“Our place is only about eight miles out of town,” Ralph proceeded to explain, as they continued to glide along at a rapid pace, though the big roomy car certainly did “wobble” furiously, and the lurches occasionally made on bad pieces of the roadway tried Tubby’s patience severely, for his breath was knocked out of his body by the “jouncing.”
“Oh! I’m glad of that!” Tubby was heard to say. Tubby may have had the supper hour in view when he uttered those words, rather than the rough bouncing he was experiencing.
“You’ve come in time to see how we knock out some of the stumps in a piece of former woodland,” remarked the farm boy. “Dad’s doing some of his plowing with dynamite, just to get in practice for the fall, when he expects to turn over ten acres that way for an experiment patch. Yes, and I’ve got heaps and heaps to show you up at my hatchery and fur farm. I’m already glad you brought your friends along, Sim. I’ve been hoping to meet some scouts for quite a while; because, you see, I want to find out in what way they’re different from other fellows.”
“Oh! get that idea out of your head in the start, Ralph,” Rob told him, seriously! “Scouts are always boys, just the same, and with a pretty good dose of fun in them, as you’ll find. If we do have some ways that are different from the fellows you happen to know around Wyoming, I want you to find them out for yourself, because a scout should never boast of anything he’s done.”
“Every one of my chums,” chimed in Sim, proudly, “was just wild to come along with me when they heard of the stunts you were doing up here. They’re interested a heap in fur farming. I’ve heard Rob here talking about it for two years back. You’ll be able to give us lots of valuable pointers, Ralph; not that any of us consider going into the business as possible rivals.”
“Shucks! you’re welcome to, if you see fit,” declared the other, indifferently. “The chances are ten to one against success, unless you’ve got the right sort of temperament for the job, and, besides, know all about foxes, and mink, and otter, and skunks. Fortunes can be made, and fortunes lost in fur farming. It all depends on the way you go about it. So far I’ve been pretty lucky, if I do say it myself. Wait a bit until I can show you my plant, that’s all. Here we are, now, at the entrance of the Jefford Farm.”
Chapter III
The Young Fur Farmer
“Skunks!” repeated Tubby, with a gasp of surprise, “do you really mean to tell me you’re raising a colony of those horrible critters around here, Ralph,” and at that he commenced to sniff the pure atmosphere most suspiciously, in a manner to make some of the others laugh uproarously.
“Wait and see later on,” was all the information Ralph Jeffords would offer, as they turned in through an open gateway, and motored up a winding drive that led to the rambling farmhouse.
The boys were immediately impressed with the air of neatness that seemed to be a leading feature at the Jeffords farm. Evidently, the farmer was not only a man of considerable means, but he also liked to surround himself with conveniences such as few dwellers in this Adirondack wilderness could afford to possess. Running water, electricity generated by his own plant, gas made at home, and a dozen other like comforts attested to his good sense.