e head of the grinning Smiler
popped round the door-post.

"Hi, there;--come here!" shouted Phil.

Smiler came in, tattered and unkempt as usual, but wiry and sinewed,
as anyone could see at a glance. A different Smiler from what he was
only a short year ago before he was regularly fed! The open air and
the unfettered life, in conjunction with Mrs. Sol Hanson's wholesome
fare had worked miracles on his constitution.

"I'll bet you five dollars, Sol, that this young rascal can make a
horse shoe right now from a straight piece of steel, and do it better
too than a whole lot of journeymen blacksmiths that I know."

"Aw, go on!" laughed Sol.

"Why, man!--that kid's been in and around this shop for years.
Everybody thinks he is crazy and calls him crazy. How could he be
anything else but crazy? with such a bunch of mean thought from his
fellow men to contend with? You would be crazy yourself under similar
circumstances.

"Give the boy one real chance."

"Forget it! No good!" said Sol.

Phil took out his purse and pulled out a bill.

"All right!--there's my five dollars. Cover it,--and we'll prove it
right here."

"I take you!" cried Sol.

"And if Smiler makes a tolerable shape at it, you'll start him in?"

"You bet!"

"Here, Smiler! You show Sol how to make a horse shoe."

Smiler stood and grinned, shaking his head in the direction of Sol,
who had always shown a tradesman's rooted objection to anyone handling
any of his tools at any time and had more than once chased Smiler out
of the premises for touching a hammer.

"It is all right, son! Sol won't say a word. Go to it; and, if you do
it right that ten dollars there are yours and you'll get working here
with Sol all the time and will make plenty of money."

Smiler threw off his ragged coat in a second, tied on one of Phil's
old aprons in a business-like way, rolled up his sleeves--what was
left of the lower parts of them--picked up a piece of steel, thrust it
into the heart of the fire and started the bellows roaring.

And in time--before the bewildered face of Sol Hanson--he took out
the almost white-hot iron, tested it, hammered it and turned it, with
the skill of a master-craftsman, heeding no one; all intent on his
work. He chiselled it, he beat it, he turned it and holed it, then
tempered the completed shoe, handing it over finally with a crooked
smile on his begrimed and sweat-glistening face.

Sol was positively dazed. When he did come to a tr