CHAPTER IX
THE NEW HOME
The next few days were busy ones for Mrs. Thompson and for Randy. The landlord of the cottage in which they lived was notified that they were going to move, and then the woman set to work to get ready to vacate, while Randy went over to the other place to put the house in condition for occupancy.
While Randy was at work Jack came to see him, and insisted upon lending a helping hand. Randy had brought over some of his father's tools and also some nails, and he purchased at the lumber yard a few boards and other pieces he thought he needed.
When he once got at it, it was astonishing how well our hero used the tools, making several repairs that would have done credit to a regular carpenter. The broken window was replaced, and the missing door found and rehung, and several clapboards nailed fast. Then Randy mended the porch, and put a score of shingles on the roof. This done, the chimney was cleaned out and also the cistern, and the well was also overhauled. In the meantime Jack pulled out a lot of weeds and trained a wild honeysuckle over the porch. At the end of four days the place looked quite well.
"It's a hundred per cent. better than it was," declared Jack. "It didn't look like anything before."
"I'll get a can of paint to-morrow and paint the door and the window frames," said Randy, and this was done. He also whitewashed the kitchen, and kalsomined the other rooms, so that the interior of the cottage was sweet and clean.
When Mrs. Thompson saw the change which had been wrought she was delighted.
"I declare, it looks as well, if not better, than the cottage we are in," she cried. "And the outlook toward the river is ever so much nicer."
"Just wait until I have the garden in shape," said Randy. "You won't know the spot."
"What a pity we did not know of this place before."
"Mother, I think we ought to buy it if we can."
"Perhaps we shall, Randy, before the five years are up."
At length came the day to move. A local truckman who knew Mr. Thompson well moved them for nothing.
"You can do some odd jobs for me some time," said the truckman to Louis Thompson.
"Thank you, I will—when I am able," answered the sufferer.
A good deal of the pain had left Mr. Thompson, but he was weak, and to start to regular work was out of the question. Another friend took him to his new cottage in a carriage. He gazed at the old place in wonder.
"Well, it certainly is improved!" he ejaculated. "We shall get along here very well."
The moving was done early in the morning and by nightfall Randy and his mother had the cottage in tolerable order. The stove was set up and found to draw good, and the water from the well tasted fine.
"Now there is one thing certain," said Randy, "Mother, come what may, we shall have a roof over our heads."
"Yes, my son, and I am grateful for it," answered Mrs. Thompson.
"Uncle Peter may be a hard man to get along with, but he has certainly helped us."
The next two weeks were busy ones for Randy. Jerry Borden was true to his promise and not only did some plowing for the Thompsons but also helped Randy to put up a new fence, partly of stone and partly of rails. It was agreed that Borden should have the use of part of the little farm for pasturing, and in return was to give the Thompsons two quarts of milk a day and two pounds of butter per week, and also a dozen fresh eggs a week while the hens were laying.
"That will certainly help us out wonderfully," said Mrs. Thompson. "Butter, eggs, and milk are quite an item of expense."
"And that is not all," said Randy. "I am going to help Mr. Borden with his haying soon and he is going to pay us in early vegetables."
The haying time was already at hand, and Randy soon pitched in with a will, much to his neighbor's satisfaction.
One day Jack came to bring good news. His father had secured a position with an iron works at Albany, on the Hudson River.
"It will pay him a fair salary," said Jack.
"I am glad to hear it," answered Randy. "What will your family do, remain here or move to Albany?"
"We are going to remain here for the present, but, if the place suits father after he has been there a while, then we'll move."
"Have you learned anything more about the Bangses?"
"Mrs. Bangs and Bob are on a summer vacation."
"Yes, I know that. I meant Mr. Bangs."
"He is in full charge at the iron works here and drawing a salary of eight thousand dollars a year. Father says he will run the works into the ground so that the stock won't be worth a cent."
"Can't your father do anything?"
"Not yet. But he is going to watch things. There was some trouble over a contract and he is trying to get to the bottom of that," continued Jack.
When Randy went to work for Farmer Borden he came into contact with the farmer's son Sammy, a tall, overgrown lad of fourteen, with a freckled face and a shock of red hair. Sammy hated to work, and his father and mother had to fairly drive him to get anything out of him.
"City folks don't work like farmers," remarked Sammy to Randy. "They jest lay off an' take it easy."
"How do you know that?" asked our hero, in quiet amusement.
"'Cos I once read a paper of the sports in the city."
"Some rich folks don't work, Sammy. But all the others work as hard as we do."
"I don't believe it," said Sammy, stoutly. "Wish I was a city lad. Oh, wouldn't I jest have the bang-up time, though!"
"Sammy Borden!" cried his mother, shrilly. "You get to work, an' be quick about it."
"I'm tired," answered the freckled-faced lad.
"Tired? Lazy, you mean! Git to work, or I'll have your paw give you a dressin' down!"
"Drat the luck!" muttered Sammy, as he took up his pitchfork. "I wish I was born in the city!"
"Come on, Sammy," said Randy. "The work has got to be done, so don't think about it, but do it."
"Huh! Work is easy to you, Randy Thompson! But it comes hard on me!" And Sammy heaved a ponderous sigh.
The haying was in full blast early in July and Randy worked early and late. He wanted to get through, so that he might go at his own garden. Sammy dragged worse than ever, and finally confided to our hero that he wanted to go to the city over the Fourth.
"Have you asked your folks yet?" asked Randy.
"No, but I'm a-goin' to," answered Sammy.
"Well, if you go, I hope you have a good time," said our hero. "I'd like to see a Fourth of July in the city myself. I've heard they make a good deal of noise, but I shouldn't mind that."
"Gosh! I love shootin'," said Sammy.
"Aren't you afraid you might get lost?" pursued Randy.
"Lost!" snorted Sammy. "Not much! Why, you can't lose me in the woods, much less in the city."
"The city and the woods are two different places."
"I don't care. I'd know what I was doin'."
"It costs money to go to the city."
"I want to go to Springfield."
"Have you any money saved up?"
To this Sammy did not answer. Then Mr. Borden came along.
"Sammy, get to work!" he called out. "Don't let Randy do everything."
"I was workin'," grumbled the son, as he started in again. "You can't expect a feller like me to pitch hay all day long."
"I have to work all day," retorted his father.
"It ain't fair nohow."
"If you want to eat you'll have to work."
Sammy pitched in, but grumbled a good deal to himself. Soon his mother called him and he went off to the house.
"That lad is gettin' lazier every day," said Jerry Borden. "I declare, I don't know what to do with him."
"Maybe he needs a vacation," suggested our hero.
"Well, he can't have one until the hayin' is done," declared the farmer.
CHAPTER X
SAMMY'S FOURTH OF JULY
The next day Sammy sat on a bench on the cottage stoop, apparently very intent on a perusal of the Farmer's Almanac, but it was evident his thoughts were somewhere else.
"What in nater is the boy a-doin'?" asked his mother, looking up from a pile of stockings she was mending. "If he ain't twisting up thet Almanac as if 'twasn't any more than a piece of brown paper. What are you thinking about, Sammy?"
"Thursday is Fourth o' July," answered her son.
"Well, what if it is? I'm sure I'm willing."
"They are going to have great doings down to Springfield," added Sammy.
"Is that so? I hope they enjoy themselves. But it ain't anything to me as I know on."
"I want to go down an' see the celebration," said Sammy, mustering up his courage to give utterance to so daring a proposition.
"Want to see the Fourth o' July in Springfield?" ejaculated his mother. "Is the boy crazy? Ain't it the Fourth o' July here as well as there, I'd like to know?"
"Well, I suppose it is, but I never was in Springfield, an' I want to go. They've got a lot o' shows there, an' I'm bound to see some of 'em."
"Sammy," said his mother, solemnly, "it would be the ruination of you; you'd git shot, or something wuss. You ain't nuthin' but a boy, an' couldn't be trusted nohow."
