered, drawing in great breaths +of the clean air. "Just to look at the open fields, without any +brick and mortar around, makes a fellow feel fine!" + +He stretched his arms above his head and, standing alone there on +the upland, felt bigger and better than he had in weeks. + +For Hiram Strong was a country boy, born and bred, and the town +stifled him. Besides, he had begun to see that his two years in +Crawberry had been wasted. + +"As a hustler after fortune in the city I am not a howling +success," mused Hiram. "Somehow, I'm cramped down yonder," and +he glanced back at the squalid brick houses below him, the smoky +roofs, and the ugly factory chimneys. + +"And I declare," he pursued, reflectively, "I don't believe +I can stand Old Dan Dwight much longer. Dan, Junior, is bad +enough--when he is around the store; but the boss would drive a +fellow to death." + +He shook his head, now turning from the pleasanter prospect of +the farming land and staring down into the town. + +"Maybe I'm not a success because I don't stick to one thing. +I've had six jobs in less'n two years. That's a bad record for a +boy, I believe. But there hasn't any of them suited me, nor have +I suited them. + +"And Dwight's Emporium beats 'em all!" finished Hiram, shaking +his head. + +He turned his back upon the town once more, as though to wipe his +failure out of his memory. Before him sloped a field of wheat +and clover. + +It had kept as green under the snow as though winter was an +unknown season. Every cloverleaf sparkled and the leaves of +wheat bristled like tiny spears. + +Spring was on the way. He could hear the call of it! + +Two years before Hiram had left the farm. He had no immediate +relatives after his father died. The latter had been a +tenant-farmer only, and when his tools and stock and the few +household chattels had been sold to pay the debts that had +accumulated during his last illness, there was very little money +left for Hiram. + +There was nobody to say him nay when he packed his bag and +started for Crawberry, which was the metropolis of his part of +the country. He had set out boldly, believing that he could get +ahead faster, and become master of his own fortune more quickly +in town than in the locality where he was born. + +He was a rugged, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall, +but sturdy and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done +a man's work before he left the farm. + +Hiram's hands were calloused, he shuffled a bit when walked, and +his shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow +handles since he had been big enough to bridle his father's old +mare. + +Yes, the work on the farm had been hard--especially for a growing +boy. Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had. + +Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has +in store for most country boys who cut loose from their old +environment, Hiram Strong felt to-day as though he must get back +to the land. + +"There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium +will never get me anywhere," he thought, turning finally away +from the open country and starting down the steep hill. + +"Why, there are college boys working on our street cars +here--waiting for some better job to turn up. What chance does a +fellow stand who's only got a country school education? + +"And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry--fun +that doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more +than enough to pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a +new suit of overalls and a pair of shoes occasionally. + +"No, sir!" concluded Hiram. "There's nothing in it. Not for a +fellow like me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm--and +I wish I was there now." + +He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner +at his boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he +had nothing to look forward to as he returned but the stuffy +parlor of Mrs. Atterson's boarding house, the cold supper in the +dining-room, which was attended in a desultory fashion by such +of the boarders as were at home, and then a long, dull evening +in his room, or bed after attending the evening service at the +church around the corner. + +Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding +house table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks +about Mrs. Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men +boarders of his class, or the grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the +dyspeptic invalid, or the inane monologue of Old Lem Camp. + +And Mrs. Atterson herself--good soul though she was--had gotten +on Hiram Strong's nerves, too. With her heat-blistered face, +near-sighted eyes peering through beclouded spectacles, and her +gown buttoned up hurriedly and with a gap here and there where +a button was missing, she was the typically frowsy, hurried, +nagged-to-death boarding house mistress. + +And as for "Sister," Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and +maid-of-all-work--- + +"Well, Sister's the limit!" smiled Hiram, as he turned into the +street, with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. "I +believe Fred Crackit has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps +Sister instead of a cat--so there'll be something to kick." + +The half-grown girl--narrow-chested, round shouldered, and +sallow--had been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity +institution. "Sister," as the boarders all called her, for +lack of any other cognomen, would have her yellow hair in four +attenuated pigtails hanging down her back, and she would shuffle +about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old shoes--- + +"By Jove! there she is now," exclaimed the startled youth. + +At the corner of the street several "slices" of the brick +block had been torn away and the lot cleared for the erection +of some business building. Running across this open space +with wild shrieks and spilling the milk from the big pitcher +she carried--milk for the boarders' tea, Hi knew--came +Mrs. Atterson's maid. + +Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present +"pigtails," bounded a boy of about her own age--a laughing, +yelling imp of a boy whom Hiram knew very well. + +"That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the +town!" he said to himself. + +The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few +people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more +or less noise. + +Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk +and told Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, +yelling to her to "Get up!" and yanking as hard as he could on +the braids. + +"Here! that's enough of that!" called Hiram, stepping quickly +toward the two. + +For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears. + +"Be off with you!" commanded Hiram. "You've plagued the girl +enough." + +"Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!" returned Dan, Junior, +grabbing at Sister's hair again. + +Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him +around. + +"You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister," he said, quietly. "No, +you don't!" he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. "You'll +stop right here." + +"Lemme be, Hi Strong!" bawled the other, when he found he could +not easily jerk away. "It'll be the worse for you if you don't." + +"Just you wait until the girl is home," returned Hiram, laughing. +It was an easy matter for him to hold the writhing Dan, Junior. + +"I'll fix you for this!" squalled the boy. "Wait till I tell my +father." + +"You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth," laughed Hi. + +"I'll fix you," repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a +vicious kick at his captor. + +Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended--under Hi's +kneecap--the latter certainly would have been "fixed." But the +country youth was too agile for him. + +He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and +then gave him a backward thrust which sent the lighter boy +spinning. + +Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path +was a puddle several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, +staggered back, tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed +full length into it. + +"Oh, oh!" he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he +scrambled out. " I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll +catch it for this!" + +"You'd better run home before you catch cold," said Hiram, who +could not help laughing at the young rascal's plight. "And let +girls alone another time." + +To himself he said: "Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much +more in bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this +escapade of his precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, +Junior, says. + +"Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for +another job in a very few days." + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +AT MRS. ATTERSON'S + +When you came into "Mother" Atterson's front hall (the young men +boarders gave her that appellation in irony) the ghosts of many +ancient boiled dinners met you with--if you were sensitive and +unused to the odors of cheap boarding houses--a certain shock. + +He was starting up the stairs, on which the ragged carpet +threatened to send less agile persons than Mrs. Atterson's +boarders headlong to the bottom at every downward trip, when the +clang of the gong in the dining-room announced the usual cold +spread which the landlady thought due to her household on the +first day of the week. + +Hiram hesitated, decided that he would skip the meal, and started +up again. But just then Fred Crackit lounged out of the parlor, +with Mr. Peebles following him. Dyspeptic as he was, Mr. Peebles +never missed a meal himself, and Crackit said: + +"Come on, Hi-Low-Jack! Aren't you coming down to the usual feast +of reason and flow of soul?" + +Crackit thought he was a natural humorist, and he had to keep +up his reputation at all times and seasons. He was rather a +dissipated-looking man of thirty years or so, given to gay +waistcoats and wonderfully knit ties. A brilliant as large as +a hazel-nut--and which, in some lights, really sparkled like a +diamond--adorned the tie he wore this evening. + +"I don't believe I want any supper," responded Hiram, pleasantly. + +"What's the matter? Got some inside information as to what +Mother Atterson has laid out for us? You're pretty thick with +the old girl, Hi." + +"That's not a nice way to speak of her, Mr. Crackit," said Hi, in +a low voice. + +The other boarders--those who were in the house-straggled into +the basement dining-room one after the other, and took their +places at the long table, each in his customary manner. + +That dining-room at Mother Atterson's never could have been a +cheerful place. It was long, and low-ceiled, and the paper on +the walls was a dingy red, so old that the figure on it had +retired into the background--been absorbed by it, so to speak. + +The two long, dusty, windows looked upon an area, and were +grilled half way up by wrought-iron screens which, too, helped to +shut out the light of day. + +The long table was covered by a red figured table cloth. The +"castors" at both ends and in the middle were the ugliest--Hiram +was sure--to be found in all the city of Crawberry. The +crockery was of the coarsest kind. The knives and forks were +antediluvian. The napkins were as coarse as huck towels. + +But Mrs. Atterson's food--considering the cost of provisions and +the charge she made for her table--was very good. Only it had +become a habit for certain of the boarders, led by the jester, +Crackit, to criticise the viands. + +Sometimes they succeeded in making Mrs. Atterson angry; and +sometimes, Hiram knew, she wept, alone in the dining-room, after +the harumscarum, thoughtless crowd had gone. + +Old Lem Camp--nobody save Hiram thought to put "Mr." before the +old gentleman's name--sidled in and sat down beside the country +boy, as usual. He was a queer, colorless sort of person--a +man who never looked into the face of another if he could help +it. He would look all around Hiram when he spoke to him--at his +shoulder, his shirtfront, his hands, even at his feet if they +were visible, but never at his face. + +And at the table he kept up a continual monologue. It was +difficult sometimes for Hiram to know when he was being +addressed, and when poor Mr. Camp was merely talking to himself. + +"Let's see--where has Sister put my napkin--Oh! here it +is--You've been for a walk, have you, young man?--No, that's not +my napkin; I didn't spill any gravy at dinner--Nice day out, +but raw--Goodness me! can't I have a knife and fork?--Where's +my knife and fork?--Sister certainly has forgotten my knife and +fork.--Oh! Here they are--Yes, a very nice day indeed for this +time of year." + +And so on. It was quite immaterial to Mr. Camp whether he got an +answer to his remarks to Hiram, or not. He went on muttering to +himself, all through the meal, sometimes commenting upon what the +others said at the table--and that quite shrewdly, Hiram noticed; +but the other boarders considered him a little cracked. + +Sister smiled sheepishly at Hiram as she passed the tea. She +drowned his tea with milk and put in no less than four spoonfuls +of sugar. But although the fluid was utterly spoiled for Hiram's +taste he drank it with fortitude, knowing that the girl's +generosity was the child of her gratitude; for both sugar and +milk were articles very scantily supplied at Mother Atterson's +table. + +The mistress herself did not appear. Now that he was down here +in the dining-room, Hiram lingered. He hated the thought of +going up to his lonely and narrow quarters at the top of the +house. + +The other boarders trailed out of the room and up stairs, one +after another, Old Lem Camp being the last to go. Sister brought +in a dish of hot toast between two plates and set it at the upper +end of the table. Then Mrs. Atterson appeared. + +Hiram knew at once that something had gone wrong with the +boarding house mistress. She had been crying, and when a woman +of the age of Mrs. Atterson indulges in tears, her personal +appearance is never improved. + +"Oh, that you, Hi?" she drawled, with a snuffle. "Did you get +enough to eat?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Atterson," returned the youth, starting to get up. "I +have had plenty." + +"I'm glad you did," said the lady. "And you're easy 'side of +most of 'em, Hiram. You're a real good boy." + +"I reckon I get all I pay for, Mrs. Atterson," said her youngest +boarder. + +"Well, there ain't many of 'em would say that. And they was +awful provokin' this noon. That roast of veal was just as +good meat as I could find in market; and I don't know what any +sensible party would want better than that prune pie. + +"Well! I hope I won't have to keep a boarding house all my life. +It's a thankless task. An' it ties a body down so. + +"Here's my uncle--my poor mother's only brother and about the +only relative I've got in the world--here's Uncle Jeptha down +with the grip, or suthin', and goodness knows if he'll ever get +over it. And I can't leave to go and see him die peaceable." + +"Does he live far from here?" asked Hiram, politely, although he +had no particular reason for being interested in Uncle Jeptha. + +"He lives on a farm out Scoville way. He's lived there most all +his life. He used to make a right good living off'n that farm, +too; but it's run down some now. + +"The last time I was out there, two years ago, he was just +keepin' along and that's all. And now I expect he's dying, +without a chick or child of his own by him," and she burst out +crying again, the tears sprinkling the square of toast into which +she continued to bite. + +Of course, it was ridiculous. A middle-aged woman weeping and +eating toast and drinking strong boiled tea is not a romantic +picture. But as Hiram climbed to his room he wished with all his +heart that he could help Mrs. Atterson. + +He wasn't the only person in the world who seemed to have got +into a wrong environment--lots of people didn't fit right into +their circumstances in life. + +"We're square pegs in round holes--that's what we are," mused +Hiram. "That's what I am. I wish I was out of it. I wish I was +back on the farm." + + + +CHAPTER III + +A DREARY DAY + +Daniel Dwight's Emporium, the general store was called, and it +was in a very populous part of the town of Crawberry. Old Daniel +was a driver, he seldom had clerks enough to handle his trade +properly, and nobody could suit him. As general helper and +junior clerk, Hiram Strong had remained with the concern longer +than any other boy Daniel had hired in years. + +When the early Monday morning rush was over, and there was +moment's breathing space, Hiram went to the door to re-arrange +the trays of vegetables which were his particular care. Hiram +had a knack of making a bank of the most plebeian vegetable and +salads look like the display-window of a florist. + +Now the youth looked out upon a typical city street, the +dwellings on either side being four and five story tenement +houses, occupied by artisans and mechanics. + +A few quarreling children paddled sticks, or sailed chip boats, +in the gutters. + +"Come on, now! Get a move on you, Hi!" sounded the raucous voice +of Daniel Dwight the elder, behind him in the store. + +Hiram went at his task with neither interest nor energy. + +All about him the houses and the street were grimy and +depressing. It had been a gray and murky morning; but overhead +a patch of sky was as blue as June. He suddenly saw a flock of +pigeons wheeling above the tunnel of the street, and the boy's +heart leaped at the sight. + +He longed for freedom. He wished he could fly, up, up, up above +the housetops and the streets, like those feathered fowl. + +He knew he was stagnating here in this dingy store; the deadly +sameness of his life chafed him sorely. + +"I'd take another job if I could find one," he muttered, stirring +up the bunches of yellowing radish leaves and trying to make them +look fresh. "And Old Daniel is likely to give me a chance to +hunt a job pretty sudden--the way he talks. But if Dan, Junior, +told him what happened yesterday, I wonder the old gentleman +hasn't been after me with a sharp stick." + +From somewhere--out of the far-distant open country where it +had been breathing all night the quivering pines, and brown +swamps, and the white and gray checkered fields that would soon +be upturned by the plowshares--a vagrant wind wandered into the +city street. + +The lingering, but faint perfume wafted here from God's open +world to die in this man-made town inspired in the youth thoughts +and desires that had been struggling within him for expression +for days past. + +"I know what I want," said Hiram Strong, aloud. "I want to get +back to the land!" + +The progress of the day was not inducive to a hopeful outlook +for Hiram. When closing time came he was heartily sick of the +business of storekeeping, if he never had been before. + +And when he dragged himself home to the boarding house, he +found the atmosphere there as dreary as the street itself. The +boarders were grumpy and Mrs. Atterson was in a tearful state +again. + +Hiram could not stay in his room. It was a narrow, cold place at +the end of the back hall at the top of the house. There was a +little, painted bureau in it, one leg of which had been replaced +by a brick, and the little glass was so blue and blurred that he +never could see in it whether his tie was straight or not. + +There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed. +When the bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he +could not get the door open. Had there ever been a fire at +Atterson's at night, Hiram's best chance for escape would have +been by the window. + +So this evening, to kill the miserable stretch of time until +sleep should come to him, the boy went out and walked the +streets. + +Two things had saved Hiram Strong from getting into bad company +on these evening rambles. One was the small amount of money he +earned, and the other was the naturally clean nature of the boy. +The cheap amusements which lured on either hand did not attract +him. + +But the dangers are there in every city, and they lurk for every +boy in a like position. + +The main thoroughfare in this part of the town where Hiram +boarded was brightly lighted, gaudy electric signs attracting +notice to cheap picture shows, catch-penny arcades, cheap jewelry +stores, and the ever present saloons and pool rooms. + +It looked bright, and warm, and lively in many of these places; +but the country-bred boy was cautious. + +Now and then a raucous-voiced automobile shot along the street; +the electric cars made their usual clangor, and there was still +some ordinary traffic of the day dribbling away into the side +streets, for it was early in the evening. + +Hiram was about to turn into one of these side streets on his way +back to Mrs. Atterson's. Turning the corner was a handsome span +of horses attached to a comfortable but mud-bespattered carriage. +It was plainly from the country. + +The light at the corner of the street shone brightly into the +carriage. Hiram saw a well-built man in a gray greatcoat and +slouch hat, holding the reins over the backs of the spirited +horses. + +Beside him sat a girl. She could have been no more than twelve +or fourteen--not so old as Sister, by a year or two. But how +different she was from the starved-looking, boarding house +slavey! + +She was framed in furs--rich, gray and black furs that muffled +her from top to toe, only leaving her brilliant, dark little face +with its perfect features shining like a jewel in its setting. + +She was talking laughingly to the big man beside her, and he was +looking down at her. Perhaps this was why he did not see what +lay just ahead--or perhaps the glare of the street light blinded +him, as it must have the horses, as the equipage turned into the +darker side street. + +But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry +of warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by +the bridle and pull both the high-steppers around. + +There was an excavation--an opening for a water-main--in this +street. The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, +or malicious boys had stolen it. + +Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation +and even now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over +the edge of the hole, and for the minute it was doubtful whether +Hiram had saved the occupants of the carriage by his quick +action, or had accelerated the catastrophe. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LOST CARD + +Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and +sturdy withal, the excited horses would have broken away from him +and the carriage would certainly have gone into the ditch. + +But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be +broken, although the horses plunged and struck fire from the +stones of the street with their shoes. He dragged them forward, +the carriage pitched and rolled for a moment, and then stood +upright again, squarely on its four wheels. + +"All right, lad! I've got 'em!" exclaimed the gentleman in the +carriage. + +He had a hearty, husky sort of voice--a voice that came from deep +down in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there +was no quiver of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in +peril was much less disturbed by the incident than was Hiram +himself. + +Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now +Hiram heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses: + +"That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again." + +The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened +team with one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big +coat with the other. + +"He certainly has got some muscle, that lad," announced the +"gentleman. Here, son, where can I find you when I'm in town +"again?" + +"I work at Dwight's Emporium," replied Hiram, rather diffidently. + +"All right. Thanks. Here's my card. You're the kind of a boy +I like. I'll surely look you up." + +He held out the bit of pasteboard to Hiram; but as the youth +stepped nearer to reach it, the impatient horses sprang forward +and the carriage rolled swiftly by him. + +The card flipped from the man's fingers. Hiram grabbed for it, +but missed the card. It fluttered into the excavation in the +street and the shadow hid it completely from the boy's gaze. + +Had there been a lantern nearby, as there should have been, Hiram +would have taken it to search for the lost card. For he felt +suddenly as though Opportunity had brushed past him. + +The man in the carriage evidently lived out of town. He might be +a prosperous farmer. And, being a farmer, he might be able to +give Hiram just the sort of job he was looking for. + +The card, of course, would have put Hiram in touch with the man. +And he seemed like a hearty, good-natured individual. + +"And the girl--his daughter--was as pretty as a picture," thought +Hiram, as he turned wearily toward the boarding house. "Well! +I don't know that I'll ever see either of them again; but if I +could learn that man's name and address I'd certainly look him +up." + +So much did this thought disturb him that he was up an hour +earlier than usual the next morning and hurried to work by the +way of the excavation in the street where the incident had +occurred. + +But he could not find the card, although he got down into the +ditch to search for it. The loose sand, perhaps, rattling down +from the sides of the excavation during the night, had buried the +bit of pasteboard, and Hiram went on to Dwight's Emporium more +disheartened than ever. + +The work there went worse that morning. Old Daniel Dwight drove +the young fellow from one task to another. The other clerks got +a minute's time to themselves now and then; but the proprietor of +the store seemed to have his keen eyes on Hiram continually. + +There was always a slow-up in the work about ten o'clock, and +Hiram had a request to make. He asked Old Daniel for an hour +off. + +"An hour off--with all this work to do? What do you mean, boy?" +roared the proprietor. "What do you want an hour for?" + +"I've got an errand," replied Hiram, quietly. + +"Well, what is it?" snarled the old man, curiously. + +"Why--it's a private matter. I can't tell you," returned the +youth, coolly. + +"No good, I'll be bound--no good. I don't see why I should let +you off an hour---" + +"I work many an hour overtime for you, Mr. Dwight," put in Hiram. + +"Yes, yes; that's all right. That's the agreement. You knew +you'd have to when you came to work at the Emporium. Stick to +your contract, boy." + +"Then why don't you stick to yours?" demanded the youth, boldly. + +"Eh! Eh! What do you mean by that?" cried Mr. Dwight, glaring +at Hiram through his spectacles. + +"I mean that when I came to work for you seven months ago, you +promised that, if I suited after six months, you would raise my +wages. And you haven't done so," said the young fellow, firmly. + +For a moment the proprietor of the Emporium was dumb. It was +true. He had promised just that. He had got the boy cheaper by +so doing. But never before had he hired a boy who stayed as long +as six months, so he had never had to raise his wages. + +"Well, well!" + +He stammered for a moment; then a shrewd thought came to his +mind. He actually smiled. When Mr. Dwight smiled it was worse +than when he didn't. + +"I told you that if you suited me I'd raise your pay, did I?" he +snarled. "Well, you don't suit me. You never have suited me. +Therefore, you get no raise, young man." + +Hiram was not astonished; he was only indignant. Another boy +might have expressed his anger by flaring up and tendering his +resignation on the spot. + +But Hiram had that fear of debt in his breast which is almost +always a characteristic of the frugal, country-bred person. He +had saved little. He had no prospect of another job. And every +Saturday night he was expected to pay Mrs. Atterson three dollars +and a half. + +"At any rate, Mr. Dwight," he said, quietly, after a minute's +silence, "I want an hour to myself this morning." + +"And I'll dock ye ten cents for it," declared the old man. + +"You can do as you like about that," returned Hiram, and he +walked into the back room, took off his apron, and got into his +coat. + +He had it in mind to go to the big market, where the farmers +drove in from out of town, and see if he could meet one of his +old neighbors, or anybody else who could tell him of prospect +of work for the coming season. It was early yet for farmers to +be looking for extra hands; but Hiram hoped that he might see +something in prospect for the future. He had made up his mind +that, if possible, he would not take another job in town. + +"And I can see pretty plainly that I've got about through at the +Emporium," he thought, as he approached the open space devoted by +the City of Crawberry to a market for the truckmen and farmers +who drove in with their wares from the surrounding country. + +At this time of day the bustle of market was over. The farmers +would have had their breakfasts in the little restaurants which +encircled the market-place, or would be preparing to drive home +again. The hucksters and push-cart merchants were picking up +"seconds" and lot-ends of vegetables for their trade. The +cobbles of the market-place was a litter of cabbage leaves, +spilled sprouts, spoiled potatoes, and other refuse. + +Hiram walked about, looking for somebody whom he knew; but most +of the faces around the market were strange to him. Several +farmers he spoke to about work; but they were not hiring hands, +so, when his hour was up, he went back to the Emporium, more +despondent than before. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE COMMOTION AT MOTHER ATTERSON'S + +By chance that evening Hiram got home to his boarding house in +good season. The early boarders--"early birds" Crackit always +termed them--had not yet sat down to the long table in the dingy +dining-room. + +Indeed, the supper gong had not been pounded by Sister, and some +of the young men were grouped impatiently in the half-lighted +parlor. + +Through the swinging door into the steaming kitchen Hiram saw +a huge black woman waddling about the range, and heard her +husky voice berating Sister for not moving faster. Chloe only +appeared when a catastrophe happened at the boarding-house--and +a catastrophe meant the removal of Mrs. Atterson from her usual +orbit. + +"She's gone to the funeral. That Uncle Jeptha of hern is dead," +whispered Sister in Hiram's ear when she put his soup in front of +him. + +"Ah-ha!" observed Mr. Crackit, eyeing Hiram with his head on one +"side, secrets, eh? Inside information of what's in the pudding +"sauce?" + +Nothing went right at the boarding-house during the next two +days. And for Hiram Strong nothing seemed to go right anywhere! + +He demanded--and got the permission, with another ten-cent +tax--another hour off to visit the market. But he found nobody +who would hire a boy at once. Some of the farmers doubted if +he knew as much about farm-work as he claimed to know. He was, +after all, a boy, and some of them would not believe that he had +even worked in the country. + +Affairs at the Emporium were getting strained, too. Daniel +Dwight was as shrewd a man as the next one. He saw plainly that +his junior clerk was getting ready--like the many who had gone +before him--for a flitting. + +He knew the signs of discontent, although Hiram prided himself on +doing his work just as well as ever. + +Then, there was a squabble with Dan, Junior. The imp was always +underfoot on Saturdays. He was supposed to help--to run errands, +and take out in a basket certain orders to nearby customers who +might be in a hurry. + +But usually when you wanted the boy he was in the alley pitching +buttons with loafing urchins of his own kind--"alley rats" his +father angrily called them--or leading a predatory gang of +the same unsavory companions in raids on other stores in the +neighborhood. + +And Dan, Junior "had it in" for Hiram. He had not forgiven the +bigger boy for pitching him into the puddle. + +"An' them was my best clo'es, and now maw says I've got to wear +'em just the same on Sunday, and they're shrunk and stained," +snarled the younger Dan, hovering about Hiram as the latter +re-dressed the fruit stand during a moment's let-up in the +Saturday morning rush. "Gimme an orange." + +"What! At five cents apiece?" exclaimed Hiram. "Guess not. Go +look in the basket under the bench; maybe there's a specked one +there." + +"Nope. Dad took 'em all home last night and maw cut out the +specks and sliced 'em for supper. Gimme a good orange." + +"Ask your father," said Hiram. + +"Naw, I won't!" declared young Dwight, knowing very well what his +father's answer would be. + +He suddenly made a grab for the golden globe on the apex of +Hiram's handsomest pyramid. + +"Let that alone, Dan!" cried Hiram, and seized the youngster by +the wrist. + +Dan, Junior, was a wiry little scamp, and he twisted and turned, +and kicked and squalled, and Hiram was just wrenching the orange +from his hand when Mr. Dwight came to the door. + +"What's this? What's this?" he demanded. "Fighting, are ye? +Why don't you tackle a fellow of your own size, Hi Strong?" + +At that Dan, Junior, saw his chance and broke into woeful sobs. +He was a good actor. + +"I've a mind to turn you over to a policeman, Hiram," cried +"Mr. Dwight, That's what I've a mind to do." + +"I suppose you'll discharge me first, won't you?" suggested +Hiram, scornfully. + +"You can come in and git your money right now, young man," said +the proprietor of the Emporium. "Dan! let them oranges alone. +And don't you go away from here. I'll want you all day to-day. +I shall be short-handed with this young scalawag leaving me in +the lurch like this." + +It had come so suddenly that Hiram almost lost his breath. He +had part of his wish, that was sure. He was not likely to work +for Daniel Dwight any longer. + +The old man led the way back to his office. He had a little pile +of money already counted out upon the desk. It was plain that +he had intended quarreling with Hiram and getting rid of him at +this time, for he had the young fellow's wages figured up to t +hat very hour--and twenty cents deducted for the two hours Hiram +had had "off." + +"But that isn't fair. I'm willing to work to the end of the day. +I ought to get my wages in full for the week, save for the twenty +cents," said Hiram mildly. + +To tell the truth, now that he had lost his job--unpleasant as it +had been--Hiram was more than a little troubled. He was indeed +about to be cast adrift. + +"You'll git jest that sum, and not a cent more," declared +Mr. Dwight, sharply. "And if you start any trouble here I'll +call in the officer on the beat--yes, I will! I don't know but I +ought to deduct the cost of Dan, Junior's, spoiled suit, too. He +says you an' he was skylarkin' on Sunday and that's how he fell +into the water." + +Hiram had no answer to make to this. What was the use? He took +the money, slipped it into his pocket, and went out. + +He did not linger around the Emporium. Nor was he scarcely out +of sight when a man driving a span of handsome bay horses halted +his team before the store, jumped out, and went in. + +"Are you the proprietor of Dwight's Emporium ?" asked the man in +the gray coat and hat, in his hearty tones. "You are? Glad to +meet you! I'm looking for a young man who works for you." + +"Who's that? What do you want of him?" asked Dan, Senior, +doubtfully, and rubbing his hand, for the stranger's grip had +been as hearty as his voice. + +The other laughed in his jovial way. "Why, to tell the truth, I +don't know his name. I didn't ask him. He's not much more than +a boy--a sturdy youngster with a quick way with him. He did me a +service the other evening and I wanted to see him." + +"There ain't any boy working here," snapped Mr. Dwight. "Them's +all the clerks I got behind the counter--and there ain't one of +'em under thirty, I'll be bound." + +"That's so," admitted the stranger. "And although it was so dark +I could not see that fellow's face, and I didn't ask his name, I +am sure he was young." + +"I jest discharged the only boy I had--and scamp enough he was," +snarled Mr. Dwight. "If you were looking for him, you'd have +been sorry to find him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a +policeman to git him off the premises." + +"What--what?" + +"That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy +you want--but you won't get no good of him when you find him. +And I've no idea where he's to be found now," and the old man +turned his back on the man in the gray coat and went into his +office. + +The stranger climbed back into his buggy and took up the lines +again with a preoccupied headshake. + +"Now, I promised Lettie," he muttered, "that I'd find out all +about that boy--and maybe bring him home with me. Funny that man +gave his such a bad character. Wish I could have seen the lad's +face the other night--that would have told the story. + +"Well," and he dismissed the matter with a sigh, for he was busy +man, "if he's got my card, and he is out of a job, perhaps he'll +look me up. Then we'll see." + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THIS DIDN'T GET BY HIRAM + +"I've sure got plenty of time now to look for a job," observed +Hiram Strong when he was two blocks away from Dwight's Emporium. +"But I declare I don't know where to begin." + +For his experience in talking with the farmers around the market +had rather dashed Hiram's hope of getting a place in the country +at once. It was too early in the season. Nor did it look so +much like Spring as it had a week ago. Already Hiram had to turn +up the collar of his rough coat, and a few flakes of snow were +settling on his shoulders as he walked. + +"It's winter yet," he mused. "If I can't get something to do in +the city for a few weeks to tide me over, I'm afraid I shall have +to find a cheaper place to board than at Mother Atterson's." + +After half an hour of strolling from street to street, however, +Hiram decided that there was nothing in that game. He must break +in somewhere, so he turned into the very next warehouse. + +"Want a job? I'll be looking for one myself pretty soon, if +business isn't better," was the answer he got from the first man +he approached. + +But Hiram kept at it, and got short answers and long answers, +pleasant ones and some that were not so pleasant; but all could +be summed up in the single monosyllable: + +"No!" + +"I certainly am a failure here in town," Hiram thought, as he +walked through the snow-blown streets. "How foolish I was ever +to have come away from the country. + +"A fellow ought to stick to the job he is fitted for--and that's +sure. But I didn't know. I thought there would be forty chances +in town to one in the country. + +"And there doesn't seem to be a single chance right now. Why, +I'll have to leave Mrs. Atterson's, if I can't find a job before +next week is out! + +"This mean old town is over-crowded with fellows like me looking +for work. And when it comes to office positions, I haven't a +high-school diploma, nor am I fitted for that kind of a job. + +"I want to be out of doors. Working in a stuffy office wouldn't +suit me. Oh, as a worker in the city I am a rank failure, and +that's all there is about it!" + +He went home to supper much more tired than he would have been +had he done a full day's work at Dwight's Emporium. Indeed, the +job he had lost now loomed up in his troubled mind as much more +important than it had seemed when he had desired to change it for +another. + +Mother Atterson was at home. She hadn't more than taken off her +bonnet, however, and had had but a single clash with Chloe in the +kitchen. + +"I smelled it burnin' the minute I set my foot on the front +step!" she declared. "You can't fool my nose when it comes to +smelling burned stuff. + +"Well, Hiram," she continued, too full of news to remark that he +was at home long before his time, "I saw the poor old soul laid +away, at least. I wish now I'd got Chloe in before, and gone to +see Uncle Jeptha before he was in his coffin. + +"But I didn't think I could afford it, and that's a fact. We +poor folks can't have many pleasures in this world of toil and +trouble!" added the boarding house mistress, to whom even the +break of a funeral, or a death-bed visit, was in the nature of a +solemn amusement. + +"And there the old man went and made his will years ago, +unbeknownst to anybody, and me bein' his only blood relation, as +you might say, though it was years since I seen him much, but he +remembered my mother with love," and she began to wipe her eyes. + +"Poor old man! And me with a white-faced cow that I'm afraid of +my life of, and an old horse that looks like a moth-eaten hide +trunk we to have in our garret at home when I was a little girl, +and belonged to my great-great-grandmother Atterson--- + +"And there's a mess of chickens that eat all day long and don't +lay an egg as far as I could see, besides a sow and a litter of +six pigs that squeal worse than the the switch-engine down yonder +in the freight yard--- + +"And they're all to be fed, and how I'm to do it, and feed +the boarders, too, I don't for the life of me see!" finished +Mrs. Atterson, completely out of breath. + +"What do you mean?" cried Hiram, suddenly waking to the +significance of the old lady's chatter. "Do you mean he willed +you these things?" + +"Of course," she returned, smoothing down her best black skirt. +"They go with the house and outbuildings--`all the chattels and +appurtenances thereto', the will read." + +"Why, Mrs. Atterson!" gasped Hiram. "He must have left you the +farm." + +"That's what I said," returned the old lady, complacently. "And +what I'm to do with it I've no more idea than the man in the +moon." + +"A farm!" repeated Hiram, his face flushing and his eyes +beginning to shine. + +Now, Hiram Strong was not a particularly handsome youth, but in +his excitement he almost looked so. + +"Eighty acres, so many rods, and so many perches," pursued +Mrs. Atterson, nodding. "That's the way it reads. The perches +is in the henhouse, I s'pose--though why the description included +them and not the hens' nests I dunno." + +"Eighty acres of land!" repeated Hiram in a daze. + +"All free and clear. Not a dollar against it--only encumbrances +is the chickens, the cow, the horse and the pigs," declared +Mrs. Atterson. "If it wasn't for them it might not be so bad. +Scoville's an awfully nice place, and the farm's on an automobile +road. A body needn't go blind looking for somebody to go by the +door occasionally. + +"And if it got so bad here finally that I couldn't make a livin' +keeping boarders," pursued the lady, "I might go out there and +live in the old house--which isn't much, I know, but it's a +shelter, and my tastes are simple, goodness knows." + +"But a farm, Mrs. Atterson!" broke in Hiram. "Think what you can +do with it!" + +"That's what I'd like to have, you, or somebody else tell me," +exclaimed the old lady, tartly. "I ain't got no more use for a +farm than a cat has for two tails!" + +"But--but isn't it a good farm?" queried Hiram, puzzled. + +"How do I know?" snapped the boarding house mistress. "I +wouldn't know one farm from another, exceptin' two can't be in +exactly the same spot. Oh! do you mean, could I sell it?" + +"No---" + +"The lawyer advised me not to sell just now. He said something +about the state of the real estate market in that section. +Prices would be better in a year or two. And then, the old place +is mighty run down." + +"That's what I mean," Hiram hastened to say. "Has it been +cropped to death? Is the soil worn out? Can't you run it and +make something out of it?" + +"For pity's sake!" ejaculated the good lady, "how should I know? +And I couldn't run it--I shouldn't know how. + +"I've got a neighbor-woman in the house just now to 'tend to +things--and that's costin' me a dollar and a half a week. And +there'll be taxes to pay, and--and-- Well, I just guess I'll have +to try and sell it now and take what I can get. + +"Though that lawyer says that if the place was fixed up a little +and crops put in it would make a thousand dollars' difference in +the selling price. That is, after a year or two. + +"But bless us and save us" cried Mrs. Atterson, "I'd be swamped +with expenses before that time." + +"Mebbe not," said Hiram Strong, trying to repress his eagerness. +"Why not try it?" + +"Try to run that farm?" cried she. "Why, I'd jest as lief go up +in one o' those aeroplanes and try to run it. I wouldn't be no +more up in the air then than I would be on a farm," she added, +grimly. + +"Get somebody to run it for you--do the outside work, I mean, +Mrs. Atterson," said Hiram. "You could keep house out there +just as well as you do here. And it would be easy for you to +learn to milk---" + +"That whitefaced cow? My goodness! I'd just as quick learn to +milk a switch-engine!" + +"But it's only her head that looks so wicked to you," laughed +Hiram. "And you don't milk that end." + +"Well--mebbe," admitted Mrs. Atterson, doubtfully. "I reckon I +could make butter again--I used to do that when I was a girl at +my aunt's. And either I'd make those hens lay or I'd have their +dratted heads off! + +"And my goodness me! To get rid of the boarders--Oh, stop your +talkin', Hi Strong! That is too good to ever be true. Don't +talk to me no more." + +"But I want to talk to you, Mrs. Atterson," persisted the youth, +eagerly. + +"Well, who'd I get to do the outside work--put in crops, and +'tend 'em, and look out for that old horse?" + +Hiram almost choked. This opportunity should not get past him if +he could help it! + +"Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what +I can do," he cried. "Let me run the farm for you!" + +"Why--why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?" +demanded his landlady, in wonder. + +"Other farms pay; why not this one?" rejoined Hiram, +sententiously. "Of course," he added, his native caution coming +to the surface, "I'd want to see the place--to look it over +pretty well, in fact--before I made any agreement. And I can +assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no chance of both you and me +making something out of it I should tell you so." + +"But--but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going +out there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday." + +"I'll take the early train Monday morning," said the youth, +promptly. + +"But what will they say at the store? Mr. Dwight---" + +"He turned me off to-day," said Hiram, steadily. "So I won't +lose anything by going out there. + +"I tell you what I'll do," he added briskly. "I won't have any +too much money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be +out there at Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, +it's probable. + +"So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I +should pay you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own +expenses out there at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all +well and good." + +Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on +to survey the boy's earnest face. + +"Do you mean to say you can run a farm, Hi Strong?" she asked. + +"I do," and he smiled confidently at her. + +"And make it pay?" + +"Perhaps not much profit the first season; but if the farm is +fertile, and the marketing conditions are right, I know I can +make it pay us both in two years." + +"I've got a little money saved up. I could sell the house in a +week, for it's always full and there are always lone women like +me with a little driblet of money to exchange for a boarding +house--heaven help us for the fools we are!" Mrs. Atterson +exclaimed. + +"And I expect you could raise vegetables enough to part keep us, +Hi, even if the farm wasn't a great success?" + +"And eggs, and chickens, and the pigs, and milk from the cow," +suggested Hiram. + +"Well! I declare, that's so," admitted Mrs. Atterson. "I'd been +lookin' on all them things as an expense. They could be made an +asset, eh?" + +"I should hope so," responded Hiram, smiling. + +"And I could get rid of these boarders-- My soul and body!" +gasped the tired woman, suddenly. "Do you suppose it's true, +Hi? Get rid of worryin' about paying the bills, and whether the +boarders are all going to keep their jobs and be able to pay +regularly-- And the gravy! + +"Hiram Strong! If you can show me a way out of this valley of +tribulation I'll be the thankfullest woman that you ever seen. +It's a bargain. Don't you pay me a cent for this coming week. +And I shouldn't have taken it, anyway, when you're throwed out of +work so. That's a mighty mean man, that Daniel Dwight. + +"You go right ahead and look that farm over. If it looks good, +you come back and we'll strike a bargain, I know. And--and-- +Just to think of getting rid of this house and these boarders!" +and Mrs. Atterson finished by wiping her eyes again vigorously. