Facing the World | Page 2

once as he read this letter.
"Your relative isn't strong on spelling," remarked Mr. Howard, as he laid the letter on the table.
"No, sir; but he appears to be strong on economy. It is a comfort to know that I shall not be injured by 'rich, unhelthy food.'"
"When do you mean to start for Colebrook?" asked Mr. Howard.
"To-morrow morning. I have been looking at a railroad guide, and I find it will bring me to Colebrook in time for supper."
"We should be glad to have you stay with us as long as possible, Harry."
"Thank you, Mr. Howard, I don't doubt that, but the struggle of life is before me, and I may as well enter upon it at once."
At four o'clock in the afternoon the conductor of the train on which Harry was a passenger called out Bolton.
Harry snatched up his carpetbag, and made his way to the door, for this was the place where he was to take the stage for Colebrook.
Two other passengers got out at the same time. One was an elderly man, and the other a young man of twenty-five. They appeared to be father and son, and, as Harry learned afterward they were engaged in farming,
"Any passengers for Colebrook?" inquired the driver of the old-fashioned Concord stage, which was drawn up beside the platform.
"There's Obed and me," said the old farmer.
"May I ride on the seat with you?" asked Harry of the driver.
"Sartain. Where are you going?"
"To Colebrook."
"Then this is your team."
Harry climbed up with a boy's activity, and sat down on the broad seat, congratulating himself that he would have a chance to see the country, and breathe better air than those confined inside.
Soon the driver sat down on the box beside him, and started the horses.
"You're a stranger, ain't you?" he remarked, with an inquisitive glance at his young traveling companion.
"Yes; I've never been here before."
"Are you going to the tavern?"
"No; I'm going to the house of Mr. John Fox. Do you know him?"
"I reckon everybody round here knows John Fox."
"I don't know him. He is to be my guardian."
"Sho! You'll have a queer guardeen."
"Why queer?"
"The fact is, old John'll cheat you out of your eye teeth ef he gets a chance. He's about the sharpest man round."
"He can't cheat me out of much," returned Harry, not especially reassured by this remark. "What is the business of Mr. Fox?"
"Well, he's got some land, but he makes his livin' chiefly by tradin' hosses, auctioneerin', and such like."
"What sort of a woman is Mrs. Fox?"
"She's a good match for the old man. She's about as mean as he is."
"Mr. Fox wrote me that he had two children."
"Yes, there's Joel--he's about your age. He's a chip of the old block--red-headed and freckled, just like the old man. I don't believe Joel ever spent a cent in his life. He hangs on to money as tight as ef his life depended on it."
"There's a girl, too, isn't there?"
"Yes, Sally. She looks like her ma, except she's red-headed like her pa."
"I'm glad to know something of the family, but I'm afraid I shan't enjoy myself very much among the Foxes."
With such conversation Harry beguiled the way. On the whole, he enjoyed the ride. There were hills and here and there the road ran through the woods. He could hear the singing of birds, and, notwithstanding what he had heard he felt in good spirits.
At length the stage entered the village of Colebrook. It was a village of moderate size--about two hundred houses being scattered over a tract half a mile square. Occupying a central position was the tavern, a square, two-story building, with a piazza in front, on which was congregated a number of villagers. After rapidly scanning them, the driver said:
"Do you see that tall man over there leanin' against a post?"
"Yes."
"That's your guardeen! That's John Fox himself, as large as life, and just about as homely."

CHAPTER II
THE DANGER SIGNAL
The man pointed out to Harry as his guardian was tall, loosely put together, with a sharp, thin visage surrounded by a thicket of dull-red hair. He came forward as Harry jumped to the ground after descending from the elevated perch, and said: "I reckon this is Harry Vane?"
"That is my name, sir."
"Glad to see you. Just take your traps, and come along with me. Mrs. Fox will have supper ready by the time we come."
Harry was not, on the whole, attracted by the appearance of his guardian. There was a crafty look about the eyes of Mr. Fox which seemed to make his name appropriate. He surveyed his young ward critically.
"You're pretty well grown," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"And look stout and strong."
"I believe I am both."
"My boy, Joel, is as tall as you, but not so hefty. He's goin' to be tall like me. He's a sharp boy--Joel."
"By the