"Ain't I fourteen, an' ain't I 'most six feet high?" answered back Sammy, defiantly. "An' didn't Dick Slade, who is only thirteen, go down last Fourth an' have a smashin' good time an' not git hurt?"
"But you ain't got no experience, Sammy."
"I've got enough to go to Springfield."
"No, you had better give up the notion."
"Now, mother, don't say that!" pleaded the son.
"But I do say it."
"Well, then I'm going to—to run away! I'll go to sea an' be a sailor, or sumthin'!" burst out Sammy, recklessly. "I'm sick o' workin' every single day!"
"Stop talking in that dreadful way, Sammy!" said Mrs. Borden, anxiously.
"Then you ask paw to let me go."
"'Twon't do no good."
"Yes, it will. You ask him, won't you?" pleaded the son.
At last Mrs. Borden consented and spoke to her husband about it during the dinner hour. Jerry Borden shook his head.
"He can't go—it's sheer foolishness," he said.
"If you don't let him go I'm afraid he will run away," said the wife. "He has his heart set on going." Sammy was out of the room at the time, so he could not hear the talk.
At first Mr. Borden would not listen, but at last he gave in, although he added grimly that he thought running away would do Sammy a world of good.
"He'd be mighty glad to sneak back afore a week was up," he said.
When Sammy realized that he was really to go to the city he was wild with delight, and rushed down into the hayfield to tell Randy of his plans.
"I'm a-goin' to have a highfalutin' time," he said. "Just you wait until I come back an' tell about it."
"I hope you do have a good time," answered our hero, "and don't get hurt."
"There won't nothin' happen to me," answered Sammy, confidently.
Early on the morning of Independence Day Sammy stood at the door of the farmhouse arrayed in his Sunday best. His folks were there to see him off.
"My son," said Mr. Borden, "don't ye be wasteful o' your money, an' don't git in no scrapes."
"An' remember, Sammy, to keep all the Commandments," added his mother, as she kissed him tenderly.
Soon he was off, down the side road towards the highway, where the stage passed that ran to the railroad station. His walk took him by the Thompson cottage. Randy was at home and fixing up the garden.
"I'm off!" yelled Sammy, waving his hand.
"Good luck!" cried Randy, pleasantly. "Don't get your head shot off."
"He may lose his head without having it shot off," remarked Mr. Thompson, who sat on the porch, with his rheumatic side in the sunshine.
"I do not think it very wise to let him go to the city alone," put in Mrs. Thompson from the kitchen.
Sammy tramped on until he came to the main highway and there waited impatiently for the stage to appear. He got a seat by the driver, and in less than an hour reached the railroad station. He had been on the cars before, yet the ride was much of a novelty.
At last the country boy found himself on the streets of Springfield. There was an extra celebration of some sort going on and great crowds flocked on every side. Poor Sammy was completely bewildered, as he was jostled first one way and then another.
"Well, by gosh! If this don't beat anything I ever see!" he ejaculated. "Where in thunder did all the folks come from, anyway?"
Sammy looked so truly rural that he attracted the attention of two street urchins who were standing close by.
"There's a greeny, I'll bet a hat!" said one of them, nudging his companion.
"A regular one and no mistake," answered the second urchin.
"Let's have a little fun out of him."
"How?"
"Just look and you'll see how I fix him."
So speaking, he took a bunch of firecrackers from his pocket and, with a pin, attached it to the tail of Sammy's coat. Then he set the bunch on fire and slipped back into the crowd.
Crack! Crack! Bang!
The plot took effect. Sammy was aroused from his reverie by explosion after explosion in his immediate rear. He started and leaped into the air in wild amazement.
"By thunder!" he gasped. "Is thet a cannon bustin'?"
The crackers continued to go off, and poor Sammy leaped around worse than ever.
"Say, mister, what's up?" he asked of a man who was laughing loudly.
"Look behind you," answered the man.
Sammy did so. One look was enough. He began to bellow like a bull and started off on a run, knocking down several people who happened to be in his way. At last a police officer stopped him.
"What do you mean by making such a disturbance?" demanded the officer.
