CHAPTER III

MAKING HIS START IN THE WORLD

The sun was just setting as Phil Forrest strode out of the yard.
Once outside of the gate he paused, glancing irresolutely up and
down the street. Which way to turn or where to go he did not
know. He had not thought before of what he should do.

Phil heard the clatter of Abner Adams' stick as the old man
thumped about in the kitchen.

Suddenly the door was jerked open with unusual violence.

"Begone!" bellowed Mr. Adams, brandishing his cane threateningly.

Phil turned down the street, without casting so much as a glance
in the direction of his wrathful uncle, and continued on toward
the open country. To anyone who had observed him there was
nothing of uncertainty in the lad's walk as he swung along. As a
matter of fact, Phil had not the slightest idea where he was
going. He knew only that he wanted to get away by himself.

On the outskirts of the village men had been at work that day,
cutting and piling up hay. The field was dotted with heaps of
the fragrant, freshly garnered stuff.

Phil hesitated, glanced across the field, and, noting that the
men had all gone home for the day, climbed the fence. He walked
on through the field until he had reached the opposite side of