“There, never mind. Don’t think about it,” advised Chet, seeing that the youth was greatly affected.
“Do you live around here?” asked Andy.
“Well, I don’t live much of anywhere,” was the reply. “I’m a sort of Jack-of-all-trades. My name is Lincoln Bardon—Link, I’m generally called. I work mostly at farming, but I’ll never work for Amos Snad again. He’s too hard.”
“Where are you going after you leave here?” asked Frank Newton.
“Oh, I’ve got a friend who works on a farm over in Cherry Hollow. I can go there and get a place. The farming season is on now, and there’s lots of help wanted. But I sure am much obliged to you for helping me get my money. I’ve earned it and I need it. That mowing machine was broken when he had me take it out of the shed.”
“How’d he come to use the whip?” asked Andy.
“It was when I came back with the team, and said I couldn’t work any more on account of my arm. He has a lot of work to do,” explained Link, “and he ought to keep two men. Instead, he tries to get along with one, and works him like a slave. I’m glad I’m going to quit.”
“When I said my arm was hurt he didn’t believe me. I insisted. One word led to another and he came at me with the lash. Then you boys jumped in. I can’t thank you enough.”
“That’s all right,” said Tom. “We were glad to do it. I like a good scrap!”
And to do him justice, he did—a good, clean, manly “scrap.”