“I’LL GET HIM NOW!” CRIED DAN.—Page [29].

Only a Farm Boy

Or
Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life

BY
FRANK V. WEBSTER
AUTHOR OF “THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS,” “BOB THE
CASTAWAY,” “THE BOY FROM THE RANCH,”
“THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

BOOKS FOR BOYS

By FRANK V. WEBSTER

12mo. Illustrated. Bound in cloth.

ONLY A FARM BOY, Or Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life

TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY, Or The Mystery of a Message

THE BOY FROM THE RANCH, Or Roy Bradner’s City Experiences

THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER, Or Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska

BOB THE CASTAWAY, Or The Wreck of the Eagle

THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE, Or Herbert Dare’s Pluck

THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS, Or Who Was Dick Box?

THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES, Or Nat Morton’s Perils

TWO BOY GOLD MINERS, Or Lost in the Mountains

JACK THE RUNAWAY, Or On the Road with a Circus

Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1909, by
Cupples & Leon Company
Only a Farm Boy
Printed in U. S. A.

CONTENTS

ONLY A FARM BOY

CHAPTER I
AN ANGRY FARMER

“Hey there, Dan Hardy, what ye doin’ now?”

“I’m oiling the corn sheller, Mr. Savage. It needed it.”

“Huh! Guess ye wanted t’ take a rest, an’ that was your excuse fer it. Git t’ work now, an’ don’t let me see you loafin’ agin. What do ye s’pose I keep ye fer, anyhow?”

“I’m trying to do the best I can,” replied Dan, speaking respectfully but firmly to the miserly old farmer for whom he worked for his board and clothes.

“Th’ best ye can, eh? Wa’ll, some folks’ best ain’t very good, t’ my way of thinkin’. Here ye’ve been most all th’ mornin’ shellin’ a few bushels of corn, an’ there’s lots of other chores t’ be done. Ye’ve go t’ git a hustle on ye, ef ye stay ’round here, an’ th’ sooner ye git that notion inter yer head th’ better it’ll be fer ye,” and the mean farmer shook his fist in the boy’s face.

“I know I have to work for you, Mr. Savage,” answered Dan, as he again began to turn the heavy wheel of the corn sheller, and feed the yellow ears into the chute. “I did not stop to rest, as you suppose, but the sheller needed oiling. It was not working right.”

“Guess ye thought it’d be a leetle easier if ye put some grease on it, that’s what ye mean. An’ I don’t want ye wastin’ my oil, nuther. Oil costs money, I’d have ye know, and money is mighty skurse these days.”

“I guess it is, as far as I’m concerned,” murmured Dan to himself, as he bent his back to his work. “I haven’t seen any money of my own in so long that I don’t believe I’d recognize it if a quarter of a dollar spoke to me,” and he smiled a bit, in spite of the mean words of his employer.

“Now mind what I told ye,” went on the farmer, as he started to leave the barn. “Don’t let me catch ye loafin’ any more, or ye won’t git off so easy.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Savage?”

“Never mind what I mean. Don’t you talk back to me! Keep on turnin’ that sheller.”

Dan had stopped a moment in his work, while he asked the question, and this seemed to further anger Mr. Savage.

“Now mind,” concluded the man, as he left the barn, “Lively’s the word on this farm, an’ ef I catch any of my hired men loafin’ I’ll take it outer their wages, that’s what I’ll do.”

“He’d have hard work taking it out of mine,” thought Dan, as his employer left him. “He’ll have to cut off the tails of some of the old coats he gives me, or shorten my trousers, or wear down the old shoes so the soles are a little thinner. That’s all the wages I get, except what I eat, and goodness knows, if he begins to cut down on that, I’ll be in a bad way.”

Mr. Savage, while one of the wealthiest farmers in that locality, was considered by his neighbors as a miserly sort of a man, and they were not far from it. He owned over a hundred acres of good farm and grazing land, with some timber, a large house and substantial barns. His main farm was about two miles from the village, though he owned pastures and lots here and there throughout the township. Some of this land he had come into possession of by foreclosing mortgages in a most peremptory manner.

Dan continued to work the corn sheller, a machine built to take the kernels of corn from the cob. He turned a big wheel with one hand, and fed the ears into the chute with the other. From a spout the yellow grains fell into a bushel basket, while the cobs were tossed out on the other side into a heap.

“I wonder what he meant, when he said I wouldn’t get off so easy,” reflected Dan. “Could he mean that he’ll whip me? I don’t believe I’d stand that. I think I’d run away, though where I could go, with no money, and only a few ragged clothes, is more than I know. Oh, dear, I wish mother was alive,” and in spite of himself tears came into Dan’s eyes, for his mother had only been dead about a year.

Mrs. Hardy had been a widow, and, with her only son Dan, had lived just outside the village of Hayden, in one of our Eastern states. Her husband had left her a little money but she had had to spend most of it for doctor’s bills, as her health was very poor. Dan could not earn much in the village, and they had had barely enough to live on. When Mrs. Hardy died it took what little money was left for the funeral, and Dan found himself without a dollar in the world, and no friend or relative to aid him. The place he had in the general store of Hank Lee, where he earned a mere pittance, had been filled by another boy when Dan had to stay home to take care of his mother in her final illness.

