relatives after his father died. The latter had been a
tenant-farmer only, and when his tools and stock and the few
household chattels had been sold to pay the debts that had
accumulated during his last illness, there was very little money
left for Hiram.

There was nobody to say him nay when he packed his bag and
started for Crawberry, which was the metropolis of his part of
the country. He had set out boldly, believing that he could get
ahead faster, and become master of his own fortune more quickly
in town than in the locality where he was born.

He was a rugged, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall,
but sturdy and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done
a man's work before he left the farm.

Hiram's hands were calloused, he shuffled a bit when walked, and
his shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow
handles since he had been big enough to bridle his father's old
mare.

Yes, the work on the farm had been hard--especially for a growing
boy. Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had.

Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has
in store for most country boys who cut loose from their old
environment, Hiram Strong felt to-day as though he must get back
to the land.

"There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium