Hiram The Young Farmer | Page 8

it, one leg of which had been replaced by a brick, and the
little glass was so blue and blurred that he never could see in it whether
his tie was straight or not.
There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed. When
the bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he could not get
the door open. Had there ever been a fire at Atterson's at night, Hiram's
best chance for escape would have been by the window.
So this evening, to kill the miserable stretch of time until sleep should
come to him, the boy went out and walked the streets.
Two things had saved Hiram Strong from getting into bad company on
these evening rambles. One was the small amount of money he earned,
and the other was the naturally clean nature of the boy. The cheap
amusements which lured on either hand did not attract him.
But the dangers are there in every city, and they lurk for every boy in a
like position.
The main thoroughfare in this part of the town where Hiram boarded
was brightly lighted, gaudy electric signs attracting notice to cheap
picture shows, catch-penny arcades, cheap jewelry stores, and the ever
present saloons and pool rooms.
It looked bright, and warm, and lively in many of these places; but the

country-bred boy was cautious.
Now and then a raucous-voiced automobile shot along the street; the
electric cars made their usual clangor, and there was still some ordinary
traffic of the day dribbling away into the side streets, for it was early in
the evening.
Hiram was about to turn into one of these side streets on his way back
to Mrs. Atterson's. Turning the corner was a handsome span of horses
attached to a comfortable but mud-bespattered carriage. It was plainly
from the country.
The light at the corner of the street shone brightly into the carriage.
Hiram saw a well-built man in a gray greatcoat and slouch hat, holding
the reins over the backs of the spirited horses.
Beside him sat a girl. She could have been no more than twelve or
fourteen--not so old as Sister, by a year or two. But how different she
was from the starved-looking, boarding house slavey!
She was framed in furs--rich, gray and black furs that muffled her from
top to toe, only leaving her brilliant, dark little face with its perfect
features shining like a jewel in its setting.
She was talking laughingly to the big man beside her, and he was
looking down at her. Perhaps this was why he did not see what lay just
ahead--or perhaps the glare of the street light blinded him, as it must
have the horses, as the equipage turned into the darker side street.
But Hiram saw their peril. He sprang into the street with a cry of
warning. And he was lucky enough to seize the nigh horse by the bridle
and pull both the high-steppers around.
There was an excavation--an opening for a water-main--in this street.
The workmen had either neglected to leave a red lantern, or malicious
boys had stolen it.
Another moment and the horses would have been in this excavation

and even now the carriage swayed. One forward wheel went over the
edge of the hole, and for the minute it was doubtful whether Hiram had
saved the occupants of the carriage by his quick action, or had
accelerated the catastrophe.

CHAPTER IV
THE LOST CARD
Had Hiram Strong not been a muscular youth for his age, and sturdy
withal, the excited horses would have broken away from him and the
carriage would certainly have gone into the ditch.
But he had a grip on the bridle reins now that could not be broken,
although the horses plunged and struck fire from the stones of the street
with their shoes. He dragged them forward, the carriage pitched and
rolled for a moment, and then stood upright again, squarely on its four
wheels.
"All right, lad! I've got 'em!" exclaimed the gentleman in the carriage.
He had a hearty, husky sort of voice--a voice that came from deep
down in his chest and was more than a little hoarse. But there was no
quiver of excitement in it. Indeed, he who had been in peril was much
less disturbed by the incident than was Hiram himself.
Nor had the girl screamed, or otherwise voiced her terror. Now Hiram
heard her say, as he stepped back from the plunging horses:
"That is a good boy, Daddy. Speak to him again."
The man in gray laughed. He was now holding in the frightened team
with one firm hand while he fumbled in the pocket of his big coat with
the other.
"He certainly has got some