It looked as if he would have to go to the poorhouse, but, almost at the last moment, Peter Savage had agreed to take the lad and give him board and clothes in exchange for work. To this Dan had agreed, but he had no idea how hard he would have to toil.

He was continually kept busy doing “chores” about the farm from early dawn until dark, and, even then he was not through, for Susan Savage, Peter’s wife, used to make Dan help with the housework,—drying the dishes, blackening the stove, and even doing the sweeping. She found out Dan could do these things, as he had often helped his mother.

“He’s almost as good as a hired girl,” Susan confided to her husband, “and it’s cheaper to have him than it is a girl.”

“Then make him work, Susan,” said Peter. “Work is good fer boys. None of ’em gits half enough.”

And so poor Dan worked until nearly every night he was so tired he could hardly sleep.

Dan had an ambition to be something more than a mere farm-hand. He was better educated than most boys in his circumstances, for his father had been a school teacher in a neighboring village, until failing health had caused him to resign his position.

Mr. Hardy had instructed his son in several branches, and the boy had a real love for learning, though his opportunities were small.

Among his choicest possessions, and, in fact, one of his very few left after the debts were paid for his mother’s funeral, was a small case of books of instruction.

When Dan went to work for Mr. Savage, the boy thought he would have a chance to study, but the miserly farmer was afraid Dan would waste time over the volumes, and would not consent to allow him any hour of leisure in which to advance his lessons. Dan was thus forced to pore over the books at night, and he had to be careful even in this, as, had Mr. Savage or his wife caught him at it, they would have scolded him for burning kerosene oil.

Still Dan determined to educate himself, but it was hard work. The other boys in the village used to laugh at him for trying to use correct language, but Dan did not mind that. He hoped, some day, to take a higher position in life than that of “hired man” and he wanted to be ready for it when the opportunity came. So he took good care of his little case of books, though Mr. Savage sneered at him, and often threatened to throw them out if he caught Dan “wasting” his time over them.

“I should like to run away from him,” thought the boy, as he kept on with the tiresome labor of shelling the corn, “only I’m afraid he’d make me come back. I suppose he has some sort of a claim on me until I’m of age, and that won’t be for five years. Well, there’s no use kicking. I’ve got to stand it.”

Dan was a well built, strong lad, and he was healthy, which counts for a good deal. Consequently his gloomy thoughts did not bother him long. Still he did wish he could have it a little easier in life. He would have liked to go fishing once in a while, or take a long tramp through the woods. But the only time he did not have to work all day long was Sunday, and then his employer, who was very strict as regards church, would not hear of any one taking innocent pleasures on that day.

As Dan continued to turn the corn sheller, a shadow fell across the broad patch of sunlight that streamed in the open barn door. It was the shadow of a man, and Dan glanced up, expecting to see the angry face of Mr. Savage. Instead he beheld a stranger.

“Good morning, my lad,” spoke the man, in a rather pleasant voice. “I see you are hard at work.”

“Yes, I’ve got to get all this corn shelled to-day.”

“Are you acquainted in these parts?” inquired the man, as he took a seat on an upturned peck measure.

“Yes, sir. I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Then I guess you could tell me how far it is to the village.”

“Yes, sir; it’s about two miles by the main road.”

“Do you know all the people in the village?” and the man looked sharply at Dan, who had stopped his turning of the heavy wheel to answer the questions.

“Well, hardly all of them; I know the names of most of them.”

“And where they live too, I suppose?”

“I guess I could find almost any house.”

Dan was wondering why the man was asking so many questions, and had about made up his mind that the stranger was a book agent, for occasionally such men visited the farm, though they usually went to the house instead of the barn.

“Who keeps the general store in the village—let’s see, it’s called Strawdon, isn’t it?”

“No, sir, but that’s pretty near it. The name of the town is Hayden.”

“Oh, yes, Hayden. I remember now.”

“Well,” replied Dan, “it’s not very large. There are probably five hundred persons in it. It contains a bank, several stores, a grist mill, and just outside of it is a box factory. Then there is a town hall, where the selectmen meet once a month, and a small library, but I don’t get much chance to go there.”

“Why not?”

“Well, Mr. Savage doesn’t approve of books.”

“Do you like them?”

“I am fond of reading and study, but I don’t get much opportunity.”

“That’s too bad. Who did you say kept the general store in the village?”

“I didn’t say,” replied Dan with a smile, “but Hank Lee keeps it.”

“Do you know him?”

“I used to work for him.”

“He has a brother; hasn’t he?”

“I believe he has, but I never saw him. He does not live in this part of the country.”

“What’s his name; do you know?”

