“No, we came to see you,” answered Jerry.
“To see me? Well, I’m sure I’m glad to see any of Uncle Sam’s boys. Used to be one myself, but that’s long ago. Come in and set.”
“No, we’re on business,” went on Jerry, who had been elected spokesman. “Have you seen a man around these parts with a very crooked nose?”
The farmer started, and looked closely at the boys.
“A crooked nose?” he repeated.
“Yes,” interjected Bob, “a very crooked nose. It’s spread all over one side of his face.”
“Why, that must be Jim Waydell! At least that’s what he called himself when he came to work for me,” said the farmer, who had given his name as Thomas Martin to the boys, when they told him who they were.
“Do you know him?” asked Jerry.
“Well, not very much, no. He came along, asked for work, and, as I was short-handed, I gave it to him. Why do you ask?”
“We’re not sure whether he’s the man we want to see or not,” answered Jerry, determined to be a bit cautious. “If we could have a look at him close by——”