He was up before sunrise, as he was accustomed to being routed out of bed at five o’clock at that season of the year by Mr. Maslin.
The morning was chilly, so he started a fire in the stove for the benefit of the stranger, who seemed to be sleeping easily.
After that Dick went to the barn and fed the horses.
Then, as the sun was beginning to peep above the horizon, he thought he would take a look around the place, which seemed to be going to rack and ruin.
His investigations did not extend very far, for just beyond the line of broken fence which marked the boundary of what had probably been the truck patch Dick found an apple orchard.
A large number of the trees were not only loaded with this fruit, but the boy’s experienced eye told him that many of the trees were of a superior variety.
The apples on these trees were large, solid, and rosy.
Dick gathered an armful and carried them to the house. The strange man was awake, but very weak and not in condition to get up.
“You’d better drink the rest of this milk,” said Dick, offering the tin cup.
“Thank you, lad. What is your name?” he asked after drinking it.