“Simon, I believe. I am not sure, but I think I have heard Mr. Lee refer to him by that name. He seldom spoke of him.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, sir,” and Dan must have shown some surprise at the number of questions the man was asking, for the latter added:

“Please don’t think I am too inquisitive. I’m a stranger around here, and I’m looking for some friends. I thought the storekeeper would be the best man to inform me, and I should like to know a little about him, before I call on him.”

“I can’t tell you very much about him,” replied Dan, “as, even though I worked for him for a time, he never told me much about himself or his brother.”

“Oh, I don’t care about his brother,” said the stranger quickly. “I only asked out of curiosity. I suppose there is a doctor in the village?”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Maxwell.”

“Where is his house?”

“It’s a big red one, just off the road that goes to Flagtown.”

“Are there any houses near it?”

“No, the nearest one is about an eighth of a mile away.”

“Well, you seem to know this locality pretty well. I wonder—”

What the stranger was about to remark he did not state, as, at that moment another shadow moved across the sunlit patch, and the man jumped up quickly, looking nervously about him. It was Mr. Savage who suddenly appeared, and, for a moment he did not notice the stranger.

“Wa’all, ye good-fer-nothin’ lazy boy, loafin’ ag’in, are ye!” exclaimed Mr. Savage in an angry voice. “I caught ye at it! That’s what I git fer savin’ ye from th’ poorhouse! I’ll teach ye t’ waste my valuable time! I’ll—”

“Mr. Savage, I only stopped for a few moments to answer some questions this gentleman was asking me,” said Dan boldly, motioning to the well dressed stranger. “I could not talk and shell corn at the same time, for he could not hear what I said. I’m sorry—”

“It’s all my fault,” broke in the stranger. “I was making some inquiries of the lad, and I regret if he has incurred your displeasure. I’m sure I’ll willingly pay for his time, as the information he gave was worth it,” and the man took out a well-filled wallet. At the sight of the money it contained, and at the mention of the word “pay” a change came over the face of Mr. Savage.

CHAPTER II
THE DANGEROUS BULL

“Why, of course,” began Mr. Savage, while he scraped some mud off his boots with a stick, “ye know this corn has all got t’ be shelled t’ day, an’ when Dan stops, th’ work ain’t goin’ on. Work is money, an’ when he don’t work I lose jest so much money.”

“I understand,” replied the stranger quickly. “I am a business man myself, and I’m willing to pay for whatever time I kept this young man from his work. I guess we can figure it out. We’ll say I took up about ten minutes of his time. That’s one sixth of an hour. Now how much do you pay him by the hour?”

“I don’t pay him by the hour,” replied Mr. Savage, a little confused.

“Well, by the day, then.”

“I don’t pay him by th’ day, nuther.”

“Oh, I see. You hire him by the week.”

“No, sir, not exactly. Dan, git on with that shellin’. There ain’t no call fer ye t’ stand loafin’ now. Me an’ this gentleman kin settle our business between ourselves.”

The truth was he did not want Dan to hear what was said, as Mr. Savage was just a little bit ashamed of himself. Dan began feeding the yellow ears into the chute, but the noise of the sheller did not prevent him hearing what was said further.

“Then if you’ll tell me what his week’s wages are, I think I can figure out what I owe you,” and the stranger took out pencil and paper.

“Wa’al, he don’t exactly work by the week nuther.”

“That’s so, I’d forgotten. Farm hands generally work for so much a month and their board. What are his monthly wages?”

“Look a-here!” exclaimed Mr. Savage. “That’s my affair. What right ye got t’ come around here, askin’ me my business?”

“No right,” replied the stranger coolly, “only I wanted to make up for the time I kept this boy from his work.”

“Wa’al, I guess ef ye give me a quarter we’ll call it square.”

“I’m satisfied if you are,” replied the stranger, passing over the money. “Twenty-five cents for ten minutes, is at the rate of a dollar and a half an hour. In ten hours, which, I believe, is the farm day, he earns fifteen dollars. That’s very good wages for a boy like him.”

“Look a-here!” blustered Mr. Savage. “I don’t pay him no fifteen dollars a day, an’ ye know it. No farm-hand gits that much; I don’t myself. But if ye come around here, stickin’ yer nose in my business, ye got t’ pay fer it, that’s all. Now ye’d better git away from here fer I might charge ye rent,” and he grinned in a malicious manner.

“Thank you, I’m just about to leave,” said the man, as he walked out of the barn.

“Wa’al, ye’d better.”

The stranger smiled as he walked away, and Dan, watching him, saw him take a little red book out of his pocket, and write something in it.

“Do ye know that man?” asked Mr. Savage, turning to Dan, when the stranger was out of sight down the road, which ran in front of the barn.

“No, sir. He came in here and began asking me questions.”

“What kind?”

“About the people and houses in the village.”

“Humph! Some pesky book agent, I’ll bet half a cooky.”

“I don’t know what he was,” replied Dan. “He said he was looking for a friend, and he wanted to know about Mr. Lee’s brother, Simon.”

“That good-for-nothing? Wa’al, ef he’s a friend of Simon Lee, I ain’t got no use fer him. Now you git on with yer work, an’ don’t stand talkin’ here all day. Ye’ve got t’ shell that corn before night, or ye’ll have t’ do it after ye help Mrs. Savage with th’ house work.”

