men's land as he would his own. Owners of outlying farms had been
glad to get Mr. Strong to till their fields.

He had known how to work, he knew the reasons for every bit of labor
he performed, and he had not kept his son in ignorance of them. As they
worked together the father had explained to the son what he did, and why
he did it, The results of their work spoke for themselves, and Hiram had
a retentive memory.

Mr. Strong, too, had been a great, reader--especially in the winter when
the farmer naturally has more time in-doors.

Yet he was a "twelve months farmer"; he knew that the winter, despite
the broken nature of the work, was quite as valuable to the successful
farmer as the other seasons of the year.

The elder Strong knew that men with more money, and more time for
experimenting than he had, were writing and publishing all the time
helps for the wise farmer. He subscribed for several papers, and read
and digested them carefully.

Hiram, even during his two years in the city, had continued his
subscription (although it was hard to find the money sometimes) to two
or three of those publications that his father had most approved. And
the boy had read them faithfully.

He was as up-to-date in farming lore now, if not in actual practise, as
he had been when he left the country to try his fortune in Crawberry.

Beyond the place where the branch turned back upon itself and hid its
source in the thicker timber, Hiram saw that the fields were open on
both sides of this westerly line of the farm.

"Who's our neighbor over yonder, Henry?" he asked.

"Dickerson--Sam Dickerson," said Henry. "And he's got a boy, Pete, no
older than us. Say, Hiram, you'll have trouble with Pete Dickerson."

"Oh, I guess not," returned the young farmer, laughing. "Trouble is
something that I don't go about hunting for."

"You don't have to hunt it when Pete is round," said Henry with a wry
grin. "But mebbe he won't bother you, for he's workin' near town--for
that new man that's moved into the old Fleigler place. Bronson's his
name. But if Pete don't bother you, Sam may."

"Sam's the father?"

"Yep. And one poor farmer and mean man, if ever there was one! Oh, Pete
comes by his orneriness honestly enough."

"Oh, I hope I'll have no trouble with any neighbor," said Hiram,
hopefully.

They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to Mrs. Atterson's newly
acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the hog lot. She looked like a goo