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HOW HIRAM LEFT TOWN + +Hiram Strong was up betimes on Monday morning--Sister saw to +that. She rapped on his door at four-thirty. + +Sometimes Hiram wondered when the girl ever slept. She was +still dragging about the kitchen or dining-room when he went to +bed, and she was first down in the morning--even earlier than +Mrs. Atterson herself. + +The boarding house mistress was not intentionally severe with +Sister; but the much harassed lady had never learned to make +her own work easy, so how should she be expected to be easy on +Sister? + +Once or twice Hiram had talked with the orphan. Sister had +a dreadful fear of returning to the "institution" from which +Mrs. Atterson had taken her. And Sister's other fearful +remembrance was of an old woman who beat her and drank much gin +and water. + +Not that she had been ill-treated at the institution; but she had +been dressed in an ugly uniform, and the girls had been rough and +pulled her "pigtails" like Dan, Junior. + +"Once a gentleman came to see me," Sister confided to Hiram. "He +was a lawyer gentleman, the matron told me. He knew my name--but +I've forgotten it now. + +"And he said that somebody who once belonged to me--or I once +belonged to them--had died and perhaps there would be some money +coming to me. But it couldn't have been the old woman I lived +with, for she never had only money enough for gin! + +"Anyhow, I was glad. I axed him how much money--was it enough +to treat all the girls in the institution one round of ice-cream +soda, and he laffed, he did. And he said yes--just about enough +for that, if he could get it for me. And I ran away and told the +girls. + +"I promised them all a treat. But the man never came again, and +by and by the big girls said they believed I storied about it, +and one night they came and dragged me out of bed and hung me +out of the window by my wrists, till I thought my arms would be +pulled right out of the sockets, + +They was awful cruel--them girls. But when I axed the matron +why the man didn't come no more, she put me off. I guess he was +only foolin'," decided Sister, with a sigh. Folks like to fool +me--like Mr. Crackit--eh?" + +But Mrs. Atterson told Hiram, when he asked about Sister's meagre +little story, that the institution had promised to let her know +if the lawyer ever returned to make further inquiries about the +orphan. Somebody really had died who was of kin to the girl, but +through some error the institution had not made a proper record +of her pedigree and the lawyer who had instituted the search a +seemed to have dropped out of sight. + +But Hiram was not troubled by poor Sister's private affairs upon +this Monday morning. It was the beginning of a new week, indeed, +to him. He had turned over a new leaf of experience. He hoped +that he was pretty near to the end of his harsh city existence. + +He hurried downstairs, long in advance of the other boarders, and +Mrs. Atterson served him some breakfast, although there was no +milk for the coffee. + +"I dunno where that plague o' my life, Sister's, gone," sputtered +the old lady, fussing about, between dining-room and kitchen. "I +sent her out ten minutes ago for the milk. And if you want to +get that first train to Scoville you've got to hurry." + +"Never mind the milk," laughed the young fellow. "The train's +more important this morning." + +So he bolted the remainder of his breakfast, swallowed the black +coffee, and ran out. + +He arrived at Scoville while the morning was still young. It was +not his intention to go at once to the Atterson farm. There were +matters which he desired to look into in addition to judging the +quality of the soil on the place and the possibility of making it +pay. + +He went to the storekeepers and asked questions about the prices +paid for garden truck. He walked about the town and saw the +quality of the residences, and noted what proportion of the +townsfolk cultivated gardens of their own. + +There was a big girls' boarding-school, and two small, but +well-patronized hotels. The proprietors of these each owned a +farm; but they told Hiram that it was necessary for them to buy +much of their table vegetables from city produce men, as the +neighboring farmers did not grow much. + +In talking with one storekeeper Hiram mentioned the fact that he +was going to look at the Atterson place with a view to farming +it for its new owner. When he walked out of the store he found +himself accosted by a lean, snaky-looking man who had stood +within the store the moment before. + +"What's this widder woman goin' to do with the farm old Jeptha +left her?" inquired the man, looking at Hiram slyly. + +"We don't know yet, sir, what we shall do with it," the young +fellow replied. + +"You her son?" + +"No. I may work for her--can't tell till I've looked at the +place." + +"It ain't much to look at," said the man, quickly. "I come near +buying it once, though. In fact--" + +He hesitated, still eyeing Hiram sideways. The boy waited for +him to speak again. He did not wish to be impolite; but he did +not like the man's appearance. + +"What do y' reckon this Mis' Atterson would sell for?" finally +demanded the man. + +"She has been advised not to sell--at present." + +"Who by?" + +"Mr. Strickland, the lawyer." + +"Humph! Mebbe I'd buy it--and give her a good price for +it--right now." + +"What do you consider a good price?" asked Hiram, quietly. + +"Twelve hundred dollars," said the man. + +"I will tell her. But I do not think she would sell for that +price--nothing like it, in fact." + +"Well, mebbe she'll feel different when she comes to think it +over. No use for a woman trying to run a farm. And if she has +to pay for everything to be done, she'll be in a hole at the end +of the season. I guess she ain't thought of that?" + +"It wouldn't be my place to point it out to her," returned Hiram, +"coolly, if it were so, and I wanted to work for her." + +"Humph! Mebbe not. Well, my name's Pepper. Mebbe I'll be out +to see her some day," he said, and turned away. + +"He's one of the people who will discourage Mrs. Atterson," +thought Hiram. "And he has an axe to grind. If I decide to take +the job of making this farm pay, I'm going to have the agreement +in black and white with Mrs. Atterson; for there will be a raft +of Job's comforters, perhaps when we get settled on the place." + +It was late in the afternoon before Hiram was ready to start for +the farm itself. He had made some enquiries, and had decided to +stop at a neighbor's for overnight, instead of going to the house +where a lone woman had been left in charge by Mrs. Atterson. + +The Pollocks had been recommended to Hiram, and by leaving the +road within half a mile of the Atterson farm, and cutting across +the fields, he came into the dooryard of the Pollock place. A +well-grown boy, not much older than himself, was splitting some +chunks at the woodpile. He stopped work to gaze at the visitor +with much curiosity. + +"From what they told me in town," Hi said, holding out his hand +with a smile, "you must be Henry Pollock?" + +The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand. + +"That's what they call me--Henry Pollock--when they don't call me +Hen." + +"Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry," laughed Hiram. "I +don't like to have my name cut off short, either. My name's +Hiram Strong. So if you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll +always call you `Henry.'" + +"It's a go!" returned the other, shaking hands again. "You going +to live around here? Or are you jest visiting?" + +"I don't know yet," confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. +"You see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place." + +"That's right over yonder. You can see the roof if you stand +up," said Henry, quickly. + +Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a +glimpse of the roof in question. + +"Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left " +it to? asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. "Or are you " +going to rent it? " + +"What do you think of renting it?" queried Hiram, showing that he +had Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another. + +"Well--it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old +man couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who +farmed it for him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell +you!" + +"Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what +I'll do," said Hiram, slowly. "And of course I can't do +that to-night. They told me in town that sometimes you take +boarders?" + +"In the summer we do," returned Henry. + +"Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?" + +"Why, I reckon so--Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come +right in," added Henry, hospitably, "and I'll ask mother." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS + +The Pollocks proved to be a neighborly family--and a large one. +As Henry said, there was a "whole raft of young 'uns" younger +than he was. They made Hiram very welcome at the supper table, +and showed much curiosity about his personal affairs. + +But the young fellow had been used to just such people before. +They were not a bad sort, and if they were keenly interested in +the affairs of other people, it was because they had few books +and newspapers, and small chance to amuse themselves in the many +ways which city people have. + +Hiram slept with Henry that night, and Henry agreed to show the +visitor over the Atterson place the next day. + +"I know every stick and stone of it as well as I do ourn," +declared Henry. "And Dad won't mind my taking time now. +Later--Whew! I tell you, we hafter just git up an' dust to make +a crop. Not much chance for fun after a week or two until the +corn's laid by." + +"You know all the boundaries of the Atterson farm, do you?" +Hiram asked. + +"Yes, sir!" replied Henry, eagerly. "And say! do you like to +fish?" + +"Of course; who doesn't?" + +"Then we'll take some lines and hooks along--and mother'll lend +us a pan and kettle. Say! We'll start early--'fore anybody's +a-stir--and I bet there'll be a big trout jumping in the pool +under the big sycamore." + +"That certain-sure sounds good to me!" cried Hiram, +enthusiastically. + +So it was agreed, and before day, while the mist was yet rolling +across the fields, and the hedge sparrows were beginning to +chirp, the two set forth from the Pollock place, crossed the wet +fields, and the road, and set off down the slope of a long hill, +following, as Henry said, near the east boundary of the Atterson +farm--the line running from the automobile road to the river. + +It was a dull spring morning. The faint breeze that stirred on +the hillside was damp, but odorous with new-springing herbs. As +Hiram and Henry descended the aisle of the pinewood, the treetops +whispered together as though curious of these bold humans who +disturbed their solitude. + +"It doesn't look as though anybody had been here at the back end +of old Jeptha Atterson's farm for years," said Hiram. + +"And it's a fact that nobody gets down this way often," Henry +responded. + +The brown tags sprung under their feet; now and then a dew-wet +branch swept Hiram's cheek, seeking with its cold fingers to +stay his progress. It was an enchanted forest, and the boy, +heart-hungry from his two years of city life, was enchanted, too! + +Hiram learned from talking with his companion that at one time +the piece of thirty-year-old timber they were walking through had +been tilled--after a fashion. But it had never been properly +cleared, as the hacked and ancient stumpage betrayed. + +Here and there the lines of corn rows which had been plowed +when the last crop was laid by were plainly revealed to Hiram's +observing eye. Where corn had grown once, it should grow again; +and the pine timber would more than pay for being cut, for +blowing out the big stumps with dynamite, and tam-harrowing the +side hill. + +Finally they reached a point where the ground fell away more +abruptly and the character of the timber changed, as well. +Instead of the stately pines, this more abrupt declivity was +covered with hickory and oak. The sparse brush sprang out of +rank, black mold. + +Charmed by the prospect, Hiram and Henry descended this hill and +came suddenly, through a fringe of brush, to the border of an +open cove, or bottom. + +At some time this lowland, too, had been cleared and cultivated; +but now young pines, quick-springing and lush, dotted the five or +six acres of practically open land which was as level as one's +palm. + +It was two hundred yards, or more, in width and at the farther +side a hedge of alders and pussywillows grew, with the green mist +of young leaves upon them, and here and there a ghostly sycamore, +stretching its slender bole into the air, edged the course of the +river. + +Hiram viewed the scene with growing delight. His eyes sparkled +and a smile came to his lips as he crossed, with springy steps, +the open meadow on which the grass was already showing green in +patches. + +Between the line of the wood they had left and the breadth of the +meadow was a narrow, marshy strip into which a few stones had +been cast, and on these they crossed dry shod. The remainder of +the bottom-land was firm. + +"Ain't this jest a scrumptious place?" demanded Henry, and Hiram +agreed. + +At the river's edge they parted the bushes and looked down upon +the oily-flowing brown flood. It was some thirty feet broad and +with the melting of the snows in the mountains was so deep that +no sign was apparent here of the rocks which covered its bed. + +Henry led the way up the bank of the stream toward a huge +sycamore that leaned lovingly over the water. An ancient wild +grape vine, its butt four inches through and its roots fairly in +the water, had a strangle-hold upon this decrepit forest monarch, +its tendrils reaching the sycamore's topmost branch. + +Under the tree was a deep hole where flotsam leaves and twigs +performed an endless treadmill dance in the grasp of the eddy. + +Suddenly, while their gaze clung to the dimpling water, there was +a flash of a bronze body--a streak of light along the surface of +the pool--and two widening circles showed where the master of the +hole had leaped for some insect prey. + +"See him?" called Henry, but under his breath. + +Hiram nodded, but squeezed his companion's hand for silence. He +almost held his own breath for the moment, as they moved back +from the pool with the soundless step of an Indian. + +"That big feller is my meat," declared Henry. + +"Go to it, boy!" urged Hiram, and set about preparing the camp. + +He cut with his big jack-knife and set up a tripod of green rods +in a jiffy, skirmished for dry wood, lit his fire, filled the +kettle from the river at a little distance from the eddy, and +hung it over the blaze to boil. + +Meanwhile Henry fished out a line and an envelope of hooks from +an inner pocket, cut a springy pole back on the hillside, rigged +his line and hook, and kicked a hole in the soft, rich soil until +he unearthed a fat angleworm. + +With this impaled upon the hook he cautiously approached the pool +under the sycamore and cast gently. The struggling worm sank +slowly; the water wrinkled about the line; but there followed +no tug at the hook, although Henry stood patiently for several +moments. He cast again, and yet again, with like result. + +"Ah, ba!" muttered Hiram, in his ear; "this fellow's appetite +needs tickling. He is being fed too well and turns up his nose +at a common earthworm, does he? Let me show you a wrinkle, +Henry." + +Henry drew the line ashore again and shook off the useless bait. + +"You're, not fishing," Hiram continued with a grim smile. +"You've just been drowning a worm. But I'll show that old fellow +sulking down below there that he is no match this early in the +spring for a pair of hungry boys!" + +He recrossed the meadow, and the stepping stones, to the wood. +He had noticed a log lying in the path as he descended the +hillside. With the toe of his boot he kicked a patch of bark +from the log, and thereby lay bare the wavering trail of a busy +grub. Following the trail he quickly found the fat, juicy +insect, which immediately took the earthworm's place upon the +hook. + +Again Henry cast and this time, before the grub even touched the +surface of the pool, the fish leaped and swallowed the tempting +morsel, hook and all! + +There was no playing of the fish on Henry's part. A quick jerk +and the gasping spotted beauty, a pound and a quarter, or more, +in weight, lay upon the sward beside the crackling fire. + +"Whoop-ee!" called Henry, excitedly. "That's Number One!" + +While Hiram dexterously scaled and cleaned the first trout, Henry +caught a couple more. Hiram brought forth, too, the coffee, salt +and pepper, sugar, a piece of fat salt pork and two table knives +and forks. + +He raked a smooth bed in the glowing coals, sliced the pork thin, +laid some slices in the pan and set that upon the coals, where +the pork began to sputter almost at once. + +The water in the kettle was boiling and he made the coffee. Then +he laid the trout upon the pan with three slices of pork upon +each, and sat back upon his haunches beside Henry enjoying the +delicious odor in anticipation of the more solid delights of +breakfast. + +They had hard crackers and with these, and drinking the coffee +from the kettle itself, when it was cool enough, the two boys +feasted like monarchs. + +"By Jo!" exclaimed Henry. "This beats maw's soda biscuit and fat +meat gravy!" + +But as he ate, Hiram's gaze traveled again and again across +the scrub-grown meadow. The lay of the land pleased him. +The richness of the soil had been revealed when they dug the +earthworm. + +For thousands of years the riches of yonder hillside had been +washing down upon the bottom, and this alluvial was rich beyond +computation. + +Here were several acres, the young farmer knew, which, however +over-cropped the remainder of Uncle Jeptha's land had been, could +not be impoverished in many seasons. + +"It's as rich as cream!" muttered he, thoughtfully. "Grubbing +out these young pines wouldn't take long. There's a heavy sod +and it would have to be ploughed deeply. Then a crop of corn +this year, perhaps--late corn for fear the river might overflow +it in June. And then--- + +"Great Scot!" ejaculated Hiram, slapping his knee, "what wouldn't +grow on this bottom land?" + +"Yes, it's mighty rich," agreed Henry. "But it's a long way from +the house--and then, the river might flood it over. I've seen +water running over this bottom two feet deep--once." + +They finished the al fresco meal and Hiram leaped up, inspired by +his thoughts to brisker movements. + +"Whatever else this old farm has on it, I vow and declare," he +said, "this five or six acres alone might be made to pay a profit +on the whole investment!" + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BARGAIN IS MADE + +Henry showed Hiram the "branch", a little stream flowing into the +river, which marked the westerly boundary of the farm for some +ways, and they set off up the steep bank of this stream. + +This back end of the farm--quite forty acres, or half of the +whole tract--had been entirely neglected by the last owner of the +property for a great many years. It was some distance from the +house, for the farm was a long and narrow strip of land from the +highway to the river, and Uncle Jeptha had had quite all he could +do to till the uplands and the fields adjacent to his home. + +They came upon these open fields--many of them filthy with dead +weeds and littered with sprouting bushes--from the rear. Hiram +saw that the fences were in bad repair and that the back of the +premises gave every indication of neglect and shiftlessness. + +Perhaps not exactly the latter; Uncle Jeptha had been an old +man and unable to do much active work for some years. But he +had cropped certain of his fields "on shares" with the usual +results--impoverished soil, illy-tilled crops, and the land left +in a slovenly condition which several years of careful tillage +would hardly overcome. + +Now, although Hiram's father had been of the tenant class, he had +farmed other men's land as he would his own. Owners of outlying +farms had been glad to get Mr. Strong to till their fields. + +He had known how to work, he knew the reasons for every bit of +labor he performed, and he had not kept his son in ignorance of +them. As they worked together the father had explained to the +son what he did, and why he did it, The results of their work +spoke for themselves, and Hiram had a retentive memory. + +Mr. Strong, too, had been a great, reader--especially in the +winter when the farmer naturally has more time in-doors. + +Yet he was a "twelve months farmer"; he knew that the winter, +despite the broken nature of the work, was quite as valuable to +the successful farmer as the other seasons of the year. + +The elder Strong knew that men with more money, and more time +for experimenting than he had, were writing and publishing all +the time helps for the wise farmer. He subscribed for several +papers, and read and digested them carefully. + +Hiram, even during his two years in the city, had continued his +subscription (although it was hard to find the money sometimes) +to two or three of those publications that his father had most +approved. And the boy had read them faithfully. + +He was as up-to-date in farming lore now, if not in actual +practise, as he had been when he left the country to try his +fortune in Crawberry. + +Beyond the place where the branch turned back upon itself and hid +its source in the thicker timber, Hiram saw that the fields were +open on both sides of this westerly line of the farm. + +"Who's our neighbor over yonder, Henry?" he asked. + +"Dickerson--Sam Dickerson," said Henry. "And he's got a boy, +Pete, no older than us. Say, Hiram, you'll have trouble with +Pete Dickerson." + +"Oh, I guess not," returned the young farmer, laughing. "Trouble +is something that I don't go about hunting for." + +"You don't have to hunt it when Pete is round," said Henry with a +wry grin. "But mebbe he won't bother you, for he's workin' near +town--for that new man that's moved into the old Fleigler place. +Bronson's his name. But if Pete don't bother you, Sam may." + +"Sam's the father?" + +"Yep. And one poor farmer and mean man, if ever there was one! +Oh, Pete comes by his orneriness honestly enough." + +"Oh, I hope I'll have no trouble with any neighbor," said Hiram, +hopefully. + +They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to +Mrs. Atterson's newly acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the +hog lot. She looked like a good sow, and the six-weeks-old +shoats were in good condition. In a couple of weeks they would +be big enough to sell if Mrs. Atterson did not care to raise +them. + +The shoats were worth six dollars a pair, too; he had inquired +the day before about them. There was practically eighteen +dollars squealing in that pen--and eighteen dollars would go a +long way toward feeding the horse and cow until there was good +pasturage for them. + +These animals named were in the small fenced barnyard. In the +fall and winter the old man had fed a good deal of fodder and +other roughage, and during the winter the horse and cow had +tramped this coarse material, and the stable scrapings, into a +mat of fairly good manure. + +He looked the horse and cow over with more care. It was a fact +that the horse looked pretty shaggy; but he had been used little +during the winter, and had been seldom curried. A ragged coat +upon a horse sometimes covers quite as many good points as the +same quality of garment does upon a man. + +When Hiram spoke to the beast it came to the fence with a +friendly forward thrust of its ears, and the confidence of a +horse that has been kindly treated and looks upon even a strange +human as a friend. + +It was a strong and well-shaped animal, more than twelve years +old, as Hiram discovered when he opened the creature's mouth, but +seemingly sound in limb. Nor was he too large for work on the +cultivator, while sturdy enough to carry a single plow. + +Hiram passed him over with a satisfactory pat on the nose and +turned to look at the white-faced cow that had so terrified +Mrs. Atterson. She wasn't a bad looking beast, either, and would +freshen shortly. Her calf would be worth from twelve to fifteen +dollars if Mrs. Atterson did not wish to raise it. Another +future asset to mention to the old lady when he returned. + +The youth turned his attention to the buildings themselves--the +barn, the cart shed, the henhouse, and the smaller buildings. +That famous old decorating firm of Wind & Weather had contracted +for all painting done around the Atterson place for the many +years; but the buildings were not otherwise in a bad state of +repair. + +A few shingles had been blown off the roofs; here and there a +board was loose. With a hammer and a few nails, and in a few +hours, many of these small repairs could be accomplished. And a +coat or two of properly mixed and applied whitewash would freshen +up the whole place and--like charity--cover a multitude of sins. + +Henry bade him good-bye now, they shook hands, and Hiram agreed +to let his new friend know at once if he decided to come with +Mrs. Atterson to the farm. + +"We can have heaps of fun--you and me," declared Henry. + +"It isn't so bad," soliloquized the young farmer when he was +alone. "There'd be time to put the buildings and fences in +good shape before the spring work came on with a rush. There's +fertilizer enough in the barnyard and the pig pen and the hen +run--with the help of a few pounds of salts and some bone meal, +perhaps--to enrich a right smart kitchen garden and spread for +corn on that four acre lot yonder. + +"Of course, this land up here on the hill needs humus. If it has +been cropped on shares, as Henry says, all the enrichment it has +received has been from commercial fertilizers. And necessarily +they have made the land sour. It probably needs lime badly. + +"Yes, I can't encourage Mrs. Atterson to look for a profit in +anything this year. It will take a year to get that rich bottom +into shape for--for what, I wonder? Onions? Celery? It would +raise 'em both. I'll think about that and look over the market +prospects more fully before I decide." + +For already, you see, Hiram had come to the decision that this +old farm could be made to pay. Why not? The true farmer has to +have imagination as well as the knowledge and the perseverance +to grow crops. He must be able in his mind's eye to see a field +ready for the reaping before he puts in a seed. + +He did not go to the house on this occasion, but after casually +examining the tools and harness, and the like, left by the old +man, he cut off across the upper end of the farm and gave the +neglected open fields of this upper forty a casual examination. + +"If she had the money to invest, I'd say buy sheep and fence +these fields and so get rid of the weeds. They've grown very +foul through neglect, and cultivating them for years would not +destroy the weeds as sheep would in two seasons. + +"But wire fencing is expensive--and so are good sheep to begin +with. No. Slow but sure must be our motto. I mustn't advise +any great outlay of money--that would scare her to death. + +"It will be hard enough for her to put out money all season long +before there are any returns. We'll go, slow," repeated Hiram. + +But when he left the farm that afternoon he went swiftly enough +to Scoville and took the train for the not far distant city of +Crawberry. This was Tuesday evening and he arrived just about +supper time at Mrs. Atterson's. + +The reason for Hiram's absence, and the matter of Mrs. Atterson's +legacy altogether, had been kept from the boarders. And there +was no time until after the principal meal of the day was off the +lady's mind for Hiram to say anything to her. + +"She's a good old soul," thought Hiram. "And if it's in my power +to make that farm pay, and yield her a competency for her old +age, I'll do it." + +Meanwhile he was not losing sight of the fact that there was +something due to him in this matter. He was bound to see that he +got his share--and a just share--of any profits that might accrue +from the venture. + +So, after the other boarders had scattered, and Mrs. Atterson had +eaten her own late supper, and Sister was swashing plates and +knives and forks about in a big pan of hot water in the kitchen +sink, (between whiles doing her best to listen at the crack of +the door) the landlady and Hiram Strong threshed out the project +fully. + +It was not all one-sided; for Mrs. Atterson, after all, had +been bargaining all her life and could see the "main chance" as +quickly as the next one. She had not bickered with hucksters, +chivvied grocerymen, fought battles royal with butchers, and +endured the existence of a Red Indian amidst allied foes for two +decades without having her wits ground to a razor edge. + +On the other hand, Hiram Strong, although a boy in years, had +been his own master long enough to take care of himself in most +transactions, and withal had a fund of native caution. They +jotted down memoranda of the points on which they were agreed, +which included the following: + +Mrs. Atterson, as "party of the first part", agreed to board +Hiram until the crops were harvested the second year. In +addition she was to pay him one hundred dollars at Christmas time +this first year, and another hundred at the conclusion of the +agreement--i. e., when the second year's crop was harvested. + +Beside, of the estimated profits of the second year's crop, Hiram +was to have twenty-five per cent. This profit was to be that +balance in the farm's favor (if such balance there was) over +and above the actual cost of labor, seed, and such purchased +fertilizer or other supplies as were necessary. Mrs. Atterson +agreed likewise to supply one serviceable horse and such tools +as might be needed, for the place was to be run as "a one-horse +farm." + +On the other hand Hiram agreed to give his entire time to the +farm, to work for Mrs. Atterson's interest in all things, to make +no expenditures without discussing them first with her, and to +give his best care and attention generally to the farm and all +that pertained thereto. Of course, the old lady was taking Hiram +a good deal on trust. But she had known the boy almost two years +and he had been faithful and prompt in discharging his debts to +her. + +But it was up to the young fellow to "make good." He could not +expect to make any profit for his employer the first year; but he +would be expected to do so the second season, or "show cause." + + +When these matters were all discussed and the little memorandum +signed, Hiram Strong, in his own room, thought the situation over +very seriously. He was facing the biggest responsibility that he +had obliged to assume in his whole life. + +This was no boyish job; it was man's work. He had put his hand +to an agreement that might influence his whole future, and +certainly would make or break his credit as a trustworthy youth +and one of his word. + +During these past days Hiram had determined to "get back to the +soil" and to get back to it in a business-like way. He desired +to make good for Mrs. Atterson so that he might some time have +the chance to make good for somebody else on a bigger scale. + +He did not propose to be "a one-horse farmer" all his days. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS + +On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's +hands. On Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at +it. They came again on Thursday and again on Friday. + +Friday being considered an "unlucky" day they did not bind the +bargain; but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers +of the house were to take possession in a week. Not until +then were the boarders informed of Mother Atterson's change of +circumstances, and the fact that she was going to graduate from +the boarding house kitchen to the farm. + +After all, they were sorry--those light-headed, irresponsible +young men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, +who could not easily remember some special kindness that marked +the old lady's intercourse with him. + +As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had +changed hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild +gabble of voices, over the supper table that night. Crackit led +the chorus. + +"It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many +cattle to the highest bidder. Ungrateful--right down ungrateful, +I call it," he declared. "What do you say, Feeble?" + +"It is particularly distasteful to me just now," complained the +invalid. "When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at +just the right temperature," and he took a sip of that innocent +beverage. "Don't you suppose we could prevail upon the old lady +to renig?" + +"She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of +the time she stays," declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. +"She's got nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and +leave--after she gets hers." + +"That's always the way," feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. "Just as +soon as I really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, +something happens." + +Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly +ten years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place. + +The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism +for the mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said +nothing whatever; even his usual mumblings to himself were not +heard. + +He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table +when all the others had departed. + +Mrs. Atterson started into the dining-room with her own supper +between two plates when she saw the old man sitting there +despondent in looks and attitude, his head resting on one +clawlike hand, his elbow on the soiled table cloth. + +He did not look up, nor move. The mistress glanced back over +her shoulder, and there was Sister, sniffling and occasionally +rubbing her wrist into her red eyes as she scraped the tower of +plates from the dinner table. + +"My soul and body!" gasped Mother Atterson, almost dropping her +supper on the floor. "There's Sister--and there's Old Lem Camp! +Whatever will I do with 'em?" + +Meanwhile Hiram Strong had already left for the farm on the +Wednesday previous. The other boarders knew nothing about his +agreement with Mother Atterson; he had agreed to go to the place +and begin work, and take care of the stock and all, "choring for +himself", as the good lady called it, until she could complete +her city affairs and move herself and her personal chattels to +the farm. + +Hiram bore a note to the woman who had promised to care for the +Atterson place, and money to pay her what the boarding-house +mistress had agreed. + +"You can 'bach' it in the house as well as poor old Uncle Jeptha +did, I reckon," this woman told the youth. + +She showed him where certain provisions were--the pork barrel, +ham and bacon of the old man's curing, and the few vegetables +remaining from the winter's store. + +"The cow was about gone dry, anyway," said the woman, +Mrs. Larriper, who was a widow and lived with her married +daughter some half-mile down the road toward Scoville, "so I +didn't bother to milk her. + +"You'll have to go to town to buy grain, if you want to feed her +up--and for the chickens and the horse. The old man didn't make +much of a crop last year--or them shiftless Dickersons didn't +make much for him. + +"I saw Sam Dickerson around here this morning. He borrowed some +of the old man's tools when Uncle Jeptha was sick, and you'll +have to go after 'em, I reckon. + +"Sam's the best borrower that ever was; but he never can remember +to bring things back. He says it's bad enough to have to borrow; +it's too much to expect the same man to return what he borrows. + +"Now, Mrs. Dickerson," pursued Mrs. Larriper, "was as nice a +girl before she married--she was a Stepney--as ever walked in +shoe-leather. And I guess she'd be right friendly with the +neighbors if Sam would let her. + +"But the poor thing never gits to go out--no, sir! She's jest +tied to the house. They lost a child once--four year ago. +That's the only time I remember of seeing Sarah Stepney in church +since the day she was married--and she's got a boy--Pete--as old +as you be. + +"Now, on the other side o' ye there's Darrell's tract, and you +won't have no trouble there, for there ain't a house on his +place, and he lets it lie idle. Waiting for a rise in price, I +'spect. + +"Some rich folks is comin' in and buying up pieces of land and +making what they calls 'gentlemen's estates' out o' them. A +family named Bronson--Mr. Stephen Bronson, with one little +girl-- bought the Fleigler place only last month. + +"They're nice folks," pursued this amiable but talkative lady, +"and they don't live but a mile or so along the Scoville +road. You passed the place--white, with green shutters, and a +water-tower in the back, when you walked up." + +"I remember it," said Hiram, nodding. + +"They're western folk. Come clear from out in Injiany, or +Illiny, or the like. The girl's going to school and she ain't +got no mother, so her father's come on East with her to be near +the school. + +"Well, I can't help you no more. Them hens! Well, I'd sell 'em +if I was Mis' Atterson. + +"Hens ain't much nowadays, anyhow; and I expect a good many +of those are too old to lay. Uncle Jeptha couldn't fuss with +chickens, and he didn't raise only a smitch of 'em last year and +the year before--just them that the hens hatched themselves in +stolen nests, and chanced to bring up alive. + +"You better grease the cart before you use it. It's stood since +they hauled in corn last fall. + +"And look out for Dickerson. Ask him for the things he borrowed. +You'll need 'em, p'r'aps, if you're goin' to do any farmin' for +Mis' Atterson." + +She bustled away. Hiram thought he had heard enough about his +neighbors for a while, and he went out to look over the pasture +fencing, which was to be his first repair job. He would have +that ready to turn the cow and her calf into as soon as the grass +began to grow. + +He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half +workshop in Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a +pair of wire cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. + +With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which +was likewise the pasture fence on the west side, between +Mrs. Atterson's and Dickerson's. + +Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire. In other +places the wires had sagged and were loose. The claw-hammer +fixed these like a charm. Slipping the wire into the claw, a +single twist of the wrist would usually pick up the sag and make +the wire taut again at that point. + +He drove a few staples, as needed, as he walked along. The +pasture partook of the general conformation of the farm--it was +rather long and narrow. + +It had grown to clumps of bushes in spots, and there was +sufficient shade. But he did not come to the water until he +reached the lower end of the lot. + +The branch trickled from a spring, or springs, farther east. It +made an elbow at the corner of the pasture--the lower south-west +corner--and there a water-hole had been scooped out at some past +time. + +This waterhole was deep enough for all purposes, and was shaded +by a great oak that had stood there long before the house +belonging to Jeptha Atterson had been built. + +Here Hiram struck something that puzzled him. The boundary fence +crossed this water-hole at a tangent, and recrossed to the west +bank of the outflowing branch a few yards below, leaving perhaps +half of the water-hole upon the neighbor's side of the fence. + +Some of this wire at the water-hole was practically new. So +were the posts. And after a little Hiram traced the line of old +postholes which had followed a straight line on the west side of +the water-hole. + +In other words, this water-privilege for Dickerson's land was +of recent arrangement--so recent indeed, that the young farmer +believed he could see some fresh-turned earth about the newly-set +posts. + +That's something to be looked into, I am afraid," thought Hiram, +as he moved along the southern pasture fence. + +But the trickle of the branch beckoned him; he had not found the +fountain-head of the little stream when he had walked over a part +of the timbered land with Henry Pollock, and now he struck into +the open woods again, digging into the soil here and there with +his heavy boot, marking the quality and age of the timber, and +casting-up in his mind the possibilities and expense of clearing +these overgrown acres. + +"Mrs. Atterson may have a very valuable piece of land here in +time," muttered Hiram. "A sawmill set up in here could cut many +a hundred thousand feet of lumber--and good lumber, too. But it +would spoil the beauty of the farm." + +However, as must ever be in the case of the utility farm, the +house was set on its ugliest part. The cleared fields along the +road had nothing but the background of woods on the south and +east to relieve their monotony. + +On the brow of the steeper descent, which he had noted on his +former visit to the back end of the farm, he found a certain +clearing in the wood. Here the pines surrounded the opening on +three sides. + +To the south, through a break in the wooded hillside, he obtained +a far-reaching view of the river valley as it lay, to the east +and to the west. The prospect was delightful. + +Here and there, on the farther bank of the river, which rose less +abruptly there than on this side, lay several cheerful looking +farmsteads. The white dwellings and outbuildings dotted the +checkered fields of green and brown. + +Cowbells tinkled in the distance, for the weather tempted farmers +to let their cattle run in the pastures even so early in the +season. A horse whinnied shrilly to a mate in a distant field. + +The creaking of the heavy wheels of a laden farm-cart was a +mellow sound in Hiram's ears. Beyond a fir plantation, high on +the hillside, the sharply outlined steeple of a little church lay +against the soft blue horizon. + +"A beauty-spot!" Hiram muttered. "What a site for a home! And +yet people want to build their houses right on an automobile +road, and in sight of the rural mail box!" + +His imagination began to riot, spurred by the outlook and by the +nearer prospect of wood and hillside. The sun now lay warmly +upon him as he sat upon a stump and drank in the beauty of it +all. + +After a time his ear, becoming attuned to the multitudinous +voices of the wood, descried the silvery note of falling water. +He arose and traced the sound. + +Less than twenty yards away, and not far from the bluff, a +vigorous rivulet started from beneath the half-bared roots of a +monster beech, and fell over an outcropping boulder into a pool +so clear that sand on its bottom, worked mysteriously into a +pattern by the action of the water, lay revealed. + +Hiram knelt on a mossy rock beside the pool, and bending put his +lips to the water. It was the sweetest, most satisfying drink, +he had imbibed for many a day. + +But the morning was growing old, and Hiram wanted to trace the +farther line of the farm. He went down to the river, crossed the +open meadow again where they had built the campfire the morning +before, and found the deeply scarred oak which stood exactly on +the boundary line between the Atterson and Darrell tracts. + +He turned to the north, and followed the line as nearly as might +be. The Darrell tract was entirely wooded, and when he reached +the uplands he kept on in the shadowy aisles of the sap-pines +which covered his neighbor's property. + +He came finally to where the ground fell away again, and the +yellow, deeply-rutted road lay at his feet. The winter had +played havoc with the automobile track. + +The highway was unfenced and the bank dropped fifteen feet to the +beaten path. A leaning oak overhung the road and Hiram lingered +here, lying on its broad trunk, face upward, with his hat pulled +over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight which filtered +through the branches. + +This land hereabout was beautiful. The boy could appreciate the +beauty as well as the utility of the soil. It was so pleasing +to the eye that he wished with all his heart it had been his own +land he had surveyed. + +"And I'll not be a tenant farmer all my life, nor a farm-foreman, +as father was," determined the boy. "I'll get ahead. If I work +for the benefit of other people for a few years, surely I'll win +the chance in time to at last work for myself." + +In the midst of his ruminations a sound broke upon his ear--a +jarring note in the peaceful murmur of the woodland life. It was +the thud of a horse's hoofs. + +Not the sedate tunk-tunk of iron-shod feet on the damp earth, but +an erratic and rapid pounding of hoof-beats which came on with +such startling swiftness that Hiram sat up instantly, and craned +his neck to see up the road. + +"That horse is running away!" gasped the young farmer, and +he swung himself out upon the lowest branch of the leaning +tree which overhung the carttrack, the better to see along the +highway. