t wild horses couldn't drag a hint
of the same from me so early in the game. So we're quits on that
score, you see, Hugh."

The other jumped down off the wide-topped post, as though he thought he
should be continuing on his way home.

"I must be going, Thad," he remarked. "Supper-time, almost, you know;
and besides I have some chores to do. When a fellow will keep pets the
way I do, he's got to expect to spend some little time looking after
them. I wouldn't want to let any of mine suffer for lack of attention."

"And I wager they never do, Hugh!" declared the other, with his
customary stanch faith in his chum. "You have it fixed so that your
homing pigeons can always get feed from a trough that allows only a
scant ration to come down at a time, your 'lazy boy's self-feeder,'
I've heard you call it. And as for those fine Belgian hares that would
take first prize at any rabbit show, they live on the fat of the land.
Right now you're cultivating a bed of lettuce for them, as well as a
lot of cabbages, and such truck. Oh! no fear of any dumb beast, or
bird going hungry when it has Hugh Morgan for an owner."

"Thank you for the neat compliment, Thad," said Hugh, the glow in his
eyes telling how much he appreciated such honest praise. "I may have
my faults, like every boy has, but being cruel to or neglectful of
little creatures that are in my keeping isn't one of them. I'd hate to
think I could let a poor rabbit go hungry. I'd get out of bed in the
middle of the night, cold as it might be, and go out to my hutch, if I
got an idea in my head that I'd left a window open that might allow a
draught to blow in on the poor things."

"Well, I don't take to pets the same as you do, Hugh, but all the same
I can understand how you feel about them. It's the right way, to, and
no boy with any heart in him could be mean to helpless little animals.
I warrant you I know one fellow in Scranton who wouldn't get out of his
warm bed for any pet that ever lived."

"I suppose you're meaning Nick Lang," remarked Hugh. "Well, I don't
know. To tell you the truth, that boy is a mystery to me. Sometimes I
think that, bad as he seems to be, Nick isn't quite all yellow; that
there's a little streak of white in his make-up."

"Why, you surprise me, Hugh, when I hear you say that, and after all
you've seen of his mean ways, too. Think how he started to beat poor
Owen up that night; yes, and for years back he's been a big bully,
try