LITMIR.BIZ

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That's what made me late, and you got here ahead of me."

      "Well, pass it over. I'm as dry as a powder horn."

      "I'll take it first, if you don't mind," remarked Jed, with a smile. "You're so tall, Lanky, that if you got to drinking, all there is in the jug might run down to your feet, and I'd get left."

      He laughed and, tilting up the jug, drank from the uncorked opening. Switchel, I may explain to my young readers, is a drink much used by farmers, and those who have to work in hot fields often take a jug of it along, especially if they are far from good drinking water. It is composed of molasses, water and ginger, and has a pleasant taste.

      "Um! I feel better," remarked Jed as he passed the jug to his brother. "Now, Bean-pole, don't take it all. That's got to last until noon, and the day has only begun."

      "Don't worry. I won't take any more than you did."

      After the refreshing draught the two brothers rested for a moment in the shade of the willow trees.

      "Do you know, Will, I'm not much stuck on farming," remarked Jed slowly.

      "Me either. I don't mind hard work, but there doesn't seem to be much of a prospect here."

      "You're right. Dad and all of us work hard, but it does not seem to amount to anything. Times are getting harder all the while and even the weather is against us."

      "It does seem so. But I suppose it would be just as bad if we were in some other business."

      "Maybe. I wish I could get out of here. I'd like to do something else than farm."

      "What would be your choice?"

      "Well," remarked Jed, slowly, while a smile appeared on his face that had grown a bit serious, "I read about a tramp once that was looking for a contract to gather the blossoms on a century plant, that bloomed once in a hundred years. I don't care for anything quite as slow as that, but I would like a job where I could make a bit of money, instead of always paying up back debts."

      "Yes, poor dad has had bad luck. But maybe better times are coming."

      "I'm afraid not. But this isn't cultivating the corn, and, if we don't do that, I know there won't be any crop coming this fall. Let's get back to work."

      "Suppose we give the horses a drink," suggested Will.

      "They can't take switchel out of the jug. Besides, I don't believe they'd care for it."

      "Oh, you know what I mean!" exclaimed Will, who was not as fond of a joke as was his older brother. "Let's lead 'em to the creek."

      They unhitched the animals, putting halters on them, and led the eager steeds toward the inviting water. Whether it was the heat, or whether he decided he had done enough work for one day was not made clear, but, no sooner did Will's horse, Pete, take one sip of the water, than he jerked the halter rope from the boy's hand, kicked up his heels and, with a shrill whinny, dashed away through the corn.

      CHAPTER II

      AFTER THE RUNAWAY

      "There he goes!" cried Will.

      "So I see," remarked Jed, rather calmly. "You didn't need to tell me that. But he'll not run far. It's too hot. Now hold on, Tabasco Sauce. You needn't think you're going, too," for Jed's horse showed a disposition to follow its mate.

      "I'll have to catch him!" cried Will. "He'll trample a lot of corn down. I might have known he'd be up to some trick. He acted queer all the morning."

      "Maybe it's a touch of sunstroke," suggested Jed. "Wait a minute and I'll help you. I'll have to fasten this two-twenty trotter of mine, or he may take a notion to start a race against time."

      He fastened his horse to a tree, in a shady place near the creek, and then the two brothers started off after the runaway. As they ran through the rows of corn Will uttered an exclamation.

      "There he goes!" he shouted, pointing to the road, which ran along one side of the corn field. "He's going toward Fentonville like a blue streak!"

      "The rascal!" exclaimed Jed. "He must have headed for the bars. We forgot to put them up when we came in, and he got out. I wonder what ails him, anyhow? Never knew him to act this way before."

      "Me either. But it was you who left the bars down. You came in last."

      "So I did. That's too bad. But, come on. We'll cut across to the road, and see if we can't catch him."

      The two brothers changed their direction, and raced toward the fence that separated the field from the dusty highway. Meanwhile the horse was galloping along it, in the midst of a white cloud which his hoofs kicked up. The animal seemed to be rejoicing in a long-sought freedom.

      Just as the boys reached the fence their father came along.

      "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Crosby, surprised to see his two sons leaving their work.

      "Old Pete ran away," explained Will. "There he goes," and he pointed to the moving cloud of dust.

      "Old Pete ran away?" repeated the farmer.

      "Yep. I was giving him some water at the creek, when he kicked up his heels and bolted."

      "That's too bad," spoke Mr. Crosby, seriously. "He may run into something, and get hurt, or he may get lost and it will be a week before we can trace him. Or maybe some one may steal him. I heard there was a band of gypsies over near Fentonville, and they're great hands to steal horses. Better take after him, boys."

      "We will, dad," said Jed. "Will you go over there and look after my nag? He's tied, but he may take a notion to go off."

      "Oh, I guess Ned is safe," remarked Mr. Crosby. "But I would hate to have anything happen to Pete. We need both horses very much at this season, when there's so much cultivating to do, and if he gets stolen, or injured so he can't work, it will be quite a loss to me."

      "We'll get him, dad," spoke Will.

      "I'll go over and do some cultivating until you get back," went on the boys' father. "Land sakes! But I wish it would rain!" and, with the worried look still on his face, the farmer climbed the fence and walked through the rows of corn.

      Meanwhile the two brothers started on an easy run down the highway. They knew they might have a long chase after the runaway, and they wanted to save their energies.

      "Suppose he runs into a carriage, or something, and gets all cut and bruised and lame, so he can't work," spoke Will.

      "What's the use of supposing any such thing as that?" asked Jed. "Probably he'll run until he gets tired, and we'll find him along the road, waiting for us."

      "I'm afraid something will happen," went on Will, rather gloomily. "Maybe, as dad said, the gypsies will steal him."

      "Nonsense!" retorted Jed, taking a more hopeful view. "What's the use of worrying until you have to?"

      "But if we lose that horse it will be a serious blow to dad. He's only got these two, and there's no money left to hire or buy another."

      "How do you know?"

      "I heard him and mother talking about it the other night. She asked him why he didn't hire Joe Wright's horse, to help with the cultivating, and he said he couldn't afford it."

      "Well, of course it would be serious if we only had one horse left to do the farm work with," admitted Jed. "But Pete isn't lost yet."

      "It will be my fault if he is," said his brother. "I suppose I shouldn't have unharnessed him from the cultivator. He couldn't have run very far, dragging that."

      "I guess not. But we'll find him, all right."

      "I can't see any more of him."

      "No, he's gone around the bend in the road. We'll make some inquiries when we get there."

      The two lads went on at a dog-trot. In spite of the calm way in which he took it, Jed was not a little worried over the running away of the horse. A number of things might happen to the animal, and even the loss of its services meant a serious handicap at the farm in those hard times. Both boys felt that they simply must recover the animal, before it had run too far.

      As

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