“Then while you remain you must make my home your own. My house is the first beyond the blacksmith shop. I have lots of stable room for your horse and wagon.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, no thanks. You saved the horse, and that is worth a good deal to me.”
While they were waiting for the horse to recover, Bob entered his own turn-out and changed his clothes. He gave Willett a like chance, offering him a suit that almost fitted him, and the man gladly made the transfer.
A couple of hours later they started for Dartinville. Willett led the way to his own house, and Bob tied up in the stable. Mrs. Willett was told of what had happened, and she at once prepared a hot dinner for the two.
Bob was hungry, and he ate heartily. Then Willett started to return the horse and the sulky, and the young photographer went off to take his first picture for the railroad company.
There was a bridge at Dartinville which the railroad company had built over the creek. It was a picturesque place, and Bob had every reason to believe that it would make a fine view.
With his camera in one hand and his tripod and satchel slung over his shoulder, Bob made his way to the spot.
In order to get the proper view the young photographer was compelled to climb through a mass of thick brush and stubble. This was not very agreeable, but Bob bore it philosophically, remembering that all work is not play.
At last Bob reached a spot he thought a good one and without delay he set up his tripod. He had just adjusted his camera and was putting in a plate when a noise close at hand made him pause.