Dan again bent his back to the task, turning the big wheel faster to make up for the time he had lost through no fault of his own. Mr. Savage pocketed the quarter the man had given him, first biting it to see that it was not a lead one.

“When ye git done here I want ye t’ go down t’ th’ south pasture, an’ let th’ old black bull out, an’ inter the upper lot,” he called to Dan, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the corn sheller. “Ye’ll have t’ be mighty spry, too, fer he’s as ugly as sin, an’ he’ll break out of the pasture ef he git’s a chance.”

“I’ll be careful,” promised Dan.

As the boy went on with his work, after his employer had left him, he could not help thinking of the rather mysterious stranger, who had asked so many questions.

“I wonder what he wanted?” he said to himself. “Perhaps he was a new doctor, looking for a place to establish a practice. But I don’t believe Hayden is big enough for two doctors. Maybe, as Mr. Savage says, he’s a book agent. He seemed to have plenty of money. He figured out I get fifteen dollars a day. Land! if I got fifteen cents for myself I’d be lucky,” and Dan sighed.

It was afternoon before he had finished shelling the corn, and he was quite tired. Yet he rather welcomed the long walk to the south pasture to let the bull into the upper lot. The animal was a large one, and was well known about the countryside as a savage creature, somewhat like his owner.

“I hope he doesn’t get out,” thought Dan, as he neared the pasture. “I guess the best way would be to go in quietly, so he doesn’t catch sight of me, let down the bars leading into the upper lot, and then show myself. The bull will begin to run around as he always does, then he’ll notice that the bars are down, and he’ll go just where I want him to.”

Dan saw the bull quietly feeding off in one corner of the pasture. The boy managed to get in without attracting the animal’s attention, and let down the bars leading into the south lot, where the grass was better, for that was the reason Mr. Savage wanted the animal shifted from one spot to the other.

All would have gone well, but for the fact, of which Dan was not aware, that there was a weak place in the fence enclosing the upper lot, where the bull was expected to go. When the bars were down Dan shouted to attract the animal’s attention, and then he took a safe position outside the fence.

The black bull came forward on the run, thinking some fool-hardy person had dared to dispute his rights. The animal caught sight of the lowered bars, and, a moment later had done just as Dan expected, run into the upper lot.

Then something else happened. The bull, who was up to all such tricks, saw a weak spot in the fence. At it he went, full tilt, and, a moment later was off down the road bellowing and kicking up a cloud of dust.

“The bull has escaped!” cried Dan. “Oh, what shall I do? He may kill somebody before he’s caught! Mr. Savage will blame me!” and he started down the highway in pursuit of the ugly animal.

CHAPTER III
UP A TREE

The upper lot and south pasture belonging to Mr. Savage were some distance away from the farm, and on a road that was not much used. However, this road connected with the main highway, near the village, and Dan’s fear was that the bull would run into town, creating no end of damage.

“I wonder if I can catch him?” the boy thought. “He’s a swift animal. Oh, dear! I hope he doesn’t meet any girl or woman with a red dress, or there’ll be a terrible time. I wonder why bulls hate red so? But I guess I’d better stop wondering about that, and begin to think how I can stop him, if I do catch him.”

Dan remembered that the bull had a ring in his nose, and to the ring was attached a stout cord, the other end being looped to a buckle in a sort of halter on the animal’s head.

“If I had some sort of a hook I could catch it in the rope or ring, and hold the bull back,” he thought. “It would have to be a pretty long hook, for I wouldn’t dare go very close to the savage animal. I have it! I’ll cut a long pole, with a prong on one end, and I can hook that in the cord, perhaps.”

Dan saw a tree that might provide what he wanted, and he lost little time in cutting a long pole. He trimmed off all the branches but one near the end, and this left him a very good substitute for a hook. The trimming he did as he ran along.

The bull was now out of sight, around a turn in the road, but there was a cloud of dust by which Dan could trace the animal’s movement.

In a little while Dan, still running as fast as he could, met a man driving a horse, attached to a light carriage. The horse seemed frightened, and the man was pale.

“Was that your bull that just ran up the road?” the man asked.

“No, sir; it belongs to Mr. Savage.”

“It does, eh? Where is he?”

“At the farm. The bull got out of the lot.”

“I guess you mean that you let it out! That’s the way with careless boys. I want to tell you that the beast frightened my horse, and it nearly ran away. Part of the harness was broken, and I expect Mr. Savage to pay for it. You can tell him that I say so. My name’s Sam Battle, and I’m always ready for a fight, too. You can tell him that.”

“Was the bull going fast?” asked Dan, more anxious to catch up to the animal, than to hear about the man’s characteristics.

“Fast? Well, you’d ought to have seen him. He’ll do a lot of damage, before he gets off the rampage, and Mr. Savage will have a heavy bill to settle. You’d better hurry up, if you want to catch him, and don’t forget I’ve got to have pay for the broken harness.”