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A GIRL RIDES INTO THE TALE + +There was no bend in the highway for some distance, but the +overhanging trees masked the track completely, save for a few +hundred yards. The horse, whether driven or running at large, +was plainly spurred by fright. + +Into the peacefulness of this place its hoof-beats were bringing +the element of peril. + +Lying prostrate on the sloping trunk, Hiram could see much +farther up the road. The outstretched head and lathered breast +of a tall bay horse leaped into view, and like a picture in a +kinetoscope, growing larger and more vivid second by second, the +maddened animal came down the road. + +Hiram could see that the beast was not riderless, but it was +a moment or two--a long-drawn, anxious space of heart-beaten +seconds--ere he realized what manner of rider it was who clung so +desperately to the masterless creature. + +"It's a girl--a little girl!" gasped Hiram. + +She was only a speck of color, with white, drawn face, on the +back of the racing horse. + +Every plunge of the oncoming animal shook the little figure as +though it must fall from the saddle. But Hiram could see that +she hung with phenomenal pluck to the broken bridle and to the +single horn of her side-saddle. + +If the horse fell, or if she were shaken free, she would be flung +to instant death, or be fearfully bruised under the pounding +hoofs of the big horse. + +The young farmer's appreciation of the peril was instant; unused +as he was to meeting such emergency, there was neither panic nor +hesitancy in his actions. + +He writhed farther out upon the limb of the leaning oak until he +was direct above the road. The big bay naturally kept to the +middle, for there was no obstruction in its path. + +To have dropped to the highway would have put Hiram to instant +disadvantage; for before he could have recovered himself after +the drop the horse would have been upon him. + +Now, swinging with both legs wrapped around the tough limb, and +his left hand gripping a smaller branch, but with his back to the +plunging brute, the youth glanced under his right armpit to judge +the distance and the on-rush of the horse and its helpless rider. + +He knew she saw him. Swift as was the steed's approach, Hiram +had seen the change come into the expression of the girl's face. + +"Clear your foot of the stirrup!" he shouted, hoping the girl +would understand. + +With a confusing thunder of hoofbeats the bay came on--was +beneath him--had passed! + +Hiram's right arm shot out, curved slightly, and as his fingers +gripped her sleeve, the girl let go. She was whisked out of the +saddle and the horse swept on without her. + +The strain of the girl's slight weight upon his arm lasted but a +moment, for Hiram let go with his feet, swung down, and dropped. + +They alighted in the roadway with so slight a jar that he +scarcely staggered, but set the girl down gently, and for the +passing of a breath her body swayed against him, seeking support. + +Then she sprang a little away, and they stood looking at each +other--Hiram panting and flushed, the girl with wide-open eyes +out of which the terror had not yet faded, and cheeks still +colorless. + +So they stood, for fully half a minute, speechless, while the +thunder of the bay's hoofs passed further and further away and +finally was lost in the distance. + +And it wasn't excitement that kept the boy dumb; for that was all +over, and he had been as cool as need be through the incident. +But it was unbounded amazement that made him stare so at the +slight girl confronting him. + +He had seen her brilliant, dark little face before. Only +once--but that one occasion had served to photograph her features +on his memory. + +For the second time he had been of service to her; but he knew +instantly--and the fact did not puzzle him--that she did not +recognize him. + +It had been so dark in the unlighted side street back in +Crawberry the evening of their first meeting that Hiram believed +(and was glad) that neither she nor her father would recognize +him as the boy who had kept their carriage from going into the +open ditch. + +And he had played rescuer again--and in a much more heroic +manner. This was the daughter of the man whom he had thought to +be a prosperous farmer, and whose card Hiram had lost. + +He had hoped the gentleman might have a job for him; but now +Hiram was not looking for a job. He had given himself heartily +to the project of making the old Atterson farm pay; nor was he +the sort of fellow to show fickleness in such a project. + +Before either Hiram or the girl broke the silence--before that +silence could become awkward, indeed--there started into hearing +the ring of rapid hoofbeats again. But it was not the runaway +returning. + +The mate of the latter appeared, and he came jogging along the +road, very much in hand, the rider seemingly quite unflurried. + +This was a big, ungainly, beak-nosed boy, whose sleeves were much +too short, and trousers-legs likewise, to hide Nature's abundant +gift to him in the matter of bone and knuckle. He was freckled +and wore a grin that was not even sheepish. + +Somehow, this stolidity and inappreciation of the peril the girl +had so recently escaped, made Hiram feel sudden indignation. + +But the girl herself took the lout to task--before Hiram could +say a word. + +"I told you that horse could not bear the whip, Peter!" she +exclaimed, with wrathful gaze. "How dared you strike him?" + +"Aw--I only touched him up a bit," drawled the youth. "You said +you could ride anything, didn't you?" and his grin grew wider. +"But I see ye had to get off." + +Here Hiram could stand it no longer, and he blurted out: + +"She might have been killed! I believe that horse is running +yet---" + +"Well, why didn't you stop it?" demanded the other youth, +"impudently. You had a chance." + +"He saved me," cried the girl, looking at Hiram now with shining +eyes. "I don't know how to thank him." + +"He might have stopped the horse while he was about it," growled +the fellow, picking up his own reins again. "Now I'll have to +ride after it." + +"You'd better," said the little lady, sharply. "If father knew +that horse had run away with me he would be dreadfully put out. +You hurry after him, Peter." + +The lout never said a word in reply, but his horse carried him +swiftly out of sight in the wake of the runaway. Then the girl +turned again to Hiram and the young farmer knew that he was being +keenly examined by her bright black eyes. + +"I am very sure father will not keep him," declared the girl, +looking at Hiram thoughtfully. "He is too careless--and I don't +like him, anyway. Do you live around here?" + +"I expect to," replied Hiram, smiling. "I have just come. I am +going to stay at this next house, along the road." + +"Oh! where the old gentleman died last week?" + +"Yes. Mrs. Atterson was left the place by her uncle, and I am +going to run it for her." + +"Oh, dear! then you've got a place to work?" queried the little +lady, with plain disappointment in her tone. "I am sure father +would like to have you instead of Peter." + +But Hiram shook his head slowly, though still smiling, + +"I'm obliged to you," he said; "but I have agreed to stop with +Mrs. Atterson for a time." + +"I want father to meet you just the same," she declared. + +She had a way about her that impressed Hiram with the idea that +she seldom failed in getting what she wanted. If she was not a +spoiled child, she certainly was a very much indulged one. + +But she was pretty! Dark, petite, with a brilliant smile, +flashing eyes, and a riot of blue-black curls, she was verily the +daintiest and prettiest little creature the young farmer had ever +seen. + +"I am Lettie Bronson," she said, frankly. "I live down the road +toward Scoville. We have only just come here." + +"I know where you live," said Hiram, smiling and nodding. + +"You must come and see us. I want you to know father. He's the +very nicest man there is, I think." + +"He came all the way East here so as to live near my school--I +go to the St. Beris school in Scoville. It's awfully nice, and +the girls are very fashionable; but I'd be too lonely to live if +daddy wasn't right near me all the time. + +"What is your name?" she asked suddenly. + +Hiram told her. + +"Why! that's a regular farmer's name, isn't it--Hiram?" and +she laughed--a clear and sweet sound, that made an inquisitive +squirrel that had been watching them scamper away to his hollow, +chattering. + +"I don't know about that," returned the young farmer, shaking his +head and smiling. "I ought by good rights to be 'a worker in +brass', according to the Bible. That was the trade of Hiram, of +the tribe of Naphtali, who came out of Tyre to make all the brass +work for Solomon's temple." + +"Oh! and there was a King Hiram, of Tyre, too, wasn't there," +cried Lettie, laughing. "You might be a king, you know." + +"That seems to be an unprofitable trade now-a-days," returned the +young fellow, shaking his head. "I think I will be the namesake +of Hiram, the brass-smith, for it is said of him that he was +'filled with wisdom and understanding' and that is what I want to +be if I am going to run Mrs. Atterson's farm and make it pay." + +"You're a funny boy," said the girl, eyeing him furiously. +"You're--you're not at all like Pete--or these other boys about +"You'Scoville. + +"And that Pete Dickerson isn't any good at all! I shall tell +daddy all about how he touched up that horse and made him run. +Here he comes now!" + +They had been walking steadily along the road toward the Atterson +house, and in the direction the runaway had taken. Pete +Dickerson appeared, riding one of the bays and leading the one +that had been frightened. + +The latter was all of a lather, was blowing hard, and before the +horses reached them, Hiram saw that the runaway was in bad shape. + +"Hold on!" he cried to the lout. "Breathe that horse a while. +Let him stand. He ought to be rubbed down, too. Don't you see +the shape he is in?" + +"Aw, what's eatin' you?" demanded Pete, eyeing the speaker with +much disfavor. + +The horse, when he stopped, was trembling all over. His nostrils +were dilated and as red as blood, and strings of foam were +dripping from his bit. + +"Don't let him stand there in the shade," spoke Hiram, more +"mildly. He'll take a chill. Here! let me have him." + +He approached the still frightened horse, and Pete jerked the +bridle-rein. The horse started back and snorted. + +"Stand 'round there, ye 'tarnal nuisance!" exclaimed Pete. + +But Hiram caught the bridle and snatched it from the other +fellow's hand. + +"Just let me manage him a minute," said Hiram, leading the horse +into the sunshine. + +He patted him, and soothed him, and the horse ceased trembling +and his ears pricked up. Hiram, still keeping the reins in his +hand, loosened the cinches and eased the saddle so that the +animal could breathe better. + +There were bunches of dried sage-grass growing by the roadside, +and the young farmer tore off a couple of these bunches and used +them to wipe down the horse's legs. Pretty soon the creature +forgot his fright and looked like a normal horse again. + +"If he was mine I'd give him whip a-plenty--till he learned +better," drawled Pete Dickerson, finally. + +"Don't you ever dare touch him with the whip again!" cried the +girl, stamping her foot. "He will not stand it. You were +told---" + +"Aw, well," said the fellow, "'I didn't think he was going to cut +up as bad as that. These Western horses ain't more'n half broke, +anyway." + +"I think he is perfectly safe for you to ride now, Miss Bronson," +said Hiram, quietly. "I'll give you a hand up. But walk him +home, please." + +He had tightened the cinches again. Lettie put her tiny booted +foot in his hand (she wore a very pretty dark green habit) and +with perfect ease the young farmer lifted her into the saddle. + +"Good-bye--and thank you again!" she said, softly, giving him her +free hand just as the horse started. + +"Say! you're the fellow who's going to live at Atterson's place?" +observed Pete. "I'll see you later," and he waved his hand +airily as he rode off. + +"So that's Pete Dickerson, is it?" ruminated Hiram, as he watched +the horses out of sight. "Well, if his father, Sam, is anything +like him, we certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!" + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE + +That afternoon Hiram hitched up the old horse and drove into +town. + +He went to see the lawyer who had transacted Uncle Jeptha +Atterson's small business in the old man's lifetime, and had made +his will--Mr. Strickland. Hiram judged that this gentleman would +know as much about the Atterson place as anybody. + +"No--Mr. Atterson never said anything to me about giving a +neighbor water-rights," the lawyer said. "Indeed, Mr. Atterson +was not a man likely to give anything away--until he had got +through with it himself. + +"Dickerson once tried to buy a right at that corner of the +Atterson pasture; but he and the old gentleman couldn't come to +terms. + +"Dickerson has no water on his place, saving his well and his +rights on the river. It makes it bad for him, I suppose; but I +do not advise Mrs. Atterson to let that fence stand. Give that +sort of a man an inch and he'll take a mile." + +"But what shall I do?" + +"That's professional advice, young man," returned the lawyer, +"smiling. But I will give it to you without charge. + +"Merely go and pull the new posts up and replace them on the +line. If Dickerson interferes with you, come to me and we'll +have him bound over before the Justice of the Peace. + +"You represent Mrs. Atterson and are within her rights. That's +the best I can tell you." + +Now, Hiram was not desirous of starting any trouble--legal or +otherwise--with a neighbor; but neither did he wish to see +anybody take advantage of his old boarding mistress. He knew +that, beside farming for her, he would probably have to defend +her from many petty annoyances like the present case. + +So he bought the wire he needed for repairs, a few other things +that were necessary, and drove back to the farm, determined to go +right ahead and await the consequences. + +Among his purchases was an axe. In the workshop on the farm was +a fairly good grindstone; only the treadle was broken and Hiram +had to repair this before he could make much headway in grinding +the axe. Henry Pollock lived too far away to be called upon in +such a small emergency. + +Being obliged to work alone sharpens one's wits. The young +farmer had to resort to shifts and expedients on every hand, as +he went along. + +The day before, while wandering in the wood, he had marked +several white oaks of the right size for posts. He would have +preferred cedars, of course; but those trees were scarce on the +Atterson tract--and they might be needed for some more important +job later on. + +When he came up to the house at noon to feed the stock and make +his own frugal meal in the farm house kitchen, the posts were +cut. After dinner he harnessed the horse to the farm wagon, and +went down for the posts, taking the rolls of wire along to drop +beside the fence. + +The horse was a steady, willing creature, and seemed to have no +tricks. He did not drive very well on the road, of course; but +that wasn't what they needed a horse for. + +Driving was a secondary matter. + +Hiram loaded his posts and hauled them to the pasture, driving +inside the fence line and dropping a post wherever one had rotted +out. + +Yet posts that had rotted at the ground were not so easy to draw +out, as the young farmer very well knew, and he set his wits to +work to make the removal of the old posts easy of accomplishment. + +He found an old, but strong, carpenter's horse in the shed, to +act as a fulcrum, and a seasoned bar of hickory as a lever. +There was never an old farm yet that didn't have a useful heap +of junk, and Hiram had already scratched over Uncle Jeptha's +collection of many years' standng. + +He found what he sought in a wrought iron band some half inch in +thickness with a heavy hook attached to it by a single strong +link. He fitted this band upon the larger end of the hickory +bar, wedging it tightly into place. + +A short length of trace chain completed his simple post-puller. +And he could easily carry the outfit from place to place as it +was needed. + +When he found a weak or rotting post, he pulled the staples that +held the strands of wire to it and and then set the trestle +alongside the post. Resting the lever on the trestle, he dropped +the end link of the chain on the hook, looped the chain around +the post, and hooked on with another link. Bearing down on the +lever brought the post out of the ground every time. + +With a long-handled spade Hiram cleaned out the old holes, or +enlarged them, and set his new posts, one after the other. He +left the wires to be tightened and stapled later. + +lt was not until the next afternoon that he worked down as far as +the water-hole. Meanwhile he had seen nothing of the neighbors +and neither knew, nor cared, whether they were watching him or +not. + +But it was evident that the Dickersons had kept tabs on the young +farmer's progress, for, he had no more than pulled the posts out +of the water-hole and started to reset them on the proper line, +than the long-legged Pete Dickerson appeared. + +"Hey, you!" shouted Pete. "What are you monkeying with that line +fence for?" + +"Because I won't have time to fix it later," responded Hiram, +calmly. + +"Fresh Ike, ain't yer?" demanded young Dickerson. + +He was half a head taller than Hiram, and plainly felt himself +safe in adopting bullying tactics. + +"You put them posts back where you found 'em and string the wires +again in a hurry--or I'll make yer." + +"This is Mrs. Atterson's fence," said Hiram, quietly. "I +havemade inquiries about the line, and I know where it belongs. + +"No part of this water-hole belongs on your side of the fence, +Dickerson, and as long as I represent Mrs. Atterson it's not +going to be grabbed." + +"Say! the old man gave my father the right to a part of this hole +long ago." + +"Show your legal paper to that effect," promptly suggested Hiram. +"Then we will let it stand until the lawyers decide the matter." + +Pete was silent for a minute; meanwhile Hiram continued to dig +his hole, and finally set the first post into place. + +"I tell you to take that post out o' there, Mister," exclaimed +Pete, suddenly approaching the other. "I don't like you, anyway. +You helped git me turned off up there to Bronson's yesterday. If +you wouldn't have put your fresh mouth in about the horse that +gal wouldn't have knowed so much to tell her father. Now you +stop foolin' with this fence or I'll lick you." + +Hiram Strong's disposition was far from being quarrelsome. He +only laughed at first and said: + +"Why, that won't do you any good in the end, Peter. Thrashing me +won't give you and your father the right to usurp rights at this +water-hole. + +"There was very good reason, as I can see, for old Mr. Atterson +refusing to let you water your stock here. In time of drouth +the branch probably furnished no more water than his own cattle +needed. And it will be the same with my employer." + +"You'd better have less talk about it, and set back them posts," +declared Pete, decidedly, laying off his coat and pulling up his +shirt sleeves. + +"I hope you won't try anything foolish, Peter," said Hiram, +resting on his shovel handle. + +"Huh!" grunted Pete, eyeing him sideways as might an +evil-disposed dog. + +"We're not well matched," observed Hiram, quietly, "and whether +you thra shed me, or I thrashed you, nothing would be proved by +it in regard to the line fence." + +"I'll show you what I can prove!" cried Pete, and rushed for him. + +In a catch-as-catch-can wrestle Pete Dickerson might have been +able to overturn Hiram Strong. But the latter did not propose to +give the longarmed youth that advantage. + +He dropped the spade, stepped nimbly aside, and as Pete lunged +past him the young farmer doubled his fist and struck his +antagonist solidly under the ear. + +That was the only blow struck--that and the one when Pete struck +the ground. The bigger fellow rolled over, grunted, and gazed up +at Hiram with amazement struggling with the rage expressed in his +features. + +"I told you we were not well matched, Peter," spoke Hiram, +calmly. "Why fight about it? You have no right on your side, +and I do not propose to see Mrs. Atterson robbed of this water +privilege." + +Pete climbed to his feet slowly, and picked up his coat. He felt +of his neck carefully and then looked at his hand, with the idea +evidently that such a heavy blow must have brought blood. But of +course there was none. + +"I'll tell my dad--that's what I'll do," ejaculated the bully, +at length, and he started immediately across the field, his long +legs working like a pair of tongs in his haste to get over the +ground. + +But Hiram completed the setting of the posts at the water-hole +without hearing further from any member of the Dickerson family. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE UPROOTING + +These early Spring days were busy ones for Hiram Strong. The +mornings were frosty and he could not get to his fencing work +until midforenoon. But there were plenty of other tasks ready to +his hand. + +There were two south windows in the farmhouse kitchen. He tried +to keep some fire in the stove there day and night, sleeping as +he did in Uncle Jeptha's old bedroom nearby. + +Before these two windows he erected wide shelves and on these he +set shallow boxes of rich earth which he had prepared under the +cart shed. There was no frost under there, the earth was dry and +the hens had scratched in it during the winter, so Hiram got all +the well-sifted earth he needed for his seed boxes. + +He used a very little commercial fertilizer in each box, and +planted some of the seeds he had bought in Crawberry at an +agricultural warehouse on Main Street. + +Mrs. Atterson had expressed the hope that he would put in a +variety of vegetables for their own use, and Hiram had followed +her wishes. When the earth in the boxes had warmed up for +several days he put in the long-germinating seeds, like tomato, +onions, the salads, leek, celery, pepper, eggplant, and some beet +seed to transplant for the early garden. It was too early yet to +put in cabbage and cauliflower. + +These boxes caught the sun for a good part of the day. In the +afternoon when the sun had gone, Hiram covered the boxes with +old quilts and did not uncover them again until the sun shone in +the next morning. He had decided to start his early plants in +this way because he hadn't the time at present to build frames +outside. + +During the early mornings and late afternoons, too, he began +to make the small repairs around the house and outbuildings. +Hiram was handy with tools; indeed, a true farmer should be a +good mechanic as well. He must often combine carpentry and +wheelwrighting and work at the forge, with his agricultural +pursuits. Hiram was something better than a "cold-iron +blacksmith." + +When it came to stretching the wire of the pasture fence he had +to resort to his inventive powers. There are plenty of wire +stretchers that can be purchased; but they cost money. + +The young farmer knew that Mrs. Atterson had no money to waste, +and he worked for her just as he would have worked for himself. + +One man working alone cannot easily stretch wire and make a good +job of it without some mechanism to help him. Hiram's was simple +and easily made. + +A twelve-inch section of perfectly round post, seven or eight +inches through, served as the drum around which to wind the +wire, and two twenty-penny nails driven into the side of the +drum, close together, were sufficient to prevent the wire from +slipping. + +To either end of the drum Hiram passed two lengths of Number 9 +wire through large screweyes, making a double loop into which the +hook of a light timber chain would easily catch. Into one end of +the drum he drove a headless spike, upon which the hand-crank of +the grindstone fitted, and was wedged tight. + +In using this ingenious wire stretcher, he stapled his wire to +post number one, carried the length past post number two, looped +the chain around post number three, having the chain long enough +so that he might tauten the wire and hold the crankhandle steady +with his knee or left arm while he drove the holding staple in +post number two. And so repeat, ad infinitum. + +After he had made this wire-stretcher the young fellow got along +famously upon his fencing and could soon turn his attention to +other matters, knowing that the cattle would be perfectly safe in +the pasture for the coming season. + +The old posts he collected on the wagon and drew into the +dooryard, piling them beside the woodshed. There was not an +overabundant supply of firewood cut and Hiram realized that +Mrs. Atterson would use considerable in her kitchen stove before +the next winter, even if she did not run a sitting room fire for +long this spring. + +Using a bucksaw is not only a thankless job at any time, but it +is no saving of time or money. There was a good two-handed saw +in the shed and Hiram found a good rat-tail file. With the aid +of a home-made saw-holder and a monkey wrench he sharpened and +set this saw and then got Henry Pollock to help him for a day. + +Henry wasn't afraid of work, and the two boys sawed and split the +old and well-seasoned posts, and some other wood, so that Hiram +was enabled to pile several tiers of stove-wood under the shed +against the coming of Mrs. Atterson to her farm. + +"If the season wasn't so far advanced, I could cut a lot of +wood, draw it up, and hire a gasoline engine and saw to come on +the place and saw us enough to last a year. I'll do that next +winter," Hiram said. + +"That's what we all ought to do," agreed his friend. + +Henry Pollock was an observing farmer's boy and through him Hiram +gained many pointers as to the way the farmers in that locality +put in their crops and cultivated them. + +He learned, too, through Henry who was supposed to be the best +farmer in the neighborhood, who had special success with certain +crops, and who had raised the best seedcorn in the locality. + +It was not particularly a trucking community; although, since +Scoville had begun to grow so fast and many city people had moved +into that pleasant town, the local demand for garden produce had +increased. + +"It used to be a saying here," said Henry, "that a bushel of +winter turnips would supply all the needs of Scoville. But that +ain't exactly so now. + +"The stores all want green stuff in season, and are beginning to +pay cash for truck instead of only offering to exchange groceries +for the stuff we raise. I guess if a man understood truck +raising he could make something in this market." + +Hiram decided that this was so, on looking over the marketing +possibilities of Scoville. + +There was a canning factory which put up string beans, corn, and +tomatoes; but the prices per hundred-weight for these commodities +did not encourage Hiram to advise Mrs. Atterson to try and raise +anything for the canneries. A profit could not be made out of +such crops on a one-horse farm. + +For instance, the neighboring farmers did not plant their tomato +seeds until it was pretty safe to do so in the open ground. The +cannery did not want the tomato pack to come on until late in +August. By that time the cream of the prices for garden-grown +tomatoes had been skimmed by the early truckers. + +The same with sweet corn and green beans. The cannery demanded +these vegetables at so late a date that the market-price was +generally low. + +These facts Hiram bore in mind as he planned his season's work, +and especially the kitchen garden. This latter he planned to be +about two acres in extent--rather a large plot, but he proposed +to set his rows of almost every vegetable far enough apart to be +worked with a horse cultivator. + +Some crops--for instance onions, carrots, and other "fine +stuff"--must be weeded by hand to an extent, and if the soil +is rich enough rows twelve or fifteen inches apart show better +results. + +Between such rows a wheelhoe can be used to good advantage, and +that was one tool--with a seed-sowing combination--that Hiram had +told Mrs. Atterson she must buy if he was to practically attend +to the whole farm for her. Hand-hoeing, in both field and garden +crops, is antediluvian. + +Thus, during this week and a half of preparation, Hiram made +ready for the uprooting of Mrs. Atterson from the boarding house +in Crawberry to the farm some distance out of Scoville. + +The good lady had but one wagon load of goods to be transferred +from her old quarters to the new home. Many of the articles +she brought were heirlooms which she had stored in the boarding +house cellar, or articles associated with her happy married life, +which had been shortened by her husband's death when he was +comparatively a young man. + +These Mrs. Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday +morning, and she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside +the driver herself and riding with him all the way. + +The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two +spinster ladies had already taken possession, and had served +breakfast to the disgruntled members of Mother Atterson's family. + +"You'll be back again," prophesied Mr. Crackit, shaking the old +lady by the hand. "And when you do, just let me know. I'll come +and board with you." + +"I wouldn't have you in my house again, Fred Crackit, for two +farms," declared the ex-boarding house keeper, with asperity. + +"I hope you told these people about my hot water, Mrs. Atterson," +croaked Mr. Peebles, from the step, where he stood muffled in a +shawl because of the raw morning air. + +"If I didn't you can tell 'em yourself," returned she, with +satisfaction. + +And so it went--the good-byes of these unappreciative boarders +selfish to the last! Mother Atterson sighed--a long, happy, +and satisfying sigh--when the lumbering wagon turned the first +corner. + +"Thanks be!" she murmured. "I sha'n't care if they don't have a +driblet of gravy at supper tonight." + +Then she shook herself and stared straight ahead. On the very +next corner--she had insisted that none of the other people at +the house should observe their flitting--stood two figures, both +forlorn. + +Old Lem Camp, with a lean suit-case at his feet, and Sister with +a bulging carpetbag which she had brought with her months before +from the charity institution, and into which she had stuffed +everything she owned in the world. + +Their faces brightened perceptibly when they beheld Mrs. Atterson +perched high beside the driver on the load of furniture and +bedding. The driver drew in his span of big horses and the +wheels grated against the curb. + +"You climb right in behind, Mr. Camp," said the good lady. +"There's room for you up under the canvas top--and I had him +spread a mattress so't you can take it easy all the way, if you +like. + +"Sister, you scramble up here and sit in betwixt me and this man. +And do look out--you're spillin' things out o' that bag like it +was a Christmas cornucopia. Come on, now! Toss it behind us, +onto them other things. There! we'll go on--and no more stops, I +hope, till we reach the farm." + +But that couldn't be. It was a long drive, and the man was +good to his team. He rested them at the top of every hill, and +sometimes at the bottom. They had to stop two hours for dinner +and to "breathe 'em," as the man said. + +At that time Mother Atterson produced a goodsized market +basket--her familiar companion when she had hunted bargains in +the city--and it was filled with sandwiches, and pickles, and +crackers, and cookies, and a whole boiled fowl (fowl were cheaper +and more satisfying than the scrawny chickens then in market) +and hard-boiled eggs, and cheese, with numbers of other less +important eatables tucked into corners of the basket to "wedge" +the larger packages of food. + +The four picnicked in the sun, with the furniture wagon to break +the keen wind, passing around hot coffee in a can, from hand +to hand, the driver having built a campfire to heat the coffee +beside the country road. + +But after that stop--for they were well into the country +now--there was no keeping Sister on the wagon-seat. She had +learned to drop down and mount again as lively as a cricket. + +She tore along the edge of the road, with her hair flying, +and her hat hanging by its ribbons. She chased a rabbit, and +squirrels, and picked certain green branches, and managed to get +her hands and the front of her dress all "stuck up" with spruce +gum in trying to get a piece big enough to chew. + +"Drat the young'un!" exclaimed Mother Atterson. "I can see +plainly I'd never ought to brought her, but should have sent +her back to the institution. She'll be as wild as Mr. March's +hare--whoever he was--out here in the country." + +But Old Lem Camp gave her no trouble. He effaced himself +just as he had at the boarding house supper table. He seldom +spoke--never unless he was spoken to; and he lay up under the +roof of the furniture wagon, whether asleep, or no, Mrs. Atterson +could not tell. + +"He's as odd as Dick's hat-band," the ex-boarding house mistress +confided to the driver. "But, bless you! the easiest critter to +get along with--you never saw his beat. If I'd a house full of +Lem Camps to cook for, I'd think I was next door to heaven." + +It was dusk when they arrived in sight of the little house +beside the road in which Uncle Jeptha Atterson had lived out his +long life. Hiram had a good fire going in both the kitchen and +sitting room, and the lamplight flung through the windows made +the place look cheerful indeed to the travelers. + +"My soul and body!" croaked the good lady, when she got down from +the wagon and Hiram caught her in his arms to save her from a +fall. "I'm as stiff as a poker--and that's a fact. But I'm glad +to get here." + +Hiram's amazement when he saw Sister and Old Lem Camp was only +expressed in his look. He said nothing. The driver of the wagon +backed it to the porch step and then took out his team and, with +Hiram's help, led them to the stable, fed them, and bedded them +down for the night. He was to sleep in one of the spare beds and +go back to town the following day. + +Mother Atterson took off her best dress, slipped into a familiar +old gingham and bustled around the kitchen as naturally as though +she had been there all her life. + +She fried ham and eggs, and made biscuit, and opened a couple +of tins of peaches she had brought, and finally set before them +a repast satisfying if not dainty, and seasoned with a cheerful +spirit at least. + +"I vum!" she exclaimed, sitting down for the first time in years +"at the first table." "If this don't beat Crawberry and them +boarders, I'm crazy as a loon. Pour the coffee, Sister--and +don't be stingy with the milk. Milk's only five cents a quart +here, and it's eight in town. But, gracious, child! sugar don't +cost no less." + +Old Lem Camp sat beside Hiram, as he had at the boarding-house +table. He had scarcely spoken since his arrival; but now, under +cover of the talk of Mother Atterson, the driver of the furniture +van, and Sister, he began one of his old-time monologues: + +"Old, old--nothing to look forward to--then the prospect +opens up--just like light breaking through the clouds after a +storm--let's see; I want a piece of bread--bread's on Sister's +side--I can reach it--hum! no Crackit to-night--fool jokes--silly +fellow--ah! the butter--Where's the butterknife?--Sister's +forgotten the butter-knife--no! here 'tis--That woman's an +angel--nothing less--an angel in a last season's bonnet and a +shabby gown--Hah! practical angels couldn't use wings--they'd be +in the way in the kitchen--ham and eggs--gravy--fit for gods to +eat--and not to worry again where next week's victuals are to +come from!" + +Hiram noted all the old mail said, and the last phrase +enlightened him immensely as to why Old Lem Camp was so +"queer." That was the trouble on the old man's mind--the trouble +that had stifled him, and made him appear "half cracked" as the +boarding-house jester and Peebles had said. + +Lem Camp, too old to ever get another job in the city, had +for five years been worrying from day to day about his bare +existence. And evidently he saw that bogie of the superannuated +disappearing in the distance. + +After the truck driver had gone to bed, and Camp himself, and +Sister had fallen asleep over the last of the dish-wiping, Mother +Atterson confided in Hiram, to a degree. + +"Now, this gal can be made useful. She can help me in the house, +and she can help outside, too. + +"She's a poor, unfortunate creature--I know and humbly is no name +for her looks! But mebbe we can send her to the school nearby, +and she ought to get some color in her face if she's out o' doors +some--and some flesh on her skinny body. + +"I don't know as I could get along without Sister," ruminated +Mother Atterson, shaking her head. + +"And as for Lem Camp--bless you! he won't eat more'n a fly, +and who else would give him houseroom? Why, Hiram, I just +had to bring him with me. If I hadn't, I'd felt just as +conscience-stricken as though I'd moved and left a cat behind in +an empty house!" + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GETTING IN THE EARLY CROPS + +Mother Atterson had breakfast the next morning by lamplight, +because the truckman wanted to make an early start. + +Hiram had already begun early rising, however, for the farmer who +does not get up before the sun in the spring needs must do his +chores at night by lantern-light. The eight-hour law can never +be a rule on the farm. + +But Sister was up, too, and out of the house, running as wild as +a rabbit. Hiram caught her in the barnyard trying to clamber +on the cow's back to ride her about the enclosure. Sister was +afraid of nothing that lived and walked, having all the courage +of ignorance. + +She found that she could not in safety clamber over the pig-lot +fence and catch one of the shoats. Old Mother Hog ran at her +with open mouth and Sister came back from that expedition with a +torn frock and some new experience. + +"I never knew anything so fat could run," she confided to Hiram. +"Old Missus Poundly, who lived on our block, and weighed three +hundred pounds, couldn't run, I bet!" + +Mr. Camp was not disturbed by Mrs. Atterson, but was allowed to +sleep as long as he liked, while she kept a little breakfast hot +for him and the coffeepot on the back of the stove. + +The old lady became interested at once in all Hiram had done +toward beginning the spring work. She learned about the seed in +the window boxes (some of them were already breaking the soil) +about watering them and covering them properly and immediately +took those duties off Hiram's hands. + +"If Sister an' me can't do the light chores around this place and +leave you to 'tend to the bigger things, then we ain't no good +and had better go back to the boarding house," she announced. + +"Oh, Mis' Atterson! You wouldn't go back to town, would you?" +pleaded Sister. "Why, there's real hens--and a cow that will +give milk bimeby, Hi says--and a horse that wiggles his ears and +talks right out loud when he's hungry, for I heard him--and pigs +that squeal and run, an' they're jest as fat as butter---" + +"Well, to stay here we've all got to work, Sister," declared her +mistress. "So get at them dishes now and be quick about it. +There's forty times more chores to do here than there was back in +Crawberry--But, thanks be! there ain't no gravy to worry about." + +"And there ain't no boarders to make fun of me," said Sister, +thoughtfully. Then, she announced, after some rumination: "I +like pigs better than I do boarders Mis' Atterson." + +"Well, I should think you would!" exclaimed that lady, tartly. +"Pigs has got some sense." + +Hiram laughed at this. "You'll find the pigs demanding gravy, +just the same--and very urgent about it they are, too," he told +them. + +But he was glad to give the small chores over into their hands, +and went to work immediately to prepare for putting in the early +crops. + +He had already cleared the rubbish off the piece of ground +selected for the garden, and had burned it. He hauled out stable +manure from the barnyard and gave an acre and a half of this +piece of land a good dressing. + +The other half-acre was for early potatoes, and he wished to put +the manure in the furrow for them, so did not top dress that +strip of land. The frost was pretty well out of the ground by +now; but even if some remained, plowing this high, well-drained +piece would do no harm. Beside, Hiram was eager to get in early +crops. + +It was a still, hazy morning when he geared the old horse to the +plow and headed him into the garden piece. He had determined +to plow the entire plot at once, and instead of plowing "around +and around" had paced off his lands and started in the middle, +plowing "gee" instead of "haw". + +This system is a bit more particular, and hard for the careless +plowman; but it overcomes that unsightly "dead-furrow" in the +middle of a field and brings the "finishing-furrow" on the edge. +This insures better surface drainage and is a more scientific +method of tillage. + +The plow was rusty and the point was not in the very best +condition; but after the first few rounds the share was cleaned +off, and it began to slip through the moist earth and roll it +over in a long, brown ribbon behind him. + +Hiram Strong clung to the plow handles, a rope-rein in each hand, +and watched the plow and the horse and the land ahead with an eye +as keen as that of a river-pilot. + +As the strip of turned earth grew wider and longer Sister ran out +to see him work. She watched the plow turn the mulch into the +furrow and lay the brown, greasy mold upon it, with wide-open +eyes. + +"Why!" cried she," wouldn't it be nice if we could go right +along with a plow and bury our past like that--cover everything +mean and nasty up, and forget it! That institution they put me +in--and the old woman I lived with before that, who drank so much +gin and beat me--and the boarders--and that boy who used to pull +my braids whenever he met me-- My that would be fine!" + +"I reckon that is what Life does do for us," returned Hiram, +thoughtfully, stopping at the end of the furrow to mop his brow +and let the old horse breathe. "Yes, sir! Life plows all the +experience under, and it ought to enrich our future existence, +just as this stuff I'm plowing under here will decay and enrich +the soil." + +But the plow don't turn it quite under in spots," said Sister, +with a sigh. "Leastways, I can't help remembering the bad things +once in a while." + +There were certain other individuals who found out very soon that +Hiram was plowing, too. Those were the hens. There were not +more than fifteen or twenty of the scrubby creatures, and they +began to follow the plow and pick up grubs and worms. + +"I tell you one thing that I've got to do before we put in much," +Hiram told the ex-boarding house mistress at noon. + +"What's that, Hi? Don't go very deep down into my pocket, for it +won't stand it. After paying my bills, and paying for moving out +here, I ain't got much money left--and that's a fact!" + +"It won't cost much, but we've got to have a yard for the hens. +Hens and a garden will never mix successfully. Unless you +enclose them you might as well have no garden in that spot where +I'm plowing." + +"There warn't but five eggs to-day," said Mrs. Atterson. "Mebbe +we'd better chop the heads off 'em, one after the other, and eat +'em." + +"They'll lay better as it grows warmer. That henhouse must be +fixed before next winter. It's too draughty," said Hi. "And +then, hens can't lay well--especially through the winter--if they +haven't the proper kind of food." + +"But three or four of the dratted things want to stay on the nest +all the time," complained the old lady. + +"If I was you, Mrs. Atterson," Hiram said, soberly, "I'd spend +five dollars for a hundred eggs of well-bred stock. + +"I'd set these hens as fast as they get broody, and raise a +decent flock of biddies for next year. Scrub hens are just as bad +as scrub cows. The scrubs will eat quite as much as full-bloods, +yet the returns from the scrubs are much less." + +"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Atterson, "a hen's always been just a +hen to me--one's the same as another, exceptin' the feathers on +some is prettier." + +"To-night I'll show you some breeders' catalogs and you can think +the matter over as to what kind of a fowl you want," said the +young farmer. + +He went back to his job after dinner and kept steadily at work +until three o'clock before there came a break. Then he saw a +carriage drive into the yard, and a few moments later a man In a +long gray coat came striding across the lot toward him. + +Hiram knew the gentleman at once--it was Mr. Bronson, the father +of the girl he had saved from the runaway. To tell the truth, +the boy had rather wondered about his non-appearance during the +days that had elapsed. But now he came with hand held out, and +his first words explained the seeming omission: + +"I've been away for more than a week, my boy, or I should have +seen you before. You're Hiram Strong, aren't you--the boy my +little girl has been talking so much about?" + +"I don't know how much Miss Lettie has been talking about me," +laughed Hiram. "Full and plenty, I expect." + +"And small blame to her," declared Mr. Bronson. "I won't waste +time telling you how grateful I am. I had just time to turn that +boy of Dickerson's off before I was called away. Now, my lad, I +want you to come and work for me." + +"Why, much as I might like to, sir, I couldn't do that," said +Hiram. + +"Now, now! we'll fix it somehow. Lettie has set her heart on +having you around the place. + +"You're the second young man I've been after whom I was sure +would suit me, since we moved on to the old Fleigler place. The +first fellow I can't find; but don't tell me that I am going to +be disappointed in you, too." + +"Mr. Bronson," said Hiram, gravely, "I'm sorry to say 'No.' A +little while ago I'd have been delighted to take up with any +fair offer you might have made me. But I have agreed with Mrs. +Atterson to run her place for two seasons." + +"Two years!" exclaimed Mr. Bronson. + +"Yes, sir. Practically. I must put her on her feet and make the +old farm show a profit." + +"You're pretty young to take such responsibility upon your +shoulders, are you not?" queried the gentleman, eyeing him +curiously. + +"I'm seventeen. I began to work with my father as soon as I +could lift a hoe. I love farm work. And I've passed my word to +stick to Mrs. Atterson." + +"That's the old lady up to the house?