it. Then the lad placed his bag on the ground and sat down on a
pile of hay.

With head in hands, he tried to think, to plan, but somehow his
mind seemed unable to perform its proper functions. It simply
would not work.

"Not much of a start in the world, this," grinned Phil, shifting
his position so as to command a better view of the world, for he
did not want anyone to see him. "I suppose Uncle Abner is
getting supper now. But where am I going to get mine? I hadn't
thought of that before. It looks very much as if I should have
to go without. But I don't care. Perhaps it will do me good to
miss a meal," decided the boy sarcastically. "I've been eating
too much lately, anyhow."

Twilight came; then the shadows of night slowly settled over the
landscape, while the lad lay stretched out on the sweet-smelling
hay, hands supporting his head, gazing up into the starlit sky.

Slowly his heavy eyelids fluttered and closed, and Phil was
asleep. The night was warm and he experienced no discomfort. He
was a strong, healthy boy, so that sleeping out of doors was no
hardship to him. All through the night he slept as soundly as if
he had been in his own bed at home. Nor did he awaken until the
bright sunlight of the morning finally burned his eyelids apart.

Phil started up rubbing his eyes.

At first he wondered where he was. But the sight of his bag