"I came to Pringleton to escape people who wanted to rob me. Some of them had. But it seems people are the same in all localities. I have to watch, and threaten, and live like an outlaw to keep what is my own, Mr. Strong. You are young and have faith. Keep that faith in people if you can. But never be an inventor; for that is a crime that should be punished by being boiled in oil, or sawn asunder, or drawn and quartered, or some other middle-age device for making capital criminals suffer."
"That is dreadful!" exclaimed Hiram.
"Sounds pretty rough, I admit," Battick said, in his usual tone. "But believe me, I know whereof I speak. Now, come this way, Mr. Strong. I think you will be comfortable."
He lit a candle at the blaze on the hearth and led the way into his bedroom. It was a comfortable room, and Battick insisted upon putting clean sheets on the bed, which he aired before the fire, and left his guest finally with the word:
"Don't be frightened if you hear the gun in the night, Strong. I shall probably be only shooting at a rat."
Hiram had never been entertained in just this way before. He peered through the crack of the door and saw Yancey Battick loading the barrel of the shotgun that had previously been emptied. The young fellow went to bed finally feeling that he was in the midst of alarms.
CHAPTER IV
SUNNYSIDE
As so often happens after a hard storm, the weather cleared at daybreak and a patch of cold blue wintry sky met Hiram Strong's inquisitive gaze through the window as he rolled over in Yancey Battick's comfortable bed to look out.
He judged immediately that it would be a race between Boreas and Jack Frost as to which would gain the most advantage by the stopping of the rain. The sturdy wind would try to dry up the saturated earth before Jack Frost could get his fetters on the puddles and plowed ground.