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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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