[Illustration: “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
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AN ANGRY FARMER 1
II. THE DANGEROUS BULL 13
III. UP A TREE 20
IV. THE STRANGER AGAIN 30
V. THE OLD BLACKSMITH 39
VI. SOME BAD MONEY 48
VII. A TELEPHONE MESSAGE 55
VIII. A MIDNIGHT RIDE 62
IX. THE MYSTERIOUS MEN 70
X. HANK LEE’S INFORMATION 79
XI. DAN’S ARREST 88
XII. TAKEN TO JAIL 97
XIII. BEFORE THE SQUIRE 104
XIV. THE TRIAL 115
XV. HELD IN BAIL 122
XVI. A FRIEND IN NEED 129
XVII. A NEW HOME 136
XVIII. DAN’S MIDNIGHT VISIT 142
XIX. THE FALLING CHIMNEY 148
XX. ANOTHER ROBBERY 157
XXI. EXCITEMENT IN TOWN 163
XXII. A QUEER FIND 169
XXIII. ON THE WATCH 176
XXIV. THE CLUE 183
XXV. CATCHING THE BURGLARS--CONCLUSION 192
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.