"And you're a mighty lucky man, Mr. Appleby," said one of his neighbors, "that you have any out-buildings left."
"But look at the hay that's burned!" whined the farmer. "Nigh on to three tons of it gone, an' the rest spiled by smoke, I reckon."
"But you're lucky just the same," insisted another neighbor who had come over to help fight the blaze. "If it hadn't been for these school boys, and that one in particular who had the gumption to think of scattering the hay, you'd be many thousands of dollars poorer than you are now. What's a few tons of hay compared to that?"
"Of course!" came a murmur from several other farmers.
"Humph!" almost sneered Mr. Appleby. "Them school fellers! Maybe they know more about this fire than they're lettin' on!"
"What's that?" cried Tom, who overheard the words. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothin'—at least not yet, until I've looked around a bit," replied Mr. Appleby. "You needn't be so touchy. Ain't I seen you before, somewhere?" he asked, peering into Tom's face by the dying glow of the fire.
"You have," answered our hero calmly. "I had the pleasure of paying you ten dollars for some corn you said we spoiled the night we were lost on the cross-country run, and you refused to direct us to the right road."
"Humph! I thought I recognized you," and the farmer turned away without so much as a word of thanks to Tom and his chums.
"Keep the change," called Tom after him. "Next time you have a fire send for us!"