"I'm burning up! I'm exploding! Don't you hear me?" gasped poor Sammy.
"Pooh! It's only fire-crackers," and the policeman smiled faintly.
"Take 'em off, mister, please do!" pleaded Sammy. "I'll give you ten cents for the job!"
"They are about burned out," answered the officer, as the last firecracker went off with an extra loud bang. "You are safe. Go along with you." And he waved his stick. Sammy lost no time in sneaking off. The boy who had played the trick had a good laugh and so did his companion.
Soon Sammy heard a band and saw some "Milingtary," as he called them, approaching. The sight of the soldiers with their guns awed him, yet he followed the procession to a grove, where there was more music and also speechmaking. He listened to the orations with wide-open mouth, until he suddenly lost interest when a bit of banana skin was thrown at him, landing directly in the opening.
"Wah!" he spluttered. "Who threw thet skin at me?"
He could not find the offender and so roamed around the grove, presently halting before a temporary stand filled with things to eat. He now discovered that he was tremendously hungry.
"Snathers take the expense," he muttered to himself. "I'm a-goin' to have something to eat if it breaks me." He had brought along a lunch from home, but had forgotten it on the train.
He approached the stand and looked the stock of eatables over.
"What's the price o' them bananas, mister?" he asked.
"Two cents each."
"Well, I suppose if I take two you'll let me have 'em fer three cents."
"Couldn't do it."
"Well, who cares, anyway? It's only four cents. Let me have two."
The bananas were handed over and Sammy looked for his change. But he only had two cents and a one-dollar bill.
"Can you change that?" he asked, holding out the bill.
"Certainly," answered the standkeeper, and promptly gave the youth a fifty-cent piece and a lot of small change. With his bananas in one hand and his money in another Sammy retired to a distance, to count his change and make sure it was right.
While he was buying the fruit a boy in tatters watched him eagerly. Now the boy came up to the country lad.
"Please, mister, won't you give me some money to buy bread with?" he asked, in a quivering voice.
"To buy bread with?" asked Sammy, in astonishment.
"Yes, please—I'm awful hungry."
"Ain't you had nuthin' to eat to-day?"
"Not a mouthful."
Sammy's compassion was aroused and he began to look over his change.
"Look out for that!" cried the tattered boy, looking upward suddenly.
Sammy's gaze traveled in the same direction. As his eyes went up the boy in rags grabbed the money in his hand and in an instant was making off through the crowd.
The movement was so quick, and the surprise so great, that for the moment Sammy was bereft of speech.
At length he recovered sufficiently to shout the single word at the top of his lungs:
"Constable!"
"What's the matter?" asked a policeman, running up.
"Thief! Robbery!"
"Where is the thief?"
"He ran off."
"Where? In what direction?"
"I—er—I don't know," stammered Sammy.
"What did he take?"
"Took all my money."
"How much?"
"Ninety-six cents. It ain't all—I've got two cents left."
"Well, if you can point out the thief I'll arrest him," said the policeman. "Come, we'll take a look around."
This was done, but the boy in rags could not be found.
"Drat the luck! I suppose the money is gone fer good!" groaned Sammy, and he was right. For he never saw either the boy or his cash again.
Sammy had expected to remain in the evening and see the fire-works, but now his interest in the celebration was gone.
"Hain't got but two cents left!" he groaned. "Thet won't buy no supper nor nuthin! It's lucky I've got a train ticket back. But I'll have to walk to hum from the station, unless they'll tick me fer the stage ride."
He walked around, still hoping to meet the lad who had robbed him. His perambulations presently brought him to a spot where there was a pond of water, in which some gold-fish were swimming. The gold-fish caught his eye and he paused to watch them as they darted about.
He was leaning over, looking into the pond, when some boys came along on a run. One boy shoved another and he fell up against Sammy. As a consequence the country lad lost his balance and went into the pond with a loud splash.
"Save me!" he spluttered. "I can't swim!"
"Wade out; it's only up to your middle!" sang out a man, and arising, Sammy did as directed. He was covered with mud and slime and presented anything but a nice appearance.