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"But she wouldn't hold you to your bargain if she saw you could +better yourself, would she?" + +"She would not have to," Hiram said, firmly, and he began to +feel a little disappointed in his caller. "A bargain's a +bargain--there's no backing out of it." + +"But suppose I should make it worth her while to give you up?" +pursued Mr. Bronson. "I'll sound her a bit, eh? I tell you +that Lettie has set her heart on having you, as we cannot find +another chap whom we were looking for." + +Now, Hiram knew that this referred to him; but he said nothing. +Besides, he did not feel too greatly pleased that the strongest +reason for Mr. Bronson's wishing to hire him was his little +daughter's demand. It was just a fancy of Miss Lettie's. And +another day, she might have the fancy to turn him off. + +"No, sir," spoke Hiram, more firmly. "It is useless. I am +obliged to you; but I must stick by Mrs. Atterson." + +"Well, my lad," said the Westerner, putting out his hand +again." I am glad to see you know how to keep a promise, even if +it isn't to your advantage. And I am grateful to you for turning +that trick for my little girl the other day. + +"I hope you'll come over and see us--and I shall watch your work +here. Most of these fellows around here are pretty slovenly +farmers in my estimation; I hope you will do better than the +average." + +He went back across the field and Hiram returned to his plowing. +The young farmer saw the bay horses driven slowly out of the yard +and along the road. + +He saw the flutter of a scarf from the carriage and knew that +Lettie Bronson was with her father; but she did not look out at +him as he toiled behind the old horse in the furrow. + +However, there was no feeling of disappointment in Hiram Strong's +mind--and this fact somewhat surprised him. He had been so +attracted by the girl, and had wished in the beginning so much to +be engaged by Mr. Bronson, that he had considered it a mighty +disappointment when he had lost the Westerner's card. + +However, his apathy in the matter was easily explained. He had +taken hold of the work on the Atterson place. His plans were +growing in his mind for the campaign before him. His interest +was fastened upon the contract he had made with the old lady. + +His hand was, literally now, "to the plow"--and he was not +looking back. + +He finished the piece that day, and likewise drew out some lime +that he had bought at Scoville and spread it broadcast upon all +the garden patch save that in which he intended to put potatoes. + +Although it is an exploded doctrine that the application of lime +to potato ground causes scab, it is a fact that it will aid in +spreading the disease. Hiram was sure enough--because of the +sheep-sorrel on the piece--that it all needed sweetening, but he +decided against the lime at this time. + +As soon as Hiram had drag-harrowed the piece he laid off two rows +down the far end, as being less tempting to the straying hens, +and planted early peas--the round-seeded variety, hardier than +the wrinkled kinds. These pea-rows were thirty inches apart, and +he dropped the peas by hand and planted them very thickly. + +It doesn't pay to be niggardly with seed in putting in early +peas, at any rate--the thicker they come up the better, and in +these low bush varieties the thickly growing vines help support +each other. + +This garden piece--almost two acres--was oblong in shape. An +acre is just about seventy paces square. Hiram's garden was +seventy by a hundred and forty paces, or thereabout. + +Therefore, the young farmer had two seventy-yard rows of peas, or +over four hundred feet of drill. He planted two quarts of peas +at a cost of seventy cents. + +With ordinary fortune the crop should be much more than +sufficient for the needs of the house while the peas were in a +green state, for being a quick growing vegetable, they are soon +past. + +Hiram, however, proposed putting in a surplus of almost +everything he planted in this big garden--especially of the early +vegetables--for he believed that there would be a market for them +in Scoville. + +The ground was very cold yet, and snow flurries swept over the +field every few days; but the peas were under cover and were off +his mind; Hiram knew they would be ready to pop up above the +surface just as soon as the warm weather came in earnest, and +peas do not easily rot in the ground. + +In two weeks, or when the weather was settled, he proposed +planting other kinds of peas alongside these first two rows, so +as to have a succession up to mid-summer. + +Next the young farmer laid off his furrows for early potatoes. +He had bought a sack of an extra-early variety, yet a potato +that, if left in the ground the full length of the season, would +make a good winter variety--a "long keeper." + +His potato rows he planned to have three feet apart, and he +plowed the furrows twice, so as to have them clean and deep. + +Henry Pollock happened to come by while he was doing this, and +stopped to talk and watch Hiram. To tell the truth, Henry and +his folks were more than a little interested in what the young +farmer would do with the Atterson place. + +Like other neighbors they doubted if the stranger knew as much +about the practical work of farming as he claimed to know. "That +feller from the city," the neighbors called Hiram behind his +back, and that is an expression that completely condemns a man in +the mind of the average countryman. + +"What yer bein' so particular with them furrers for, Hiram?" +asked Henry. + +"If a job's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well, isn't it?" +laughed the young farmer. + +"We spread our manure broadcast--when we use any at all--for +potatoes," said Henry, slowly. "Dad says if manure comes in +contact with potatoes, they are apt to rot." + +"That seems to be a general opinion," replied Hiram. "And it +may be so under certain conditions. For that reason I am going +to make sure that not much of this fertilizer comes in direct +contact with my seed." + +"How'll you do that?" "I'll show you," said Hiram. + +Having run out his rows and covered the bottom of each furrow +several inches deep with the manure, he ran his plow down one +side of each furrow and turned the soil back upon the fertilizer, +covering it and leaving a well pulverized seed bed for the +potatoes to lie in. + +"Well," said Henry, " that's a good wrinkle, too." + +Hiram had purchased some formalin, mixed it with water according +to the Government expert's instructions, and from time to time +soaked his seed potatoes two hours in the antiseptic bath. In +the evening he brought them into the kitchen and they all--even +Old Lem Camp--cut up the potatoes, leaving two or three good eyes +in each piece. + +"I'd ruther do this than peel 'em for the boarders," remarked +Sister, looking at her deeply-stained fingers reflectively. "And +then, nobody won't say nothin' about my hands to me when I'm +passin' dishes at the table." + +The following day she helped Hiram drop the seed, and by night he +had covered them by running his plow down the other side of the +row and then smoothed the potato plat with a home-made "board" in +lieu of a land-roller. + +It was the twentieth of March, and not a farmer in the locality +had yet put in either potatoes, or peas. Some had not as yet +plowed for early potatoes, and Henry Pollock warned Hiram that he +was "rushing the season." + +"That may be," declared the young farmer to Mrs. Atterson. "But +I believe the risk is worth taking. If we do get 'em good, we'll +get 'em early and skim the cream of the local market. Now, you +see!" + + + +CHAPTER XV + +TROUBLE BREWS + +"Old Lem Camp," as he had been called for so many years that +there seemed no disrespect in the title, was waking up. Not many +mornings was he a lie-abed. And the lines in his forehead seemed +to be smoothing out, and his eyes had lost something of their +dullness. + +It was true that, at first, he wandered about the farmstead +muttering to himself in his old way--an endless monologue which +was a jumble of comment, gratitude, and the brief memories of +other days. It took some time to adjust his poor mind to the +fact that he had no longer to fear that Poverty which had stalked +ever before him like a threatening spirit. + +Gratitude spurred him to the use of his hands. He was not a +broken man--not bodily. Many light tasks soon fell to his share, +and Mrs. Atterson told Hiram and Sister to let him do what he +would. To busy himself would be the best thing in the world for +the old fellow. + +"That's what's been the matter with Mr. Camp for years," she +declared, with conviction. "Because he passed the sixty-year +mark, and it was against the practise of the paper company to +keep employees on the payroll over that age, they turned Lem Camp +off. + +"Ridiculous! He was just as well able to do the tasks that he +had learned to do mechanically as he had been any time for the +previous twenty years. He had worked in that office forty years, +and more, you understand. + +"That's the worst thing about a corporation of that kind--it +has no thought beyond its 'rules.' Old Mr. Bundy remembered +Lem--that's all. If he hadn't so much stock in the concern +they'd turn him off, too. I expect he knows it and that's what +softened his heart to Old Lem. + +"Now, let Lem take hold of whatever he can do, and git interested +in it," declared the practical Mrs. Atterson, "and he'll show +you that there's work left in him yet. Yes-sir-ree-sir! And if +he'll work in the open air, all the better for him." + +There was plenty for everybody to do, and Hiram would not say the +old man nay. The seed boxes needed a good deal of attention, +for they were to be lifted out into the air on warm days, and +placed in the sun. And Old Lem could do this--and stir the soil +in them, and pull out the grass and other weeds that started. + +Hiram had planted early cabbage and cauliflower and egg-plant in +other boxes, and the beets were almost big enough to transplant +to the open ground. Beets are hardy and although hair-roots are +apt to form on transplanted garden beets, the transplanting aids +the growth in other ways and Hiram expected to have table-beets +very early. + +In the garden itself he had already run out two rows of later +beets, the width of the plot. Bunched beets will sell for a fair +price the whole season through. + +Hiram was giving his whole heart and soul to the work--he was +wrapped up in the effort to make the farm pay. And for good +reason. + +It was "up to him" to not alone turn a profit for his employer, +and himself; but he desired--oh, how strongly!--to show the city +folk who had sneered at him that he could be a success in the +right environment. + +Besides, and in addition, Hiram Strong was ambitious--very +ambitious indeed for a youth of his age. He wanted to own a farm +of his own in time--and it was no "one-horse farm" he aimed at. + +No, indeed! Hiram had read of the scientific farming of the +Middle West, and the enormous tracts in the Northwest devoted to +grain and other staple crops, where the work was done for the +most part by machinery. + +He longed to see all this--and to take part in it. He desired the +big things in farming, nor would he ever be content to remain a +helper. + +"I'm going to be my own boss, some day--and I'm going to boss +other men. I'll show these fellows around here that I know +what I want, and when I get it I'll handle it right!" Hiram +soliloquized. + +"It's up to me to save every cent I can. Henry thinks I'm +niggardly, I expect, because I wouldn't go to town Saturday night +with him. But I haven't any money to waste. + +"The hundred I'm to get next Christmas from Mrs. Atterson I don't +wish to draw on at all. I'll get along with such old clothes as +I've got." + +Hiram was not naturally a miser; he frequently bought some little +thing for Sister when he went to town--a hair-ribbon, or the +like, which he knew would please the girl; but for himself he was +determined to be saving. + +At the end of his contract with Mrs. Atterson he would have two +hundred dollars anyway. But that was not the end and aim of +Hiram Strong's hopes. + +"It's the clause in our agreement about the profits of our second +season that is my bright and shining star," he told the good lady +more than once. "I don't know yet what we had better put in next +year to bring us a fortune; but we'll know before it comes time +to plant it." + +Meanwhile the wheel-hoe and seeder he had insisted upon +Mrs. Atterson buying had arrived, and Hiram, after studying +the instructions which came with it, set the machine up as a +seed-sower. Later, after the bulk of the seeds were in the +ground, he would take off the seeding attachment and bolt on +the hoe, or cultivator attachments, with which to stir the soil +between the narrower rows of vegetables. + +As he made ready to plant seeds such as carrot, parsnip, onion, +salsify, and leaf-beet, as well as spring spinach, early turnips, +radishes and kohlrabi, Hiram worked that part of his plowed land +over again and again with the spike harrow, finally boarding the +strips down smoothly as he wished to plant them. The seedbed +must be as level as a floor, and compact, for good use to be made +of the wheel-seeder. + +When he had lined out one row with his garden line, from side to +side of the plowed strip, the marking arrangement attached to his +seeder would mark the following lines plainly, and at just the +distance he desired. + +Onions, carrots, and the like, he put in fifteen inches apart, +intending to do all the cultivating of those extremely small +plants with the wheel-hoe, after they were large enough. But he +foresaw the many hours of cultivating before him and marked the +rows for the bulk of the vegetables far enough apart, as he had +first intended, to make possible the use of the horse-hoe. + +Meanwhile he spike-harrowed the potato patch, running cross-wise +of the rows to break the crust and keep down the quick-springing +weed seeds. The early peas were already above ground and when +they were two inches high Hiram ran his 14-tooth cultivator--or +"seed harrow" as it is called in some localities--close to the +rows so as to throw the soil toward the plants, almost burying +them from sight again. This was to give the peas deep rootage, +which is a point necessary for the quick and stable growth of +this vegetable. + +In odd moments Hiram had cut and set a few posts, bought poultry +netting in Scoville, and enclosed Mrs. Atterson's chicken-run. +She had taken his advice and sent for eggs, and already had four +hens setting and expected to set the remainder of the of the eggs +in a few days. + +Sister took an enormous interest in this poultry-raising venture. +She "counted chickens before they were hatched" with a vengeance, +and after reading a few of the poultry catalogs she figured out +that, in three years, from the increase of Mother Atterson's +hundred eggs, the eighty-acre farm would not be large enough to +contain the flock. + +"And all from five dollars!" gasped Sister. "I don't see why +everybody doesn't go to raising chickens--then there'd be no poor +folks, everybody would be rich-- Well! I expect there'd always +have to be institutions for orphans--and boarding houses! + +The new-springing things from the ground, the "hen industry" and +the repairing and beautifying of the outside of the farmhouse did +not take up all their attention. There were serious matters to +be discussed in the evening, after the others had gone to bed, +'twixt Hiram and his employer. + +There was the five or six acres of bottom land--the richest piece +of soil of the entire eighty. Hiram had not forgotten this, and +the second Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole +family had attended service at a chapel less than half a mile up +the road, he had urged Mrs. Atterson to walk with him through the +timber to the riverside. + +"For the Land o' Goshen!" the ex-boarding house mistress had +finally exclaimed. "To think that I own all of this. Why, Hi, +it don't seem as if it was so. I can't get used to it. And this +timber, you say, is all worth money? And if I cut it off, it +will grow up again---" + +"In thirty to forty years the pine will be worth cutting +again--and some of the other trees," said Hiram, with a smile. + +"Well! that would be something for Sister to look forward to," +said the old lady, evidently thinking aloud. "And I don't expect +her folks--whoever they be--will ever look her up now, Hiram." + +"But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would +have a very valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage--valuable +for almost any crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the +sun," said the young farmer, ignoring the other's observation. + +"Well, well! it's wonderful," returned Mrs. Atterson. + +But she listened attentively to what he had to say about clearing +the bottom land, which was a much more easily accomplished +task, as Hiram showed her. It would cost something to put the +land into shape for late corn, and so prepare it for some more +valuable crop the following season. + +"Well, nothing ventured, nothing have!" Mrs. Atterson finally +agreed. "Go ahead--if it won't cost much more than what you say +to get the corn in. I understand it's a gamble, and I'm taking +a gambler's chance. If the river rises and floods the corn in +June, or July, then we get nothing this season?" + +"That is a possibility," admitted Hiram. + +"Go ahead," exclaimed Mother Atterson. "I never did know that +there was sporting blood in me; but I kinder feel it risin', Hi, +with the sap in the trees. We'll chance it!" + +Occasionally Hiram had stepped down to the pasture and squinted +across to the water-hole. The grass was not long enough yet to +turn the cow into the field, so he was obliged to make these +special trips to the pasture. + +He had seen nothing of the Dickersons--to speak to, that +is--since his trouble with Pete. And, of a sudden, just before +dinner one noon, Hiram took a look at the pasture and beheld a +figure seemingly working down in the corner. + +Hiram ran swiftly in that direction. Half-way there he saw that +it was Pete, and that he had deliberately cut out a panel of the +fence and was letting a pair of horses he had been plowing with, +drink at the pool, before he took them home to the Dickerson +stable. + +Hiram stopped running and recovered his breath before he reached +the lower corner of the pasture. Pete saw him coming, and +grinned impudently at him. + +"What are you doing here, Dickerson?" demanded the young farmer, +indignantly. + +"Well, if you wanter keep us out, you'd better keep up your +fences better," returned Pete. "I seen the wires down, and it's +handy---" + +"You cut those wires!" interrupted Hiram, angrily. + +"You're another," drawled Pete, but grinning in a way to +exasperate the young farmer. + +"I know you did so." + +"Wal, if you know so much, what are you going to do about it?" +demanded the other. "I guess you'll find that these wires will +snap 'bout as fast as you can mend 'em. Now, you can put that in +your pipe an' smoke it!" + +"But I don't smoke." Hiram observed, growing calm immediately. +There was no use in giving this lout the advantage of showing +anger with him. + +"Mr. Smartie!" snarled Pete Dickerson. "Now, you see, there's +somebody just as smart as you be. These horses have drunk there, +and they're going to drink again." + +"Is that your father yonder?" demanded Hiram, shortly. + +"Yes, it is." + +"Call him over here." + +"Why, if he comes over here, he'll eat you alive! " cried Pete, +"laughing. You don't know my dad." + +"I don't; but I want to," Hiram said, calmly. "That's why you'd +better call him over. I have got pretty well acquainted with you, +and the rest of your family can't be any worse, as I look at it. +Call him over," and the young farmer stepped nearer to the lout. + +"You call him yourself!" cried Pete, beginning to back away, for +he remembered how he had been treated at his previous encounter +with Hiram. + +Hiram seized the bridles of the work horses, and shook them out +of Pete's clutch. + +"Tell your father to come here," commanded the young farmer, fire +in his eyes. "We'll settle this thing here and now. + +"These horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land. I know the county +stock law as well as you do. You cut this fence, and your cattle +are on her ground. + +"It will cost you a dollar a head to get them off again--if +Mrs. Atterson wishes to demand it. Now, call your father." + +Pete raised a yell which startled the long-legged man striding +over the hill toward the Dickerson farmhouse. Hiram saw the +older Dickerson turn, stare, and then start toward them. + +Pete continued to beckon, and began to yell: + +"Dad! Dad! He won't let me have the hosses!" + +Sam Dickerson came striding down to the waterhole--a lean, +long, sour-looking man he was, with a brown face knotted into a +continual scowl, and hard, bony hands. Yet Hiram was not afraid +of him. + +"What's the trouble here?" growled the farmer. + +"He's got the hosses. I told you the fence was down and I was +goin' to water 'em---" + +"Shut up!" commanded his father, eyeing Hiram. "I'm talking to +this fellow: What's the trouble here?" + +"Your horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land," Hiram said, quietly. +"You know that stock which strays can be held for a dollar a +head--damage or no damage to crops. I warn you, keep your horses +on your own land." + +"That's your fence; if you don't keep it up, who's fault is it if +my horses get on your land?" growled Dickerson, evidently making +the matter a personal one with Hiram. + +"Your boy here cut the wires." + +"No I didn't, Dad!" interposed Pete. + +Quick as a flash Hiram dropped the bridle reins, sprang for Pete, +seized him in a wrestler's grip, twisted him around, and tore +from his pocket a pair of heavy wire-cutters. + +"What were you doing with these in your pocket, then?" demanded +Hiram, disdainfully, tossing the plyers upon the ground at Pete's +feet, and stepping back to keep the restless horses from leaving +the edge of the water-hole. + +Sam Dickerson seemed to take a grim pleasure in his son's +overthrow. He growled: + +"He's got you there, Pete. You'd better stop monkeyin' around +here. Pick up them bridles and come on." + +He turned to depart without another word to Hiram; but the latter +did not propose to be put off that way. + +"Hold on!" he called. "Who's going to mend this fence, +Mr. Dickerson?" + +Dickerson turned and eyed him coldly again. + +"What's that to me? Mend your own fence," he said. + +"Then I shall take these horses up to our barn. You can come and +settle the matter with Mrs. Atterson--unless you wish to pay +me two dollars here and now," said the young farmer, his voice +carrying clearly to where the man stood upon the rising ground +above him. + +"Why, you young whelp!" roared Dickerson, suddenly starting down +the slope. + +But Hiram Strong neither moved nor showed fear. Somehow, this +sturdy young fellow, in the high laced boots, with his flannel +shirt open at the throat, raw as was the day, his sleeves rolled +back to his elbows, was a figure to make even a more muscular man +than Sam Dickerson hesitate. + +"Pete!" exclaimed the farmer, harshly, still eyeing Hiram. "Run +up to the house and bring my shotgun. Be quick about it." + +Hiram said never a word, and the horses, yoked together, began to +crop the short grass springing upon the bank of the water-hole. + +"You'll find out you're fooling with the wrong man, you +whippersnapper!" promised Dickerson. + +"You can pay me two dollars and I'll mend the fence; or you can +mend the fence and we'll call it square," said Hiram, slowly, +and evenly. "I'm a boy, but I'm not to be frightened with a +threat---" + +Pete's long legs brought him flying back across the fields. +Nothing he had done in a long while pleased him quite as much as +this errand. + +Hiram turned, jerked at the horses' bridle-reins, turned them +around, and with a sharp slap on the nigh one's flank, sent them +both trotting up into the Atterson pasture. + +"Stop that, you rascal!" cried Dickerson, grabbing the gun from +his hopeful son, and losing his head now entirely. "Bring that +team back!" + +"You mend the fence, and I will," declared Hiram, unshaken. + +The angry man sprang down to his level, flourishing the gun in a +way that would have been dangerous indeed had Hiram believed it +to be loaded. And as it was, the young farmer was very angry. + +The right was on his side; if he allowed these Dickersons, father +and son, to browbeat him this once, it would only lead to future +trouble. + +This thing had to be settled right here and now. It would never +do for Hiram to show fear. And if both of the long-legged +Dickersons pitched upon him, of course, he would be no match for +them. + +But Sam Dickerson stumbled and almost fell as he reached the edge +of the water-hole, and before he could recover himself, Hiram +leaped upon him, seized the shotgun, and wrenched it from his +hands. + +He reversed the weapon in a flash, clubbed it, and raised it over +his head with a threatening swing that made Pete yell from the +top of the bank: + +"Look out, Dad! He's a-goin' ter swat yer!" + +Sam tried to scramble out of the way. But down came the gun butt +with all the force of Hiram's good muscle, and--the stock was +splintered and the lock shattered upon the big stone that here +cropped out of the bank. + +"There's your gun--what's left of it," panted the young farmer, +tossing the broken weapon from him. "Now, don't you ever +threaten me with a gun again, for if you do I'll have you +arrested. + +"We've got to be neighbors, and we've got to get along in a +neighborly manner. But I'm not going to allow you to take +advantage of Mrs. Atterson, because she is a woman. + +"Now, Mr. Dickerson," he added, as the man scrambled up, glaring +at him evidently with more surprise than anger, "if you'll make +Pete mend this fence, you can have your horses. Otherwise I'm +going to 'pound' them according to the stock law of the county." + +"Pete," said his father, briefly, "go get your hammer and staples +and mend this fence up as good as you found it." + +"And now," said Hiram, "I'm going home to gear the horse to the +wagon, and I'll drive over to your house, Mr. Dickerson. From +time to time you have borrowed while Uncle Jeptha was alive quite +a number of tools. I want them. I have made inquiries and I +know what tools they are. Just be prepared to put them into my +wagon, will you?" + +He turned on his heel without further words and left the +Dickersons to catch their horses, and to repair the fence--both +of which they did promptly. + +Not only that, but when Hiram drove into the Dickerson dooryard +an hour later he had no trouble about recovering the tools which +the neighbor had borrowed and failed to return. + +Pete scowled at him and muttered uncomplimentary remarks; but Sam +phlegmatically smoked his pipe and sat watching the young farmer +without any comment. + +"And so, that much is accomplished," ruminated Hiram, as he drove +home. "But I'm not sure whether hostilities are finished, or +have just begun." + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON + +"The old Atterson place" as it was called in the neighborhood, +began to take on a brisk appearance these days. Sister, with the +help of Old Lem Camp, had long since raked the dooryard clean and +burned the rubbish which is bound to gather during the winter. + +Years before there had been flower beds in front; but Uncle +Jeptha had allowed the grass to overrun them. It was a month too +early to think of planting many flowers; but Hiram had bought +some seeds, and he showed Sister how to prepare boxes for them in +the sunny kitchen windows, along with the other plant boxes; and +around the front porch he spaded up a strip, enriched it well, +and almost the first seeds put into the ground on the farm were +the sweet peas around this porch. Mother Atterson was very fond +of these flowers and had always managed to coax some of them to +grow even in the boarding-house back yard. + +At the side porch she proposed to have morning-glories and +moon-flowers, while the beds in front would be filled with those +old-fashioned flowers which everybody loves. + +"But if we can't make our own flower-beds, we can go without +them, Hi," said the bustling old lady. "We mustn't take you from +your other work to spade beds for us. Every cat's got to catch +mice on this place, now I tell ye!" + +And Hiram certainly was busy enough these days. The early seeds +were all in, however, and he had run the seed-harrow over the +potato rows again, lengthwise, to keep the weeds out until the +young plants should get a start. + +Despite the raw winds and frosts at night, the potatoes had come +up well and, with the steadily warming wind and sun, would now +begin to grow. Other farmers' potatoes in the vicinity were not +yet breaking the ground. + +Early on Monday morning Henry Pollock appeared with bush-axe +and grubbing hoe, and Hiram shouldered similar tools and they +started for the river bottom. It was so far from the house that +Mrs. Atterson agreed to send their dinner to them. + +"Father says he remembers seeing corn growing on this bottom," +said Henry, as they set to work, "so high that the ears were as +high up as a tall man. It's splendid corn land--if it don't get +flooded out." + +"And does the river often over-ran its banks?" queried Hiram, +anxiously. + +"Pretty frequent. It hasn't yet this year; there wasn't much +snow last winter, you see, and the early spring floods weren't +very high. But if we have a long wet spell, as we do have +sometimes as late as July, you'll see water here." + +"That's not very encouraging," said Hiram. Not for corn +prospects, at least." + +"Well, corn's our staple crop. You see, if you raise corn enough +you're sure of feed for your team. That's the main point." + +"But people with bigger farms than they have around here can +raise corn cheaper than we can. They use machinery in harvesting +it, too. Why not raise a better paying crop, and buy the extra +corn you may need?" + +"Why," responded Henry, shaking his head, nobody around here +knows much about raising fancy crops. I read about 'em in the +farm papers--oh, yes, we take papers--the cheap ones. There is a +lot of information in 'em, I guess; but father don't believe much +that's printed." + +"Doesn't believe much that's printed?" repeated Hiram, curiously. + +"Nope. He says it's all lies, made up out of some man's +head. You see, we useter take books out of the Sunday School +library, and we had story papers, too; and father used to read +'em as much as anybody. + +"But one summer we had a summer boarder--a man that wrote things. +He had one of these dinky little merchines with him that you play +on like a piano, you know---" + +"A typewriter?" suggested Hiram, with a smile. + +"Yep. Well, he wrote stories. Father learnt as how all that +stuff was just imaginary, and so he don't take no stock in +printed stuff any more. + +"That man just sat down at that merchine, and rattled off a story +that he got real money for. It didn't have to be true at all. + +"So father soured on it. And he says the stuff in the farm +papers is just the same." + +"I'm afraid that your father is mistaken there," said Hiram, +hiding his amusement. "Men who have spent years in studying +agricultural conditions, and experimenting with soils, and seeds, +and plants, and fertilizers, and all that, write what facts they +have learned for our betterment. + +"No trade in the world is so encouraged and aided by Governments, +and by private corporations, as the trade of farming. There +is scarcely a State which does not have a special agricultural +college in which there are winter courses for people who cannot +give the open time of the year to practical experiment on the +college grounds. + +"That is what you need in this locality, I guess," added Hiram. +"Some scientific farming." + +"Book farming, father calls it," said Henry. "And he says it's +no good." + +"Why don't you save your money and take a course next winter +in some side line and so be able to show him that he's wrong?" +suggested Hiram. "I want to do that myself after I have fulfilled +my contract with Mrs. Atterson. + +"I won't be able to do so next winter, for I shall be on wages. +You're going to be a farmer, aren't you?" + +"I expect to. We've got a good farm as farms go around here. +But it seems about all we can do to pay our fertilizer bills and +get a living off it." + +"Then why don't you go about fitting yourself for your job?" +"asked Hiram. Be a good farmer--an up-to-date farmer. + +"No fellow expects to be a machinist, or an electrician, or the +like, without spending some time under good instructors. Most +that I know about soils, and fertilizers, and plant development, +and the like, I learned from my father, who kept abreast of the +times by reading and experiment. + +"You can stumble along, working at your trade of farming, and +only half knowing it all your life; that's what most farmers do, +in fact. They are too lazy to take up the scientific side of it +and learn why. + +"That's the point--learn why you do things that your father did, +and his father did, and his father before him. There's usually +good reason why they did it--a scientific reason which somebody +dug out by experiment ages ago; but you ought to be able to tell +why." + +"I suppose that's so," admitted Henry, as they worked on, side +by side. "But I don't know what father would say if I sprung a +college course on him!" + +"I'd find out," returned Hiram, laughing. "You'd better spend +your money that way than for a horse and buggy. That's the +highest ambition of most boys in the country." + +The labor of bushing and grubbing these acres of lowland was no +light one. Hiram insisted that every stub and root be removed +that a heavy plow could not tear out. They had made some +progress by noon, however, when Sister came down with their +dinner. + +Hiram built a campfire over which the coffee was re-heated, and +the three ate together, Sister enjoying the picnic to the full. +She insisted on helping in the work by piling the brush and roots +into heaps for burning, and she remained until midafternoon. + +"I like that Henry boy," she confided to Hiram. He don't pull my +braids, or poke fun at me." + +But Sister was developing and growing fast these days. She was +putting on flesh and color showed in her cheeks. They were no +longer hollow and sallow, and she ran like a colt-and was almost +as wild. + +The work of clearing the bottom land could not be continued +daily; but the boys got in three full days that week, and +Saturday morning. Henry, did not wish to work on Saturday +afternoon, for in this locality almost all the farmers knocked +off work at noon Saturday and went to town. + +But when Henry shouldered his tools to go home at noon, Sister +appeared as usual with the lunch, and she and Hiram cut fishing +rods and planned to have a real picnic. + +Trout and mullet were jumping in the pools under the bank; and +they caught several before stopping to eat their own meal. The +freshly caught fish were a fine addition to the repast. + +They went back to fishing after a while and caught enough for +supper at the farmhouse. Just as they were reeling up their +lines the silence of the place was disturbed by a strange sound. + +"There's a motorcycle coming!" cried Sister, jumping up and +looking all around. + +There was a bend in the river below this bottom, and another +above; so they could not see far in either direction unless they +climbed to the high ground. For a minute Hiram could not tell +in which direction the sound was coming; but he knew the steady +put-put-put must be the exhaust of a motor-boat. + +It soon poked its nose around the lower turn. It was a good-sized +boat and instantly Hiram recognized at least one person aboard. + +Miss Lettie Bronson, in a very pretty boating costume, was in the +bow. There were half a dozen other girls with her--well dressed +girls, who were evidently her friends from the St. Beris school +at Scoville. + +"Oh, oh! what a pretty spot!" cried Lettie, on the instant. +"We'll go ashore here and have our luncheon, girls." + +She did not see Hiram and Sister for a moment; but the latter +tugged at Hiram's sleeve. + +"I've seen that girl before," she whispered. She came in the +carriage with the man who spoke to you--you remember? She asked +me if I had always lived in the country, and how I tore my +frock." + +"Isn't she pretty?" returned Hiram. + +"Awfully. But I'm not sure that I like her yet." + +Suddenly Lettie saw Hiram and the girl beside him. She started, +flushed a little, and then gave Hiram a cool little nod and +turned her gaze from him. Her manner showed that he was not +"down in her good books," and the young fellow flushed in turn. + +"I don't know as we'd better try to make the bank here, Miss," +said the man who was directing the motor-boat. "The current's +mighty sharp." + +"I want to land here," said Lettie, decidedly. It's the prettiest +spot we've seen--isn't it, girls?" + +Her friends agreed. Hiram, casting a quick eye over the ruffled +surface of the river, saw that the man was right. How well the +stream below was fitted for motor-boating he did not know; but he +was pretty sure that there were too many ledges just under the +surface here to make it safe for the boat to go farther. + +"I intend to land here-right by that big tree!" commanded Lettie +Bronson, stamping her foot. + +"Well, I dunno," drawled the man; and just then the bow of the +boat swung around, was forced heavily down stream by the current, +and slam it went against a reef! + +The man shot off the engine instantly. The bow of the boat was +lodged on the rock, and tip-tilted considerably. The girls +screamed, and Lettie herself was almost thrown into the water, +for she was standing. