Our hero did as directed, and, as the country lad pumped, a stream of curdled milk flowed into the cans that had just been emptied.
“This is what’s left after they take out th’ cream, or use th’ milk for cheese,” explained Ford. “It’s fine fer pigs. Ours love it, an’ I take some home every trip.”
He filled two cans with the refuse part of the milk, and then, driving his horse out of the way of any other farmers who might want to get some of the sour milk for their pigs, for it was given away by the dairy, Ferd invited Jack to accompany him.
“I hope you git a job,” he remarked, in friendly tones.
“So do I,” replied Jack. “But if I don’t get one here I may land a place somewhere else,” for he had a certain plan in his mind, though he did not want to speak about it.
“Hey, Si,” called Ferd to a good-natured looking man, who stood in the doorway of another low building. “How be ye?”
“Pritty tol’able. How’s yerself?”
“Fine. I got up early t’ go t’ th’ circus. Here’s a friend of mine. Can’t ye give him a job turnin’ cheeses?” For cheeses have to be turned around quite often to “ripen” properly, and it is quite a task in a dairy where they make hundreds of them.
“Waal, now, if you’d come yist’day I could ’a’ done it,” replied Silas Martin, who was foreman of the cheese department. “But we put a feller on last night, an’ there ain’t no place now.”
“Is there any other opening here?” asked Jack, speaking for himself.