Dab Kinzer | Page 8

had had a little the worst of it. That was often the way with people who stopped to talk with Jenny Walters, and she was not as much of a favorite as she otherwise might have been.
Dabney looked after her with his mouth puckered into shape for a whistle; but she had hardly disappeared before he found himself confronted by the strange young gentleman.
"Is your name Dabney Kinzer?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"Well, I'm Mr. Ford Foster, from New York."
"Come over here to buy goods?" suggested Dabney. "Or to get something to eat?"
Ford Foster was apparently of about Dab's age, but a full head less in height, so that there was more point in the question than there seemed to be; but he treated it as not worthy of notice, and asked,--
"Do you know of a house to let anywhere about here?"
"House to let?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Kinzer, behind him, much to Dab's surprise. "Are you asking about a house? Whom for?"
Ford Foster had been quite ready to "chaff" Dick Lee, and he would not have hesitated about trying a like experiment upon Mr. Dabney Kinzer; but he knew enough to speak respectfully to the portly and business-like lady before him now.
"Yes, madam," he said, with a ceremonious bow: "I wish to report to my father that I have found an acceptable house in this vicinity."
"You do!"
Mrs. Kinzer was reading the young gentleman through and through, as she spoke; but she followed her exclamation with a dozen questions, all of which he answered with a good deal of clearness and intelligence. She wound up at last, with,--
"Go right home, then, and tell your father the only good house to let in this neighborhood will be ready for him next week. I'll show it to him when he comes, but he'd better see me at once. Dabney, jump into the buggy. I'm in a hurry."
The ponies were in motion, up the street, before Ford Foster quite recovered from the shock of being told to "go right home."
"A very remarkable woman," he muttered, as he turned away, "and she did not tell me a word about the house, after all. I must make some more inquiries. The boy is actually well dressed, for a place like this."
"Mother," said Dabney, as they drove along, "you wouldn't let 'em have Ham's house, would you?"
"No, indeed. But I don't mean to have our own stand empty."
With that reply a great deal of light broke in upon Dab's mind.
"That's it, is it?" he said to himself, as he touched up the ponies. "Well, there'll be room enough for all of us there, and no mistake. But what'll Ham say?"
That was a question which he could safely leave to the very responsible lady beside him; and she found "errands" enough for him, during the remainder of that forenoon, to keep him from worrying his mind about any thing else.
As for Ford Foster, it was not until late on the following day that he completed all his "inquiries" to his satisfaction. He took the afternoon train for the city, almost convinced that, much as he undoubtedly knew before he came, he had actually acquired a good deal more knowledge which might be of some value.
Ford was almost the only passenger in the car he had selected. Trains going towards the city were apt to be thinly peopled at that time of day; but the empty cars had to be taken along all the same, for the benefit of the crowds who would be coming out later in the afternoon and in the evening. The railway-company would have made more money with full loads both ways, but it was well they did not have a full load on that precise train.
Ford had turned over the seat in front of him, and stretched himself out with his feet on it. It was almost like lying down, for a boy of his length; and it was the very best position he could possibly have taken if he had known what was coming.
Known what was coming?
Yes: there was a pig coming.
That was all; but it was quite enough, considering what that pig was about to do. He was going where he chose, just then; and not only had he chosen to walk upon the railroad-track, but he had also made up his mind not to turn out for that locomotive and its train of cars.
He saw it, of course, for he was looking straight at it; and the engineer saw him, but it would have been well for the pig if he had been discovered a few seconds earlier.
"What a whistle!" exclaimed Ford Foster at that moment. "It sounds more like the squeal of an iron pig than any thing else. I"--
But at that instant there came to him a great