"This is the wust yet!" he muttered, and felt half like crying. "I ain't going to stay here no more—I'm goin' straight fer hum!"
CHAPTER XI
RANDY TO THE RESCUE
The next day Randy went over to the Borden farm to finish up his work there. To his astonishment Sammy was on hand and apparently eager to go to work.
"Well, how was the celebration, Sammy?" asked our hero.
"No good."
"That's too bad."
"After this I'm a-goin' to stay to hum on the Fourth," went on Sammy, as he began to fork over the hay vigorously. "I ain't goin' to no city to be skinned."
"Did they skin you?"
"Jest about. A feller robbed me an' I was pushed into a duck pond."
"That's too bad."
"If I hadn't a-had my train ticket I'd had to walk home," went on Sammy. "As it was, I had to borrow fifteen cents on the stage, to pay fer thet ride. No more city celebrations fer me. I kin have all I want right here at Riverport." And then Sammy related his adventures in detail, to which our hero listened with much secret amusement.
Over at the Thompson place the ground had been plowed up in part, and as soon as he left Jerry Borden Randy set to work in earnest to plant late vegetables. For what our hero had done for the Bordens he was paid in vegetables, and also received a rooster and four hens. This gave the Thompsons their own eggs, for which the lady of the cottage was thankful.
Randy was at work early one morning, when Jack appeared.
"Hullo, at it already?" sang out Jack. "I thought I'd find you still in bed."
"I prefer to work when the sun is not so hot," answered Randy. "But what brings you out at such an hour as this?"
"I've got news."
"What is it?"
"We are going to move to Albany."
"When?"
"The first of next week."
"I'll be sorry to miss you, Jack."
"And I'll be sorry to leave you, Randy. But I came over for something more than to tell the news. I want you to go fishing with me. They say the sport is extra fine just now."
"I don't know if I can go," answered our hero, doubtfully. "There is still enough to do here."
"It will be a change for you. You have worked very hard lately."
"I admit that."
"Go by all means, if you care to, Randy," called out Mrs. Thompson. "You have earned a holiday, and the fish will be acceptable."
"All right, mother; if you say so, I'll go."
It did not take Randy long to prepare for the outing. Jack had with him a basket of lunch for two, so all he had to get was his line and hooks and some extra bait.
"I hope we catch a good mess to-day," said Randy, as they started off. "Then I can give Mr. Borden some and he can let us have some bacon that we need."
"I suppose it is rather hard scratching for you just now," said Jack.
"It is, and I am going to look for outside work before long."
"Well, I hope you find something to do. Ben Bash was looking for work all over this district but he couldn't find a thing."
"Oh, I know there is small chance in Riverport. I think I may try elsewhere," answered our hero.
It did not take the two boys long to reach the river, at a point where Jack had left his boat. Both rowed to their favorite fishing spot.
"Oh, isn't that too bad!" cried Jack, in disappointment.
Strangers were fishing at the spot and they soon saw that there was no room for them to throw in.
"How is fishing?" called out Randy.
"Very good," answered one of those present.
"We'll have to go elsewhere," said Jack. "The question is, where?"
"I know another spot about quarter of a mile from here," answered Randy. "It may be just as good."
They rowed on and reached the new place, to find nobody there. Soon they had their boat tied fast to an overhanging tree and then they got out on some flat rocks and baited up.
It did not take long to prove that the new fishing place was as good as the old. Randy drew in a small fish almost immediately and Jack did the same. Then both got hauls of good size.
"Maybe we'll do better than if we went to the old Fishing Hole," observed Jack.
At noon time they knocked off for lunch and a rest and then took a good swim.
"I can tell you, I enjoy this!" cried Randy. "I haven't had a chance to go in for so long."
The swim at an end, the boys donned their garments and resumed their fishing. They kept at it until about four o'clock. Then all their luck seemed to suddenly desert them.
"Never mind," said Randy. "We certainly have a prime haul, even as it is," and he looked the fish over with much pride.
They wound up their lines and were soon on the way down the river. It was rather a hot day, so they took their time in getting back.
