Try and Trust | Page 8

happened. Fair play's my motto. If a feller meets you halfway, it's all you have a right to expect. I reckon it'll cost you a matter of ten dollars to get that 'ere buggy fixed."
Holden looked savagely at the broken wheel, but that didn't mend matters. He would have answered the countryman angrily, but, as he stood in need of assistance, this was not good policy.
"What would you advise me to do about it?" he inquired.
"You will have to leave the buggy where it is just now. Where did you get it?"
"Over at the mill village."
"Well, you'd better lead the horse back--'tain't more'n a mile or so-- get another wagon, and tell 'em to send for this."
"Well, perhaps that is the best way."
"Where was you goin'?"
"Over to Waverley."
"That's where the boy came from."
"What boy?"
"The boy that upset you."
"What is his name?" asked Abner Holden, scowling.
"His name is Herbert Mason, son of the Widder Mason that died two or three weeks since. Poor boy, he's left alone in the world."
"Where's he stopping?" asked Holden, hardly knowing why he asked the question.
"Dr. Kent took him in after the funeral, so I heard; but the selectmen of Waverley are trying to find him a place somewheres, where he can earn his own livin'. He's a smart, capable boy, and I guess he can do 'most a man's work."
Abner Holden looked thoughtful. Some plan had suggested itself to him which appeared to yield him satisfaction, for he began to look decidedly more comfortable, and he muttered to himself: "I'll be even with him YET. See if I don't."
"How far am I from Waverley?" he asked, after a slight pause.
"Well, risin' three miles," drawled the other.
"If I could get somebody to go back with this horse, I don't know but what I'd walk to Waverley. Are you very busy?"
"Well, I don't know but I could leave off for a short time," said the other, cautiously. "Work's pretty drivin', to be sure. What do you cal'late to pay?"
"How much would it be worth?"
"Well, there's the walk there and back, and then again there's the time."
"You can mount the horse going."
"I guess fifty cents'll about pay me."
Mr. Holden took out his pocketbook and paid the required sum.
"By the way," he said, as if incidentally, "who is the chairman of the selectmen in the village of Waverley?" "You ain't thinkin' of takin' that boy, be you?" said the other, curiously.
"I've had enough to do with him; I don't want ever to lay eyes on him again."
"Well, I dunno as I should, if I was you," said the countryman, rather slyly.
"You haven't answered my question yet," said Holden, impatiently.
"Oh, about the cheerman of the selectmen. It's Captain Joseph Ross."
"Where does he live?"
"A leetle this side of the village. You'll know the house, well enough. It's a large, square house painted white, with a well-sweep in front."
Without a word of thanks for the information, Abner Holden turned, and began to walk toward Waverley. Perhaps his object in making these inquiries has been guessed. It happened that he needed a boy, and, for more reasons than one, he thought he should like to have Herbert bound to him. Herbert, as he had noticed, was a stout boy, and he probably could get a good deal of work out of him. Then, again, it would be gratifying to him to have our hero in subjection to him. He could pay him off then, ten times over, for his insolence, as he chose to term it.
"I'll break his proud spirit," thought Abner Holden. "He'll find he's got a master, if I get hold of him. He don't know me yet, but he will some time."
Mr. Holden resolved to wait on Captain Ross at once, and conclude arrangements with him to take Herbert before our hero had returned from the mill village. He pictured, with a grim smile, Herbert's dismay when he learned who was to be his future master.
With the help of a handkerchief dipped into a crystal stream at the roadside, Abner Holden succeeded in effacing some of the muddy stains upon his coat and pantaloons, and at length got himself into presentable trim for calling upon a "selectman."
At length he came in sight of the house which had been described to him as that of Captain Ross. There was a woman at the well-sweep engaged in drawing water.
"Does Captain Ross live here?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"Is he at home?"
"He's over in the three-acre lot. Was you wantin' to see him?"
"I should like to. Is the field far away?"
"No, it's just behind the house."
"Then I guess I'll go and find him. I want to see him on a little matter of business."
Mr. Holden crossed a mowing-field, and then, climbing over a stone wall, found himself at the edge of the three-acre lot. The