to a bin truck that stood empty. Into this he dived out of sight, crutch
and all. The superintendent of the mill was coming along, accompanied by a
young man. He was well dressed and wore a starched shirt--a gentleman, in
Johnny's classification of men, and also, "the Inspector."

He looked sharply at the boys as he passed along. Sometimes he stopped and
asked questions. When he did so, he was compelled to shout at the top of
his lungs, at which moments his face was ludicrously contorted with the
strain of making himself heard. His quick eye noted the empty machine
alongside of Johnny's, but he said nothing. Johnny also caught his eye,
and he stopped abruptly. He caught Johnny by the arm to draw him back a
step from the machine; but with an exclamation of surprise he released the
arm.

"Pretty skinny," the superintendent laughed anxiously.

"Pipe stems," was the answer. "Look at those legs. The boy's got the
rickets--incipient, but he's got them. If epilepsy doesn't get him in the
end, it will be because tuberculosis gets him first."

Johnny listened, but did not understand. Furthermore he was not interested
in future ills. There was an immediate and more serious ill that
threatened him in the form of the inspector.

"Now, my boy, I want you to tell me the truth," the inspector said, or
shouted, bending close to the boy's ear to make him hear. "How old are
you?"

"Fourteen," Johnny lied, and he lied with the full force of his lungs. So
loudly did he lie that it started him off in a dry, hacking cough that