“I suppose Mr. Savage will threaten to get that out of me in some way,” thought Dan, as he hurried on, almost out of breath.

As he went around a turn in the road he saw an elderly woman stooping over a basket that had contained eggs. It was easy to see what had been in the basket, for, all about her, was a pool of whites and yellows from the broken shells. She was trying to pick out a few whole ones, and, in the process her hands had become all daubed up with the sticky substance.

“Hi, boy!” she called to Dan. “Come and help me gather up these eggs.”

“I can’t,” said Dan, respectfully. “I’ve got to catch the bull.”

“Was that your bull?”

“It belongs to the man I work for.”

“Oh, I know you now. You’re Dan Hardy, and you live out to Mr. Savage’s farm. Well, he’ll have a nice bill from me, I can tell you. There was fourteen dozen eggs in that basket, and I was takin’ ’em to Hank Lee’s store to trade fer groceries. Now I don’t believe there’s half a dozen eggs left. He’ll have to pay fer ’em, that’s what he’ll have t’ do!”

“Did the bull run into you, Mrs. Dowden?” asked Dan anxiously, as he recognized the old lady.

“No, Dan, he didn’t exactly run into me, but when I saw the savage critter comin’ I just sot my basket of eggs down in the middle of the road, an’ I ran under a fence until he got by.”

“Then how did the eggs get broken?”

“Why, that savage black critter jest stomped up and down on that basket of eggs until they are what you see now—nothin’ but a mess of whites an’ yallers. That bull jest did it out of spite, ’cause I s’pose he couldn’t eat ’em. Then he gives a bellow, stuck his tail up in the air, and run on. Oh, he’ll do a lot of damage ’fore he gits through.”

“I’m sorry,” began Dan.

“I don’t s’pose it’s your fault,” said Mrs. Dowden, as she managed to rescue one whole egg from the mess. “But I’ll have the law on Peter Savage, if he don’t pay me fer these eggs, an’ they’re wuth thirty cents a dozen now at store prices, too. Land sakes! I never see a bull stomp on eggs afore, an’ I don’t want to see it ag’in.”

But Dan did not stay to hear what the elderly lady had to say. He left her standing in the middle of a little lake of whites and yellows, and continued on his way after the bull.

As Dan was hurrying along a straight stretch of road, with the bull some distance ahead of him, he saw a man walking just in advance of the animal. The man had come across lots and emerged upon the highway without seeing the bull.

“I hope old Pullox (which was the bull’s name) doesn’t attack that man,” thought Dan. “Perhaps he’ll run right by.”

But this, evidently, was not what the bull was going to do. Dan could hear the animal give a bellow of rage, then it halted, pounded the ground with its fore feet, and prepared to charge on the man.

“Look out!” cried Dan, giving a shout of warning.

But there was no need of it, for the man had heard the noise made by the bull. He turned around quickly and saw the angry animal about to attack him.

“Run!” shouted Dan.

The man did so, and not a moment too soon. The bull was after him like a flash, and Dan, using his little remaining wind, redoubled his pace, hoping to be able to aid the man.

On and on went the bull in pursuit. There were two clouds of dust now; a small one, raised by the fleeing man, and a larger one, kicked up by the bull.

“He may kill him!” thought Dan. “Isn’t this the worst luck!”

The man gave a look behind him. The bull was nearer. Then he did the only thing feasible under the circumstances. He climbed a tree, scrambling up it with a speed that did not seem possible in such a stout person, for he was quite fat.

“Stay there! Stay there!” cried Dan, as he ran up.

“That’s just what I intend to do, young fellow,” the man answered, panting from his exertions.

“What do you s’pose—Why, if it isn’t Dan Hardy!”

“Oh, Mr. Lee” exclaimed Dan, recognizing the crusty storekeeper for whom he had once worked. “I didn’t know you at first.”

“No, and no one else would either, the way I had to run to escape being killed by that ugly critter. You let him loose on purpose, that’s what you did.”

“On purpose, Mr. Lee?”

“Yes, that’s what you done. I know you! You wanted to pay me back for not taking you into my store again, and you thought you’d get even. I’ll have the law on you for this!”

The bull was now pawing around the foot of the tree, paying no attention to Dan, but, seemingly, very anxious to get at the storekeeper.

“You have no right to talk that way, Mr. Lee,” spoke Dan firmly. “You know I had nothing to do with the bull chasing you. I couldn’t help it.”

“Didn’t you let the bull loose?”

“No, sir. He broke out of the upper lot, when I was changing him from the south pasture. There was a weak place in the fence.”

“Well, you knowed it was there, and you done it on purpose, and I’m goin’ to have the law on you for it. I’ve got a weak heart, and I may die from being chased this way. I feel bad now. I’ll make you pay the doctor bills and the funeral expenses, too, that’s what I will.”

“I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll not be sick,” responded the lad. “But if you are, I haven’t a cent to pay any bills with.”

The bull was running around the tree in a circle, pawing the ground and bellowing.