"What are you going to do with your boat?" asked Randy.
"Sell it to Mr. Stanwood for ten dollars."
"You are lucky to get a customer, Jack."
"I know it. I'd turn the boat over to you only—well—we need the money now, you know," and Jack's eyes dropped.
"Thank you, Jack, but I wouldn't have much time to use it. I must put in the most of my time at work."
"I suppose that is true. At the same time I'd rather you had the boat than anybody I know of."
The boys were coming around a bend of the river when they heard a peculiar noise in the distance.
"What do you make that out to be?" asked Jack, as the noise continued.
"I think I know," answered our hero. "It is the new tugboat from the bay. I saw it once, several weeks ago. It makes a very odd sound, for the engine is not like the ordinary ones."
The noise kept coming closer and presently the tugboat came into view. It was stuck in the mud and those on board were doing what they could to get the craft afloat again.
"They seem to be having a hard time of it," remarked Jack, as he stopped rowing to watch the proceedings.
"The mud is very sticky here, if you'll remember," answered Randy. "Don't you remember how we were stuck here last year?"
"Yes, and how I lost an oar overboard and nearly went overboard myself," continued Jack, with a short laugh. "Heigh-ho! Randy, I'll be sorry in a way to lose it all."
"We must write to each other."
"Of course."
The tug was puffing and snorting viciously to get out of the mud. On board were four people who were evidently passengers, including a lady with a little girl.
Suddenly there came something which sounded like an explosion. This was followed by a cloud of steam that seemed to completely envelop the tugboat.
"Something is wrong!" shouted Randy.
"Oh, mamma, I don't like this!" screamed the little girl, as she ran to the stern of the tug. "We'll be burned up!"
She had scarcely spoken when there came another explosion and the cloud of steam increased. The four passengers crowded to the stern in a body, and a moment later the two men leaped overboard and called on the lady and her child to do likewise.
"I cannot swim!" shrieked the lady.
"You must jump!" answered somebody. "The tug may blow up!"
The little girl heard this and with a scream she ran from her mother straight for the bow of the tug. The next moment she lost her balance and went overboard.
"She's over!" cried Randy, and his heart leaped into his throat.
"Save my child! Save Helen!" shrieked the lady and rushed after her offspring. Soon she was in the water also.
The situation was certainly a thrilling one. The two men in the water were fifty feet away and those left on the tug were in no position to render assistance. The child had disappeared completely, while the mother was thrashing around wildly, in water just up to her neck.
"Quick, Jack, turn the boat around!" ejaculated Randy. "We must get them on board."
The craft was turned around and headed for the lady. Then Randy threw off his cap—he was already in his shirt sleeves—and stood up in the bow. He gazed anxiously into the muddy water and caught a dim view of the little girl's white dress.
"My child! My child!" the mother continued to scream.
A little girl drowning in the water.
"I'll bring her up," said Randy, and made a leap overboard, just as the gunwale of the rowboat came within reaching distance of the lady's hands.
The little girl had been caught by the current and was being carried down the stream. Randy made a quick grab but missed her, and then she disappeared from view. But in a few seconds more he saw her again, and this time secured hold of her arm. The next moment he raised her to the surface of the river.
She was too far gone to do anything but splutter. She clutched him with a deathlike grip—a thing every person in danger of drowning will do—and he had his hands full to keep both himself and his burden afloat. Shallow water was not far off and he struck out for this and waded ashore.
In the meantime Jack was having no easy time of it getting the lady into the rowboat. There was serious danger of the craft overturning, and he had to caution her to be careful.
"My child! My Helen!" she moaned, when she was at last safe.
"My friend will save her," answered Jack.
"You are sure?"
"Yes."
CHAPTER XII
A STEAMBOAT MAN
Having saved the lady from her uncomfortable if not dangerous position, Jack lost no time in rowing for the shore. Soon he was at the river bank and the lady leaped out of the rowboat and ran to where Randy had placed his dripping burden on the grass.
"My Helen! Is she safe?" asked the lady, anxiously.
"I think so," answered our hero. "But I guess she swallowed some river water."
