Chapter VII. Ends in a Tragedy.

Driven From Home

by Horatio Alger

Carl obtained permission to leave his trunk at the Vance mansion,
merely taking out what he absolutely needed for a change.

"When I am settled I will send for it," he said. "Now I
shouldn't know what to do with it."

There were cordial good-bys, and Carl started once more on the
tramp. He might, indeed, have traveled by rail, for he had ten
dollars and thirty-seven cents; but it occurred to him that in
walking he might meet with some one who would give him employment.
Besides, he was not in a hurry to get on, nor had he any definite
destination. The day was fine, there was a light breeze, and he
experienced a hopeful exhilaration as he walked lightly on, with the
world before him, and any number of possibilities in the way of
fortunate adventures that might befall him.

He had walked five miles, when, to the left, he saw an elderly
man hard at work in a hay field. He was leaning on his rake, and
look- ing perplexed and troubled. Carl paused to rest, and as he
looked over the rail fence, attracted the attention of the farmer.

"I say, young feller, where are you goin'?" he asked.

"I don't know--exactly."

"You don't know where you are goin'?" repeated the farmer, in
surprise.

Carl laughed. "I am going out in the world to seek my fortune,"
he said.

"You be? Would you like a job?" asked the farmer, eagerly.

"What sort of a job?"

"I'd like to have you help me hayin'. My hired man is sick, and
he's left me in a hole. It's goin' to rain, and----"

"Going to rain?" repeated Carl, in surprise, as he looked up at
the nearly cloudless sky.

"Yes. It don't look like it, I know, but old Job Hagar say
it'll rain before night, and what he don't know about the weather
ain't worth knowin'. I want to get the hay on this meadow into the
barn, and then I'll feel safe, rain or shine."

"And you want me to help you?"

"Yes; you look strong and hardy."

"Yes, I am pretty strong," said Carl, complacently.

"Well, what do you say?"

"All right. I'll help you."

Carl gave a spring and cleared the fence, landing in the hay
field, having first thrown his valise over.

"You're pretty spry," said the farmer. "I couldn't do that."

"No, you're too heavy," said Carl, smiling, as he noted the
clumsy figure of his employer. "Now, what shall I do?"

"Take that rake and rake up the hay. Then we'll go over to the
barn and get the hay wagon."

"Where is your barn?"

The farmer pointed across the fields to a story-and-a-half
farmhouse, and standing near it a good-sized barn, brown from want of
paint and exposure to sun and rain. The buildings were perhaps
twenty-five rods distant.

"Are you used to hayin'?" asked the farmer.

"Well, no, not exactly; though I've handled a rake before."

Carl's experience, however, had been very limited. He had, to
be sure, had a rake in his hand, but probably he had not worked more
than ten minutes at it. However, raking is easily learned, and his
want of experience was not detected. He started off with great
enthusiasm, but after a while thought it best to adopt the more
leisurely movements of the farmer. After two hours his hands began
to blister, but still he kept on.

"I have got to make my living by hard work," he said to himself,
"and it won't do to let such a little thing as a blister
interfere."

When he had been working a couple of hours, he began to feel
hungry. His walk, and the work he had been doing, sharpened his
appetite till he really felt uncomfortable. It was at this
time--just twelve o'clock--that the farmer's wife came to the front
door and blew a fish horn so vigorously that it could probably have
been heard half a mile.

"The old woman's got dinner ready," said the farmer. "If you
don't mind takin' your pay in victuals, you can go along home with
me, and take a bite."

"I think I could take two or three, sir."

"Ho, ho! that's a good joke! Money's scarce, and I'd rather
pay in victuals, if it's all the same to you."

"Do you generally find people willing to work for their board?"
asked Carl, who knew that he was being imposed upon.

"Well, I might pay a leetle more. You work for me till sundown,
and I'll give you dinner and supper, and--fifteen cents."

Carl wanted to laugh. At this rate of compensation he felt that
it would take a long time to make a fortune, but he was so hungry
that he would have accepted board alone if it had been necessary.

"I agree," he said. "Shall I leave my rake here?"

"Yes; it'll be all right."

"I'll take along my valise, for I can't afford to run any risk
of losing it."

"Jest as you say."

Five minutes brought them to the farmhouse.

"Can I wash my hands?" asked Carl.

"Yes, you can go right to the sink and wash in the tin basin.
There's a roll towel behind the door. Mis' Perkins"--that was the
way he addressed his wife--"this is a young chap that I've hired to
help me hayin'. You can set a chair for him at the table."

"All right, Silas. He don't look very old, though."

"No, ma'am. I ain't twenty-one yet," answered Carl, who was
really sixteen.

"I shouldn't say you was. You ain't no signs of a mustache."

"I keep it short, ma'am, in warm weather," said Carl.

"It don't dull a razor any to cut it in cold weather, does it?"
asked the farmer, chuckling at his joke.

"Well, no, sir; I can't say it does."

It was a boiled dinner that the farmer's wife provided, corned
beef and vegetables, but the plebeian meal seemed to Carl the best he
ever ate. Afterwards there was apple pudding, to which he did equal
justice.

"I never knew work improved a fellow's appetite so," reflected
the young traveler. "I never ate with so much relish at home."

After dinner they went back to the field and worked till the
supper hour, five o'clock. By that time all the hay had been put into
the barn.

"We've done a good day's work," said the farmer, in a tone of
satisfaction, "and only just in time. Do you see that dark
cloud?"

"Yes, sir."

"In half an hour there'll be rain, or I'm mistaken. Old Job
Hagar is right after all."

The farmer proved a true prophet. In half an hour, while they
were at the supper table, the rain began to come down in large drops
--forming pools in the hollows of the ground, and drenching all
exposed objects with the largesse of the heavens.

"Where war you a-goin' to-night?" asked the farmer.

"I don't know, sir."

"I was thinkin' that I'd give you a night's lodgin' in place of
the fifteen cents I agreed to pay you. Money's very skeerce with me,
and will be till I've sold off some of the crops."

"I shall be glad to make that arrangement," said Carl, who had
been considering how much the farmer would ask for lodging, for there
seemed small chance of continuing his journey. Fifteen cents was a
lower price than he had calculated on.

"That's a sensible idea!" said the farmer, rubbing his hands
with satisfaction at the thought that he had secured valuable help at
no money outlay whatever.

The next morning Carl continued his tramp, refusing the offer of
continued employment on the same terms. He was bent on pursuing his
journey, though he did not know exactly where he would fetch up in
the end.

At twelve o'clock that day he found himself in the outskirts of
a town, with the same uncomfortable appetite that he had felt the day
before, but with no hotel or restaurant anywhere near. There was,
however, a small house, the outer door of which stood conveniently
open. Through the open window, Carl saw a table spread as if for
dinner, and he thought it probable that he could arrange to become a
boarder for a single meal. He knocked at the door, but no one came.
He shouted out: "Is anybody at home?" and received no answer. He
went to a small barn just outside and peered in, but no one was to be
seen.

What should he do? He was terribly hungry, and the sight of the
food on the table was tantalizing.

"I'll go in, as the door is open," he decided, "and sit down to
the table and eat. Somebody will be along before I get through, and
I'll pay whatever is satisfactory, for eat I must."

He entered, seated himself, and ate heartily. Still no one
appeared.

"I don't want to go off without paying," thought Carl. "I'll
see if I can find somebody."

He opened the door into the kitchen, but it was deserted. Then
he opened that of a small bedroom, and started back in terror and
dismay.

There suspended from a hook--a man of middle age was hanging,
with his head bent forward, his eyes wide open, and his tongue
protruding from his mouth!