“Why don’t you take the ugly critter away?” demanded Mr. Lee, holding tightly to a branch, for he was afraid of falling out of the tree.

“I want to, but I can’t get a chance to hook this pole into the ring. If I could he’d come along peaceably enough.”

“You’re keeping me up here for spite!” declared the man. “You picked out this lonely spot, where there’s no houses, on purpose.”

Dan did not take the trouble to answer the unreasonable man. He was watching his chance to catch the prong into the cord or ring in the bull’s nose. But the creature, while it showed no disposition to attack Dan, was keeping out of the boy’s reach.

“Aren’t you going to take the critter away?” demanded the man again. “I’ve got important business at my store, and if I’m delayed I’ll charge you damages, and heavy ones too.”

“I guess the way you’d figure it out, I now owe you more than I can ever pay,” replied Dan more coolly, as he saw the bull was evidently not likely to run any farther. “I’ll get him away if I can. I’ll have to get you to help me. If you’ll stick one foot out, on the other side of the tree, and make believe you’re coming down, you may attract his attention there, and I can sneak behind him and slip the stick into the ring. Just put your foot down a ways.”

“I know you! You want the bull to injure me!” cried Mr. Lee. “I see your trick! You want me to get hurt so I can’t sue you. But I’ll sue just the same.”

“Look here!” exclaimed Dan, in desperation. “If you want to get down out of that tree, and if you want me to take the bull away, you’ve got to help me. If you don’t do as I say I’ll have to leave the bull here until I can go and get help.”

“Don’t do that! Don’t do that!” begged Mr. Lee in terror. “Don’t leave me alone with that savage critter. I’ll do whatever you say. What is it, Dan? I always liked you. You’re a good boy. I—I wish I’d given you back your place in the store, but I couldn’t do it. I had to have somebody. You’re a good boy, Dan. You won’t hold a grudge against an old man like me. Don’t go off, and leave me all alone. I’ll do as you say. Which foot shall I stick down?”

“It doesn’t make much difference,” replied Dan, hardly able to keep back a smile at the change of manner in the man. “Either one will do. I want you to attract the bull’s attention, until I can sneak up behind him.”

“All right, Dan. I’ll do it. But don’t go off and leave me alone,” and the storekeeper prepared to lower his foot. At the first sign of movement on the part of the man up the tree the bull ceased going about in a circle and stood still.

“I’ll get him now!” cried Dan.

CHAPTER IV
THE STRANGER AGAIN

While the maddened animal had its attention fixed on Mr. Lee it did not observe what Dan was doing. The boy went quietly behind the bull, extended the stick, and, a moment later had caught the prong in the ring in the brute’s nose.

“Now you’ve got him! Now you’ve got him, Dan!” cried the storekeeper, as he hastily drew his leg up. “Hold him tight! Don’t let him get away!”

“I don’t intend to.”

“Take him away! Lead him way off!”

“I will. I’ll take him back to the south pasture, where the fence is good and strong.”

As soon as the bull felt the tugging of the ring in its sensitive nose it ceased its attempt to get at Mr. Lee. The big creature calmed down and allowed Dan to lead it away, though it did not go very willingly. Dan kept a firm hold of the stick, and, as long as he did so the bull could not approach him.

“You can come down now, Mr. Lee,” said the boy as he started along the road with the animal.

“Do you think it would be safe?”

“Oh, yes, he can’t get away from me now.”

The storekeeper slid to the ground. He was a little stiff from his climbing, and running, and his clothes were rather out of place.

“I’d like to shoot you, you miserable creature!” he exclaimed, shaking his fist at the bull.

“It’s too valuable an animal to shoot,” said Dan.

“I don’t care whether it is or not, I’d like to shoot it. And you can tell Peter Savage that I’m going to sue him and you too for the trouble you caused me.”

“It was not my fault, Mr. Lee.”

“I don’t care whose fault it was, I’m going to sue. You did this on purpose, and I’ll fix you for it too, Dan Hardy.”

“But, Mr. Lee—”

“Don’t you talk back to me. I said I’m going to fix you for this and I will.”

Dan saw it would be of little use to further argue with the man, so he turned away and gave his whole attention to managing the bull, which was bellowing hoarsely and pawing the earth.

Mr. Lee kept on down the road, muttering to himself, almost as angry, Dan thought, as was the bull.

“It wasn’t my fault,” remarked the boy to himself, “still I suppose I will be blamed for it.”

Nor was his anticipation disappointed. When he had put the bull back in the south pasture where the animal had first been kept, he returned to the farm. Some news of what had happened had already preceded him.

“Wa’ll, this is a pretty how-d’-do!” exclaimed Mr. Savage, as Dan went to the barn, where his master was feeding the horses for the night. “What ails ye, anyhow? Can’t ye do anything right?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Savage?”

“Jest what I say. What made you let that bull out an’ cause a lot of damage? Oh, I know all about it. Mrs. Dowden sent her boy over to see me, and she says I’ve got to pay for th’ eggs th’ bull smashed. It’s all your fault.”

