uminated Hiram, as he watched the
horses out of sight. "Well, if his father, Sam, is anything like him, we
certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!"
CHAPTER XII. SOMETHING ABOUT A PASTURE FENCE
That afternoon Hiram hitched up the old horse and drove into town.
He went to see the lawyer who had transacted Uncle Jeptha Atterson's
small business in the old man's lifetime, and had made his will--Mr.
Strickland. Hiram judged that this gentleman would know as much about
the Atterson place as anybody.
"No--Mr. Atterson never said anything to me about giving a neighbor
water-rights," the lawyer said. "Indeed, Mr. Atterson was not a man
likely to give anything away--until he had got through with it himself.
"Dickerson once tried to buy a right at that corner of the Atterson
pasture; but he and the old gentleman couldn't come to terms.
"Dickerson has no water on his place, saving his well and his rights on
the river. It makes it bad for him, I suppose; but I do not advise Mrs.
Atterson to let that fence stand. Give that sort of a man an inch and
he'll take a mile."
"But what shall I do?"
"That's professional advice, young man," returned the lawyer, "smiling.
But I will give it to you without charge.
"Merely go and pull the new posts up and replace them on the line. If
Dickerson interferes with you, come to me and we'll have him bound over
before the Justice of the Peace.
"You represent Mrs. Atterson and are within her rights. That's the best
I can tell you."
Now, Hiram was not desirous of starting any trouble--legal or
otherwise--with a neighbor; but neither did he wish to see anybody take
advantage of his old boarding mistress. He knew that, beside farming
for her, he would probably have to defend her from many petty annoyances
like the present case.
So he bought the wire he needed for repairs, a few other things that
were necessary, and drove back to the farm, determined to go right ahead
and await the consequences.
Among his purchases was an axe. In the workshop on the farm was a fairly
good grindstone; only the treadle was broken and Hiram had to repair
this before he could make much headway in grinding the axe. Henry
Pollock lived too far away to be called upon in such a small emergency.
Being obliged to work alone sharpens one's wits. The young farmer had to
resort to shifts and expedients on every hand, as he went along.
The day before, while wandering in the wood, he had marked se
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