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +MR. PEPPER APPEARS + +But Hiram noted again that Lettie Bronson did not display terror. +While her friends were screaming and crying, she sat perfectly +quiet, and for a minute said never a word. + +"Can't you back off?" Hi heard her ask the boatman. + +"Not without lightening her, Miss. And she may have smashed a +plank up there, too. I dunno." + +The Western girl turned immediately to Hiram, who had now come +to the bank's edge. She smiled at him charmingly, and her eyes +danced. She evidently appreciated the fact that the young farmer +had her at a disadvantage--and she had meant to snub him. + +"I guess you'll have to help me again, Mr. Strong," she said. +"What will we do? Can you push out a plank to us, or something?" + +"I'm afraid not, Miss Bronson," he returned. I could cut a pole +and reach it to the boat; but you girls couldn't walk ashore on +it." + +"Oh, dear! have we got to wade?" cried one of Lettie's friends. + +"You can't wade. It's too deep between the shore and the boat," +Hiram said, calmly. + +"Then--then we'll stay here till the tide rises and dr-dr-drowns +us! " wailed another of the girls, giving way to sobs. + +"Don't be a goose, Myra Carroll!" exclaimed Lettie. "If you +waited here for the tide to rise you'd be gray-haired and +decrepit. The tide doesn't rise here. But maybe a spring flood +would wash you away." + +At that the frightened one sobbed harder than ever. She was one +of those who ever see the dark side of adventure. There was no +hope on her horizon. + +"I dunno what you can do for these girls," said the man. "I'd +git out and push off the boat, but I don't dare with them +aboard." + +But Hiram's mind had not been inactive, if he was standing +in seeming idleness. Sister tugged at his sleeve again and +whispered: + +"Have they got to stay there and drown, Hi?" + +"I guess not," he returned, slowly. "Let's see: this old +sycamore leans right out over them. I can shin up there with the +aid of the big grapevine. Then, if I had a rope---" + +"Shall I run and get one?" demanded Sister, listening to him. + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Hiram, speaking to the man in the boat. + +"Well?" asked the fellow. + +"Haven't you got a coil of strong rope aboard?" + +"There's the painter," said the man. + +"Toss it ashore here," commanded Hiram. + +"Oh, Hiram Strong! " cried Lettie. "You don't expect us to walk +tightrope, do you?" and she began to giggle. + +"No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it +clear--that's it," said Hiram. " And it's long enough, I can +see." + +"For what?" asked Sister. + +"Wait and you'll see," returned the young farmer, hastily coiling +the rope again. + +He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big +sycamore. He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very +quickly, for the huge grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way. + +"Whatever are you going to do?" cried Lettie Bronson, looking up +at him, as did the other girls. + +"Now," said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which +was almost directly over the stranded launch, "if you girls have +any pluck at all, I can get you ashore, one by one." + +"What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?" repeated Lettie. + +The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the +line--not a slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody +bearing upon it. This he dropped down to the boat and Lettie +caught it. + +"Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson," +he commanded. "Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out +of the boat and swing you back and forth--there's none of you so +heavy that I can't do this, and if you wet your feet a little, +what's the odds?" + +"Oh, dear! I can never do that!" squealed one of the other +girls. + +"Guess you'll have to do it if you don't want to stay here all +night," returned Lettie, promptly. "I see what you want, Hiram," +she added, and quickly adjusted the loop. + +"Now, when you swing out over the bank, Sister will grab you, +and steady you. It will be all right if you have a care. Now!" +cried Hiram. + +Lettie Bronson showed no fear at all as he drew her up and she +swung out of the boat over the swiftly-running current. Hiram +laid along the tree-trunk in an easy position, and began swinging +the girl at the end of the rope, like a pendulum. + +The river bank being at least three feet higher than the surface +of the water; he did not have to shift the rope again as he swung +the girl back and forth. + +Sister, clinging with her left hand to the grapevine, leaned +forward and clutched Lettie's hand. When she seized it, Sister +backed away, and the swinging girl landed upright upon the bank. + +"Oh, that's fun!" Lettie cried, laughing, loosing herself from +"the loop. Now you come, Mary Judson!" + +Thus encouraged they responded one by one, and even the girl who +had broken down and cried agreed to be rescued by this simple +means. The boatman then, after removing his shoes and stockings +and rolling up his trousers, stepped out upon the sunken rock and +pushed off the boat. + +But it was leaking badly. He dared not take aboard his +passengers again, but turned around and went down stream as fast +as he could go so as to beach the boat in a safe place. + +"Now how'll we get back to Scoville?" cried one of Lettie's +friends. "I can never walk that far." + +Sister had dropped back, shyly, behind Hiram, when he descended +the tree. She had aided each girl ashore; but only Lettie had +thanked her. Now she tugged at Hiram's sleeve. + +"Take 'em home in our wagon," she whispered. + +"I can take you to Scoville--or to Miss Bronson's--in the farm +wagon," Hiram said, smiling. "You can sit on straw in the bottom +and be comfortable." + +"Oh, a straw ride!" cried Lettie. "What fun! And he can drive +us right to St. Beris--And think what the other girls will say +and how they'll stare!" + +The idea seemed a happy one to all the girls save the cry-baby, +Myra Carroll. And her complaints were drowned in the laughter +and chatter of the others. + +Hiram picked up the tools, Sister got the string of fish, and +they set out for the Atterson farmhouse. Lettie chatted most of +the way with Hiram; but to Sister, walking on the other side of +the young farmer, the Western girl never said a word. + +At the house it was the same. While Hiram was cleaning the +wagon and putting a bed of straw into it, and currying the horse +and gearing him to the wagon, Mrs. Atterson brought a crock +of cookies out upon the porch and talked with the girls from +St. Beris. Sister had run indoors and changed her shabby and +soiled frock for a new gingham; but when she came down to the +porch, and stood bashfully in the doorway, none of the girls from +town spoke to her. + +Hiram drove up with the farm-wagon. Most of the girls had +accepted the adventure in the true spirit now, and they climbed +into the wagon-bed on the clean straw with laughter and jokes. +But nobody invited Sister to join the party. + +The orphan looked wistfully after the wagon as Hiram drove out +of the yard. Then she turned, with trembling lip, to Mother +Atterson: "She--she's awfully pretty," she said, "and Hiram +likes her. But she--they're all proud, and I guess they don't +think much of folks like us, after all." + +"Shucks, Sister! we're just good as they be, every bit," returned +Mrs. Atterson, bruskly. + +"I know; mebbe we be," admitted Sister, slowly. But it don't feel +so." + +And perhaps Hiram had some such thought, too, after he had driven +the girls to the big boarding. school in Scoville. For they all +got out without even thanking him or bidding him good-bye--all +save Lettie. + +"Really, we are a thousand times obliged to you, Hiram Strong," +she said, in her very best manner, and offering him her hand. +"As the girls were my guests I felt I must get them home again +safely--and you were indeed a friend in need." + +But then she spoiled it utterly, by adding: + +"Now, how much do I owe you, Hiram?" and took out her purse. "Is +two dollars enough?" This put Hiram right in his place. He saw +plainly that, friendly as the Bronsons were, they did not look +upon a common farm-boy as their equal--not in social matters, at +least. + +"I could not take anything for doing a neighbor a favor, Miss " +Bronson, said Hiram, quietly. "Thank you. Good-day. " + +Hiram drove back home feeling quite as depressed as Sister, +perhaps. Finally he said to himself: + +"Well, some day I'll show 'em!" + +After that he put the matter out of his mind and refused to be +troubled by thoughts of Lettie Bronson, or her attitude toward +him. + +Spring was advancing apace now. Every day saw the development +of bud, leaf and plant. Slowly the lowland was cleared and the +brush and roots were heaped in great piles, ready for the torch. + +Hiram could not depend upon this six acres as their only piece of +corn, however. There was the four-acre lot between the barnyard +and the pasture in which he proposed to plant the staple crop. + +He drew out the remainder of the coarse manure and spread it upon +this land, as far as it would go. For enriching the remainder +of the corn crop he would have to depend upon a commercial +fertilizer. He drew, too, a couple of tons of lime to be used on +this corn land, and left it in heaps to slake. + +And then, out of the clear sky of their progress, came a bolt as +unexpected as could be. They had been less than a month upon the +farm. Uncle Jeptha had not been in his grave thirty days, and +Hiram was just getting into the work of running the place, with +success looming ahead. + +He had refused Mr. Bronson's offer of a position and had elected +to stick by Mrs. Atterson. He had looked forward to nothing +to disturb the contract between them until the time should be +fulfilled. + +Yet one afternoon, while he was at work in the garden, Sister +came out to him all in a flurry. + +"Mis' Atterson wants you! Mis' Atterson wants you!" cried the +girl. "Oh, Hiram! something dreadful's going to happen. I know, +by the way Mis' Atterson looks. And I don' like the looks o' +that man that's come to see her." + +Hiram unhooked the horse at the end of the row and left Sister to +lead him to the stable. He went into the house after knocking +the mud off his boots. + +There, sitting in the bright kitchen, was the sharp-featured, +snaky-looking man with whom Hiram had once talked in town. He +knew his name was Pepper, and that he did something in the real +estate line, and insurance, and the like. + +"Jest listen to what this man says, Hiram," said Mrs. Atterson, +grimly. + +"My name's Pepper," began the man, eyeing Hiram curiously. + +"So I hear," returned the young farmer. + +"Before old Mr. Atterson died we got to talking one day when he +was in town about his selling." + +"Well?" returned Hiram. "You didn't say anything about that when +you offered twelve hundred for this place." + +"Well," said the man, stubbornly, "that was a good offer." + +Hiram turned to Mrs. Atterson. "Do you want to sell for that +price?" + +"No, I don't, Hi," she said. + +"Then that settles it, doesn't it? Mrs. Atterson is the owner, +and she knows her own mind." + +"I made Uncle Jeptha a better offer," said Mr. Pepper, "and I'll +make Mrs. Atterson the same--sixteen hundred dollars. It's a +run-down farm, of course---" + +"If Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell," interrupted Hiram, but +here his employer intervened. + +"There's something more, Hi," she said, her face working +"strangely. Tell him, you Pepper!" + +"Why, the old man gave me an option on the place, and I risked a +twenty dollar bill on it. The option had--er--a year to run; dated +February tenth last; and I've decided to take the option up," +said Mr. Pepper, his shrewd little eyes dancing in their gaze +from Hiram to the old lady and back again. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A HEAVY CLOUD + +Now, a rattlesnake is poisonous, but he gives fair warning; a +swamp moccasin lies in wait for the unwary and strikes without +sign or sound. Into Hiram Strong's troubled mind came the +thought that Mr. Pepper was striking like his prototype of the +swamps. + +A snaky sort of a man was Mr. Pepper--sly, a hand-rubber as he +talked, with a little, sickly grin playing about his thin, mean +mouth. When he opened it Hiram almost expected to see a forked +tongue run out. + +At least, of one thing was the young farmer sure: Mr. Pepper was +no more to be trusted than a serpent. Therefore, he did not take +a word that the man said on trust. + +He recovered from the shock which the statement of the real +estate man had caused, and he uttered no expression of either +surprise, or trouble. Mrs. Atterson he could see was vastly +disturbed by the statement; but somebody had to keep a cool bead +in this matter. + +"Let's see your option," Hiram demanded, bruskly. + +"Why--if Mrs. Atterson wishes to see it---" + +"You show it to Hi, you Pepper-man," snapped the old lady. "I +wouldn't do a thing without his advice." + +"Oh, well, if you consider a boy's advice material---" + +"I know Hi's honest," declared the old lady, tartly. "And that's +what I'm sure you ain't! Besides," she added, sadly, "Hi's as +much interested in this thing as I be. If the farm's got to be +sold, it puts Hi out of a job." + +"Oh, very well," said the real estate man, and he drew a rather +soiled, folded paper from his inner pocket. + +He seemed to hesitate the fraction of a second about showing the +paper. It increased Hi's suspicion--this hesitancy. If the man +had a perfectly good option on the farm, why didn't he go about +the matter boldly? + +But when he got the paper in his own hands he could see nothing +wrong with it. It seemed written in straight-forward language, +the signatures were clear enough, and as he had seen and read +Uncle Jeptha's will, he was quite sure that this was the old +man's signature to the option which, for the sum of twenty +dollars in hand paid to him, he agreed to sell his farm, situated +so-and-so, for sixteen hundred dollars, cash, same to be paid +over within one year of date. + +"Of course," said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper--indeed, +Pepper had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all +the time--"Of course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before +she agrees to anything." + +"Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer," exclaimed the old lady. + +"Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will," Hiram said +to her. Then he turned to Pepper: + +"What's the name of the witness to that old man's signature?" + +"Abel Pollock." + +"Oh! Henry's father?" + +"Yes. He's got a son named Henry." + +"And who's the Notary Public?" + +"Caleb Schell. He keeps the store just at the crossroads as you +go into town." + +"I remember the store," said Hiram, thoughtfully. + +"But Hiram!" cried Mrs. Atterson, "I don't want to sell the +farm." + +"We'll be sure this paper is all straight before you do sell, +Mrs. Atterson." + +"Why, I just won't sell!" she exclaimed. "Uncle Jeptha never +said nothing in his will about giving this option. And that +lawyer says that in a couple of years the farm will be worth a +good deal more than this Pepper offers." + +"Why, Mrs. Atterson!" exclaimed the real estate man, cheerfully, +"as property is selling in this locality now, sixteen hundred +dollars is a mighty good offer for your farm. You ask anybody. +Why, Uncle Jeptha knew it was; otherwise he wouldn't have given +me the option, for he didn't believe I'd come up with the price. +He knew it was a high offer." + +"And if it's worth so much to you, why isn't it worth more to +Mrs. Atterson to keep?" demanded Hiram, sharply. + +"Ah! that's my secret--why I want it," said Pepper, nodding. +"Leave that to m. If I get bit by buying it, I shall have to +suffer for my lack of wisdom." + +"You ain't bought it yet--you Pepper," snapped Mrs. Atterson. + +"But I'm going to buy it, ma'am," replied he, rather viciously, +as he stood up, ready to depart. "I shall expect to hear from +you no later than Monday." + +"I won't sell it!" + +"You'll have to. If you refuse to sign I'll go to the Chancery +Court. I'll make you." + +"Well. Mebbe you will. But I don't know. I never was made to +do anything yet. By no man named Pepper--you can take that home +with you," she flung after him as he walked out and climbed into +the buggy. + +But whereas Mrs. Atterson showed anger, Hiram went back to work +in the field with a much deeper feeling racking his mind. If the +option was all right--and of course it must be--this would settle +their occupancy of the farm. + +Of course he could not hold Mrs. Atterson to her contract. She +could not help the situation that had now arisen. + +His Spring's work had gone for nothing. Sixteen hundred dollars, +even in cash, would not be any great sum for the old lady. And +she had burdened herself with the support of Sister--and with Old +Lem Camp, too! + +"Surely, I can't be a burden on her. I'll have to hustle around +and find another job. I wonder if Mr. Bronson would take me on +now?" + +But he knew that the Westerner already had a man who suited him, +since Hiram had refused the chance Bronson offered. And, then, +Lettie had shown that she felt he had not appreciated their +offer. Perhaps her father felt the same way. + +Besides, Hiram had a secret wish not to put himself under +obligation to the Bronsons. This feeling may have sprung from a +foolish source; nevertheless it was strong with the young farmer. + +It looked very much to him as though this sudden turn of +circumstances was "a facer". If Mrs. Atterson had to sell the +farm he was likely to be thrown on his own resources again. + +For his own selfish sake Hiram was worried, too. After all, he +would be unable to "make good" and to show people that he could +make the old, run-down farm pay a profit to its owner. + +But Hiram Strong couldn't believe it. + +The more he milled over the thing in his mind, the less he +understood why Uncle Jeptha, who was of acute mind right up to +the hour of his death, so all the neighbors said, should have +neglected to speak about the option he had given Pepper on the +farm. + +And here they were, right in the middle of the Spring work, with +crops in the ground and--as Mrs. Atterson agreed--it would be too +late to go hunting a farm for this present season. + +But Hiram kept to work. He had Sister and Old Lem Camp out +in the garden, hand-weeding and thinning the carrots, onions, +and other tender plants. That Saturday he went through the +entire garden--that part already planted--with either the horse +cultivator, or his wheel-hoe. + +In planting parsnips, carrots, and other slow-germinating seeds, +he had mixed a few radish seed in the seeding machine; these +sprang up quickly and defined the rows, so that the space between +rows could be cultivated before the other plants had scarcely +broke the surface of the soil. + +Now these radish were beginning to be big enough to pull. Hiram +brought in a few bunches for their dinner on Saturday--the first +fruits of the garden. + +"Now, I dunno why it is," said Mrs. Atterson, complacently, +after setting her teeth in the first radish and relishing its +crispness, "but this seems a whole lot better than the radishes +we used to buy in Crawberry. I 'spect what's your very own +always seems better than other folks's," and she sighed and shook +her head. + +She was thinking of the thing she had to face on Monday. Hiram +hated to see them all so downhearted. Sister's eyes were red +from weeping; Old Lem Camp sat at the table, muttering and +playing with his food again instead of eating. + +But Hiram felt as though he could not give up to the disaster +that had come to them. The thought that--in some way--Pepper was +taking an unfair advantage of Mother Atterson knocked continually +at the door of his mind. + +He went over, to himself, all that had passed in the kitchen +the day before when the real estate man had come to speak with +Mrs. Atterson. How had Pepper spoken about the option? Hadn't +there been some hesitancy in the fellow's manner--in his speech, +indeed ? Just what had Pepper said? Hiram concentrated his mind +upon this one thing. What had the man said? + +"The option had--er--one year to run." + +Those were the fellow's very words. He hesitated before he +pronounced the length of time. And he was not a man who, in +speaking, had any stammering of tongue. + +Why had he hesitated? Why should it trouble him to state the +time limit of the option? + +Was it because he was speaking a falsehood? + +The thought stung Hiram like a thorn in the flesh. He put away +the tool with which he was working, slipped on a coat, and +started for Henry Pollock's house, which lay not more than half a +mile from the Atterson farm, across the fields. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE REASON WHY + +HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram +opened his business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. +Mr. Pollock scratched his head, listened attentively, and then +sat down to digest the news. + +"You gotter move--jest when you've got rightly settled on that +place?" he demanded. "Well, that's 'tarnal bad! And from what +Henry tells me, you're a young feller with idees, too." + +"I don't care so much for myself," Hiram hastened to say. "It's +Mrs. Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her +mind that she was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, +I don't think it is a wise thing to sell the property at that +price." + +"No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred +dollars." + +"But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option +signed by her Uncle Jeptha---" + +"Jeptha Atterson was no fool," interrupted Pollock. "I can't +understand his giving an option on the farm, with all this talk +of the railroad crossing the river." + +"But, Mr. Pollock!" exclaimed Hiram, eagerly, "you must know all +about this option. You signed as a witness to Uncle Jeptha's +signature." + +"No! you don't mean that?" exclaimed the farmer. "My name to it, +too?" + +"Yes. And it was signed before Caleb Schell the notary public." + +"So it was--so it was, boy!" declared the other, suddenly smiting +his knee. "I remember I witnessed Uncle Jeptha's signature once. +But that was way back there in the winter--before he was took +sick." + +"Yes, sir?" said Hiram, eagerly. + +"That was an option on the old farm. So it was. But goodness me, +boy, Pepper must have got him to renew it, or something. That +option wouldn't have run till now." + +Hiram told him the date the paper was executed. + +"That's right, by Jo! It was in February." + +"And it was for a year?" + +Mr. Pollock stared at him in silence, evidently thinking deeply. + +"If you remember all about it, then," Hiram continued, "it's +hardly worth while going to Mr. Schell, I suppose." + +"I remember, all right," said Pollock, slowly. "It was all done +right there in Cale Schell's store. It was one rainy afternoon. +There was several of us sitting around Cale's stove. Pepper was +one of us. In comes Uncle Jeptha. Pepper got after him right +away, but sort of on the quiet, to one side. + +"I heard 'em. Pepper had made him an offer for the farm that was +'way down low, and the old man laughed at him. + +"We hadn't none of us heard then the talk that came later about +the railroad. But Pepper has a brother-in-law who's in the +office of the company, and he thinks he gits inside information. + +"So, for some reason, he thought the railroad was going to touch +Uncle Jeptha's farm. O' course, it ain't. It's goin' over the +river by Ayertown. + +"I don't see what Pepper wants to take up the option for, anyway. +Unless he sees that you're likely to make suthin' out o' the old +place, and mebbe he's got a city feller on the string, to buy +it." + +"It doesn't matter what his reason is. Mrs. Atterson doesn't +want to sell, and if that option is all right, she must," said +Hiram. "And you are sure Uncle Jeptha gave it for twelve +months?" + +"Twelve months?" ejaculated Pollock, suddenly. " Why--no--that +don't seem right," stammered the farmer, scratching his head. + +"But that's the way the option reads." + +"Well--mebbe. I didn't just read it myself--no, sir. They jest +says to me: + +"'Come here, Pollock, and witness these signatures' So, I done +it--that's all. But I see Cale put on his specs and read the +durn thing through before he stamped it. Yes, sir. Cale's the +carefulest notary public we ever had around here. + +"Say!" said Mr. Pollock. "You go to Cale and ask him. It don't +seem to me the old man give Pepper so long a time." + +"For how long was the option to run, then?" queried Hiram, +excitedly. + + + +"Wal, I wouldn't wanter say. I don't wanter git inter trouble +with no neighbor. If Cale says a year is all right, then I'll +say so, too. I wouldn't jest trust my memory." + +"But there is some doubt in your mind, Mr. Pollock? " + +"There is. A good deal of doubt," the farmer assured him. "But +you ask Cale." + +This was all that Hiram could get out of the elder Pollock. It +was not very comforting. The young farmer was of two minds +whether he should see Caleb Schell, or not. + +But when he got back to the house for supper, and saw the doleful +faces of the three waiting there, he couldn't stand inaction. + +"If you don't mind, I want to go to town tonight, Mrs. Atterson," +he told the old lady. + +"All right, Hiram. I expect you've got to look out for yourself, +boy. If you can get another job, you take it. It's a 'tarnal +shame you didn't take up with that Bronson's offer when he come +here after you." + +"You needn't feel so," said Hiram. "You're no more at fault than +I am. This thing just happened--nobody could foretell it. And +I'm just as sorry as I can be for you, Mother Atterson." + +The old woman wiped her eyes. + +"Well, Hi, there's other things in this world to worry over +besides gravy, I find," she said. "Some folks is born for +trouble, and mebbe we're some of that kind." + +It was not exactly Mr. Pollock's doubts that sent Hiram Strong +down to the crossroads store that evening. For the farmer had +seemed so uncertain that the boy couldn't trust to his memory at +all. + +No. It was Hiram's remembrance of Pepper's stammering when he +spoke about the option. He hesitated to pronounce the length of +time the option had been drawn for. Was it because he knew there +was some trick about the time-limit? + +Had the real estate man fooled old Uncle Jeptha in the beginning? +The dead man had been very shrewd and careful. Everybody said +so. + +He was conscious and of acute mind right up to his death. If +there was an option on the farm be surely would have said +something about it to Mr. Strickland, or to some of the +neighbors. + +It looked to Hiram as though the old farmer must have believed +that the option had expired before the day of his death. + +Had Pepper only got the old man's promise for a shorter length of +time, but substituted the paper reading "one year" when it was +signed? Was that the mystery? + +However, Hiram could not see how that would help Mrs. Atterson, +for even testimony of witnesses who heard the discussion between +the dead man and the real estate agent, could not controvert a +written instrument. The young fellow knew that. + +He harnessed the old horse to the light wagon and drove to the +crossroads store kept by Caleb Schell. Many of the country +people liked to trade with this man because his store was a +social gathering-place. + +Around a hot stove in the winter, and a cold stove at this time +of year, the men gathered to discuss the state of the country, +local politics, their neighbors' business, and any other topic +which was suggested to their more or less idle minds. + +On the outskirts of the group of older loafers, the growing crop +of men who would later take their places in the soap-box forum +lingered; while sky-larking about the verge of the crowd were +smaller boys who were learning no good, to say the least, in +attaching themselves to the older members of the company. + +There will always be certain men in every community who take +delight in poisoning the minds of the younger generation. We +muzzle dogs, or shoot them when they go mad. The foul-mouthed +man is far more vicious than the dog, and should be impounded. + +Hiram hitched his horse to the rack before the store and entered +the crowded place. The fumes of tobacco smoke, vinegar, cheese, +and various other commodities gave a distinctive flavor to Caleb +Schell's store--and not a pleasant one, to Hiram's mind. + +Ordinarily he would have made any purchases he had to make, and +gone out at once. But Schell was busy with several customers at +the counter and he was forced to wait a chance to speak with the +old man. + +One of the first persons Hiram saw in the store was young Pete +Dickerson, hanging about the edge of the crowd. Pete scowled at +him and moved away. One of the men holding down a cracker-keg +sighted Hiram and hailed him in a jovial tone: + +"Hi, there, Mr. Strong! What's this we been hearin' about you? +They say you had a run-in with Sam Dickerson. We been tryin' +to git the pertic'lars out o' Pete, here, but he don't seem ter +wanter talk about it," and the man guffawed heartily. + +"Hear ye made Sam give back the tools he borrowed of the old +man?" said another man, whom Hiram knew to be Mrs. Larriper's +son-in-law. + +"You are probably misinformed," said Hiram, quietly. "I know no +reason why Mr. Dickerson and I should have trouble--unless other +neighbors make trouble for us." + +"Right, boy--right!" called Cale Schell, from behind the counter, +where he could hear and comment upon all that went on in the +middle of the room, despite the attention he had to give to his +customers. + +"Well, if you can git along with Sam and Pete, you'll do well," +laughed another of the group. + +The Dickersons seemed to be in disfavor in the community, and +nobody cared whether Pete repeated what was said to his father, +or not. + +"I was told," pursued the first speaker, screwing up one eye and +grinning at Hiram," that you broke Sam's gun over his head and +chased Pete a mile. That right, son?" + +"You will get no information from me," returned Hiram, tartly. + +"Why, Pete ought to be big enough to lick you alone, Strong," +continued the tantalizer. "Hey, Pete! Don't sneak out. Come and +tell us why you didn't give this chap the lickin' you said you +was going to?" + +Pete only glared at him and slunk out of the store. Hiram turned +his back on the whole crowd and waited at the end of the counter +for Mr. Schell. The storekeeper was a tall, portly man, with a +gray mustache and side-whiskers, and a high bald forehead. + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Strong?" he asked, finally having got +rid of the customers who preceded Hiram. + +Hiram, in a low voice, explained his mission. Schell nodded his +head at once. + +"Oh, yes," he said; "I remember about the option. I had +forgotten it, for a fact; but Pepper was in here yesterday +talking about it. He had been to your house." + +"Then, sir, to the best of your remembrance, the option is all +right?" + +"Oh, certainly! Pollock witnessed it, and I put my seal on it. +Yes, sir; Pepper can make the old lady sell. It's too bad, if +she wants to remain there; but the price he is to pay isn't so +bad---" + +"You have no reason to doubt the validity of the option?" cried +Hiram, in desperation. + +"Assuredly not." + +"Then why didn't Uncle Jeptha speak of it to somebody before he +died, if the option had not run out at that time?" + +"Humph!" + +"You grant the old man was of sound mind?" + +"Sound as a pine knot," agreed the storekeeper, still reflective. + +"Then how is it he did not speak to his lawyer about the option +when he saw Mr. Strickland within an hour of his death?" + +"That does seem peculiar," admitted the storekeeper, slowly. + +"And Mr. Pollock says he thinks there is something wrong about +the option," went on Hiram, eagerly. + +"Oh, Pollock! Pah!" returned Schell. "I don't suppose he even +read it." + +"But you did?" + +"Assuredly. I always read every paper. If they don't want me +to know what the agreement is, they can take it to some other +Notary," declared the storekeeper with a jolly laugh. + +"And you are sure that the option was to run a year?" + +"Of course the option's all right--Hold on! A year, did you say? +Why--seems to me--let's look this thing up," concluded Caleb +Schell, suddenly. + +He dived into his little office and produced a ledger from the +safe. This he slapped down on the counter between them. + +"I'm a careful man, I am," he told Hiram. "And I flatter myself +I've got a good memory, too. Pepper was in here yesterday +sputtering about the option and I remember now that he spoke of +its running a year. + +"But it seems to me," said Schell, pawing over the leaves of his +ledger, "that the talk between him and old Uncle Jeptha was for a +short time. The old man was mighty cautious--mighty cautious." + +"That's what Mr. Pollock says," cried Hiram, eagerly. + +"But you've seen the option? + +"Yes." + +"And it reads a year? + +"Oh, yes." + +"Then how you going to get around that?" demanded Schell, with +conviction. + +"But perhaps Uncle Jeptha signed the option thinking it was for a +shorter time." + +"That wouldn't help you none. The paper was signed. And why +should Pepper have buncoed him--at that time?" + +"Why should he be so eager to get the farm now?" asked Hiram. + +"Well, I'll tell you. It ain't out yet. But two or three days +ago the railroad board abandoned the route through Ayertown and +it is agreed that the new bridge will be built along there by +your farm somewhere. + +"The river is as narrow there as it is anywhere for miles up and +down, and they will stretch a bridge from the high bank on your +side, across the meadows, to the high bank on the other side. It +will cut out grades, you see. That's what has started Pepper up +to grab off the farm while the option is valid." + +"But, Mr. Schell, is the option valid?" cried Hiram, anxiously. + +"I don't see how you're going to get around it. Ah! here's the +place. When I have sealed a paper I make a note of it--what the +matter was about and who the contracting parties were. I've done +that for years. Let--me--see." + +He adjusted his spectacles. He squinted at the page, covered +closely with writing. Hiram saw him whispering the words he read +to himself. Suddenly the blood flooded into the old man's face, +and he looked up with a start at his interrogator. + +"Do you mean to say that option's for a year? he demanded. + +"That is the way it reads--now," whispered Hiram, watching him +closely. + +The old man turned the book around slowly on the counter. His +stubbed finger pointed to the two or three scrawled lines written +in a certain place. + +Hiram read them slowly, with beating heart. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +AN ENEMY IN THE DARK + +The whispered conference between Hiram Strong and the storekeeper +could not be heard by the curious crowd around the cold stove; +nor did it last for long. + +Caleb Schell finally closed his ledger and put it away. Hiram +shook hands with him and walked out. + +On the platform outside, which was illuminated by a single smoky +lantern, a group of small boys were giggling, and they watched +Hiram unhitch the old horse and climb into the spring wagon with +so much hilarity that the young farmer expected some trick. + +The horse started off all right, he missed nothing from the +wagon, and so he supposed that he was mistaken. The boys had +merely been laughing at him because he was a stranger. + +But as Hiram got some few yards from the hitching rack, the seat +was suddenly pulled from under him, and he was left sprawling on +his back in the bottom of the wagon. + +A yell of derision from the crowd outside the store assured him +that this was the cause of the boys' hilarity. Luckily his old +horse was of quiet disposition, and he stopped dead in his tracks +when the seat flew out of the back of the wagon. + +A joke is a joke. No use in showing wrath over this foolish +amusement of the crossroads boys. But Hiram got a little the +best of them, after all. + +The youngsters had scattered when the "accident" occurred. +Hiram, getting out to pick up the seat, found the end of a strong +hemp line fastened to it. The other end was tied to the hitching +rack in front of the store. + +Instead of casting off the line from the seat, Hiram walked back +to the store and cast that end off. + +"At any rate, I'm in a good coil of hemp rope," he said to one of +the men who had come out to see the fun. "The fellow who owns it +can come and prove property; but I shall ask a few questions of +him." + +There was no more laughter. The young farmer walked back to his +wagon, set up the seat again, and drove on. + +The roadway was dark, but having been used all his life to +country roads at night, Hiram had no difficulty in seeing the +path before him. Besides, the old horse knew his way home. + +He drove on some eighth of a mile. Suddenly he felt that the +wagon was not running true. One of the wheels was yawing. He +drew in the old horse; but he was not quick enough. + +The nigh forward wheel rolled off the end of the axle, and down +came the wagon with a crash! + +Hiram was thrown forward and came sprawling--on hands and +knees--upon the ground, while the wheel rolled into the ditch. +He was little hurt, although the accident might have been +serious. + +And in truth, he knew it to be no accident. A burr does not +easily work off the end of an axle. He had greased the old wagon +just before he started for the store, and he knew he had replaced +each nut carefully. + +This was a deliberately malicious trick--no boy's joke like the +tying of the rope to his wagon seat. And the axle was broken. +Although he had no lantern he could see that the wagon could not +be used again without being repaired. + +"Who did it?" was Hiram's unspoken question, as he slowly +unharnessed the old horse, and then dragged the broken wagon +entirely out of the road so that it would not be an obstruction +for other vehicles. + +His mind set instantly upon Pete Dickerson. He had not seen the +boy when he came out of the crossroads store. If the fellow had +removed this burr, he had done it without anybody seeing him, and +had then run home. + +The young farmer, much disturbed over this incident, mounted +the back of the old horse, and paced home. He only told +Mrs. Atterson that he had met with an accident and that the light +wagon would have to be repaired before it could be used again. + +That necessitated their going to town on Monday in the heavy +wagon. And Hiram dragged the spring wagon to the blacksmith shop +for repairs, on the way. + +But before that, the enemy in the dark had struck again. When +Hiram went to the barnyard to water the stock, Sunday morning, he +found that somebody had been bothering the pump. + +The bucket, or pump-valve, was gone. He had to take it apart, +cut a new valve out of sole leather, and put the pump together +again. + +"We'll have to get a cross dog, if we remain here," he told +"Mrs. Atterson. There is somebody in the neighborhood who means +"us harm." + +"Them Dickersons!" exclaimed Mrs. Atterson. + +"Perhaps. That Pete, maybe. If I once caught him up to his +tricks I'd make him sorry enough." + +"Tell the constable, Hi," cried Sister, angrily. + +"That would make trouble for his folks. Maybe they don't know +just how mean Pete is. A good thrashing--and the threat of +another every time he did anything mean--would do him lots more +good." + +This wasn't nice Sunday work, but it was too far to carry water +from the house to the horse trough, so Hiram had to repair the +pump. + +On Monday morning he routed out Sister and Mr. Camp at daybreak. +He had been up and out for an hour himself, and on a bench under +the shed he had heaped two or three bushels of radishes which he +had pulled and washed, ready for bunching. + +He showed his helpers how the pretty scarlet balls were to be +bunched, and found that Sister took hold of the work with nimble +fingers, while Mr. Camp did very well at the unaccustomed task. + +"I don't know, Hi," said Mrs. Atterson, despondently, "that it's +worth while your trying to sell any of the truck, if we're going +to leave here so soon." + +"We haven't left yet," he returned, trying to speak cheerfully. +"And you might as well get every penny back that you can. +Perhaps an arrangement can be made whereby we can stay and +harvest the garden crop, at any rate." + +"You can make up your mind that that Pepper man won't give us +any leeway; he isn't that kind," declared Mother Atterson, with +conviction. + +Hiram made a quick sale of the radishes at several of the stores, +where he got eighteen cents a dozen bunches; but some he sold at +the big boarding-school--St. Beris--at a retail price. + +"You can bring any other fresh vegetables you may have from time +to time," the housekeeper told him. "Nobody ever raised any +early vegetables about Scoville before. They are very welcome." + +"Once we get a-going," said Hiram to Mrs. Atterson, "you or +Sister can drive in with the spring wagon and dispose of +the surplus vegetables. And you might get a small canning +outfit--they come as cheap as fifteen dollars--and put up +tomatoes, corn, peas, beans, and other things. Good canned stuff +always sells well." + +"Good Land o' Goshen, Hiram!" exclaimed the old lady, in +"desperation. You talk jest as though we were going to stay on +"the farm." + +"Well, let's go and see Mr. Strickland," replied the young +farmer, and they set out for the lawyer's office. + +Mrs. Atterson sat in the ante-room while Hiram asked to speak +with the old lawyer in private for a minute. The conference was +not for long, and when Hiram came back to his employer he said: + +"Mr. Strickland has sent his junior clerk out for Pepper. He +thinks we'd better talk the matter over quietly. And he wants to +see the option, too." + +"Oh, Hiram! There ain't no hope, is there?" groaned the old +lady. + +"Well, I tell you what!" exclaimed the young fellow, " we won't +give in to him until we have to. Of course, if you refuse to +sign a deed he can go to chancery and in the end you will have to +pay the costs of the action. + +"But perhaps, even at that, it might be well to hold him off +until you have got the present crop out of the ground." + +"Oh, I won't go to law," said Mrs. Atterson, decidedly. "No good +ever come of that." + +After a time Mr. Strickland invited them both into his private +office. The attorney spoke quietly of other matters while they +waited for Pepper. + +But the real estate man did not appear. By and by +Mr. Strickland's clerk came back with the report that Pepper had +been called away suddenly on important business. + +"They tell me he went Saturday," said the clerk. "He may not be +back for a week. But he said he was going to buy the Atterson +place when he returned--he's told several people around town so." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Strickland, slowly. "Then he has left that threat +hanging, like the Sword of Damocles--over Mrs. Atterson's head?" + +"I don't know nothin' about that sword, Mr. Strickland, nor no +other sword, 'cept a rusty one that my father carried when he +was a hoss-sodger in the Rebellion," declared Mother Atterson, +nervously. "But if that Pepper man's got one belonging to +Mr. Damocles, I shouldn't be at all surprised. That Pepper looked +to me like a man that would take anything he could lay his hands +on--if he warn't watched!" + +"Which is a true and just interpretation of Pepper's character, I +believe," observed the lawyer, smiling. + +"And we've got to give up the farm at his say-so--at any time?" +demanded the old lady. + +"If his option is good," said Mr. Strickland. "But I want to +see the paper--and I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, that I shall +subject it to the closest possible scrutiny. + +"There is a possibility that Pepper's option may be questioned +before the courts. Do not build too many hopes on this," he +added, quickly, seeing the old lady's face light up. + +"You have a very good champion in this young man," and the lawyer +nodded at Hiram. + +"He suspected all was not right with the option and he has dug up +the fact that the witness to your uncle's signature, and the man +before whom the paper was attested, both believed the option was +for a short time. + +"Caleb Schell's book shows that it was for thirty days. Uncle +Jeptha undoubtedly thought it was for that length of time and +therefore the option expired several days before he died. + +"Mr. Pepper may have fallen under temptation. He considered +heretofore, like everybody else, that the railroad would pass +us by in this section. Pepper gambled twenty dollars on its +coming along the boundary of the Atterson farm--between you and +Darrell's tract--and thought he had lost. + +"Then suddenly the railroad board turned square around and voted +for the condemnation of the original route. Pepper remembered +the option he had risked twenty dollars on. If it was originally +for thirty days, it was void, of course; but Uncle Jeptha is +dead, and he hopes perhaps, that nobody else will dispute the +validity of it." + +"It's a forgery, then?" cried Mrs. Atterson. + +"It may be a forgery. We do not know," said the lawyer, hastily. +"At any rate, he has the paper, and he is a shrewd rascal." + +Mrs. Atterson's face was a study. + +"Do you mean to tell me we have got to lose the farm?" she +demanded. + +"My dear lady, that I cannot tell you. I must see this option. +We must put it to the test---" + +"But Schell and Pollock will testify that the option was for +thirty days," cried Hiram. + +"Perhaps. To the best of their remembrance and belief, it was +for thirty days. A shrewd lawyer, however--and Pepper would +employ a shrewd one--would turn their evidence inside out. + +"No evidence--in theory, at least--can controvert a written +instrument, signed, sealed, and delivered. Even Cale Schell's +memoranda book cannot be taken as evidence, save in a +contributory way. It is not direct. It is the carelessly +scribbled record, in pencil, of a busy man. + +"No. If Pepper puts forward the option we have got to see if +that option has been tampered with--the paper itself, I mean. If +the fellow substituted a different instrument, at the time of +signing, from the one Uncle Jeptha thought he signed, you have no +case--I tell you frankly, my dear lady." + +"Then, it ain't no use. We got to lose the place, Hiram," said +Mrs. Atterson, when they left the lawyer's office. + +"I wouldn't lose heart. If Pepper is scared, he may not trouble +you again." + +It's got ten months more to run," said she. "He can keep us +guessin' all that time." + +"That is so," agreed Hiram, nodding thoughtfully. "But, of +course, as Mr. Strickland says, by raising a doubt as to the +validity of the option we can hold him off for a while--maybe +until we have made this year's crop." + +"It's goin' to make me lay awake o' nights," sighed the old lady. +"And I thought I'd got through with that when I stopped worryin' +about the gravy." + +"Well, we won't talk about next year," agreed Hiram. "I'll do +the best I can for you through this season, if Pepper will let us +alone. We've got the bottom land practically cleared; we might +as well plough it and put in the corn there. If we make a crop +you'll get all your money back and more. Mr. Strickland told me +privately that the option, unless it read that way, would not +cover the crops in the ground. And I read the option carefully. +Crops were not mentioned." + +So it was decided to go ahead with the work as already planned; +but neither the young farmer, nor his employer, could look +forward cheerfully to the future. + +The uncertainty of what Pepper would eventually do was bound to +be in their thought, day and night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE WELCOME TEMPEST + +To some youths this matter of the option would have been such +a clog that they would have lost interest and slighted the +work. But not so with Hiram Strong. + +He counted this day a lost one, however; he hated to leave the +farm for a minute when there was so much to do. + +But the next morning he got the plow into the four-acre corn lot; +and he did nothing but the chores that week until the ground +was entirely plowed. Then Henry Pollock came over and gave him +another day's work and they finished grubbing the lowland. + +The rubbish was piled in great heaps down there, ready for +burning. As long as the rain held off, Hiram did not put fire to +the bush-heaps. + +But early in the following week the clouds began to gather in a +quarter for rain, and late in the afternoon, when the air was +still, he took a can of coal oil, and with Sister and Mr. Camp, +and even Mrs. Atterson, at his heels, went down to the riverside +to burn the brush heaps. + +"There's not much danger of the fire spreading to the woods; but +if it should," Hiram said, warningly, "it might, at this time +of year, do your timber a couple of hundred dollars' worth of +damage." + +"Goodness me!" exclaimed Mother Atterson. "It does seem +ridiculous to hear you talk that a-way. I never owned nothin' but +a little bit of furniture before, and I expected the boarders to +tear that all to pieces. I'm beginning to feel all puffed up and +wealthy." + +Hiram cut them all green pineboughs for beaters, and then set +the fires, one after another. There were more than twenty of the +great piles and soon the river bottom, from bend to bend, was +filled with rolling clouds of smoke. As the dusk dropped, the +yellow glare of the fire illuminated the scene. + +Sister clapped her hands and cried: + +"Ain't this bully? It beats the Fourth of July celebration in +Crawberry. Oh, I'd rather be on the farm than go to heaven!" + +They had brought their supper with them, and leaving the others +to watch the fires, and see that the grass did not tempt the +flames to the edge of the wood, Hiram cast bait into the river +and, in an hour, drew out enough mullet and "bull-heads" to +satisfy them all, when they were broiled over the hot coals of +the first bonfire to be lighted. + +They ate with much enjoyment. Between nine and ten o'clock the +fires had all burned down to coals. + +A circle of burned-over grass and rubbish surrounded each fire. +There seemed no possibility that the flames could spread to the +mat of dry leaves on the side hill. + +So they went home, a lantern guiding their feet over the rough +path through the timber, stopping at the spring for a long, +thirst-quenching draught. + +The sky was as black as ink. Now and again a faint flash in +the westward proclaimed a tempest in that direction. But not a +breath of wind was stirring, and the rain might not reach this +section. + +A dull red glow was reflected on the clouds over the +river-bottom. When Hiram looked from his window, just as he was +ready for bed, that glow seemed to have increased. + +"Strange," he muttered. "It can't be that those fires +have spread. There was no chance for them to spread. +I--don't--understand it!" + +He sat at the window and stared out through the darkness. +There was little wind as yet; it was a fact, however, that the +firelight flickered on the low-hung clouds with increasing +radiance. + +"Am I mad?" demanded the young farmer, suddenly leaping up and +drawing on his garments again. "That fire is spreading." + +He dressed fully, and ran softly down the stairs and left the +house. When he came out in the clear the glow had not receded. +There was a fire down the hillside, and it seemed increasing +every moment. + +He remembered the enemy in the dark, and without stopping to +rouse the household, ran on toward the woods, his heart beating +heavily in his bosom. + +Slipping, falling at times, panting heavily because of the rough +ground, Hiram came at last through the more open timber to the +brink of that steep descent, at the bottom of which lay the smoky +river-bottom. + +And indeed, the whole of the lowland seemed filled with stifling +clouds of smoke. Yet, from a dozen places along the foot of +the hill, yellow flames were starting up, kindling higher, and +devouring as fast as might be the leaves and tinder left from the +wrack of winter. + +The nearest bonfire had been a hundred yards from the foot of +this hill. His care, Hiram knew, had left no chance of the dull +coals in any of the twenty heaps spreading to the verge of the +grove. + +Man's hand had done this. An enemy, waiting and watching until +they had left the field, had stolen down, gathered burning +brands, and spread them along the bottom of the hill, where the +increasing wind might scatter the fire until the whole grove was +in a blaze. + +Not only was Mrs. Atterson's timber in danger, but Darrell's +tract and that lying beyond would be overwhelmed by the flames if +they were allowed to spread. + +On the other side, Dickerson had cut his timber a year or two +before, clear to the river. The fire would not burn far over his +line. Whoever had done this dastardly act, Dickerson's property +would not be damaged. + +But Hiram lent no time to trouble. His work was cut out for him +right here and now--and well he knew it! + +He had brought the small axe with him, having caught it up from +the doorstep. Now he used it to cut a green bough, and then ran +with the latter down the hill and set upon the fire-line like a +madman. + +The smoke, spread here and there by puffs of rising wind, half +choked him. It stung his eyes until they distilled water enough +to blind him. He thrashed and fought in the fumes and the murk +of it, stumbling and slipping, one moment half-knee deep in +quick-springing flames, the next almost overpowered by the smudge +that rose from the beaten mat of leaves and rubbish. + +It was a lone fight. He had to do it all. There had been no +time to rouse either the neighbors, or the rest of the family. + +If he did not overcome these flames--and well he knew it--Mother +Atterson would arise in the morning to see all her goodly timber +scorched, perhaps ruined! + +"I must beat it out--beat it out!" thought Hiram, and the +repetition of the words thrummed an accompaniment upon the drums +of his ears as he thrashed away with a madman's strength. + +For no sane person would have tackled such a hopeless task. +Before him the flames suddenly leaped six feet or more into the +air. They overtopped him as they writhed through a clump of +green-briars. The wind puffed the flame toward him, and his face +was scorched by the heat. + +He lost his eyebrows completely, and the hair was crisped along +the front brim of his hat. + +Then with a laughing crackle, as though scorning his weakness, +the flames ran up a climbing vine and the next moment wrapped a +tall pine in lurid yellow. + +This pine, like a huge torch, began to give off a thick, black +smoke. Would some wakeful neighboring farmer, seeing it, know +the danger that menaced and come to Hiram's help? + +For yards he had beaten flat the flames and stamped out every +spark. Behind him was naught but rolling smoke. It was dark +there. No flames were eating up the slope. + +But toward Darrell's tract the fire seemed on the increase. He +could not catch up with it. And this solitary, sentinel pine, +ablaze now in all its head, threatened to fling sparks for a +hundred yards. + +If the wind continued to rise, the forest was doomed! + +His green branch had burned to a crisp. He had lost his axe in +the darkness and the smoke, and now he tore another bough, by +main strength, from its parent stem. + +Hiram Strong worked as though inspired; but to no purpose in +the end. For the flames increased. Puff after puff of wind +drove the fire on, scattering brands from the blazing pine; +and now another, and another, tree caught. The glare of the +conflagration increased. + +He flung down the useless bough. Fire was all about him. He had +to leap suddenly to one side to escape a burst of flame that had +caught in a jungle of green-briars. + +Then, of a sudden, a crash of thunder rolled and reverberated +through the glen. Lightning for an instant lit up the meadows +and the river. The glare of it almost blinded the young farmer +and, out of the line of fire, he sank to the earth and covered +his eyes, seared by the sudden, compelling light. + +Again and again the thunder rolled, following the javelins of +lightning that seemed to dart from the clouds to the earth. +The tempest, so long muttering in the West, had come upon him +unexpectedly, for he had given all his attention to the spreading +fire. + +And now came the rain--no refreshing, sweet, saturating shower; +but a thunderous, blinding fall of water that first set the +burning woods to steaming and then drowned out every spark of +fire on upland as well as lowland. + +It was a cloudburst--a downpour such as Hiram had seldom +experienced before. Exhausted, he lay on the bank and let the +pelting rain soak him to the skin. + +He did not care. Half drowned by the beating rain, he only +crowed his delight at the downpour. Every spark of fire was +flooded out. The danger was past. + +He finally arose, and staggered through the downpour to +the house, only happy that--by a merciful interposition of +Providence--the peril had been overcome. + +He tore off his clothing on the stoop, there in the pitch +darkness, and crept up to his bedroom where he rubbed himself +down with a crash-towel, and finally tumbled into bed and slept +like a log till broad daylight. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +FIRST FRUITS + +For the first time since they had come to the farm, Hiram was +the last to get up in the house. And when he came down to +breakfast, still trembling from the exertion of the previous +night, Mrs. Atterson screamed at the sight of him. + +"For the good Land o' Goshen!" she cried. You look like a singed +chicken, Hiram Strong! Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" + +He told them of the fight he had had while they slept. But he +could talk about it jokingly now, although Sister was inclined to +snivel a little over his danger. + +"That Dickerson boy ought to be lashed--Nine and thirty +lashes--none too much--This sausage is good--humph!--and +pancakes--fit for the gods--But he'll come back--do more +damage--the butter, yes I I want butter--and syrup, though two +spreads is reckless extravagance--Eh? eh? can't prove anything +against that Dickerson lout?-well, mebbe not." + +So Old Lem Camp commented upon the affair. But Hiram could not +prove that the neighbor's boy had done any of these things which +pointed to a malicious enemy. + +The young farmer began to wonder if he could not lay a trap, and +so bring about his undoing. + +As soon as the ground was in fit condition again (for the nights +rain had been heavy) Hiram scattered the lime he had planned to +use upon the four acres of land plowed for corn, and dragged it +in with a spike-toothed harrow. + +Working as he was with one horse alone, this took considerable +time, and when this corn land was ready, it was time for him to +go through the garden piece again with the horse cultivator. + +Sister and Lem Camp, both, had learned to use the man-weight +wheel-hoe, and the fine stuff was thinned and the weeds well cut +out. From time to time the young farmer had planted peas--both +the dwarf and taller varieties--and now he risked putting in some +early beans--"snap" and bush limas--and his first planting of +sweet corn. + +Of the latter he put in four rows across the garden, each, +of sixty-five day, seventy-five day, and ninety day sugar +corn--all of well-known kinds. He planned later to put in, every +fortnight, four rows of a mid-length season corn, so as to have +green corn for sale, and for the house, up to frost. + +The potatoes were growing finely and he hilled them up for +the first time. He marked his four-acre lot for field +corn--cross-checking it three-feet, ten inches apart. This made +twenty-seven hundred and fifty hills to the acre, and with the +hand-planter--an ingenious but cheap machine--he dropped two and +three kernels to the hill. + +This upland, save where he had spread coarse stable manure, was +not rich. Upon each corn-hill he had Sister throw half a handful +of fertilizer. She followed him as he used the planter, and they +planted and fertilized the entire four acres in less than two +days. + +The lime he had put into the land would release such fertility +as remained dormant there; but Hiram did not expect a big crop +of corn on that piece. If he made two good ears to the hill he +would be satisfied. + +He had knocked together a rough cold-frame, on the sunny side +of the woodshed, to fit some old sash he had found in the barn. +Into the rich earth sifted to make the bed in this frame, he +transplanted tomato, egg-plant, pepper and other plants of a +delicate nature. Early cabbage and cauliflower had already gone +into the garden plot, and in the midst of an early and saturating +rain, all day long, he had transplanted table-beets into the rows +he had marked out for them. + +This variety of vegetables were now all growing finely. He sold +nearly six dollars' worth of radishes in town, and these radishes +he showed Mrs. Atterson were really "clear profit." They had +all been pulled from the rows of carrots and other small seeds. + +There were several heavy rains after the tempest which had been +so Providential; the ground was well saturated, and the river had +risen until it roared between its banks in a voice that could he +heard, on a still day, at the house. + +The rains started the vegetation growing by leaps and bounds; +weeds always increase faster than any other growing thing. + +There was plenty for Hiram to do in the garden, and he kept +Sister and Old Lem Camp busy, too. They were at it from the first +faint streak of light in the morning until dark. + +But they were well--and happy. Mother Atterson, her heart +troubled by thought of " that Pepper-man," could not always +repress her smiles. If the danger of losing the farm were past, +she would have had nothing in the world to trouble her. + +The hundred eggs she had purchased for five dollars had proven +more than sixty per cent fertile. Some advice that Hiram had +given her enabled Mrs. Atterson to handle the chickens so that +the loss from disease was very small. + +He knocked together for her a couple of pens, eight feet square, +which could be moved about on the grass every day. In these pens +the seventy, or more, chicks thrived immensely. And Sister was +devoted to them. + +Meanwhile the old white-faced cow, that had been a terror to +Mother Atterson at the start, had found her calf, and it was a +heifer. + +"Take my advice and raise it," said Hiram. "She is a scrub, but +she is a pretty good scrub. You'll see that she will give a good +measure of milk. And what this farm needs is cattle. + +"If you could make stable manure enough to cover the cleared +acres a foot deep, you could raise almost any crop you might +name--and make money by it. The land is impoverished by the use +of commercial fertilizers, unbalanced by humus." + +"Well, I guess You know, Hiram," admitted Mrs. Atterson. "And +that calf certainly is a pretty creeter. It would be too bad to +turn it into veal." + +Hiram did not intend to raise the calf expensively, however. He +took it away from its mother right at the start, and in two weeks +it was eating grass, and guzzling skimmed milk and calf-meal, +while the old cow was beginning to show her employer her value. + +Mrs. Atterson bought a small churn and quickly learned that +"slight" at butter-making which is absolutely essential if one +would succeed in the dairy business. + +The cow turned out to pasture early in May, too; so her keep was +not so heavy a burden. She lowed some after the calf; but the +latter was growing finely under Hiram's care, and Mrs. Atterson +had at least two pounds of butter for sale each week, and the +housekeeper at the St. Beris school paid her thirty-five cents a +pound for it. + +Hiram gradually picked up a retail route in the town, which +customers paid more for the surplus vegetables--and butter--than +could be obtained at the stores. He had taught Sister how to +drive, and sometimes even Mrs. Atterson went in with the, +vegetables. + +This relieved the young farmer and allowed him to work in the +fields. And during these warm, growing May days, he found plenty +to do. Just as the field corn pushed through the ground he went +into the lot with his 14-tooth harrow and broke up the crust and +so killed the ever-springing weeds. + +With the spikes on the harrow "set back," no corn-plants were +dragged out of the ground. This first harrowing, too, mixed the +fertilizer with the soil, and gave the corn the start it so sadly +needed. + +Busy as bees, the four transplanted people at the Atterson +farmhouse accomplished a great deal during these first weeks of +the warming season. And all four of them--Mrs. Atterson, Sister, +Old Lem, and Hiram himself--enjoyed the work to the full. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TOMATOES AND TROUBLE + +Hiram Strong had decided that the market prospects of Scoville +prophesied a good price for early tomatoes. He advised, +therefore, a good sized patch of this vegetable. + +He had planted in the window boxes seed of several different +varieties. He had transplanted to the coldframe strong plants +numbering nearly five hundred. He believed that, under garden +cultivation, a tomato plant that would not yield fifty cents +worth of fruit was not worth bothering with, while a dollar from +a single plant was not beyond the bounds of probability. + +It was safe, Hiram very well knew, to set out tomato plants in +this locality much before the middle of May; yet he was willing +to take some risks, and go to some trouble, for the sake of +getting early ripened tomatoes into the Scoville market. + +As Henry Pollock had prophesied, Hiram did not see much of his +friend during corn-planting time. The Pollocks put nearly fifty +acres in corn, and the whole family helped in the work, including +Mrs. Pollock herself, and down to the child next to the baby. +This little toddler amused his younger brother, and brought water +to the field for the workers. + +Other families in the neighborhood did the same, Hiram noticed. +They all strained every effort to put in corn, cultivating as big +a crop as they possibly could handle. + +This was why locally grown vegetables were scarce in Scoville. +And the young farmer proposed to take advantage of this condition +of affairs to the best of his ability. + +If they were only to remain here on the farm long enough to +handle this one crop, Hiram determined to make that crop pay his +employer as well as possible, although he, himself, had no share +in such profit. + +Henry Pollock, however, came along while Hiram was making ready +his plat in the garden for tomatoes. The young farmer was +setting several rows of two-inch thick stakes across the garden, +sixteen feet apart in the row, the rows four feet apart. The +stakes themselves were about four feet out of the ground. + +"What ye doin' there, Hiram?" asked Henry, curiously. "Building +a fence?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Ain't goin' to have a chicken run out here in the garden, be +ye?" + +"I should hope not! The chickens on this place will never mix +with the garden trucks, if I have any say about it," declared +Hiram, laughing. + +"By Jo!" exclaimed Henry. "Dad says Maw's dratted hens eat up a +couple hundred dollars' worth of corn and clover every year for +him-runnin' loose as they do." + +"Why doesn't he build your mother proper runs, then, plant green +stuff in several yards, and change the flock over, from yard +to yard?" "Oh, hens won't do well shut up; Maw says so," said +Henry, repeating the lazy farmer's unfounded declaration-probably +originated ages ago, when poultry was first domesticated. + +"I'll show you, next year, if we are around here," said Hiram, " +whether poultry will do well enclosed in yards." + +"I told mother you didn't let your chickens run free, and had no +hens with them," said Henry, thoughtfully. + +"No. I do not believe in letting anything on a farm get into lazy +habits. A hen is primarily intended to lay eggs. I send them +back to work when they have hatched out their brood. + +"Those home-made brooders of ours keep the chicks quite as warm, +and never peck the little fellows, or step upon them, as the old +hen often does." + +"That's right, I allow," admitted Henry, grinning broadly. + +"And some hens will traipse chicks through the grass and weeds as +far as turkeys. No, sir! Send the hens back to business, and let +the chicks shift for themselves. They'll do better." + +"Them there in the pens certainly do look healthy," said his +friend. "But you ain't said what you was doin' here, Hiram, +setting these stakes?" + +"Why, I'll tell you," returned Hiram. "This is my tomato patch." + +"By Jo!" ejaculated Henry. "You don't want to set tomatoes so fur +apart, do you?" + +"No, no," laughed Hiram. "The posts are to string wires on. The +tomatoes will be two feet apart in the row. As they grow I tie +them to the wires, and so keep the fruit off the ground. + +"The tomato ripens better and more evenly, and the fruit will +come earlier, especially if I pinch back the ends of the vine +from time to time, and remove some of the side branches." + +"We don't do all that to raise a tomato crop. And we'll put in +five acres for the cannery this year, as usual," said Henry, with +some scorn. + +"We run the rows out four feet apart, like you do, throwing up a +list, in fact. Then father goes ahead with a stick, making a hole +for the plant every three feet, so't they'll be check-rowed and +we can cultivate them both ways--and we all set the plants. + +"We never hand-hoe 'em--it don't pay. The cannery isn't giving +but fifteen cents a basket this year--and it's got to be a full +five-eighths basket, too, for they weigh 'em." + +Hiram looked at him with a quizzical smile. + +"So you set about thirty-six hundred and forty plants to the +acre?" he said. + +"I reckon so." + +"And you'll have five acres of tomatoes?" + +"Yep. So Dad says. He has contracted for that many. But our +plants don't begin to be big enough to set out yet. We have to +keep 'em covered nights." + +"And I expect to have about five hundred plants in this patch," +said Hiram, smiling. I tell you what, Henry." + +"Huh?" said the other boy. "I bet I take in from my patch--net +income, I mean--this year as much as your father gets at the +cannery for his whole crop." + +"Nonsense!" cried Henry. "Maybe Dad'll make a hundred, or a +hundred and twenty-five dollars. Sometimes tomatoes run as high +as thirty dollars an acre around here." + +"Wait and see," said Hiram, laughing. "It is going to cost me +more to raise my crop, and market it, that's true. But if your +father doesn't do better with his five acres than you say, I'll +beat him." + +"You can't do it, Hiram," cried Henry. "I can try, anyway," said +Hiram, more quietly, but with confidence. "We'll see." + +"And say," Henry added, suddenly, "I was going to tell you +something. You won't raise these tomatoes--nor no other crop--if +Pete Dickerson can stop ye." + +"What's the matter with Pete now?" asked Hiram, troubled by +thought of the secret enemy who had already struck at him in the +dark. + +"He was blowing about what he'd do to you down at the crossroads +last evening," said Henry. "He and his father both hate you like +poison, I expect. + +"And the fellers down to Cale Schell's are always stirrin' up +trouble. They think it is sport. Why, Pete got so mad last night +he could ha' chewed tacks!" + +"I have said nothing about Pete to anybody," said Hiram, firmly. + +"That don't matter. They say you have. They tell Pete a whole +lot of stuff just to see him git riled. + +"And last night he slopped over. He said if you reported around +that he put fire to Mis' Atterson's woods, he'd put it to the +house and barns! Oh, he was wild." + +Hiram's face flushed, and then paled. + +"Did Pete try to bum the woods, Hiram?" queried Henry, shrewdly. + +"I never even said I thought so to you, have I?" asked the young +farmer, sternly. + +"Nope. I only heard that fire got into the woods by accident, +when I was in town. Somebody was hunting through there for coon, +and saw the burned-over place. That's all the fellers at Cale's +place knew, too, I reckon; but they jest put it up to Pete to mad +him." + +"And they succeeded, did they?" said Hiram, sternly. + +"I reckon." + +"Loose-mouthed people make more trouble in a community than +downright mean ones," declared Hiram. "If I have any serious +trouble with the Dickersons, like enough it will be because of +the interference of the other neighbors." + +"But," said Henry, preparing to go on, "Pete wouldn't dare fire +your stable now--after sayin' he'd do it. He ain't quite so big +a fool as all that." + +But Hiram was not so sure. He had this additional trouble on +his mind from this very hour, though he never said a word to +Mrs. Atterson about it. + +But every night before he went to bed be made around of the +outbuildings to make sure that everything was right before he +slept. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"CORN THAT'S CORN" + +Hiram caught sight of Pepper in town one day and went after him. +He knew the real estate man had returned from his business trip, +and the fact that the matter of the option was hanging fire, and +troubling Mrs. Atterson exceedingly, urged Hiram go counter to +Mr. Strickland's advice. + +The lawyer had said: " Let sleeping dogs lie." Pepper had made no +move, however, and the uncertainty was very trying both for the +young farmer and his employer. + +"How about that option you talked about, Mr. Pepper?" asked the +"youth. Are you going to exercise it?" + +"I've got time enough, ain't I?" returned the real estate man, +eyeing Hiram in his very slyest way. + +"I expect you have--if it really runs a year." + +"You seen it, didn't you?" demanded Pepper. + +"But we'd like Mr. Strickland to see it." + +"He's goin' to act for Mrs. Atterson?" queried the man, with a +scowl. + +"Oh, yes." + +"Well, he'll see it-when I'm ready to take it up. Don't you +fret," retorted Pepper, and turned away. + +This did not encourage the young farmer, nor was there anything +in the man's manner to yield hope to Mrs. Atterson that she could +feel secure in her title to the farm. So Hiram said nothing to +her about meeting the man. + +But the youth was very much puzzled. It really did seem as +though Pepper was afraid to show that paper to Mr. Strickland. + +"There's something queer about it, I believe," declared the +youth to himself. "Somewhere there is a trick. He's afraid of +being tripped up on it. But, why does he wait, if he knows the +railroad is going to demand a strip of the farm and he can get a +good price for it? + +"Perhaps he is waiting to make sure that the railroad will +condemn a piece of Mrs. Atterson's farm. If the board should +change the route again, Pepper would have a farm on his hands +that he might not be able to sell immediately at a profit. + +"For we must confess, that sixteen hundred dollars, as farms have +sold in the past around here, is a good price for the Atterson +place. That's why Uncle Jeptha was willing to give an option for +a month--if that was, in the beginning, the understanding the old +man had of his agreement with Pepper. + +"However, we might as well go ahead with the work, and take what +comes to us in the end. I know no other way to do," quoth Hiram, +with a sigh. + +For he could not be very cheerful with the prospect of making +only a single crop on the place. His profit was to have come out +of the second year's crop--and, he felt, out of that bottom land +which had so charmed him on the day he and Henry Pollock had gone +over the Atterson Place. + +Riches lay buried in that six acres of bottom. Hiram had read up +on onion culture, and he believed that, if he planted his seed in +hot beds, and transplanted the young onions to the rich soil in +this bottom, he could raise fully as large onions as they did in +either Texas or the Bermudas. + +"Of course, they have the advantage of a longer season down +there," thought Hiram, "and cheap labor. But maybe I can get +cheap labor right around here. The children of these farmers are +used to working in the fields. I ought to be able to get help +pretty cheap. + +"And when it comes to the market--why, I've got the Texas +growers, at least, skinned a little! I can reach either the +Philadelphia or New York market in a day. Yes; given the right +conditions, onions ought to pay big down there on that lowland." + +But this was not the only crop possibility be turned over in his +mind. There were other vegetables that would grow luxuriantly on +that bottom land--providing, always, the flood did not come and +fulfill Henry Pollock's prophecy. + +"Two feet of water on that meadow, eh?" thought Hiram. "Well, +that certainly would be bad. I wouldn't want that to happen +after the ground was plowed this year, even. It would tear up +the land, and sour it, and spoil it for a corn-crop, indeed." + +So he was down a good deal to the river's edge, watching the ebb +and flow of the stream. A heavy rain would, over night, fill the +river to its very brim and the open field, even beyond the marshy +spot, would be a-slop with standing water. + +"It sure wouldn't grow alfalfa," chuckled Hiram to himself one +day. "For the water rises here a good deal closer to the surface +than four feet, and alfalfa farmers declare that if the springs +rise that high, there is no use in putting in alfalfa. Why! I +reckon just now the water is within four inches of the top of the +ground." + +If the river remained so high, and the low ground so saturated +with water, he knew, too, that he could not get the six acres +plowed in time to put in corn this year. And it was this year's +crop he must think about first. + +Even if Pepper did not exercise his option, and turn +Mrs. Atterson out of the place, a big commercial crop of onions, +or any other better-paying crop, could only be tried the second +year. + +Hiram had got his seed corn for the upland piece of the man +who raised the best corn in the community. He had tried the +fertility of each ear, discarded those which proved weakly, +or infertile, and his stand of corn for the four acres, which +was now half hand high, was the best of any farmer between the +Atterson place and town. + +But this corn was a hundred-and-ten-day variety. The farmer he +got it of told him that he had raised a crop from a piece planted +the day before the Fourth of July; but it was safer to get it in +at least by June fifteenth. + +And here it was past June first, and the meadow land had not yet +been plowed. + +"However," Hiram said to Henry, when they walked down to the +riverside on Sunday afternoon, "I'm going ahead on Faith--just +as the minister said in church this morning. If Faith can move +mountains, we'll give it a chance to move something right down +here." + +"I dunno, Hiram," returned the other boy, shaking his head. +"Father says he'll git in here for you with three head and a +Number 3 plow by the middle of this week if you say so--'nless it +rains again, of course. But he's afeared you're goin' to waste +Mrs. Atterson's money for her." + +"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," quoted Hiram, grimly. "If +a farmer didn't take chances every year, the whole world would +starve to death!" + +"Well," returned Henry, smiling too, "let the other fellow take +the chances--that's dad's motter." + +"Yes. And the 'chancey' fellow skims the cream of things every +time. No, sir!" declared the young fellow, "I'm going to be +among the cream-skimmers, or I won't be a farmer at all." + +So the plow was put into the bottom-land Wednesday--and put in +deep. By Friday night the whole piece was plowed and partly +harrowed. + +Hiram had drawn lime for this bottom-land, proposing to use +beside only a small amount of fertilizer. He spread this lime +from his one-horse wagon, while Henry drag-harrowed behind him, +and by Saturday noon the job was done. + +The horses had not mired at all, much to Mr. Pollock's surprise. +And the plow had bit deep. All the heavy sod of the piece was +covered well, and the seed bed was fairly level--for corn. + +Although the Pollocks did not work on Saturday afternoon, Hiram +did not feel as though he could stop at this time. Most of the +farmers had already planted their last piece of corn. Monday +would be the fifteenth of the month. + +So the young farmer got his home-made corn-row marker down to the +river-bottom and began marking the piece that afternoon. + +This marker ran out three rows at each trip across the field, and +with a white stake at either end, the youth managed to run his +rows very straight. He had a good eye. + +In this case he did not check-row his field. The land was +rich--phenomenally rich, he believed. If he was going to have a +crop of corn here, he wanted a crop worth while. + +On the uplands the farmers were satisfied with from thirty to +fifty baskets of ear-corn to the acre. If this lowland was what +he believed it was, Hiram was sure it would make twice that. + +And at that his corn crop here would only average twenty-five +dollars to the acre--not a phenomenal profit for Mrs. Atterson in +that. + +But the land would be getting into shape for a better crop, and +although corn is a crop that will soon impoverish ground, if +planted year after year on the same piece, Hiram knew that the +humus in this soil on the lowland was almost inexhaustible. + +So he marked his rows the long way of the field--running with the +river. + +One of the implements left by Uncle Jeptha had been a one-horse +corn-planter with a fertilizer attachment. Hiram used this, +dropping two or three grains twenty-four inches apart, and +setting the fertilizer attachment to one hundred and fifty pounds +to the acre. + +He was until the next Wednesday night planting the piece. +Meanwhile it had not rained, and the river continued to recede. +It was now almost as low as it had been the day Lettie Bronson's +boating party had been "wrecked" under the big sycamore. + +Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the +time he got his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the +Atterson yard, and found Hiram cultivating his first corn with +the five-tooth cultivator. + +"Well, well, Hiram!" exclaimed the Westerner, looking with a +broad smile over the field. "That's as pretty a field of corn as +I ever saw. I don't believe there is a hill missing." + +"Only a few on the far edge, where the moles have been at work." + +"Moles don't eat corn, Hiram." + +"So they say," returned the young farmer, quietly. "I never could +make up my mind about it. + +"I'm sure, however, that if they are only after slugs and worms +which are drawn to the corn hills by the commercial fertilizer, +the moles do fully as much damage as the slugs would. + +"You see, they make a cavity under the corn hill, and the roots +of the plant wither. Excuse me, but I'd rather have Mr. Mole in +somebody else's garden." + +Mr. Bronson laughed. "Well, what the little gray fellows eat +won't kill us. But they do spoil otherwise handsome rows. How +did you get such a good stand of corn, Hiram?" + +"I tested the seed in a seed box early in the spring. I wouldn't +plant corn any other way. Aside from the hills the moles have +spoiled, and a few an old crow pulled up, I've got no re-planting +to do. + +"And replanted hills are always behind the crop, and seldom make +anything but fodder. If it wasn't for the look of the field, I'd +never re-plant a hill of corn. + +"Of course, I've got to thin this--two grains in the hill is +enough on this land." + +Mr. Bronson looked at him with growing surprise. + +"Why, my boy, you talk just as though you had tilled the ground +for a score of years. Who taught you so much about farming?" + +"One of the best farmers who ever lived," said Hiram, with a +smile. "My father. And he taught me to go to the correct +sources for information, too." + +"I believe you!" exclaimed Mr. Bronson. "And you're going to +have 'corn that's corn', as we say in my part of the country, on +this piece of land." + +"Wait!" said Hiram, smiling and shaking his head. + +"Wait for what?" + +"Wait till you see the corn on my bottom-land--if the river down +there doesn't drown it out. If we don't have too much rain, I'm +going to have corn on that river-bottom that will beat anything +in this county, Mr. Bronson." + +And the young farmer spoke with assurance. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE BARBECUE + +On the seventeenth day of June Hiram had "grappled out" a mess of +potatoes for their dinner. They were larger than hen's eggs and +came upon the table mealy and white. + +Potatoes were selling at retail in Scoville for two dollars the +bushel. Before the end of that week--after the lowland corn was +planted--Hiram dug two rows of potatoes, sorted them, and carted +them to town, together with some bunched beets, a few bunches of +young carrots, radishes and salad. + +The potatoes he sold for fifty cents the five-eighth basket, from +house to house, and he brought back, for his load of vegetables, +ten dollars and twenty cents, which he handed to Mrs. Atterson, +much to that lady's joy. + +"My soul and body, Hiram!" she exclaimed. "This is just a +God-send--no less. Do you know that we've sold nigh twenty-five +dollars' worth of stuff already this spring, besides that pair of +pigs I let Pollock have, and the butter to St. Beris?" + +"And it's only a beginning," Hiram told her. "Wait til' the peas +come along--we'll have a mess for the table in a few days now. +And the sweet corn and tomatoes. + +"If you and Sister can do the selling, it will help out a whole +lot, of course. I wish we had another horse." + +"Or an automobile," said Sister, clapping her hands. "Wouldn't +it be fine to run into town in an auto, with a lot of vegetables? +Then Hiram could keep right at work with the horse and not have +to stop to harness up for us." + +"Shucks, child!" admonished Mrs. Atterson. "What big idees you do +get in that noddle o' yourn." + +The girls' boarding school and the two hotels proved good +customers for Hiram's early vegetables; for nobody around +Scoville had potatoes at this time, and Hiram's early peas were +two weeks ahead of other people's. + +Having got a certain number of towns folks to expect him at least +thrice a week, when other farmers had green stuff for sale they +could not easily "cut out" Hiram later in the season. + +And not always did the young farmer have to leave his work at +home to deliver the vegetables and Mrs. Atterson's butter. +Sister, or the old lady herself, could go to town if the load was +not too heavy. + +Of course, it cost considerable to live. And hogfood and grain +for the horse and cow had to be bought. Hiram was fattening four +of the spring shoats against winter. Two they could sell and two +kill for their own use. + +"Goin' to be big doin's on the Fourth this year, Hiram," said +Henry Pollock, meeting the young farmer on the road from town one +day. "Heard about it?" + +"In Scoville, do you mean? They're going to have a 'Safe and +Sane' Fourth, the Banner says." + +"Nope. We don't think much of goin' to town Fourth of July. +And this year there's goin' to be a big picnic in Langdon's +Grove--that's up the river, you know." + +"A public picnic?" + +"Sure. A barbecue, we call it," said Henry. "We have one at the +Grove ev'ry year. This time the two Sunday Schools is goin' to +join and have a big time. You and Sister don't want to miss +it. That Mr. Bronson's goin' to give a whole side o' beef, they +tell me, to roast over the fires." + +"A big banquet is in prospect, is it?" asked Hiram, smiling. + +"And a stew! Gee! you never eat one o' these barbecue stews, did +ye? Some of us will go huntin' the day before, and there'll be +birds, and squirrels, as well as chickens in that stew--and lima +beans, and corn, and everything good you can think of!" and Henry +smacked his lips in prospect. + +Then he added, bethinking himself of his errand: + +"Everybody chips in and gives the things to eat. What'll you +give, Hiram?" + +"Some vegetables," said Hiram, quickly. "Mrs. Atterson won't +object, I guess. Do they want tomatoes for their stew?" + +"Won't be no tomatoes ripe, Hiram," said Henry, decidedly. + +"There won't, eh? You come out and take a look at mine," said +Hiram, laughing. + +Of all the rows of vegetables in Hiram's garden plot, the +thriftiest and handsomest were the trellised tomato plants. It +took nearly half of Sister's time to keep the plants tied up and +pinched back, as Hiram had taught her. + +But the stalks were already heavily laden with fruit; and those +hanging lowest on the sturdy vines were already blushing. + +"By Jo!" gasped Henry. "You've done it, ain't you? But the +cannery won't take 'em yet awhile--and they'll all be gone before +September." + +"The cannery won't get many of my tomatoes," laughed Hiram. "And +these vines properly trained and cultivated as they are, will +bear fruit up to frost. You wait and see." + +"I'll have to tell dad to come and look at these. I dunno, Hiram, +if you can sell 'em at retail, but you'll git as much for 'em as +dad does for his whole crop--just as you said." + +"That's what I'm aiming for," responded Hiram. But would the +ladies who cook the barbecue stew care for tomatoes, do you +think?" + +"We never git tomatoes this early," said Henry. "How about +potatoes? And there ain't many folks dug any of theirn yet, but +you." + +So, after speaking with Mrs. Atterson, Hiram agreed to supply +a barrel of potatoes for the barbecue, and the day before the +Fourth, one of the farmers came with a wagon to pick up the +supplies. + +Everybody at the Atterson farm would go to the grove--that was +understood. + +"If one knocks off work, the others can," declared Mother +Atterson. "You see that things is left all right for the +critters, Hiram, and we'll tend to things indoors so that we can +be gone till night." + +"And do, Hiram, look out for my poults the last thing," cried +Sister. + +Mrs. Larriper had given Sister a setting of ten turkey eggs +and every one of them had hatched under one of Mrs. Atterson's +motherly old hens. At first the girl had kept the young turkeys +and their foster mother right near the house, so that she could +watch them carefully. + +But poults are rangy, and these being particularly strong and +thrifty, they soon ran the old hen pretty nearly to death. + +So Hiram had built a coop into which they could go at night, safe +from any vermin, and set it far down in the east lot, near the +woods. Sister usually went down with a little grain twice a day +to call them up, and keep them tame. + +"But when they get big enough to roost in the fall, I expect +we'll have to gather that crop with a gun," Hiram told her, +laughing. + +Many of the farmers teams were strung out along the road long +before Hiram was ready to set out. He had made sure that the +spring wagon was in good shape, and he had built an extra seat +for it, so that the four rode very comfortably. + +Like every other Fourth of July, the sun was broiling hot! And +the dust rose in clouds as the faster teams passed their slow old +nag. + +Mrs. Atterson sat up very primly in her best silk, holding a +parasol and wearing a pair of lace mits that had appeared on +state occasions for the past twenty years, at least. + +Sister was growing like a weed, and it was hard to keep her +skirts and sleeves at a proper length. But she was an entirely +different looking girl from the boarding house slavey whom Hiram +remembered so keenly back in Crawberry. + +As for Old Lem Camp, he was as cheerful as Hiram had ever seen +him, and showed a deal of interest in everything about the farm, +and had proved himself, as Mrs. Atterson had prophesied, a great +help. + +Scarcely a house along the road was not shut up and the dooryard +deserted--for everybody was going to the barbecue. All but the +Dickerson family. Sam was at work in the fields, and the haggard +Mrs. Dickerson looked dumbly from her porch, with a crying baby +in her scrawny arms as the Attersons and Hiram passed. + +But Pete was at the barbecue. He was there when Hiram arrived, +and he was making himself quite as prominent as anybody. + +Indeed, he made himself so obnoxious finally, that one of the +rough men who was keeping up the fires threatened to chuck Pete +into the biggest one, and then cool him off in the river. + +Otherwise, however, the barbecue passed off very pleasantly. The +men who governed it saw that no liquor was brought along, and the +unruly element to which Pete belonged was kept under with an iron +hand. + +There was so little "fun", of a kind, in Pete's estimation that, +after the big event of the day--the banquet--he and some of +his friends disappeared. And the picnicking ground was a much +quieter and pleasanter place after their departure. + +The newcomers into the community made many friends and +acquaintances that day. Sister was going to school in the fall, +and she found many girls of her age whom she would meet there. + +Mrs. Atterson met the older ladies, and was invited to join no +less than two "Ladies' Aids", and, as she said, "if she called +on all the folks she'd agreed to visit, she'd be goin' ev'ry day +from then till Christmas!" + +As for Hiram, the men and older boys were rather inclined to +jolly him a bit. Not many of them had been upon the Atterson +place to see what he had done, but they had heard some stories of +his proposed crops that amused them. + +When Mr. Bronson, however, whom the local men knew to be a big +farmer in the Middle West, and who owned many farms out there +now, spoke favorably of Hiram's work, the local men listened +respectfully. + +"The boy's got it in him to do something," the Westerner said, +in his hearty fashion. "You're eating his potatoes now, I +understand. Which one of you can dig early potatoes like those? + +"And he's got the best stand of corn in the county." + +"On that river-bottom, you mean?" asked one. + +"And on the upland, too. You fellows want to look about you a +little. Most of you don't see beyond the end of your noses. You +watch out, or Hiram Strong is going to beat every last one of you +this year--and that's a run-down farm he's got, at that." