Chapter 1

MATT HIRES OUT.

It was a raw, cold day in early April. Since morning, the clouds had been gathering, and they now hung, dark and heavy, over both land and sea. The wind, too, which had been steadily increasing for hours in violence, now blew little short of a gale. It evidently was going to be a terrible night, and that night was nearly at hand.

No one realized this more than the boy who, with a small bundle in one hand and a stout staff in the other, was walking rapidly along the road that runs, for the greater part of the way, in sight of Long Island Sound, from New Haven to New London.

He was a youth that would have attracted attention anywhere. Tall for his age, which could not have been far from eighteen years, he was also of good proportions, and walked with an ease and stride which suggested reserved strength and muscular development; but it was the boy's face that was most noticeable. Frank, open, of singular beauty in feature and outline, there was also upon it unmistakable evidences of intelligence, resoluteness and honesty of purpose. A close observer might also have detected traces of suffering or of sorrow--possibly of some great burden hard to bear.

The boy was none too warmly clad for the chilly air and piercing wind, and now and then drew his light overcoat about him, as though even his rapid walking did not make him entirely comfortable.

He, moreover, looked eagerly ahead, like one who was watching for some signs of his destination. Reaching at length the foot of a long hill, he drew a sigh of relief, and said, aloud:

"I must be near the place now. They said it was at the top of the first long hill I came to, and this must be it."

As he spoke, he quickened his pace to a run and soon reached the summit, quite out of breath, but with a genial warmth in his body that he had not experienced for some hours.

Pausing now a moment to catch his breath, he looked about him. Dim as was the light of the fast-falling evening, he could not help giving an exclamation of delight at the view he beheld.

To the west of him he saw the twinkling lights of several villages, through which he had already passed. To the north, there was a vast stretch of land, shrouded in darkness. To the south was the Sound, its tossing waves capped with white, its islands like so many gems on the bosom of the angry waters.

"It must be a beautiful place to live in, and I hope to find a home here," he remarked, as he resumed his journey.

A few rods farther he reached a farmhouse and turned up to its nearest door. As he was about to knock, a man came from the barn-yard, a little distance away, and accosted him.

"Good-evening!"

"Good-evening!" responded the boy. Then he asked, "Is this Mr. Noman?"

"No, I'm Mr. Goodenough," answered the man, pleasantly. "Noman lives on the adjoining farm. You will have to turn into the next gateway and go down the lane, as his house stands some distance from the road."

"I was told," explained the boy, "that he wished to hire help, and I hoped to get work there. Could you tell me what the prospect is?"

The man had now reached the boy's side, and was looking him over with evident curiosity.

"Well," he replied, slowly. "I think he wants a young fellow for the coming season, and hadn't hired any one the last I knew. But I think you must be a stranger in these parts?"

"Yes," the youth answered, briefly.

And then, thanking the man for his information, he turned away.

"I thought so," Mr. Goodenough called after him, "else you wouldn't want to go there to work."

The boy scarcely gave heed to the remark at the time; but it was not long before he learned, by hard experience, the meaning of it.

A quarter of a mile up the road he reached a gate, and, passing through it, hastened down the narrow lane till he came to a long, low, dilapidated house; but in the darkness, which had by this time fallen, he was not able to form any definite idea of his surroundings.

A feeble light issued from a back window, and, guided by that, he found the rear door of the building.

To his knock there was a chorus of responses. Dogs barked, children screamed, and above the din a gruff voice shouted, "Come in!"

A little disconcerted by the unusual sounds, the boy, instead of obeying the invitation, knocked again.

Then there was a heavy step across the floor, the door swung open with a jerk, and a tall, raw-boned man, shaggy-bearded and shock haired, stood on the threshold.

Eying the boy a moment in surprise, he asked, somewhat surlily:

"What do ye want, youngster?"

"Are you Mr. Noman?" the boy asked.

"Yes; what of it?" he answered, sharply.

"I was told you wanted help, and I have called to see about it," explained the boy.

"Come in, then!" said Mr. Noman.

And his tones were wonderfully modified.

The boy now obeyed, and found himself in a large room, evidently the kitchen and living-room all in one. There was no carpet on the floor, and a stove, a table and a half-dozen chairs constituted its furniture.