"Oh, how thankful I am that you went after her."
"It was the only thing to do. I saw she couldn't swim."
The little girl was still gasping for breath. The mother threw herself on the grass and did what she could for her. Soon the little girl gave a cry:
"Mamma!"
"Yes, darling, I am here!"
"Oh, dear! I am all wet!"
"Be thankful that your life has been spared."
"That boy brought me out of the water."
"Yes, dear—and he was brave to do it," answered the mother and beamed on Randy to such an extent that he had to blush.
By this time the two men had also come ashore. The steam was still blowing off on the tug but the danger appeared to be over. Later the engineer announced that a valve and a connection had broken, and the craft would have to remain where she was until towed off.
"I am glad to see you are all safe," said the man who ran the tug. "There wasn't very much danger on board."
"It looked bad enough," said one of the men who had leaped overboard. "I didn't want to get scalded."
"And neither did I," added the other.
It appeared that neither of the men knew the lady excepting by name. She was, however, fairly well known to the tug captain, and had gone up the river on the craft to please her little girl.
"I am sorry for this, Mrs. Shalley," said the tug owner. "I must say, I don't know what to do."
"I must get dry clothing on Helen pretty soon."
"The tug is wet from end to end from the escaped steam."
"If I was down at Riverport I could go to the hotel," went on Mrs. Shalley.
"We can take you down in our rowboat," said Jack. "It won't take very long."
"Can I trust myself in the boat?"
"Certainly, if you'll only sit still."
The matter was talked over, and it was decided that the lady and her little girl should be taken down to Riverport by Randy and Jack. The party was soon on the way.
"My name is Mrs. Andrew Shalley," said the lady. "My husband is a steamboat owner. May I ask your names?"
"Mine is Jack Bartlett. I live in Riverport, but I am going to move to Albany."
"And my name is Randy Thompson," added our hero. "I live over there—in the little cottage by that clump of trees."
"I am pleased to know you," said the lady. "It was more than kind of both of you to come to the assistance of myself and my daughter."
"It wasn't so much to do," answered Randy. "We were close by."
"You are soaking wet."
"It's an old working suit and I don't mind the water," laughed our hero.
"What a nice lot of fish," said little Helen, who had now completely recovered.
"I feel I should reward you both," went on Mrs. Shalley.
"I don't want anything," said Jack, promptly.
"And neither do I," added our hero.
The hotel at which the lady was stopping was built close to the river bank. Mother and child landed at the dock and Randy and Jack bade them good-by.
"I shall try to see you again," said Mrs. Shalley, as she started for the hotel.
"Evidently a very nice lady," remarked Jack, as he and Randy rowed away.
"Yes."
"I think she wanted to reward us, Randy."
"I think so myself, but I don't want any reward."
"Neither do I, although I shouldn't mind, say ten thousand dollars," went on Jack, by way of a joke.
"Or the Presidency of the United States," added Randy, in an equally light tone.
The boys had caught so many fish Randy decided to sell some from his share. He found a purchaser on the dock where they landed and started home richer by fifty cents.
"If I can't get anything else to do, I can do some fishing later on," he mused. "I can get at least two or three dollars' worth of fish a week, and that would be better than nothing—and I could keep right on with the farm, too."
When Randy returned home he had quite a story to tell, to which both his father and his mother listened with interest.
"Randy, you must be careful in the water," said Mrs. Thompson, with an anxious look in her eyes. "Supposing that girl had dragged you down?"
"I was on my guard, mother."
"Randy is a good swimmer," said his father. "I was a good swimmer myself, in my younger days."
The fish proved acceptable, and Randy readily got Jerry Borden to trade him some bacon for a mess, and also give him some fresh vegetables.
"Gosh! Wish I'd gone fishing," said Sammy. "I like to catch big fish."
"Well, I am not going to stop you," said our hero.
"Sammy never has no luck," put in Mrs. Borden. "Once he went fishing all day and all he got was three little fish."
"Didn't nuther!" cried Sammy. "I got twelve big bites, but they got away."
