"Is it loaded?"
"Yes; I loaded it last week. I will lay it out before I go. Be very careful with it."
"I will," I promised her.
I hurried down to the barn, and in a few moments had Jerry hooked up to the family turnout. As I was about to jump in and drive to the house, a man confronted me.
He was a stranger, about forty years of age, with black hair and shaggy beard and eyebrows. He was seedily dressed, and altogether looked to be a disreputable character.
"Say, young man, can you help a fellow as is down on his luck?" he asked in a hoarse tone.
"Who are you?" I responded.
"I'm a moulder from Factoryville. The shop's shut down, and I'm out of money and out of work."
"How long have you been out?"
"Two weeks."