Three large dogs lay before the fire, growling sullenly. A woman and four small children were seated at the table. An empty chair and an unemptied plate showed that Mr. Noman had been eating when he was called to the door.

There was food enough upon the table, but its disorderly arrangement, and the haphazard way in which each child was helping itself, caused the boy to give an involuntary shudder, as his host invited him to sit down "an' take a bite, while they talked over business together."

Mr. Noman evidently meant to give his caller a flattering impression of his hospitality, for he heaped the boy's plate with cold pork, brown bread and vegetables, and even called on his wife to get some of that "apple sass" for the young stranger.

The boy was hungry, and the food was, after all, wholesome, and he stowed away a quantity that surprised himself, if not his host.

When supper was eaten, Mr. Noman pushed back his chair and abruptly asked his guest:

"Who air ye?"

"Matt Rives," promptly replied the boy.

"That's a kinder cur'us name, now, ain't it?" questioned Mr. Noman. "I dunno any Riveses round here. Where be ye from?"

"I came from New York State," replied Matt, with the air of one who had studied his answer, but it seemed for some reason to be very satisfactory to his questioner.

"Any parents?" next inquired Mr. Noman.

"No, sir--nor brothers nor sisters. I've no one but myself to look out for."

"I guess ye ain't used to farm work, be ye?" now inquired Mr. Noman, doubtingly, and looking at Matt's hands, which were as white and soft as a lady's.

"No, sir; but I'm willing to learn," assured Matt.

"Of course ye can't expect much in the way of wages," remarked Mr. Noman, cautiously.

"No, not until I can do my full share of work," replied Matt, indifferently.

A light gleamed for a moment in Mr. Noman's eyes.

"I might give ye ten dollars a month an' board, beginnin' the fust of next month, ye to work round for yer board till then," he ventured.

"Very well," responded the boy; and immediately after he added, "I've walked a good ways to-day, and if you don't mind I'll go to my room."

"Perhaps we'd better draw up a paper of agreement an' both of us sign it," suggested Mr. Noman, rubbing his hands vigorously together, as though well pleased with himself and everybody else.

"All right, if that is your custom," said Matt. "Draw up the paper to suit you, and I'll sign it."

After considerable effort, Mr. Noman produced the following document:

"On this 10th day of April, Matt Rives, a miner of New York State, agres to work for me, Thomas Noman. He's to begin work May fust, an' work 6 munths at 10 dollers an' bord. He's too work till May fust for his bord. If he quits work 'fore his time is up he's to have no pay. To this we agre.

"THOMAS NOMAN, on his part."

Matt read the paper, and could scarcely suppress a smile as he signed his name under Mr. Noman's, and, in imitation of him, added the words "on his part" after the signature.

He knew, however much importance Mr. Noman might attach to it, that as a legal document it had no special force. He simply set down the whole act as one of the whims of his eccentric employer, and gave no more thought to the matter. But it was destined to serve that gentleman's purpose, nevertheless, until taken forcibly from him.

Mr. Noman now showed Matt up to a back room on the second floor, and, telling him that he would call him early in the morning, bade him good-night.

The room Matt had entered was bare and cold; a single chair, a narrow bedstead, a rude rack on the wall to hang his garments upon, were all it contained.

Yet it was evidently with some satisfaction that he opened his bundle, hung up the few clothes it held and prepared for bed.

As he drew the quilts over him, he murmured:

"I don't think I ever had more uncomfortable quarters in my life, and the outlook for the next six months at least is far from encouraging. Still, I would not go back to what I have left behind for anything."

He was tired. The rain that was now falling heavily upon the roof just over his head acted as a sedative and lulled him to sleep. But his was not an unbroken rest, for at times he tossed to and fro and muttered strange, disconnected sentences. One was:

"I know it was not he. I will pay it back to the last cent."

After that the troubled sleeper must have had pleasanter dreams, for a smile played about his lips, and he murmured:

"It is all right now; I've a home at last."

From these, however, he was rudely awakened by a gruff call:

"Matt, Matt! git up an' come out to the barn."

Sleepy, bewildered, he arose and groped about in the darkness for his clothing. By the time he was dressed a full consciousness of his situation had come back to him, and, with a stout heart, Matt went out to begin what was to him equally new duties and a new life.