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +SISTER'S TURKEYS + +But Lettie was not at the barbecue, and to tell the truth, Hiram +Strong was disappointed. + +Despite the fact that she had seemed inclined to snub him, the +young farmer was vastly taken with the pretty girl. He had seen +nobody about Scoville as attractive as Lettie--nor anywhere else, +for that matter! + +He was too proud to call at the Bronson place, although +Mr. Bronson invited him whenever he saw Hiram. And at first, +Lettie had asked him to come, too. + +But the Western girl did not like being thwarted in any +matter--even the smallest. And when Hiram would not come to take +Pete Dickerson's place, the very much indulged girl had showed +the young farmer that she was offended. + +However, the afternoon at Langdon's Grove passed very pleasantly, +and Hiram and his party did not arrive at the farm again until +dusk had fallen. + +"I'll go down and shut your turkeys up for the night, Sister," +Hiram said, after he had done the other chores for he knew +the girl would be afraid to go so far from the house by +lantern-light. + +And when he reached the turkey coop, 'way down in the field, +Hiram was very glad indeed that he had come instead of the girl. + +For the coop was empty. There wasn't a turkey inside, or +thereabout. It had been dark an hour and more, then, and the +poults should long since have been hovered in the coop. + +Had some marauding fox, or other "varmint", run the young turkeys +off their reservation? That seemed improbable at this time of +year--and so early in the evening. Foxes do not usually go +hunting before midnight, nor do other predatory animals. + +Hiram had brought the barn lantern with him, and he took a look +around the neighborhood of the empty coop. + +"My goodness!" he mused, "Sister will cry her eyes out if +anything's happened to those little turks. Now, what's this?" + +The ground was cut up at a little distance from the coop. He +examined the tracks closely. + +They were fresh--very fresh indeed. The wheel tracks of a light +wagon showed, and the prints of a horse's shod hoofs. + +The wagon had been driven down from the main road, and had turned +sharply here by the coop. Hiram knew, too, that it had stood +there for some time, for the horse had moved uneasily. + +Of course, that proved the driver had gotten out of the +wagon and left the horse alone. Doubtless there was but one +thief--for it was positive that the turkeys had been removed by a +two-footed--not a four-footed--marauder. + +"And who would be mean enough to steal Sister's turkeys? +Almost everybody in the neighborhood has a few to fatten for +Thanksgiving and Christmas. Who--did--this?" + +He followed the wheel marks of the wagon to the road. He saw the +track where it turned into the field, and where it turned out +again. And it showed plainly that the thief came from town, and +returned in that direction. + +Of course, in the roadway it was impossible to trace the +particular tracks made by the thief's horse and wagon. Too many +other vehicles had been over the road within the past hour. + +The thief must have driven into the field just after night-fall, +plucked the ten young turkeys, one by one, out of the coop, +tying their feet and flinging them into the bottom of his wagon. +Covered with a bag, the frightened turkeys would never utter a +peep while it remained dark. + +"I hate to tell Sister--I can't tell her," Hiram said, as he went +slowly back to the house. For Sister had been "counting chickens" +again, and she had figured that, at eighteen cents per pound, +live weight, the ten turkeys would pay for all the clothes she +would need that winter, and give her "Christmas money", too. + +The young farmer shrank from meeting the girl again that night, +and he delayed going into the house as long as possible. Then he +found they had all retired, leaving him a cold supper at the end +of the kitchen table. + +The disappearance of the turkeys kept Hiram tossing, wakeful, +upon his bed for some hours. He could not fail to connect this +robbery with the other things that had been done, during the past +weeks, to injure those living at the Atterson farm. + +Was the secret enemy really Peter Dickerson? And had Pete +committed this crime now? + +Yet the horse and wagon had come from the direction opposite the +Dickerson farm, and had returned as it came. + +"I don't know whether I am accusing that fellow wrongfully, +or not," muttered Hiram, at last. "But I am going to find +out. Sister isn't going to lose her turkeys without my doing +everything in my power to get them back and punish the thief." + +He usually arose in the morning before anybody else was astir, so +it was easy for Hiram to slip out of the house and down to the +field to the empty turkey coop. + +The marks of horse and wagon were quite as plain in the faint +light of dawn as they had been the night before. In the darkness +the thief had driven his wagon over some small stumps, amid which +his horse had scrambled in some difficulty, it was plain. + +Hiram, tracing out these marks as a Red Indian follows a trail, +saw something upon the edge of one of the half-decayed stumps +that interested him greatly. + +He stood up the next moment with this clue in his hand--a white, +coarse hair, perhaps four inches in length. + +"That was scraped off the horse's fetlock as he scrambled over +this stump," muttered Hiram. "Now, who drives a white horse, or +a horse with white feet, in this neighborhood? + +"Can I narrow the search down in this way, I wonder?" and for +some moments the youth stood there, in the growing light of early +morning, canvassing the subject from that angle. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +RUN TO EARTH + +A broad streak of crimson along the eastern horizon, over the +treetops, announced the coming of the sun when Hiram Strong +reached the automobile road to which he, on the previous night, +had traced the thief that had stolen Sister's poults. + +Now he looked at the track again. It surely had come from the +direction of Scoville, and it turned back that way. + +Yet he looked at the white horse-hair scraped off upon the stump, +and he turned his back upon these signs and strode along the road +toward his own home. + +Smoke was just curling from the Atterson chimney; Sister, or Mrs. +Atterson, was just building the fire. But they did not see Hiram +as he went by. + +Hiram's quest led him past the place and to the Dickerson farm. +There nobody was yet astir, save the mules and horses in the +barnyard, who called as he went by, hoping for their breakfast. + +Hiram knew that the Dickersons had turkeys and, like most of the +other farmers, cooped them in distant fields away from the house. +He found three coops in the middle of an old oat-field tinder a +spreading beech. + +The old turks roosted upon the limbs of the beech at night; they +were already up and away, hunting grasshoppers for breakfast. +But quite a few poults were running and peeping about the coops, +with two hen turkeys playing guard to them. + +Hiram saw where a wagon had been driven in here, and turned, too. +The tracks were made recently. And one of the coops was shut +tight, although be knew by the rustling within that there were +young turkeys in it. + +It was too dark within the hutch, however, for the youth to +number the poults confined there. + +He strolled back across the fields to the rear of the Dickerson +house. Passing the barnyard first, he halted and examined the +bright bay horse, with white feet--the one that Pete had driven +to the barbecue the day before--the only one Pete was ever +allowed to drive off the farm. + +The Dickersons, father and son, were not as early risers as most +farmers in those parts. At least, they were not up betimes on +this morning. + +But Mrs. Dickerson had built the fire now and was stirring about +the porch when Hiram arrived at the step, filling her kettle at +the pump. + +"Mornin', Mr. Strong," she said, in her startled way, eyeing +Hiram askance. + +She was a lean, sharp-featured woman, with a hopeless droop to +her shoulders. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Dickerson," said Hiram, gravely. "How many +young turkeys have you this year?" + +The woman shrank back and almost dropped the kettle she had +filled to the pump-bench. Her eyes glared. + +Somewhere in the house a baby squatted; then a door banged and +Hiram heard Dickerson's heavy step descending the stair. + +"You have a coop of poults down there, Mrs. Dickerson," continued +Hiram, confidently," that I know belongs to us. I traced Pete's +tracks with the wagon and the white-footed horse. Now, this is +going to make trouble for Pete---" + +"What's the matter with Pete, now?" demanded Dickerson's harsh +voice, and he came out upon the porch. + +He scowled at sight of Hiram, and continued: + +"What are you roaming around here for, Strong? Can't you keep on +your own side of the fence?" + +"It's little I'll ever trouble you, Mr. Dickerson," said Hiram, +"sharply, if you and yours don't trouble me, I can assure you." + +"What's eating you now?" demanded the man, roughly. + +"Why, I'll tell you, Mr. Dickerson," said Hiram, quickly. " +Somebody's stolen our turkeys--ten of them. And I have found +them down there where your turkeys roost. The natural inference +is that somebody here knows about it---" + +Dickerson--just out of his bed and as ugly as many people are +when they first get up--leaped for the young farmer from the +porch, and had him in his grip before Hiram could help himself. + +The woman screamed. There was a racket in the house, for some of +the children had been watching from the window. + +"Dad's goin' to lick him!" squalled one of the girls. + +"You come here and intermate that any of my family's thieves, do +you?" the angry man roared. + +"Stop that, Sam Dickerson!" cried his wife. She suddenly gained +courage and ran to the struggling pair, and tried to haul Sam +away from Hiram. + +"The boy's right," she gasped. "I heard Pete tellin' little Sam +last night what he'd done. It's come to a pretty pass, so it +has, if you are goin' to uphold that bad boy in thieving---" + +"Hush up, Maw!" cried Pete's voice from the house. + +"Come out here, you scalawag!" ordered his father, relaxing his +hold on Hiram. + +Pete slouched out on the porch, wearing a grin that was half +sheepish, half worried. + +"What's this Strong says about turkeys?" demanded Sam Dickerson, +sternly. + +"'Tain't so!" declared Pete. "I ain't seen no turkeys." + +"I have found them," said Hiram, quietly. "And the coopful is +down yonder in your lot. You thought to fool me by turning into +our farm from the direction of Scoville, and driving back that +way; but you turned around in the road under that overhanging +oak, where I picked Lettie Bronson off the back of the runaway +horse last Spring. + +"Now, those ten turkeys belong to Sister. She'll be heart-broken +if anything happens to them. You have played me several mean +tricks since I have been here, Pete Dickerson---" + +"No, I ain't!" interrupted the boy. + +"Who took the burr off the end of my axle and let me down in the +road that night?" demanded Hiram, his rage rising. + +Pete could not forbear a grin at this remembrance. + +"And who tampered with our pump the next morning? And who +watched and waited till we left the lower meadow that night we +burned the rubbish, and then set fire to our woods---" + +Mrs. Dickerson screamed again. "I knew that fire never come by +accident," she moaned. + +"You shut up, Maw!" admonished her hopeful son again. + +"And now, I've got you," declared Hiram, with confidence. "I +can tell those ten poults. I marked them for Sister long ago +so that, if they went to the neighbors, they could be easily +identified. + +"They're in that shut-up coop down yonder," continued Hiram, "and +unless you agree to bring them back at once, and put them in our +coop, I shall hitch up and go to town, first thing, and get out a +warrant for your arrest." + +Sam had remained silent for a minute, or two. Now he said, +decidedly: + +"You needn't threaten no more, young feller. I can see plain +enough that Pete's been carrying his fun too far---" + +"Fun!" ejaculated Hiram. + +"That's what I said," growled Sam. "He'll bring the turkeys +back-and before he has his breakfast, too." + +"All right," said Hiram, knowing full well that there was nothing +to be made by quarreling with Sam Dickerson. "His returning +the turkeys, how- ever, will not keep me from speaking to the +constable the very next time Pete plays any of his tricks around +our place. + +"It may be 'fun' for him; but it won't look so funny from the +inside of the town jail." + +He walked off after this threat. And he was sorry he had said +it. For he had no real intention of having Pete arrested, and an +empty threat is of no use to anybody. + +The turkeys came back; Sister did not even know that they had +been stolen, for when she went down to feed them about the middle +of the forenoon, all ten came running to her call. + +But Pete Dickerson ceased from troubling for a time, much to +Hiram's satisfaction. + +Meanwhile the crops were coming on finely. Hiram's tomatoes were +bringing good prices in Scoville, and as he had such a quantity +and was so much earlier than the other farmers around about, +he did, as he told Henry he would do, "skim the cream off the +market." + +He bought some crates and baskets in town, too, and shipped some +of the tomatoes to a produce man he knew in Crawberry--a man whom +he could trust to treat him fairly. During the season that man's +checks to Mrs. Atterson amounted to fifty-four dollars. + +Three times a week the spring wagon went to town with vegetables +for the school, the hotels, and their retail customers. The +whole family worked long hours, and worked hard; but nobody +complained. + +No rain fell of any consequence until the latter part of July; +and then there was no danger of the river overflowing and +drowning out the corn. + +And that corn! By the last of July it was waist high, growing +rank and strong, and of that black-green color which delights the +farmer's eye. + +Mr. Bronson walked down to the river especially to see it. Like +Hiram's upland corn, there was scarcely a hill missing, save +where the muskrats had dug in from the river bank and disturbed +the corn hills. + +"That's the finest-looking corn in this county, bar none, Hiram," +declared Bronson. "I have seldom seen better looking in the rich +bottom-lands of the West. And you certainly do keep it clean, +boy." + +" No use in putting in a crop if you don't 'tend it," said the +young farmer, sententiously. + +"And what's this along here?" asked the gentleman, pointing to a +row or two of small stuff along the inner edge of the field. + +"I'm trying onions and celery down here. I want to put a +commercial crop into this field next year--if we are let stay +here--that will pay Mrs. Atterson and me a real profit," and +Hiram laughed. + +"What do you call a real profit?" inquired Mr. Bronson, +seriously. + +"Four hundred dollars an acre, net," said the young farmer, +promptly. + +"Why, Hiram, you can't do that!" cried the gentleman. + +"It's being done--in other localities and on soil not so rich as +this--and I believe I can do it." + +"With onions or celery?" "Yes, sir." "Which--or both?" asked the +Westerner, interested. + +"I am trying them out here, as you see. I believe it will be +celery. This soil is naturally wet, and celery is a glutton +for water. Then, it is a late piece, and celery should be +transplanted twice before it is put in the field, I believe." + +"A lot of work, boy," said Mr. Bronson, shaking his head. + +"Well, I never expect to get something for nothing," remarked +Hiram. + +"And how about the onions?" + +"Why, they don't seem to do so well. There is something lacking +in the land to make them do their best. I believe it is too +cold. And, then, I am watching the onion market, and I am afraid +that too many people have gone into the game in certain sections, +and are bound to create an over-supply." + +The gentleman looked at him curiously. + +"You certainly are an able-minded youngster, Hiram," he observed. +"I s'pose if you do so well here next year as you expect, a +charge of dynamite wouldn't blast you away from the Atterson +farm?" + +"Why, Mr. Bronson," responded the young farmer, "I don't want to +run a one-horse farm all my life. And this never can be much +more. It isn't near enough to any big city to be a real truck +farm--and I'm interested in bigger things. + +"No, sir. The Atterson Eighty is only a stepping stone for me. +I hope I'll go higher before long." + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +HARVEST + +But Hiram was not at all sure that he would ever see a celery +crop in this bottom-land. Pepper still "hung fire" and he would +not go to Mr. Strickland with his option. + +"I don't hafter," he told Hiram. "When I git ready I'll let ye +know, be sure o' that." + +The fact was that the railroad had made no further move. +Mr. Strickland admitted to Mrs. Atterson that if the strip along +the east boundary of the farm was condemned by the railroad, she +ought to get a thousand dollars for it. + +"But if the railroad board should change its mind again," added +the lawyer, "sixteen hundred dollars would not be a speculative +price to pay for your farm--and well Pepper knows it." + +"Then Mr. Damocles's sword has got to hang over us, has it?" +demanded the old lady. + +"I am afraid so," admitted the lawyer, smiling. + +Mrs. Atterson could not be more troubled than was Hiram himself. +Youth feels the sting of such arrows of fortune more keenly than +does age. We get "case-hardened" to trouble as the years bend +our shoulders. + +The thought that he might, after all, get nothing but a hundred +dollars and his board for all the work he had done in preparation +for the second year's crop sometimes embittered Hiram's thoughts. + +Once, when he spoke to Pepper, and the snaky man sneered at him +and laughed, the young farmer came near attacking him then and +there in the street. + +"I certainly could have given that Pepper as good a thrashing as +ever he got," muttered Hiram. "And even Pete Dickerson never +deserved one more than Pepper." + +Pete fought shy of Hiram these days, and as the summer waned the +young farmer gradually became less watchful and expectant of +trouble from the direction of the west boundary of the Atterson +Eighty. + +But there was little breathing spell for him in the work of the +farm. + +"When we lay by the corn, you bet dad an' me goes fishing!" Henry +Pollock told Hiram, one day. + +But it wasn't often that the young farmer could take half a day +off for any such pleasure. + +"You've bit off more'n you kin chaw," observed Henry. + +"That's all right; I'll keep chewing at it, just the same," +returned Hiram cheerfully. + +For the truck crop was bringing them in a bigger sum of money +than even Hiram had expected. The season had been very +favorable, indeed; Hiram's vegetables had come along in good +time, and even the barrels of sweet corn he shipped to Crawberry +brought a fair price--much better than he could have got at the +local cannery. + +When the tomato pack came on, however, he did sell many baskets +of his "seconds" to the cannery. But the selected tomatoes +he continued to ship to Crawberry, and having established a +reputation with his produce man for handsome and evenly ripened +fruit, the prices received were good all through the season. + +He saw the sum for tomatoes pass the hundred and fifty dollar +mark before frost struck the vines. Even then he was not +satisfied. There was a small cellar under the Atterson house, +and when the frosty nights of October came, Hiram dragged up the +vines still bearing fruit, by the roots, and hung them in the +cellar, where the tomatoes continued to ripen slowly nearly up to +Thanksgiving. + +Other crops did almost as well in proportion. He had put in no +late potatoes; but in September he harvested the balance of his +early crop and, as they were a good keeping variety, he knew +there would be enough to keep the family supplied until the next +season. + +Of other roots, including a patch of well-grown mangels for Mrs. +Atterson's handsome flock of chickens, there were plenty to carry +the family over the winter. + +As the frosts became harder Hiram dug his root pits in the high, +light soil of the garden, drew pinetags to cover them, and, +gradually, as the winter advanced, heaped the earth over the +various piles of roots to keep them through the winter. + +Meanwhile, in September, corn harvest had come on. The four acres +Hiram had planted below the stables yielded a fair crop, that +part of the land he bad been able to enrich with coarse manure +showing a much better average than the remainder. + +The four acres yielded them something over one hundred and sixty +baskets of sound corn which, as corn was then selling for fifty +cents per bushel, meant that the crop was worth about forty +dollars. + +As near as Hiram could figure it had cost about fifteen dollars +to raise the crop; therefore the profit to Mrs. Atterson was some +twenty-five dollars. + +Besides the profit from some of the garden crops, this was very +small indeed; as Hiram said, it did not pay well enough to plant +small patches of corn for them to fool with it much. + +"The only way to make a good profit out of corn corn a place like +this," he said to Henry, who would not be convinced, "is to have +a big drove of hogs and turn them into the field to fatten on the +standing corn." + +"But that would be wasteful!" cried Henry, shocked at the +suggestion. + +"Big pork producers do not find it so," returned Hiram, +confidently. "Or else one wants a drove of cattle to fatten, and +cuts the corn green and shreds it, blowing it into a silo. + +"The idea is to get the cost of the corn crop back through the +price paid by the butcher for your stock, or hogs." + +"Nobody ever did that around here," declared young Pollock. + +"And that's why nobody gets ahead very fast around here. Henry, +why don't you strike out and do something new--just to surprise +'em? + +"Stop selling a little tad of this, and a little tad of that +off the farm and stick to the good farmer's rule: 'Never sell +anything off the place that can't walk off.'" + +"I've heard that before," said Henry, sighing. + +"And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of +steers or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, +than when the corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold." + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING + +Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened--in +September. She was delighted, for although she had had "lessons" +at the "institution", they had not been like this regular +attendance, with other free and happy children, at a good country +school. + +Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the +improvement in her appearance was something marvelous. + +"It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that +youngun and the way she looked when she come to me from the +charity school," declared Mother Atterson. + +"Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of +any mother's heart, she'd be. + +"If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her +all these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram." + +"They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness," +admitted the young farmer. + +"Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks," responded +"Mrs. Atterson. But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be +"sorry some day." + +"You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?" demanded +Hiram. + +"No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid +of a young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have +many children of their own. + +"And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as +that lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another +reason for losing her in this great world." + +"I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson," +said Hiram, shaking his head. + +"Huh! If she don't, it's no loss to her. It's loss to them," +declared the old lady. "And I'd hate to have anybody come and +take her away from us now." + +Sister no longer wore her short hair in four "pigtails". She +had learned to dress it neatly like other girls of her age, and +although it would never be like the beautiful blue-black tresses +of Lettie Bronson, Hiram had to admit that the soft brown of +Sister's hair, waving so prettily over her forehead, made the +girl's features more than a little attractive. + +She was an entirely different person, too, from the one who had +helped Lettie and her friends ashore from the grounded motor-boat +that day, so long ago--and so Lettie herself thought when she +rode into the Atterson yard one October day on her bay horse, and +Sister met her on the porch. + +"Why, you're Mrs. Atterson's girl, aren't you?" cried Lettie, +leaning from her saddle to offer her hand to Sister. "I wouldn't +have known you." + +Sister was getting plump, she had roses in her cheeks, and she +wore a neat, whole, and becoming dress. + +"You're Miss Bronson," said Sister, gravely. "I wouldn't forget +you." + +Perhaps there was something in what Sister said that stung Lettie +Bronson's memory. She flushed a little; but then she smiled most +charmingly and asked for Hiram. + +"Husking corn, Miss, with Henry Pollock, down on the +bottom-land." + +"Oh! way down there? Well! you tell him--Why, I'll want you to +come, too," laughed Lettie, quite at her best now. + +Nobody could fail to answer Lettie Bronson's smile with its +reflection, when she chose to exert herself in that direction. + +"Why, I just came to tell you both that on Friday we're going to +have an old-fashioned husking-bee for all the young folks of the +neighborhood, at our place. You must come yourself--er--Sister, +and tell Hiram to come, too. + +"Seven o'clock, sharp, remember--and I'll be dreadfully +disappointed if you don't come," added Lettie, turning her +horse's head homeward, and saying it with so much cordiality that +her hearer's heart warmed. + +"She is pretty," mused Sister, watching the bay horse and its +rider flying along the road. "I don't blame Hiram for thinking +she's the very finest girl in these parts. + +"She is," declared Sister, emphatically, and shook herself. + +Hiram had finished husking the lowland corn that day, with +Henry's help, and it was all drawn in at night. When the last +measured basket was heaped in the crib by lantern light, the +young farmer added up the figures chalked up on the lintel of the +door. + +"For goodness' sake, Hiram! it isn't as much as that, is it?" +gasped Henry, viewing the figures the young farmer wrote proudly +in his memorandum book. + +"Six acres--six hundred and eighty baskets of sound corn," crowed +"Hiram. And it's corn that is corn, as Mr. Bronson says. + +"It's not quite as hard as the upland corn, for the growing +season was not quite long enough for it; but it's better than the +average in the county---" + +"Three hundred and forty bushel of shelled corn from six acres?" +cried Henry. "I should say it was! It's worth fifty cents now +right at the orib--a hundred and seventy dollars. Hiram! that'll +make dad let me go to the agricultural college." + +"What?" cried Hiram, surprised and pleased. "Have you really got +that idea in your head?" + +"I been gnawin' on it ever since you talked so last spring," +admitted his friend, rather shyly. "I told father, and at first +he pooh-poohed. + +"But I kept on pointing out to him how much more you knowed than +we did--" + +"That's nonsense, Henry," interrupted Hiram. "Only about some +things. I wouldn't want to set myself up over the farmers of +this neighborhood as knowing so much." + +"Well, you've proved it. Dad says so himself. He was taken all +aback when I showed him how you had beat him on the tomato crop. +And I been talking to him about your corn. + +"That hit father where he lived," chuckled Henry, "for father's +a corn-growing man--and always has been considered so in this +county. + +"He watched the way you tilled your crop, and he believed so much +shallow cultivating was wrong, and said so. But he says you beat +him on poor ground; and when I tell him what that lowland figures +up, he'll throw up his hands. + +"And I'm going to take a course in fertilizers, farm management, +and the chemistry of soils," continued Henry. + +"Just as you say, I believe we have been planting the wrong crops +on the right land! Anyway, I'll find out. I believe we've got a +good farm, but we're not getting out of it what we should." + +"Well, Henry," admitted Hiram, slowly, "nothing's pleased me so +much since I came into this neighborhood, as to hear you say +this. You get all you can at the experiment station this winter, +and I believe that your father will soon begin to believe that +there is something in 'book farming', after all." + +If it had not been for the hair-hung sword over them, +Mrs. Atterson and Hiram would have taken great delight in the +generous crops that had been vouchsafed to them. + +"Still, we can't complain," said the old lady, and for the first +time for more'n twenty years I'm going to be really thankful at +Thanksgiving time." + +"Oh, I believe you!" cried Sister, who heard her. "No boarders." + +"Nope," said the old lady, quietly. "You're wrong. For we're +going to have boarders on Thanksgiving Day. I've writ to +Crawberry. Anybody that's in the old house now that wants to +come to eat dinner with us, can come. I'm going to cook the best +dinner I ever cooked--and make a milkpail full of gravy. + +"I know," said the good old soul, shaking her head, "that them +two old maids I sold out to have half starved them boys. We +ought to be able to stand even Fred Crackit, and Mr. Peebles, one +day in the year." + +"Well!" returned Sister, thoughtfully. "If you can stand 'em I +can. I never did think I could forgive 'em all--so mean they was +to me--and the hair-pulling and all. + +"But I guess you're right, Mis' Atterson. It's heapin' coals of +fire on their heads, like what the minister at the chapel says." + +"Good Land o' Goshen, child!" exclaimed the old lady, briskly. +"Hot coals would scotch 'em, and I only want to fill their +stomachs for once." + +The husking at the Bronsons was a very well attended feast, +indeed. There was a great barn floor, and on this were heaped the +ear-corn in the husks--not too much, for Lettie proposed having +the floor cleared and swept for square dancing, and later for the +supper. + +She had a lot of her school friends at the husking, and at first +the neighborhood boys and girls were bashful in the company of +the city girls. + +But after they got to work husking the corn, and a few red ears +had been found (for which each girl or boy had to pay a forfeit) +they became a very hilarious company indeed. + +Now, Lettie, broadly hospitable, had invited the young folk far +and wide. Even those whom she had not personally seen, were +expected to attend. + +So it was not surprising that Pete Dickerson should come, despite +the fact that Mr. Bronson had once discharged him from his +employ--and for serious cause. + +But Pete was not a thin-skinned person. Where there was +anything "doing" he wanted to cut a figure. And his desire to +be important, and be marked by the company, began to make him +objectionable before the evening was half over. + +For instance, he thought it was funny to take a run down the long +barn floor and leap over the heads of those huskers squatting +about a heap of corn, and land with his heavy boots on the apex +of the pile, thus scattering the ears in all directions. + +He got long straws, too, and tickled the backs, of the girls' +necks; or he dumped handfuls of bran down their backs, or shook +oats into their hair--and the oats stuck. + +Mr. Bronson could not see to everything; and Pete was very sly +at his tricks. A girl would shriek in one corner, and the lout +would quickly transport himself to a distant spot. + +When the corn was swept aside, and the floor cleared for the +dance, Pete went beyond the limit, however. He had found a pail +of soft-soap in the shed and while the crowd was out of the barn, +playing a "round game" in the yard while it was being swept, Pete +slunk in with the soap and a swab, and managed to spread a good +deal of the slippery stuff around on the boards. + +A broom would not remove this soft-soap. When the hostler swept, +he only spread it. And when the dancing began many a couple +measured their length on the planks, to Pete's great delight. + +But the hired man had observed Pete sneaking about while he +was removing the last of the corn, and Hiram Strong discovered +soft-soap on Pete's clothes, and the smell of it strong upon his +unwashed hands. + +"You get out of here," Mr. Bronson told the boy. "I had occasion +to put you off my land once, and don't let me have to do it a +third time," and he shoved him with no gentle hand through the +door and down the driveway. + +But Pete laid it all to Hiram. He called back over his shoulder: + + +"I'll be square with you, yet, Hi Strong! You wait!" + +But Hiram bad been threatened so often from that quarter by now, +that he was not much interested. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +ONE SNOWY MIDNIGHT + +The fun went on after that with more moderation, and everybody +had a pleasant time. That is, so supposed Hiram Strong until, +in going out of the barn again to get a breath of cool air after +one of the dances, he almost stumbled over a figure hiding in a +corner, and crying. + +"Why, Sister!" he cried, taking the girl by the shoulders, and +turning her about. "What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I want to go home, Hi. This isn't any place for me. Let +me--me run--run home!" she sobbed. + +"I guess not! Who's bothered you? Has that Pete Dickerson come +back?" + +"No!" sobbed Sister. + +"What is it, then?" + +"They--they don't want me here. They don't like me." + +"Who don't?" demanded Hiram, sternly. + +"Those--those girls from St. Beris. I--I tried to dance, and I +slipped on some of that horrid soap and--and fell down. And they +said I was clumsy. And one said: + +"'Oh, all these country girls are like that. I don't see what +Let wanted them here for.' + +"'So't we could all show off better,' said another, laughing some +more. + +"And I guess that's right enough," finished Sister. "They don't +want me here. Only to make fun of. And I wish I hadn't come." + +Hiram was smitten dumb for a moment. He had danced once with +Lettie, but the other town girls had given him no opportunity to +do so. And it was plain that Lettie's school friends preferred +the few boys who had come up from town to any of the farmers' +sons who had come to the husking. + +"I guess you're right, Sister. They don't want us--much," +admitted Hiram, slowly. + +"Then let's both go home," said Sister, sadly. + +"No. That wouldn't be serving Mr. Bronson--or Lettie--right. We +were invited in good faith, I reckon, and the Bronsons haven't +done anything to offend us. + +"But you and I'll go back there and dance together. You dance +with me--or with Henry; and I'll stick to the country girls. If +Lettie Bronson's friends from boarding school think they are so +much better than us folks out here in the country, let us show +them that we can have a good time without them." + +"Oh, I'll go back with you, Hiram," cried Sister, gladly, and +the young fellow was a bit conscience-stricken as he noted her +changed tone and saw the sparkle that came into her eye. + +Had he neglected Sister because Lettie Bronson was about? Well! +perhaps he had. But he made up for it with the attention he paid +to Sister during the remainder of the evening. + +They went home early, however, and Hiram felt somewhat grave +after the corn husking. Had Lettie Bronson invited the +country-bred young folk living about her father's home, to meet +her boarding school friends, and the town boys, merely that the +latter might be compared with the farmer-folk to their disfavor? + +He could not believe that--really. Lettie Bronson might be +thoughtless, and a little proud; but she was still a princess to +Hiram, and he could not think this evil of her. + +But there were too many duties every day for the young farmer to +give much thought to such problems. Harvesting was not complete +yet, and soon flurries of snow began to drive across the fields +and threaten the approach of winter. + +Finally the wind came out of the northwest for more than a day, +and toward evening the flakes began to fall, faster and faster, +thicker and thicker. + +"It's going to be a snowy night--a real baby blizzard," declared +Hiram, stamping his feet on the porch before coming into the warm +kitchen with the milkpail. + +"Oh, dear! And I thought you'd go over to Pollock's with me +to-night, Hi," said Sister. + +"Mabel an' I are goin' to make our Christmas presents together, +and she's expecting me." + +"Shucks! 'Twon't be fit for a girl to go out if it snows," said +Mother Atterson. + +But Hiram saw that Sister was much disappointed, and he had tried +to be kinder to her since that night of the corn husking. + +"What's a little snow? " he demanded, laughing. "Bundle up good, +Sister, and I'll go over with you. I want to see Henry, anyway." + +"Crazy young'uns," observed Mother Atterson. But she made no real +objection. Whatever Hiram said was right, in the old lady's +eyes. + +They tramped through the snowy fields with a lantern, and found +it half-knee deep in some drifts before they arrived at the +Pollocks, short as had been the duration of the fall. + +But they were welcomed vociferously at the neighbor's; +preparations were made for a long evening's fun; for with the +snow coming down so steadily there would be little work done out +of doors the following day, so the family need not seek their +beds early. + +The Pollock children had made a good store of nuts, like the +squirrels; and there was plenty of corn to pop, and molasses for +candy, or corn-balls, and red apples to roast, and sweet cider +from the casks in the cellar. + +The older girls retired to a corner of the wide hearth with their +work-boxes, and Hiram and Henry worked out several problems +regarding the latter's eleven-week course at the agricultural +college, which would begin the following week; while the young +ones played games until they fell fast asleep in odd corners of +the big kitchen. + +It was nearly midnight, indeed, when Hiram and Sister started +home. And it was still snowing, and snowing heavily. + +"We'll have to get all the plows out to-morrow morning!" Henry +shouted after them from the porch. + +And it was no easy matter to wade home through the heavy drifts. + +"I never could have done it without you, Hi," declared the girl, +when she finally floundered onto the Atterson porch, panting and +laughing. + +"I'll take a look around the barns before I come in," remarked +the careful young farmer. + +This was a duty he never neglected, no matter how late he went +to bed, nor how tired he was. Half way to the barn he halted. A +light was waving wildly by the Dickerson back door. + +It was a lantern, and Hiram knew that it was being whirled around +and around somebody's head. He thought he heard, too, a shouting +through the falling snow. + +"Something's wrong over yonder," thought the young farmer. + +He hesitated but for a moment. He had never stepped upon the +Dickerson place, nor spoken to Sam Dickerson since the trouble +about the turkeys. The lantern continued to swing. Eagerly as +the snow came down, it could not blind Hiram to the waving light. + +"I've got to see about this," he muttered, and started as fast as +he could go through the drifts, across the fields. + +Soon he heard the voice shouting. It was Sam Dickerson. And he +evidently had been shouting to Hiram, seeing his lantern in the +distance. + +"Help, Strong! Help!" he called. + +"What is it, man?" demanded Hiram, climbing the last pair of bars +and struggling through the drifts in the dooryard. + +"Will you take my horse and go for the doctor? I don't know where +Pete is--down to Cale Schell's, I expect." + +"What's the matter, Mr. Dickerson?" + +"Sarah's fell down the bark stairs--fell backward. Struck her +head an' ain't spoke since. Will you go, Mr. Strong?" + +"Certainly. Which horse will I take?" + +"The bay's saddled-under the shed--get any doctor--I don't care +which one. But get him here." + +"I will, Mr. Dickerson. Leave it to me," promised Hiram, and ran +to the shed at once. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +"MR. DAMOCLES'S SWORD" + +Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous +night. It was impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for +the drifts were in some places to the creature's girth. + +He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and +Old Lem and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons. + +He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There +were lights and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were +snowbound for the night and were making merry with hard cider and +provisions which Schell was not loath to sell them. + +Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news +of his mother's serious hurt. + +He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It +was nearly two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was +four o'clock when the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh +and behind a pair of mules, reached the Dickerson farmhouse. + +The woman had not returned to consciousness, and Mrs. Atterson +remained through the day to do what she could. But it was many +a tedious week before Mrs. Dickerson was on her feet again, and +able to move about. + +Meanwhile, more than one kindly act had Mother Atterson done for +the neighbors who had seemed so careless of her rights. Pete +never appeared when either Mrs. Atterson or Sister came to the +house; but in his sour, gloomy way, Sam Dickerson seemed to be +grateful. + +Hiram kept away, as there was nothing he could do to help them. +And he saw when Pete chanced to pass him, that the youth felt no +more kindly toward him than he had before. + +"Well, let him be as ugly as he wants to be--only let him keep +away from the place and let our things alone," thought Hiram. +"Goodness knows! I'm not anxious to be counted among Pete +Dickerson's particular friends." + +Thanksgiving came on apace, and every one of the old boarders of +Mother Atterson had written that he would come to the farm to +spend the holiday. Even Mr. Peebles acknowledged the invitation +with thanks, but adding that he hoped Sister would not forget he +must "eschew any viands at all greasy, and that his hot water was +to be at 101, exactly." + +"The poor ninny!" ejaculated Mother Atterson. "He doesn't know +what he wants. Sister only poured it out of the teakettle, and +he had to wait for it to cool, anyway, before he could drink it." + +But it was determined to give the city folk a good time, and this +determination was accomplished. Two of Sister's turkeys, bought +and paid for in hard cash by Mother Atterson, graced the long +table in the sitting-room. + +Many of the good things with which the table was laden came from +the farm. And, without Hiram and Sister, and Old Lem Camp, +Mrs. Atterson made even Fred Crackit understand, these good +things had not been possible! + +But the Crawberry folk, as a whole, were much subdued. They had +missed Mother Atterson dreadfully; and, really, they had felt +some affection for their old landlady, after all. + +After dinner Fred Crackit, in a speech that was designed to be +humorous, presented a massive silver plated water-pitcher with +"Mother Atterson" engraved upon it. And really, the old lady +broke down at that. + +"Good Land o' Goshen!" she exclaimed. "Why, you boys do think +something of the old woman, after all, don't ye? + +"I must say that I got ye out here more than anything to show ye +what we could do in the country. 