“It wasn’t,” replied Dan firmly, but respectfully. “I did not know there was a loose place in the fence of the upper lot. You told me to let the bull in there and I did so. I could not help his breaking down the fence.”

“Did ye put th’ critter back safe?”

“Yes, sir, but it got Mr. Lee up a tree before I could do so,” and then, fearing Mr. Savage might get a wrong account of the various happenings from the persons involved, Dan told exactly what had happened.

“Wa’al, ye’re a nice sort of boy t’ have around a farm, I must say!” exclaimed Mr. Savage sarcastically. “Ye’re doin’ more harm than ye be good! Now I s’pose I’ll have a lot of damages t’ pay. Why don’t ye have some sense about ye? Good land o’ Tunket! I’ll be in the poorhouse ef I don’t look out.”

“I’m sorry it happened,” said poor Dan. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t talk t’ me!” interrupted Mr. Savage. “I’ve seen enough of ye fer one day. Here, ef ye kin do it without gittin’ int’ trouble, finish waterin’ them hosses. I’m goin’ t’ th’ village t’ see ef I can’t make some arrangement with Lee ’fore he sues me. He’s liable t’ do it.”

Dan was in very low spirits. Everything seemed to be going against him, and it is not to his discredit to say that he cried just a little as he fed the horses, and gave them water. He was very lonely, and he missed his mother very much.

As he entered the stall of the chestnut mare, an animal he frequently drove, the animal put her soft nose down on the boy’s shoulder.

“Good Bess,” he murmured. “I wonder if you care for me? There doesn’t any one else seem to around here.”

The mare whinnied, for she was fond of the boy, who was always kind to her.

Dan had little time for grief or reflection, however, as, before he was quite through with watering the animals, Mrs. Savage blew the horn for supper, the house being across the road from the barn. To the horn’s strident note she added her own voice:

“Now come along lively, Dan. I can’t keep supper all night fer a lazy, good-fer-nothin’ boy. I want t’ git th’ dishes washed up, an’ ye’ve got t’ dry ’em. Hurry up with that work, an’ don’t dawdle over it all night.”

Dan hurriedly finished with the horses and went into the house. The two hired men of the farm were already at the table, eating very fast, as if they feared some one would take the victuals away before they were through. They nodded to Dan who, after a hasty wash in the tin basin outside, took his place.

The kitchen was the room most in use in Mr. Savage’s house. There the meals were served, and, what little leisure time the hired men had, they spent there, when they were not at the village store, talking with their cronies.

The room was of fair size, and contained a large range, which made it very hot in summer time; a sink and pump, and a large mantlepiece, over which hung an old musket, that Mr. Savage said his grandfather had used in the Revolutionary War. Some of his acquaintances remarked that Mr. Savage was too cowardly to go to war himself, so he had no relics of the great Civil conflict.

Adjoining the kitchen was a sort of dairy and meal room, where Mrs. Savage kept the feed for numerous chickens. What with that, and the fact that a wood-shed, where fuel was kept, also opened out of this apartment, and with the hot stove and the smell of cooking, the kitchen was not the most cheerful place in the world.

“Don’t be all night over yer meal now,” said Mrs. Savage with a cross look at Dan. “Ye’ve made trouble enough as it is, an’ Mr. Savage had t’ go ’way without supper t’ see Mr. Lee ’count of that bull. Ye’ve got t’ help me with th’ work, fer I’m goin’t’ set bread.”

Dan did not reply, and to the questions from the hired men, who asked them when Mrs. Savage was out of the room, he told as little as possible of the bull incident.

“Never mind,” consoled Jonas Hannock, one of the men, as he finished his piece of apple pie, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Never mind, Dan. Bad luck can’t last forever,” for which little sympathy the boy was grateful.

He was tired, not only from his work on the farm, but from his chase after the bull, still he could not rest.

“Come now, git th’ dishes picked up,” called Mrs. Savage, before Dan was quite through. “Ye’ve been long enough. Ye might as well wash ’em too, while ye’re at it. I kin git more work done then.”

Of all the work about the farm or house Dan hated most of all doing the dishes, but there seemed to be no escape from it. With as good grace as possible he began at them, and he had about finished when Mrs. Savage exclaimed:

“There! I haven’t got a yeast cake, Dan; ye’ll have t’ go t’ th’ village an’ git one. Hurry too. Don’t stand gawpin’ along th’ road. Tell Mr. Lee t’ charge it.”

This seemed the last straw. After his hard day’s work to be forced to take a four mile walk before he could go to bed!

“Shall I saddle the horse?” he asked timidly, thinking of how much easier it would be to gallop in on the back of Bess.

“Saddle a hoss? Wa’ll, I guess not! Them hosses has done work enough fer one day.”

Dan thought he had also.

He started off on the errand, vainly wishing Mrs. Savage had discovered the need of a yeast cake when Mr. Savage drove to the village, as he could have brought it back with him. Still, after he was started, walking along the highway in the pleasant summer evening, some of Dan’s weariness left him.

