A strange silence fell over the trio of chums. Harry had come into the life of Tom and Ben in a strange way, and had won their confidence and friendship from the start. He had become quite a fixture at the Barnes homestead. Mr. Barnes had come to depend on him for an hour or two of pottering around at odd tasks on the farm, and felt that his young helper amply paid for his meals and lodging. At length Tom spoke, his face flushed with pleasure.
“You’re a queer fellow, Harry,” he said heartily, “and you are a good fellow. You are willing to lend me this money?”
“Willing?” repeated Harry. “Glad, honored, delighted. Is a hundred enough?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“All right, there it is. Don’t you look at me in that leery way, Ben Dixon,” said Harry, with a chuckle. “I haven’t been stealing anything. That money is mine, all mine, and honestly mine. There is this much I will tell you about it, though: it is a part of a certain amount I am hoping to reach to pay a certain person.”
“Money that you owe?” ventured Ben, consumed with curiosity.
“Yes, and no. I’m to save five hundred dollars,”
“Whew! that’s a heap.”
“I’ll reach it,” declared Harry confidently—“in time. It’s money that I must repay.”
“That you borrowed?”