"It's the big fish that always get away," said Randy, with a smile. "Never mind, Sammy, maybe we can go together some day."
"I'd like that," answered the overgrown country boy.
"Did that Bartlett boy get any fish?" asked Mrs. Borden.
"Just as many as I did."
"I understand they are going to move away."
"Yes, to Albany."
"They say down to the iron works that Mr. Bangs is glad to have Mr. Bartlett out of the place."
"I guess that is true."
"It's too bad! All of the men liked Mr. Bartlett."
"Don't they like Mr. Bangs?"
"Not a bit—so Mr. Reilly was telling my husband. They say Mr. Bangs is mean to everybody."
Two days slipped by, and Randy was at work in the garden one afternoon when he saw a buggy stop at the front of the cottage and a portly man alighted. Knowing his mother was busy, our hero went to meet the newcomer.
"Is this where Randy Thompson lives?" asked the portly gentleman.
"Yes, sir, I am Randy Thompson."
"Oh!" The gentleman held out his hand. "I am glad to know you. My name is Andrew Shalley. You did my wife and little girl a great service the other day."
"I only did what seemed necessary," answered Randy, modestly. "Will you come into the house, Mr. Shalley?"
"Thanks, I'll sit down on your porch." The gentleman did so. "What are you doing, farming?"
"A little. We got this place so late this season I cannot do a great deal. Next year I hope to have the farm in much better shape."
"Do you like it?"
"I try to like it."
"Then you are not naturally a farmer?"
"No, sir."
"Is your father living?"
"Yes, sir; but he is laid up with rheumatism, so he cannot work at present. He is a carpenter."
"Indeed! I was a carpenter when I was a young man."
"I thought Mrs. Shalley said you were a steamboat owner."
"I am, now. I gave up carpentering to go into the freight business. I made money, and then bought a small freight boat. Then I branched out, and now own a steamboat running up and down the Hudson River, and I also own several steam tugs."
"Do you own the one that got into trouble the other day?"
"No, a friend of mine owns that—that is how my wife and little girl happened to be on board. I am——" Mr. Shalley stopped short as a form appeared in the doorway behind him.
"This is my mother. Mother, this is Mr. Shalley, the steamboat owner."
"I am glad to meet you," said Mrs. Thompson, politely. "Will you come in?"
"Thank you, but it is very pleasant on the porch. Madam, you have a good son," went on the steamboat owner.
"I know that."
"He did my wife and little girl a great service the other day."
"Yes, he told me what he did."
"I think—er—that is, I'd like to reward you," stammered Andrew Shalley. He saw that Randy was no common boy with whom to deal.
"Thank you, but I don't wish any reward, sir."
"I felt you would say that," answered Andrew Shalley. "The other lad said the same."
"Then you have seen Jack Bartlett?"
"Yes, I just came from there. I wanted to reward him, but he would not have it. But I fixed him," and the steamboat owner smiled broadly.
"Yes?" said Mrs. Thompson, curiously.
"I found out he was going to move to Albany, so I gave him a free pass on my steamboat, theHelen Shalley—named after my wife. Now he can go up and down the river as much as he pleases and it won't cost him a cent. I told him I'd depend upon him to haul folks out of the water if they fell overboard," and the steamboat owner laughed broadly.
"That ought to suit Jack—he loves the water so," said Randy.
"Do you like the water, too?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then maybe you'd like a pass also."
"I couldn't use it, Mr. Shalley."
"I was only joking. But really, Randy, I'd like to do something for you, to show I appreciate what you did for my wife and for Helen."
"I do not want anything, Mr. Shalley, excepting work."
"Work? I should imagine you had enough of that right here."
"I mean work that would pay me regular wages. We must have money. My father needs the doctor, and medicine, and we have to buy groceries, and such, and we can't make the farm pay the bills."
"I understand, my lad. Where is your father?"
"I am here, sir," came from the couch in the sitting room.
"May I come in, Mr. Thompson?"
"Certainly," answered the sick man, and a moment later Andrew Shalley entered the cottage and was shaking hands with Randy's father.