lying a little to one side brought back with a rush the memory of
what had happened to him the evening before.

"Why, it's morning," marveled the lad, blinking in the strong
sunlight. "And I've slept on this pile of hay all night. It's
the first time I ever slept out of doors, and I never slept
better in my life. Guess I'll fix myself up a little."

Phil remembered that a little trout stream cut across the field
off to the right. Taking up his bag, he started for the stream,
where he made his toilet as best he could, finishing up by lying
flat on his stomach, taking a long, satisfying drink of the
sparkling water.

"Ah, that feels better," he breathed, rolling over on the bank.
After a little he helped himself to another drink. "But I've got
to do something. I can't stay out here in this field all the
rest of my life. And if I don't find something to eat I'll
starve to death. I'll go downtown and see if I can't earn my
breakfast somehow."

Having formed this resolution, Phil took up his belongings and
started away toward the village. His course led him right past
Abner Adams' house, but, fortunately, Mr. Adams was not in sight.
Phil would have felt a keen humiliation had he been forced to
meet the taunts of his uncle. He hurried on past the house
without glancing toward it.

He had gone on for some little way when he was halted by a
familiar voice.