r turned around and
headed up the lane. Then he stopped to get an apple, for his fishing
trip had made him hungry and he knew that supper was still a good hour
off.

"I wish I had some other kind of a job," he murmured, with a sigh.
"Somehow, farming doesn't seem to be just the right thing for me. Wish I
was in some big city."

"Hurry up with that cow!" cried Abner Balberry. "Do you think I'm going
to stop here all night fer milkin'?"

"I'm coming!" sang out Nat. "Get along, Jule, you old slow poke!"

He gave the cow a slap on the side, and away she flew up the lane. The
boy followed, finishing the apple as he went.

As it happened several cows were bunched up near the entrance to the
lane and as the new cow appeared, driven by Nat, the bunch scattered.
Then Jule ran directly into the barnyard.

"Hi! hi! stop!" yelled Abner Balberry. "Drat the beast! Stop!"

But the new cow did not stop, and a moment later she stepped into a
pailful of milk, and tipped it over. Then she ran against another cow
that the farmer was milking. This cow swerved around, and in a twinkling
Abner Balberry was thrown on his back and the milk was sent flying over
him.

CHAPTER II

A QUARREL IN THE BARNYARD

The sight of Abner Balberry flat on his back, and with the milk flowing
over him, was a comical one, and for the instant Nat had to laugh
out-right.

"Hi! hi!" roared the farmer. "Git away! Drat the beasts! Now, Nat Nason,
jest see what you've done!"

He struggled to his feet, and Nat at once became sober, for he realized
that trouble was at hand.

"It's too bad, Uncle Abner----" began the youth.

"Too bad? I should say it was too bad!" cried the farmer. "An' all your
fault, too!"

"I can't see how it was my fault. You told me to drive the cow up here."

"Don't tell me, Nat Nason! It's your fault. An' all that fresh milk gone
to waste!" Abner Balberry gave a groan. "I don't know most what I'm
a-goin' to do with you fer this."

"I can't see how it's my fault."

"You made the cows git frightened."

"No, I didn't."

"Don't tell me! Don't you know that milk is worth money?"

"Yes, but----"

"You scart thet cow out o' her wits," went on the farmer, his rage
growing as he looked at the spilt milk. "Nat Nason, I tell you, you're a
bad boy!"

To this the youth made no reply.

"I'm a-goin' to teach ye a lesson fer it!"

"Shall I milk Jule?"

"Yes, an' mind ye don't spill a drop nuther!"

Silently Nat went t