As he neared the cross road, on which Dr. Maxwell lived, he heard some one walking on the hard highway.

“I wonder if that’s the doctor,” he thought. “No, it can’t be. He always rides.”

A few seconds later a man came into view. It was not very dark yet, and Dan easily recognized the stranger as the person who had asked him so many questions in the barn.

“Good evening,” said Dan.

“Oh, it is the corn-sheller boy,” remarked the stranger. “How are you? Did you finish all that corn?”

“Yes, but I’ve got just as much more to do to-morrow.”

“That’s too bad. You seem to have to work pretty hard.”

“Oh, well, I suppose all boys do.”

“Not all, nor all men either.”

“If you’re looking for Dr. Maxwell’s house, it’s right down that road.”

“What makes you think I am looking for his house?” and the man seemed annoyed.

“Well, you were asking about him—”

“That’s all right. I don’t want to see him. I just wanted to know where he lived, out of curiosity. But I’m in a hurry, so I’ll have to leave you,” and the man, who a moment ago seemed to have plenty of time, turned off in the other direction and hurried away.

“That’s queer,” thought Dan. “He acted as if he was mad because I told him where Dr. Maxwell lived. I wonder what he is doing in this neighborhood?”

CHAPTER V
THE OLD BLACKSMITH

Dan saw no prospect of his question being answered immediately, so, after listening to the retreating footsteps of the stranger he resumed his journey to the village.

“I hope Mr. Lee isn’t in,” said the boy to himself, as he neared the store. “He might say something unpleasant, and there are usually a lot of men in his place evenings. I hope I don’t meet him until he has had a chance to forget about the bull.”

As Dan was walking along the village street he was hailed by a youth about his own age.

“Hi, Dan! When ye goin’ t’ give an exhibition?”

“What sort of an exhibition, Tom?”

“Masterin’ wild bulls! I herd ye was pretty good at it,” and the boy laughed.

Dan knew by this that his experience with the animal, which had treed Mr. Lee, was pretty well known in the village. Still he hoped that he would not meet the storekeeper when he went in for the yeast cake. Nor did he, a clerk waiting on him and giving him what he wanted.

There was no sign of Mr. Lee about the store, which was filled with the usual crowd of loungers. Nobody, however, seemed to notice Dan.

“I’m glad I didn’t see him,” thought the boy as he was on his way home.

As Dan neared the place where he had met the mysterious stranger he thought he saw the figure of a man crossing the lots, near the turn of the road. He had half a notion to investigate, and see if it was the man who had appeared to take such an interest in him, but the thought of Mrs. Savage waiting for the yeast cake made him fear this would not be advisable. So he kept on, although as he walked along the grass by the roadside, he was almost sure he heard the footsteps of some one on the highway.

“Wa’al, why didn’t ye stay all night?” demanded Mrs. Savage very ungraciously when Dan, who was very tired, came in. He did not answer, and, as there was no further demand made on him, except to see that the henhouse was locked, he went up to bed.

Hard work is a good thing in one way, for it brings refreshing sleep. When Dan awoke the next morning he felt much better, physically and mentally. It was a bright, beautiful day, and when he was dressing he could hear the songs of birds, in the trees opposite his window.

“I hope things go well to-day,” the boy thought. “I haven’t got much to be thankful for, but I can be glad it isn’t raining. Still, if it was, I suppose I’d have to shell corn in the barn.”

He started to whistle a merry tune, but was rudely interrupted by a call from below:

“Come now!” cried Mr. Savage. “Going t’ lay abed all day? Stir yer stumps up there, Dan. There’s work t’ be done, an’ I hope ye don’t expect me t’ do all of it! Move lively, git yer breakfast an’ shell some more corn!”

Dan hurried with his dressing, spent little time over his washing operations, and was soon hurrying with his breakfast. Everything seemed to be “hurry” with him. He had no time for leisure with such a task-master over him as Peter Savage.

Dan was about half through with his morning’s work of shelling corn for the horses, when Mr. Savage appeared in the barn.

“Is that all ye got done?” he asked.

“I worked as fast as I could.”

“Fast! Humph, I guess ye must a’ turned it backward part of th’ time. Now git a move on ye. Mrs. Savage want’s ye t’ go t’ th’ store fer some molasses. Don’t be all day, nuther.”

“Shall I hitch up?”

“Hitch up? Not much. Ye kin walk, can’t ye?”

“Certainly, but I thought I might bring back some bran; we need it.”

“I’ll tend t’ that. Hustle now, an’ walk fast.”

Dan did not mind the walk so much this morning, as it would rest his back from the wearisome labor of turning the corn sheller. He got the molasses jug and started off, striking up a whistling chorus.

“Oh, let up on that!” exclaimed Mrs. Savage who was in no very good humor, because the bread had not “come up” properly. “Boys is always makin’ useless noises. Ye’ll walk faster ef ye don’t whistle, an’ I want that molasses t’ make a Johnny cake fer dinner.”

Dan ceased his whistling until he was out of the hearing of Mrs. Savage, and then he began again.