'Specially how it had improved +Sister. And how Hiram Strong warn't the ninny you seemed to +think he was. And that Mr. Camp only needed a chance to be +something in the world again. + +"Well, well! It wasn't a generous feeling I had toward you, +mebbe; but I'm glad you come and--I hope you all had enough +gravy." + +So the occasion proved a very pleasant one indeed. And it made a +happy break in the hard work of preparing for the winter. + +The crops were all gathered ere this, and they could make up +their books for the season just passed. + +But there was wood to get in, for all along they had not had wood +enough, and to try and get wood out of the snowy forest in winter +for immediate use in the stoves was a task that Hiram did not +enjoy. + +He had Henry to help him saw a goodly pile before the first snow +fell; and Mr. Camp split most of it and he and Sister piled it in +the shed. + +"We've got to haul up enough logs by March--or earlier--to have +a wood sawing in earnest," announced Hiram. " We must get a +gasoline engine and saw, and call on the neighbors for help, and +have a sawing-bee." + +"But what will be the use of that if we've got to leave here in +February?" demanded Mrs. Atterson, worriedly. "The last time I +saw that Pepper in town he grinned at me in a way that made me +want to break my old umbrel' over his dratted head!" + +"I don't care," said Hiram, sullenly. "I don't want to sit idle +all winter. I'll cut the logs, anyway, and draw 'em out from +time to time. If we have to leave, why, we have to, that's all." + +"And we can't tell a thing to do about next year till we know +what Pepper is going to do," groaned Mrs. Atterson. + +"That is very true. But if he doesn't exercise his option before +February tenth, we needn't worry any more. And after that will +be time enough to make our plans for next season's crops," +declared Hiram, trying to speak more cheerfully. + +But Mrs. Atterson went around with clouded brow again, and was +heard to whisper, more than once, something about "Mr. Damocles's +sword." + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE CLOUD IS LIFTED + +Despite Hiram Strong's warning to his employer when they started +work on the old Atterson Eighty, that she must expect no profit +for this season's, work, the Christmas-tide, when they settled +their accounts for the year, proved the young fellow to have been +a bad prophet. + +"Why, Hiram, after I pay you this hundred dollars, I shall have +a little money left--I shall indeed. And all that corn in the +crib--and stacks of fodder, beside the barn loft full, and the +roots, and the chickens, and the pork, and the calf---" + +"Why, Hiram! I'm a richer woman to-day than when I came out here +to the farm, that's sure. How do you account for it?" + +Hiram had to admit that they had been favored beyond his +expectations. + +"If that Pepper man would only come for'ard and say what he was +going to do!" sighed Mother Atterson. + +That was the continual complaint now. As the winter advanced all +four of the family bore the option in mind continually. There +was talk of the railroad going before the Legislature to ask for +the condemnation of the property it needed, in the spring. + +It seemed pretty well settled that the survey along the edge of +the Atterson Eighty would be the route selected. And, if that +was the case, why did Pepper not try to exercise his option? + +Mr. Strickland had said that there was no way by which the real +estate man's hand could be forced; so they had to abide Pepper's +pleasure. + +"If we only knew we'd stay," said Hiram, "I'd cut a few well +grown pine trees, while I am cutting the firewood, have them +dragged to the mill, and saw the boards we shall need if we go +into the celery business this coming season." + +"What do you want boards for?" demanded Henry, who chanced to be +home over Christmas, and was at the house. + +"For bleaching. Saves time, room, and trouble. Banking celery, +even with a plow, is not alone old-fashioned, and cumbersome, but +is apt to leave the blanched celery much dirtier." + +"But you'll need an awful lot of board for six acres, Hiram!" +gasped Henry. + +"I don't know. I shall run the trenches four feet apart, and +you mustn't suppose, Henry, that I shall blanch all six acres at +once. The boards can be used over and over again." + +"I didn't think of that," admitted his friend. + +Henry was eagerly interested in his selected studies at the +experiment station and college, and Abel Pollock followed his +son's work there with growing approval, too. + +"It does beat all," he admitted to Hiram, "what that boy has +learned already about practical things. Book-farming ain't all +flapdoodle, that's sure!" + +So the year ended--quietly, peacefully, and with no little +happiness in the Atterson farmhouse, despite the cloud that +overshadowed the farm-title, and the doubts which faced them +about the next season's work. + +They sat up on New Year's eve to see the old year out and the new +in, and had a merry evening although there were only the family. +When the distant whistles blew at midnight they went out upon the +back porch to listen. + +It was a dark night, for thick clouds shrouded the stars. Only +the unbroken coverlet of snow (it had fallen that morning) aided +them to see about the empty fields. + +In the far distance was the twinkle of a single light--that in an +upper chamber of the Pollock house. Dickersons' was mantled in +shadow, and those two houses were the only ones in sight of the +Atterson place. + +"And I was afraid when we came out here that I'd be dead of +loneliness in a month--with no near neighbors," admitted Mother +Atterson. " But I've been so busy that I ain't never minded it--- + +"What's that light, Hiram?" + +Her cry was echoed by Sister. Behind the bam a sudden glow was +spreading against the low-hung clouds. It was too far away +for one of their out-buildings to be afire; but Hiram set off +immediately, although he only had slippers on, for the corner of +the barnyard fence. + +When he reached this point he saw that one of the fodder stacks +in the cornfield was afire. The whole top of the stack was +ablaze. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Sister, who had followed him. "What +can we do?" + +"Nothing,", said Hiram. "There's no wind, and it won't spread to +another stack. But that one is past redemption, for sure!" + +Hiram hastened back to the house and put on his boots. But +he did not wade through the snow to the fodder stack that was +burning so briskly. He merely made a detour around it, at some +yards distant. Nowhere did he see the mark of a footprint. + +How the stack had been set afire was a mystery. Hiram had stacked +the fodder himself, with the help of Sister, who had pitched the +bundles up to him. The young farmer did not smoke, and he seldom +carried matches loose in his pockets. + +Therefore, the idea that he had dropped a match in the fodder and +a field mouse, burrowing for some nubbin of corn, had come across +the match. nibbled the head, and so set the blaze, was scarcely +feasible. + +Yet, how else had the fire started? + +When daylight came Hiram could find no footprint near the +stack--only his own where he had circled it while it was blazing. + +It was the stack nearest to the Dickerson line. Hiram, naturally, +thought of Pete. + +Since Mrs. Dickerson's sickness, Mother Atterson had been back +and forth to help her neighbor, and whenever Sam Dickerson saw +Hiram he was as friendly as it was in the nature of the man to +be. + +Hiram could not believe that Pete's father would now countenance +any of his son's meannesses; yet when the young farmer went along +the line fence, he saw fresh tracks across the Dickerson fields, +and discovered where the person had stood, on the Dickerson side +of the fence opposite the burned fodder stack. + +But these footprints were all of three hundred feet from the +stack, and there was not a mark in the snow upon Hiram's side of +the fence, saving his own footprints. + +"Maybe somebody merely ran across to look at the blaze. But it's +strange I did not see him," thought Hiram. + +He could not help being suspicious, however, and he prowled about +the stacks and the barns more than ever at night. He could not +shake off the feeling that the enemy in the dark was at work +again. + +January passed, and the fatal day--the tenth of February--drew +nearer and nearer. If Pepper proposed to exercise his option he +must do it on or before that date. + +Neither Hiram nor Mrs. Atterson had seen the real estate man of +late; but they had seen Mr. Strickland, and on the final day they +drove to town to meet Pepper--if the man was going to show up--in +the lawyer's office. + +"I wouldn't trouble him, if I were you," advised the lawyer. +"But if you insist, I'll send over for him." + +"I want to know what he means by all this," declared +Mrs. Atterson, angrily. "He's kept me on tenter-hooks for ten +months, and there ought to be some punishment for the crime." + +"I am afraid he has been within his rights," said the lawyer, +smiling; but he sent his clerk for the real estate man, probably +being very well convinced of the outcome of the affair. + +In came the snaky Mr. Pepper. The moment he saw Mrs. Atterson +and Hiram he began to cackle. + +"Ye don't mean to say you come clean in here this stormy day +to try and sell that farm to me?" asked the real estate man. +"No, ma'am! Not for no sixteen hundred dollars. If you'll take +twelve---" + +Mrs. Atterson could not find words to reply to him; and Hiram +felt like seizing the scoundrel by the scruff of his neck and +throwing him down to the street. But it was Mr. Strickland who +interposed: + +"So you do not propose to exercise your option?" + +"No, indeed-y!" + +"How long since did you give up the idea of purchasing the +Atterson place?" asked the lawyer, curiously. + +"Pshaw! I gave up the idee 'way back there last spring," +chuckled Pepper. + +"You haven't the paper with you, have you, Mr. Pepper?" asked Mr. +Strickland, quietly. + +The real estate man looked wondrous sly and tapped the side of +his nose with a lean finger. + +"Why, I tore up that old paper long ago. It warn't no good to +me," said Pepper. "I wouldn't take the farm at that price for a +gift," and he departed with a sneering smile upon his lips. + +"And well he did destroy it," declared Mr. Strickland. "It was +a forgery--that is what it was. And if we could have once got +Pepper in court with it, he would not have turned another scaly +trick for some years to come." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +"CELERY MAD" + +The relief to the minds of Hiram Strong and Mrs. Atterson was +tremendous. + +Especially was the young farmer inspired to greater effort. He +saw the second growing season before him. And he saw, too, that +now, indeed, he had that chance to prove his efficiency which he +had desired all the time. + +The past year had cost him little for clothing or other expenses. +He had banked the hundred dollars Mrs. Atterson had paid him at +Christmas. + +But he looked forward to something much bigger than the other +hundred when the next Christmas-tide should come. Twenty-five +per cent of all the profit of the Atterson Eighty during this +second year was to be his own. + +The moment "Mr. Damocles's sword", as Mother Atterson had called +it, was lifted the young farmer jumped into the work. + +He had already cut enough wood to last the family a year; now he +got Mr. Pollock, with his team of mules, to haul it up to the +house, and then sent for the power saw, asked the neighbors to +help, and in less than half a day every stick was cut to stove +length. + +As he had time Hiram split this wood and Lem Camp piled it in the +shed. Hiram knocked together some extra cold-frames, too, and +bought some second-hand sash. + +And he had already dug a pit for a twelve-foot hotbed. Now, a +twelve-foot hotbed will start an enormous number of plants. + +Hiram did not plan to have quite so much small stuff in the +garden this year, however. He knew that he should have less time +to work in the garden. He proposed having more potatoes, about +as many tomatoes as the year before, but fewer roots to bunch, +salads and the like. He must give the bulk of his time to the +big commercial crop that he hoped to put into the bottom-land. + +He had little fear of the river overflowing its banks late +enough in the season to interfere with the celery crop. For the +seedlings were to be handled in the cold-frames and garden-patch +until it was time to set them in the trenches. And that would +not be until July. + +He contented himself with having the logs he cut drawn to the +sawmill and the sawed planks brought down to the edge of the +bottom-land, and did not propose to put a plow into the land +until late June. + +Meanwhile he started his celery seed in shallow boxes, and when +the plants were an inch and a half, or so, tall, he pricked them +out, two inches apart each way into the cold-frames. + +Sister and Mr. Camp could help in this work, and they soon filled +the cold-frames with celery plants destined to be reset in the +garden plat later. + +This "handling" of celery aids its growth and development in +a most wonderful manner. At the second transplanting, Hiram +snipped back the tops, and the roots as well, so that each plant +would grow sturdily and not be too "stalky". + +Mrs. Atterson declared they were all celery mad. "Whatever will +you do with so much of the stuff, I haven't the least idee, +Hiram. Can you sell it all? Why, it looks to me as though you +had set out enough already to glut the Crawberry market." + +"And I guess that's right," returned Hiram. Especially if I +shipped it all at once." + +But he was aiming higher than the Crawberry market. He had been +in correspondence with firms that handled celery exclusively in +some of the big cities, and before ever he put the plow into the +bottom-land he had arranged for the marketing of every stalk he +could grow on his six acres. + +It was a truth that the family of transplanted boarding house +people worked harder this second spring than they had the first +one. But they knew how better, too, and the garden work did not +seem so arduous to Sister and Old Lem Camp. + +Mrs. Atterson had a fine flock of hens, and they had laid well +after the first of December, and the eggs had brought good +prices. She planned to increase her flock, build larger yards, +and in time make a business of poultry raising, as that would be +something that she and Sister could practically handle alone. + +Sister's turkeys had thrived so the year before that she had +saved two hens and a handsome gobbler, and determined to breed +turkeys for the fall market. + +And Sister learned a few things before she had raised "that +raft of poults," as Mother Atterson called them. Turkeys are +certainly calculated to breed patience--especially if one expects +to have a flock of young Toms and hens fit for killing at +Thanksgiving-time. + +She hatched the turkeys under motherly hens belonging to Mother +Atterson, striving to breed poults that would not trail so far +from the house; but as soon as the youngsters began to feel their +wings they had their foster-mothers pretty well worn out. One +flock tolled the old hen off at least a mile from the house and +Hiram had some work enticing the poults back again. + +There was no raid made upon her turkey coops this year, however. +Pete Dickerson was not much in evidence during the spring +and early summer. Mrs. Atterson went back and forth to the +neighbors; but although whenever Hiram saw the farmer the latter +put forth an effort to be pleasant to him, the two households did +not well "mix". + +Besides, during this busiest time of the year, when the crops +were getting started, there seemed to be little opportunity for +social intercourse. At least, so it seemed on the Atterson +place. + +They were a busy and well contented crew, and everything seemed +to be running like clockwork, when suddenly "another dish of +trouble", as Mother Atterson called it, was served them in a most +unexpected manner. + +Hiram was coming up from the barn one evening, long after dark, +and had just caught sight of Sister standing on the porch waiting +for him, when a sudden glow against the dark sky, made him turn. + +The flash of fire passed on the instant, and Sister called to +him: + +"Oh, Hiram! did you see that shooting-star?" + +"You never wished on it, Sis," said the young farmer. + +"Oh, yes I did!" she returned, dancing down the steps to meet +him. + +"That quick?" + +"Just that quick," she reiterated, seizing his arm and getting +into step with him. + +"And what was the wish?" demanded Hiram. + +"Why--I won't ever get it if I tell you, will I?" she queried, +shyly. + +"Just as likely to as not, Sister," he said, with serious voice. +"Wishes are funny things, you know. Sometimes the very best ones +never come true." + +"And I'm afraid mine will never come true," she sighed. "Oh, +dear! I guess no amount of wishing will ever bring some things +to pass." + +"Maybe that's so, Sis," he said, chuckling. "I fancy that +getting out and hustling for the thing you want is the best way +to fulfill wishes." + +"Oh, but I can't do that in this case," said the girl, shaking +her head, and still speaking very seriously as they came to the +porch steps. + +"Maybe I can bring it about for you," teased Hiram. + +"I guess not," she said. "I want so to be like other girls, +Hiram! I'd like to be like that pretty Lettie Bronson. I'm not +jealous of her looks and her clothes and her good times and all; +no, that's not it," proclaimed Sister, with a little break in her +voice. + +"But I'd like to know who I really be. I want folks, and--and I +want to have a real name of my own!" + +"Why, bless you!" exclaimed the young fellow, "'Sister' is a nice +name, I'm sure--and we all love it here." + +"But it isn't a name. They call me Sissy Atterson at school. +But it doesn't belong to me. I--I've thought lots about choosing +a name for myself--a real fancy one, you know. There's lots of +pretty, names," she said, reflectively. + +"Cords of 'em," Hiram agreed. + +"But, you see, they wouldn't really be mine," said the girl, +earnestly. "Not even after I had chosen them. I want my +very own name! I want to know who I am and all about myself. +And"--with a half strangled sob--" I guess wishing will never +bring me that, will it, Hiram?" + +Never before had the young fellow heard Sister express herself +upon this topic. He had no idea that the girl felt her unknown +and practically unnamed existence so strongly. + +"I wouldn't care, Sis," he said, patting her bent shoulders. "We +love you here just as well as we would if you had ten names! +Don't forget that. + +"And maybe it won't be all a mystery some day. Your folks may +look you up. They may come here and find you. And they'll be +mighty proud of you--you've grown so tall and good looking. Of +course they will!" + +Sister listened to him and gave a little contented sigh. "And +then they might want to take me away--and I'd fight, tooth and +nail, if they tried it." + +"What?" gasped Hiram. + +"Of course I would! " said the girl. Do you suppose I'd give +up Mother Atterson for a dozen families--or for clothes--and +houses--or, or anything?" and she ran into the house leaving the +young farmer in some amazement. + +"Ain't that the girl of it?" he muttered, at last. "Yet I bet she +is in earnest about wanting to know about her folks." + +And from that time Hiram thought more about Sister's problem +himself than he had before. Once, when he went to Crawberry, he +went to the charitable institution from which Mother Atterson had +taken Sister. But the matron had heard nothing of the lawyer who +had once come to talk over the child's affairs, and the path of +inquiry seemed shut off right there by an impassable barrier. + +However, this is ahead of our story. On this particular night +Hiram washed at the pump, and then followed Sister in to supper. + +Before they were half through Mr. Camp suddenly started from his +chair and pointed through the window. + +Flames were rising behind the barn again! + +"Another stack burning!" exclaimed Hiram, and be shot out of the +door, seizing a pail of water, hoping that he might put it out. + +But the stack was doomed. He knew it the moment he saw the +extent of the blaze. + +He kept away from it, as he had before; yet he did not expect to +pick up any trail of the incendiary near the stack. + +"Twice in the same place is too much!" declared the young farmer, +glowing with wrath. "I'm going to have this mystery explained, +or know the reason why." + +He left Mr. Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks +from the stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went +along the line fence again. + +Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But +the burning stack was even farther from the fence than the first +one had been--and there were no marks of feet in the soft earth +on Mrs. Atterson's side of the boundary. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +CLEANING UP A PROFIT + +Hiram crawled through the wires, and followed the plain +foot-marks back to the Dickerson sheds. He lost them there, of +course, but he knew by the size of the footprints that either Sam +Dickerson or his oldest son had been over to the line fence. + +"And that shooting-star!" considered Hiram. There was something +peculiar about that. I wonder if there wasn't a shooting star, +also, away back there at New Year's when our other stack of +fodder was burned?" + +He loitered about the sheds for a few moments. It appeared as +though all the Dickersons were indoors. Nobody interfered with +him. + +Of a sudden Hiram began to sniff an odor that seemed strange +about a cart-shed. At least, no wise farmer would have naphtha, +or gasoline, in his outbuildings, for it would make his insurance +invalid. + +But that was the smell Hiram discovered. And he was not long in +finding the cause of it. + +Back in a dark corner, upon a beam, lay a big sling-shot--one +of those that boys swing around their heads with a stone in the +heel of it, and then let go one end to shoot the missile to a +distance. + +The leather loop was saturated with the gasoline, and it had been +scorched, too. The smell of burning, as well as the smell of +gasoline, was very distinct. + +Hiram took the sling-shot with him, and went up to the Dickerson +house. + +He had got along so well with the Dickersons for these past +months that he honestly shrank from "starting anything" now. Yet +he could not overlook this flagrant piece of malicious mischief. +Indeed, it was more than that. Two stacks had already been +burned, and it might be some of the outbuildings--or even +Mrs. Atterson's house--next time! + +Besides, Hiram felt himself responsible for his employer's +property. The old lady could not afford to lose the fodder, and +Hiram was determined that both of the burned stacks should be +paid for in full. + +He looked through the window of the Dickerson kitchen. The +family was around the supper table-Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson, Pete, +and the children, little and big. It was a cheerful family +group, after all. Rough and uncouth as the farmer was, Dickerson +likely had his feelings like other people. Instead of bursting +right in at the door as had been Hiram's intention, and accusing +Pete to his face, the indignant young fellow hesitated. + +He hadn't any sympathy for Pete, not the slightest. If he gave +him--or the elder Dickerson--a chance to clear up matters by +making good to Mrs. Atterson for what she had lost, Hiram Strong +decided that he was being very lenient indeed. + +He stepped quietly onto the porch and rapped on the door. Then +he backed off and waited for some response from within. + +"Hullo, Mr. Strong!" exclaimed the farmer, coming himself to the +"door. Why! is that your stack burning?" + +"Yes, sir," said Hiram, quietly. + +"Another one!" + +"That is the second," admitted Hiram. "But I don't propose that +another shall be set afire in just the same way." + +Sam Dickerson stepped suddenly down to the young farmer's level, +and asked: + +"What do you mean by that? Do you know how it got afire?" + +Hiram held out the sling-shot in the light of his lantern. + +"A rag, saturated with gasoline, was wrapped around a pebble, +then set afire, and stone and blazing rag were shot from our line +fence into the fodderstack. + +"I found the footprints of the incendiary on New Year's morning +at the same place. And I'll wager a good deal that your son +Pete's boots will fit the footprints over there at the line now!" + +Sam Dickerson's face had turned exceedingly red, and then paled. +But he spoke very quietly. + +"What are you going to do with him, Mr. Strong?" he asked. "It +will be five years for him at least, if you take it to court--and +maybe longer." + +"I don't believe, Mr. Dickerson, that you have upheld Pete in all +the mean tricks he has played on me" + +"Indeed I haven't! And since I got a look at myself--back there +when the wife was hurt---" + +Sam Dickerson's voice broke and he turned away for a moment so +that his visitor should not see his face. + +"Well!" he continued. "You've got Pete right this time--no +doubt of that. I dunno what makes him such a mean whelp. I'll +lambaste him good for this, now I tell you. But the stacks---" + +"Make him pay for them out of his own money. Mrs. Atterson ought +not to lose the stacks," said Hiram, slowly. + +"Oh, he'll do that, anyway, you can bet!" exclaimed Dickerson, +with conviction. + +"I don't believe that sending a boy like him to jail will either +improve his morals, or do anybody else any good," observed Hiram, +reflectively. + +"And it'll jest about finish his mother," spoke Sam. + +"That's right, too," said the young farmer. "I tell you. I +don't want to see him--not just now. But you do what you think is +best about this matter, and make Peter pay the bill--ten dollars +for the two stacks of fodder." + +"He shall do it, Mr. Strong," declared Sam Dickerson, warmly. +"And he shall beg your pardon, too, or I'll larrup him until he +can't stand. He's too big for a lickin', but he ain't too big +for me to lick!" + +And the elder Dickerson was as good as his word. An hour later +yells from the cart shed denoted that Pete was finally getting +what he should have received when he was a younger boy. + +Before noon Sam marched the youth over to Mrs. Atterson. Pete +was very puffy about the eyes, and his cheeks were streaked with +tears. Nor did he seem to care to more than sit upon the extreme +edge of a chair. + +But he paid Mrs. Atterson ten dollars, and then, nudged by his +father, turned to Hiram and begged the young farmer's pardon. + +"That's all right, etc.," said Hiram, laying his hand upon the +boy's shoulder. "Just because we haven't got on well together +heretofore, needn't make any difference between us after this. + +"Come over and see me. If you have time this summer and want the +work, I'll be glad to hire you to help handle my celery crop. + +"Neighbors ought to be neighborly; and it won't do either of +us any good to hug to ourselves any injury which we fancy the +other has done. We'll be friends if you say so, Peter--though I +tell you right now that if you turn another mean trick against +me, I'll take the law into my own hands and give you worse than +you've got already." + +Pete looked sheepish enough, and shook hands. He knew very well +that Hiram could do as he promised. + +But from that time on the young farmer had no further trouble +with him. + +Meanwhile Hiram's crops on the Atterson Eighty grew almost as +well this second season as they had the first. There was a bad +drouth this year, and the upland corn did not do so well; yet +the young farmer's corn crop compared well with the crops in the +neighborhood. + +He had put in but eight acres of corn this year; but they had +plenty of old corn in the crib when it came time to take down +this second season's crop. + +It was upon the celery that Hiram bent all his energies. He had +to pay out considerable for help, but that was no more than he +expected. Celery takes a deal of handling. + +When the long, hot, dry days came, when the uplands parched +and the earth fairly seemed to radiate the heat, the acres of +tender plants which Hiram and his helpers had just set out in the +trenches began to wilt most discouragingly. + +Henry Pollock, who did all he could to aid Hiram on the crop, +shook his head in despair. + +"It's a-layin' down on you, Hiram--it's a-layin' down on you. +Another day like this and your celery crop will be pretty small +pertaters!" + +"And that would be a transformation worthy of the attention of +all the agricultural schools, Henry," returned the young farmer, +grimly laughing. + +"You got a heart--to laugh at your own loss," said Henry. + +"There isn't any loss--yet," declared Hiram. + +"But there's bound to be," said his friend, a regular "Job's +comforter" for the nonce. + +" Look here, Henry; you'd have me give up too easy. 'Never say +die!' That's the farmer's motto." + +"Jinks!" exclaimed young Pollock, "they're dying all around us +just the same--and their crops, too. We ain't going to have +half a corn crop if this spell of dry weather keeps on. And the +papers don't give us a sign of hope." + +"When there doesn't seem to be a sign of hope is when the really +up-to-date farmer begins to actually work," chuckled Hiram. + +"And just tell me what you're going to do for this field of +wilted celery?" demanded Henry. + +"Come on up to the house and I'll get Mother Atterson to give us +an early supper," quoth Hiram. "I'm going to town and I invite +you to go with me." + +Henry had got used by this time to Hiram's little mysteries. But +this seemed to him a case where man had done all that could be +done for the crop, and without Providential interposition, "the +whole field would have to go to pot", as he expressed it. + +And in his heart the young farmer knew that the outlook for a +paying crop of celery right then was very small indeed. He had +done his best in preparing the soil, in enriching it, in raising +the sets and transplanting them--up to this point he had brought +his big commercial crop, at considerable expense. If the drouth +really "got" it, he would have, at the most, but a poor and +stunted crop to ship in the Fall. + +But Hiram Strong was not the fellow to throw up his hands and +own himself beaten at such a time as this. Here was an obstacle +that must be overcome. The harder the problem looked the more +determined he was to solve it. + +The two boys drove to town that evening and Hiram sought out a +man who contracted to move houses, clean cisterns and wells, and +various work of that kind. He knew this man had just the thing +he needed, and after a conference with him, Hiram loaded some +bulky paraphernalia into the light wagon--it was so dark Henry +could not see what it was--and they drove home again. + +"I'd like to know what the Jim Hickey you're about, Hiram," +sniffed Henry, in disgust. "What's all this litter back here in +the wagon?" + +"You come over and give me a hand in the morning--early now, say +by sun-up--and you'll find out. I want a couple of husky chaps +like you," chuckled Hiram. "I'll get Pete Dickerson to work +against me." + +"If you do, you tell Pete he'll have to work lively," said Henry, +with a grin. "I don't know what it is you want us to do, but I +reckon I can keep my end up with Pete, from hoein' 'taters to +cuttin' cord-wood." + +"You can keep your end up with him, can you? chuckled Hiram. +"Well! I bet you can't in this game I'm going to put you two +fellows up against." + +"What! Pete Dickerson beat me at anything--unless it's sleeping? +" grunted Henry, with vast disgust. " I'll keep my end up with +him at anything." + +And the more assured he was of this the more Hiram was amused. +"Come on over early, Henry," said the young farmer, "and I'll +show you that there's at least one thing in which you can't keep +your end up with Pete." + +His friend was almost angry when he started off across the fields +for home; but he was mighty curious, too. That curiosity, if +nothing more, would have brought him to the Atterson house in +good season the following morning. + +Already, however, Hiram and Pete--with the light wagon--had gone +down to the riverside. Henry hurried after them and reached the +celery field just as the red face of the sun appeared. + +There had been little dew during the night and the tender +transplants had scarcely lifted their heads. Indeed, the last +acre set out the day before were flat. + +On the bank of the river, and near that suffering acre, were +Hiram and Pete Dickerson. Henry hurried to them, wondering at +the thing he saw upon the bank. + +Hiram was already laying out between the celery rows a long +hosepipe. This was attached to a good-sized force-pump, the +feedpipe of which was in the river. It was a two-man pump and +was worked by an up-and-down "brake." + +"Catch hold here, Henry," laughed Hiram. One of you on each side +now, and pump for all you're worth. And see if I'm not right, my +boy. You can't keep your end up with Pete at this job; for if you +do, the water won't flow!" + +Henry admitted that he had, been badly sold by the joke; but he +was enthusiastic in his praise of Hiram's ingenuity, too. + +"Aw, say!" said the young farmer, "what do you suppose the Good +Lord gave us brains for? Just so as to keep our fingers out of +the fire? No, sir! With all this perfectly good and wet water +running past my field, could I have the heart to let this celery +die? I guess not!" + +He had a fine spray nozzle on the pipe and the pipe itself was +long enough so that, by moving the pump occasionally, he could +water every square foot of the big piece. And the three young +fellows, by changing about, went over the field every other day +in about four hours without difficulty. + +By and by the celery plants got rooted well; they no longer +drooped in the morning; before the drouth was past the young +farmer had as handsome a field of celery as one would wish. +Indeed, when he began to ship the crop, even his earliest crates +were rated A-1 by the produce men, and he bad no difficulty in +selling the entire crop at the top of the market, right through +the season. + +The garden paid a profit; the potatoes did even better than the +year before, and Hiram harvested and sold seventy-five dollars' +worth while the price for new potatoes was high. + +He shipped most of his tomatoes this year, for he could not pay +attention to the local market as he had the first season; but the +tomato crop was a good one. + +They raised to eight weeks and sold, during the year, five pair +of shoats, and Mrs. Atterson bought + +a grade cow with her calf by her side, for a hundred dollars, and +made ten pounds of butter a week right through the season. + +Old Lem Camp, looking ten years younger than when he came to the +farm, muscular and brown, did all the work about the barns now, +milked the cows, and relieved Hiram of all the chores. + +Indeed, with some little help about the plowing and cultivating, +Hiram knew very well that Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem could run the +farm another year without his help. + +Of course, the old lady could not expect to put in any crop that +would pay her like the celery; for when they footed up their +books, the bottom-land had yielded, as Hiram had once prophesied +to Mr. Bronson over four hundred dollars the acre, net. + +Twenty-four hundred dollars income from six acres; and the profit +was more than fifty per cent. Indeed, Hiram's share of the profit +amounted to three hundred and seventy dollars. + +With his hundred dollar wage, and the money he had saved the +previous season, when the crops were harvested this second +season, the young farmer's bank book showed a balance of over +five hundred dollars to his credit. + +"I'm eighteen years old and over," soliloquized the young +farmer. "And I've got a capital of five hundred dollars. Can't +I turn that capital some way go as to give me a bigger--a +broader--chance? + +"Thus far I've been a one-horse farmer; I want to be something +better than that. Now, there's no use in my hanging around here, +waiting for something to turn up. I must get a move on me and +turn something up for myself." + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +LOOKING AHEAD + +During this year Hiram had not seen much of Mr. Bronson, or +Lettie. They had gone back to the West over the summer vacation, +and when Lettie had returned for her last year at St. Beris, her +father had not come on until near Thanksgiving. + +Hiram had spoken with Lettie several times during the fail, and +he thought that she had vastly improved in one way, at least. + +She could not be any prettier, it seemed to him; but her +manner was more cordial, and she always asked after Sister and +Mrs. Atterson, and showed that her interest in him was not a mere +surface interest. + +One day, when Hiram had been shipping some of the last of his +celery, Lettie met him on the street near the Scoville railroad +station. Hiram was in his high boots, and overalls; and Lettie +was with two of her girl friends. + +But the girl stopped him and shook hands, and told him that her +father had arrived and wanted to see him. + +"We want you to come to dinner Saturday evening, Hiram. Father +insists, and I shall be very much disappointed if you do not +come." + +"Why, that's very kind of you, Miss Lettie," responded the young +farmer, slowly, trying to find some good reason for refusing the +invitation. He was determined not to be patronized. + +"Now, Hiram! This is very important. We want you to meet +somebody," said Lettie, her eyes dancing. "Somebody very +particular. Now! do say you'll come like a good boy, and not +keep me teasing." + +"Well, I'll come, Miss Lettie," he finally agreed, and she gave +him a most charming smile. + +Lettie's two friends had waited for her, very much amused. + +"I declare, Let!" cried one of them--and her voice reached +Hiram's ears quite plainly. "You do have the queerest friends. +Why did you stop to speak to that yokel?" + +"Hush! he'll hear you," said Miss Bronson; yet she smiled, too. +"So you think Hiram is a yokel, do you?" + +"Hiram!" repeated her friend. "Goodness me! I should think the +name was enough. And those boots--and overalls!" + +"Well," said Lettie, still amused, "I've seen my own father in +just such a costume. And you know very well that he is a pretty +good looking man, dressed up." + +"But Let! your father's never a farmer$" gasped the other girl. + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, she's just joking us," laughed the third girl. "Of course +he's a farmer--he owns half a dozen farms. But he's the kind of +a farmer who rides around in his automobile and looks over his +crops." + +"Well, and this young man may do that--in time," said Lettie. " +At least, my father believes Hi is aimed that way." + +"Nonsense!" + +"He doesn't look as though he had a cent," said the third girl. + +"He is putting away more money of his very own in the bank +than any boy we know, who works. Father says so," declared +Lettie. "He says Hi has done wonderfully well with his crops +this year--and he is only raising them on shares. + +"Let me tell you, girls, the farmer is coming into his own, these +days. That is a great saying of father's. He believes that the +man who produces the food-stuffs for the rest of the world should +have a satisfactory share of the proceeds of their sale. And +that is coming, father says. + +"Farmers don't have to half starve, and be burdened by mortgages +and ignorance, any longer. The country sections are waking up. +With good schools and good roads, and the grange, and all, many +rural districts are already ahead of the cities in the things +worth while." + +"Listen to Let lecture!" sniffed one of her friends. + +" All right. You wait. Maybe you'll see that same young +fellow--Hi Strong--come through this town in his own auto before +you graduate from St. Beris." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed the other. "If I do I'll ask him for a ride," +and the discussion ended in a laugh. + +Perhaps, however, had Hiram heard all Lettie had said he would +not have been so doubtful in regard to fulfilling his promise +about taking dinner with Mr. Bronson and his daughter on Saturday +evening. + +To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank +from the ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one +to show him the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had +not forgotten how terribly disappointed he had been when he could +not find the gentleman's card in the sewer excavation. + +And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave +Mrs. Atterson and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had +missed an opportunity that would never be offered him again. +His contract was practically over with his present employer, +and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire greater things in the +farming line. + +It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right +along this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West +that were being tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern +machinery. Hiram desired very strongly to get upon a place +of that character. He wished to learn how to handle tools +and machinery which it would never pay a "one-horse farmer" +to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended by +Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that +opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young +farmer's mind. + +When he went to the Bronson!s house on Saturday, in good season, +Mr. Bronson met him cordially, in the library. + +"Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!" exclaimed the +Westerner. + +"Done what?" queried Hiram. + +"Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county +ever saw. Is that right?" + +"I've succeeded in what I set out to do," said Hiram, modestly. + +"And I did not believe myself that you could do it," declared +the gentleman. "And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting +Thomas," added Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good +deal like Lettie's. + +"You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to +get a young men from around here and teach him something of my +ways of work, and finally take him back West with me. + +"I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but good +farm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one--a young +man. I ran against a promising lad before you came to the +Atterson place; but I lost track of him. + +"Had you been willing to leave Mrs. Atterson and come to me," +continued Mr. Bronson, "I believe I could have licked you into +shape last season so that you would have suited me very well," +and he laughed outright. + +"But now I want you to meet my future farm-manager. He is the +very fellow I wanted before I offered the chance to you. I +reckon you'll be glad to see him---" + +While he was talking, Mr. Bronson had put his hand on Hiram's +shoulder, and urged him down the length of the room. They had +come to a heavy portiere; Hiram thought it masked a doorway. + +"Here is the fellow himself," exclaimed Bronson. suddenly. + +The curtain was whisked away. Hiram heard Lettie giggling +somewhere in the folds of it. And he found himself staring +straight into a long mirror which reflected both himself and the +laughing Mr. Bronson. + +"Hiram Strong!" spoke the Westerner, admonishingly, "why didn't +you tell me long ago that you were the lad who turned my horses +out of the ditch that evening back in Crawberry?" + +"Why--why---" + +"His fatal modesty," laughed Lettie, appearing and clapping her +hands. + +"I guess it wasn't that," said Hiram, slowly. "What was the use? +I would have been glad of your assistance at the time; but when +I found you I had already made a contract with Mrs. Atterson, +and--what was the use?" + +"Well, perhaps it would have made no difference. When I had dug +up the fact that you were the same fellow whom I had looked for +at Dwight's Emporium, it struck me that possibly the character +that old scoundrel gave you had some basis in fact. + +"So I said nothing to you after you had refused to break your +contract. That, Hiram, was a good point in your favor. And what +that little girl at your house has told Lettie about you--and the +way Mrs. Atterson speaks of you, and all--long since convinced me +that you were just the lad I wanted. + +"Now, Hiram, I believe you know a good deal about farming that I +don't know myself. And, at any rate, if you can do what you have +done with a run-down place like the Atterson Eighty, I'd like to +see what you can do with a bigger and better farm. + +"What do you say? Will you come to me--if only for a year? I'll +make it worth your while." + +And that Hiram Strong did not let this opportunity slip past him +will be shown in the next volume of this series, entitled: "Hiram +in the Middle West; Or, A Young Farmer's Upward Struggle." + +He was sorry to leave Mrs. Atterson at Christmas time; but the +old lady saw that it was to Hiram's advantage to go. + +"And good land o' Goshen, Hiram! I wouldn't stand in no boy's +way--not a boy like you, leastways. You've always been square +with me, and you've given me a new lease of life. For I never +would have dared to give up the boarding house and come to the +farm if it hadn't been for you. + +"This is your home--jest as much as it is Sister's home, and Old +Lem Camp's. Don't forgit that, Hiram. + +"You'll find us all here whenever you want to come back to +it. For I've talked with Mr. Strickland and I'm going to adopt +Sister, all reg'lar, and she shall have what I leave when I die, +only promising to give Mr. Camp a shelter, if he should outlast +me. + +"Sister's folks may never look her up, and she may never git that +money the institution folk think is coming to her. But she'll be +well fixed here, that's sure." + +Indeed, taking it all around, everybody of importance to the +story seemed to be "well fixed", as Mother Atterson expressed it. +She herself need never be disturbed by the vagaries of boarders, +or troubled in her mind, either waking or sleeping, about the +gravy--save on Thanksgiving Day. + +Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions +and Mrs. Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons--even Pete--had +become friendly neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his +father, and they were running the Pollock farm on much more +modern lines than before. + +And Hiram himself was looking ahead to a scheme of life that +suited him, and to a chance "to make good" on a much larger scale +than he had on the Atterson Eighty where, nevertheless, he had +made the soil pay. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Hiram The Young Farmer, by Todd + diff --git a/old/hrmyf10.zip b/old/hrmyf10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b89da0c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hrmyf10.zip |