long way it was, stretching out there, dusty and hot.

The room was quite dark now save for the light on the narrow road there.
What was yonder little village in the distance? What kind of a place was
Emmaus? His mother had told him about it; only one street, a long and
narrow one; and very few trees; and one or two trading shops only;
and the houses low and flat-roofed, with no glass in them; and the
sun shining down hot and straight between them,--and (oh, how his head
ached!) he was out there looking for Bob Sykes. Maybe that was he lying
on this rude bench with the low cedar-bush over it. If it were, he would
settle matters with him quick. He would show him--but it wasn't Bob,
it was only a sheep-dog asleep. So Tommy turned away and walked slowly
along the middle of the street. His face burned with the heat of the sun
on his bruises. He was very thirsty. Climbing a little hill over which
the road lay, he saw on the other side of it another boy coming toward
him. He was rather a peculiar looking boy, with a face thoughtful but
pleasant. He was carrying a heavy sheepskin bag over his shoulder. Tommy
determined to ask him if he knew where there was some water.

"Hello," he said, as the boy drew near.

The boy stopped and smiled at Tommy without making reply.

"Where are you going?" said Tommy.

"I am carrying this bag of tools to my father," the boy answered.

"Do you live here?" asked Tommy. "It doesn't seem like much of a place."

"No," said the boy, "it isn't much of a place, but I live here."

"What sort of tools have you got in your bag? Who is your father?"

"My father is a carpenter," answered the boy.

Tommy gave a long, low whistle. "A carpenter! Why my father owns a
store, and we live in one of the best houses in town. Fairfield is the
name of my town."

The boy seemed neither to notice the whistle nor the brag; but, allowing
the bag to slip from his shoulders to the ground, stood, still smiling,
before Tommy.

Tommy, who somehow had forgotten his pain and thirst, felt embarrassed
for a moment. He never before had made that announcement without its
awakening at least a little sensation, even if it were no more than a
boast in return.

"This is a dull old town," he finally said. "Many jolly boys around?"

"A good many," answered the boy.

"Do you get any time to play? I suppose though, you don't--you have to
work most of the time," added Tommy, encouragingly.

"I work a good deal," said the