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."
"I wonder if he will bring that money?" remarked Ben Snow. "He's
gone a long time."
"Oh, he keeps it hidden away in an old boot," replied Link. "He'll have
to dig it out. But don't let me detain you."
"We like the fun," spoke Andy. "We'll stick around for a while yet."
And, while the boys are thus "sticking around," may I be permitted to
introduce them more formally to you, and speak just a word about
them?
With their names I think you are already familiar. Andy Blair was a tall,
good-looking lad, with light hair and snapping blue eyes that seemed to
look right through you. Yet, withal, they were merry eyes, and dancing
with life.
Chet Anderson was rather short and stocky, not to say fat; but if any of
his friends mentioned such a thing Chet was up in arms at once. Chet, I
might explain, was a contraction for Chetfield; the lad being named for
his grandfather.
Ben Snow was always jolly. In spite of his name he was of a warm and
impulsive nature, always ready to forgive an injury and continually
seeking a chance to help someone. Clever, full of life and usually
looking on the bright side, Ben was a humorous relief to his sometimes
more sober comrades.
Quiet and studious was Frank Newton, a good scholar, always standing
well in his class, and yet with his full share of fun and sport. He was a
mainstay on the baseball team, where he had pitched many a game to
victory.
With the exception of Tom Hatfield you have now met the lads with
whom the first part of this story is chiefly concerned. Tom was one of
the nicest fellows you could know. His parents were wealthy, but
wealth had not spoiled Tom. He was happy-go-lucky, of a generous,
whole-souled nature, always jolly and happy, and yet with a temper
that at times blazed out and amazed his friends. Seldom was it directed
against any of them; but when Tom spoke quietly, with a sort of ring
like the clang of steel in his voice, then was the time to look out.
The five lads came from the same town, as has been said, and had been
friends, more or less, all their lives. With their advent at Milton their
friendship was cemented with that seal which is never
broken--school-comradeship. You boys know this. You men who may
chance to read this book know it. How many of you, speaking of
someone, has not at one time said:
"Why, he and I used to go to school together!"
And is there anything in life better than this--an old school chum? It
means so much.
But there. I started to tell a story, and I find myself getting off on the
side lines. To get back into the game:
Link Bardon had hardly finished telling his good Samaritan boy friends
of his trouble with Mr. Snad, when the burly farmer reappeared.
Striding up to his hired man--his former employee--he thrust some
crumpled bills into his hand, and growled:
"Now you get out of here as fast as you can. I've seen enough of you!"
"And I may say the same thing!" retorted Link. He was getting back his
nerve. Perhaps Andy and his chums had contributed to this end.
"Huh! Don't you go to gettin' fresh!" snapped Mr. Snad.
"Don't let him get
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