"Let no one see it. Above all, don't
let it fall into the hands of Henry Clay, or my life will be in peril."

Harry solemnly assured him that Henry Clay should never see it, and
shaking the old man by the hand, made his way across the fields to the
main road. Looking back from time to time, he saw the old man watching
him from his place in the doorway, his eyes shaded by his hand.

"He is the strangest man I ever saw," thought Harry. "Still he treated
me kindly. I should like to find out some more about him."

When he reached the road he saw, just in front of him, a boy of about
his own age driving half a dozen cows before him.

"Perhaps he can tell me something about the old man."

"Hello!" he cried, by way of salutation.

"Hello!" returned the country boy. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Wherever I can find work," answered our hero.

The boy laughed. "Dad finds enough for me to do. I don't have to go
after it. Haven't you got a father?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you work for him?"

"I want to work for pay."

"On a farm?"

"No. I'll work in a shoe shop if I get a chance or in a printing
office."

"Do you understand the shoe business?"

"No; but I can learn."

"Where did you come from?"

"Granton."

"You didn't come from there this morning?"

"No, I guess not, as it's over twenty miles. Last night I stopped at
General Jackson's."

The boy whistled.

"What, at the old crazy man's that lives down here a piece?"

"Yes."

"What made you go there?"

"It began, to rain, and I had no other place to go."

"What did he say?" asked the new boy with curiosity.

"Did he cut up?"

"Cut up? No, unless you mean the bread. He cut up that."

"I mean, how did he act?"

"All right, except when he was talking about being General Jackson."

"Did you sleep there?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't sleep in a crazy man's house."

"He wouldn't hurt you."

"I don't know about that. He chases us boys often, and threatens to kill
us."

"You plague him, don't you?"

"I guess we do. We call him 'Old Crazy,' and that makes him mad. He says
Henry Clay puts us up to it--ho, ho, ho!"

"He thinks Clay is his enemy. He told me so."

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I didn't contradict him. I called him general. He treated me
tip-top. He is going to make me Minister of France, when he is President
again."

"Maybe that was the best way to get along."

"How long has he lived here? What ma