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He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half workshop in Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a pair of wire cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which was likewise the pasture fence on the west side, between Mrs. Atterson's and Dickerson's. Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire.
Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks about Mrs. Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his class, or the grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid, or the inane monologue of Old Lem Camp. And Mrs. Atterson herself good soul though she was had gotten on Hiram Strong's nerves, too.
Camp to watch the burning fodder, to see that sparks from the stack did no harm, and lighting his lantern he went along the line fence again. Yes! there were the footprints that he had expected to find. But the burning stack was even farther from the fence than the first one had been and there were no marks of feet in the soft earth on Mrs. Atterson's side of the boundary.
The reason for Hiram's absence, and the matter of Mrs. Atterson's legacy altogether, had been kept from the boarders. And there was no time until after the principal meal of the day was off the lady's mind for Hiram to say anything to her. "She's a good old soul," thought Hiram. "And if it's in my power to make that farm pay, and yield her a competency for her old age, I'll do it."
Atterson's interest in all things, to make no expenditures without discussing them first with her, and to give his best care and attention generally to the farm and all that pertained thereto. Of course, the old lady was taking Hiram a good deal on trust. But she had known the boy almost two years and he had been faithful and prompt in discharging his debts to her.
Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions and Mrs. Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons even Pete had become friendly neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his father, and they were running the Pollock farm on much more modern lines than before.
"A fellow ought to stick to the job he is fitted for and that's sure. But I didn't know. I thought there would be forty chances in town to one in the country. "And there doesn't seem to be a single chance right now. Why, I'll have to leave Mrs. Atterson's, if I can't find a job before next week is out! "This mean old town is over-crowded with fellows like me looking for work.
"Perhaps he is waiting to make sure that the railroad will condemn a piece of Mrs. Atterson's farm. If the board should change the route again, Pepper would have a farm on his hands that he might not be able to sell immediately at a profit. "For we must confess, that sixteen hundred dollars, as farms have sold in the past around here, is a good price for the Atterson place.
Crackit," said Hi, in a low voice. The other boarders those who were in the house-straggled into the basement dining-room one after the other, and took their places at the long table, each in his customary manner. That dining-room at Mother Atterson's never could have been a cheerful place.
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.
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