Chapter X

"Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that would fetch you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!"

Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thought the forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected his wits he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashing through the woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by a strap attached to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell still resounded in the depths of the woods, and rang in Yates' ears as he pulled himself together.

"Did you--ah--make any remarks?" asked Yates quietly.

The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise.

"I say, don't you know that it's not healthy to go to sleep in the middle of the day?"

"Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I can stand it, if the middle of the day can. I've a strong constitution. Now, what do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man's bedroom in that reckless fashion?"

The boy laughed.

"I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for I saw the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago."

"Oh! Where was he going?"

"Hanged if I know, and he didn't look as if he knew himself. He's a queer fish, aint he?"

"He is. Everybody can't be as sensible and handsome as we are, you know. Where are you going with those horses, young man?"

"To get them shod. Won't you come along? You can ride the horse I'm on. It's got a bridle. I'll ride the one with the halter."

"How far away is the blacksmith's shop?"

"Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads."

"Well," said Yates, "there's merit in the idea. I take it your generous offer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of one of those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kick or buck, or playfully roll over a person?"

"No," cried, young Bartlett indignantly. "This is no circus. Why, a baby could ride this horse."

"Well, that's about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I'm a trifle out of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, and I haven't been on one of them for a week."

"Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you set your mind to."

Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, so he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on the horse with both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slipped to the ground.

"Wait till I