The farmer rose up and went after the pigs. He was so mad he did not notice the hot-bed frame, and before he knew what he was doing, he, too, was smashing glass at the rate of a dozen panes a second.
“Joel! you good-for-nothing man!” shrieked Mrs. Carrow. “Come out o’ thet!”
Mrs. Carrow arose, madder than a hornet. Near at hand was a broom, and, picking it up, she went after her husband.
“We had better get out before they see us,” said Bob. “I’ve got my fill of the place.”
“Come on, then.”
Frank Landes leaped the fence and Bob quickly followed. In a few minutes the two were on a country road and out of sight of the Carrow farm.
As they walked along the two became thoroughly acquainted. There was something in Bob Alden’s composition that pleased Frank Landes, and he became thoroughly interested in the youth.
“And you say you are an orphan, Bob?” he said.
“So far as I know,” returned the youth. “Old Thompson, of Windham, brought me up, and he said he never knew where I came from.”
“Where did he get you?”