"He may suppose I'm drowned," thought Harry, "and he may have gone home
to tell the folks."

But there was such a sterling quality about Harvey that Harry could not
help feeling that he would find him in his place when he telegraphed to
him, no matter how great the delay or how doubtful the passage of the
creek.

But when he called there was no answer.

Still he kept the machine steadily ticking. He would not give up hoping
that Harvey was there, although his heart beat fast with nervous
anxiety. So far, he had not thought that his family might be frightened
about him. _He_ knew he was safe, and that had been enough. He had not
thought about other people.

But as these ideas were running through his head and troubling him
greatly, there came a "tick, tick" from the other side, then more of
them, but they meant nothing. Some one was there who could not work the
instrument.

Then suddenly came a message:

Is that you, Harry?

Joyfully, Harry answered:

Yes. Who wants to know?

The answer was:

Your father. He has just waked me up.--Harvey.

With a light heart, Harry telegraphed, as briefly as possible, an
account of his adventures; and then his father sent a message, telling
him that the family had heard that he had been carried away, and had
been greatly troubled about him, and that men had ridden down the stream
after him, and had not returned, and that he, Mr. Loudon, had just come
to Lewston's cabin, hoping for news by telegraph. Harvey had been there
all day. Mr. Loudon said he would now hurry home with the good news, but
before bidding his son good night, he told him that he must not think of
returning until the creek had fallen. He must stay at Aunt Judy's, or go
over to Hetertown.

When this had been promised, and a message sent to his mother and Kate,
Harry hastened to business. He telegraphed to Harvey to transmit the
company's messages as fast as he could; a boy would soon be there to
take them over to Hetertown. The answer came:

What messages?

Then Harry suddenly remembered that he had had the messages in the
breast-pocket of his coat all the time!

He dived at his pocket. Yes, there they were!

Was there ever such a piece of absurdity? He had actually carried those
despatches across the creek! After all the labor and expense of building
the telegraph, this had been the way that the first business messages
had crossed Crooked Creek!

When Harry made this discovery he burst out laughing. Why, he might as
well have carried them to Hetertown from Charity's cabin. It would
really have been better, for the distance was not so great.

Although he laughed, he felt a little humiliated. How Tom Selden, and
indeed everybody, would laugh if they knew it!

But there was no need to tell everybody, and so when he telegraphed the
fact to Harvey, he enjoined secrecy. He knew he could trust Harvey.

And now he became anxious about Jim. Would he be able to borrow a mule,
and would he come?

Every few minutes he went to the door and listened for the sound of
approaching hoofs, but nothing was to be heard but the low snoring of
Aunt Judy, who was fast asleep in a chair by the fireplace.

While thus waiting, a happy thought came into Harry's head. He opened
the messages--he had a right to do that, of course, as he was an
operator and had undertaken to transmit them--and he telegraphed them,
one by one, to Harvey, with instructions to him to send them back to
him.

"They shall come over the creek on our line, anyway," said Harry to
himself.

It did not take long to send them and to receive them again, for there
were only three of them. Then Harvey sent a message, congratulating
Harry on this happy idea, and also suggested that he, Harvey, should now
ride home, as it was getting late, and it was not likely that there
would be any more business that night.

Harry agreed to this, urging Harvey to return early in the morning, and
then he set to work to write out the messages. The company had not yet
provided itself with regular forms, but Harry copied the telegrams
carefully on note-paper, with which, with pen and ink, each station was
furnished, writing them, as far as possible, in the regular form and
style of the ordinary telegraphic despatch. Then he put them in an
envelope and directed them to Mr. Lyons, at Hetertown, indorsing them,
"In haste. To be transmitted to destination immediately."

"Now then," thought he, "nobody need know how these came over in the
first place, until we choose to tell them, and we won't do that until
we've sent over some messages in the regular way, and have proved that
our line is really of some use. And we won't charge the Mica Company
anything for these despatches. But yet, I don't know about that. I
certainly brought them over, and trouble enough I had to do it. I'll see
about charging, after I've talked it over with somebody. I reckon I'll
ask father about that. And I haven't delayed the messages, either; for
I've been waiting for Jim. I wonder where that boy can be!" And again
Harry went out of doors to listen.

Had he known that Jim was at that moment fast asleep in his bed at home,
Harry need not have gone to the door so often.

At last our operator began to be very sleepy, and having made up his
mind that if Jim arrived he would certainly wake him up, he aroused Aunt
Judy, who was now too sleepy to scold, and having succeeded in getting
her to lend him a blanket (it was her very best blanket, which she kept
for high days and holidays, and if she had been thoroughly awake she
would not have lent it for the purpose), and having spread it on the
floor, he lay down on it and was soon asleep.

Aunt Judy blew out one of the candles and set the other on the hearth.
Then she stumbled drowsily into the next room and shut the door after
her. In a few minutes every living creature in and about the place was
fast asleep, excepting some tree-frogs and katydids outside, who seemed
to have made up their minds to stay up all night.




CHAPTER XXV.

PROFITS AND PROJECTS.


The next morning, Harry was up quite early, and after having eaten a
very plain breakfast, which Aunt Judy prepared for him, he ran down to
the creek to see what chance there was for business.

There seemed to be a very good chance, for the creek had not fallen,
that was certain. If there was any change at all, the water seemed a
little higher than it was before.

Before long, Harvey arrived on the other side, accompanied by Tom Selden
and Wilson Ogden, who were very anxious to see how matters would
progress, now that there was some real work to do.

The boys sent messages and greetings backward and forward to each other
for about an hour, and then old Miles arrived with his mailbag, which
contained quite a number of telegrams, this time.

Not only were there those on the business of the Mica Company, but Mr.
Darby, the storekeeper at Akeville, thought it necessary to send a
message to Hetertown by the new line, and there were two or three other
private telegrams, that would probably never have been sent had it not
been for the novelty of the thing.

But that rascal, Jim Haskins, did not make his appearance, and when
Harry found that it was not likely that he would come at all, he induced
Aunt Judy to go out and look for some one to carry the telegrams to
Hetertown. Harry had just finished copying the messages--and this took
some time, for he wrote each one of them in official form--when Aunt
Judy returned, bringing with her a telegraphic messenger.

It was Uncle Braddock.

"Here's a man to take yer letters," said Aunt Judy, as she ushered in
the old man.

Harry looked up from his table in surprise.

"Why, Uncle Braddock," said he, "you can't carry these telegrams. I want
a boy, on a mule or a horse, to go as fast as he can."

"Lor' bress ye, Mah'sr Harry," said the old negro, "I kin git along fas'
enough. Aunt Judy said ye wanted Jim, an' Nobleses mule; but dat dar
mule he back hindwards jist about as much as he walks frontwards. I jist
keep right straight along, an' I kin beat dat dar ole mule, all holler.
Jist gim me yer letters, an' I'll tote 'em ober dar fur ten cents. Ye see
I wuz cotched on dis side de creek, an' wuz jist comin ober to see Aunt
Judy, when she telled me ob dis job. I'll tote yer letters, Mah'sr
Harry, fur ten cents fur de bag-full."

"I haven't a bag-full," said Harry; "but I reckon you'll have to take
them. There's nobody else about, it seems, and I can't leave the
station."

So Uncle Braddock was engaged as telegraph-boy, and Harry having
promised him twenty cents to go to Hetertown and to return with any
telegrams that were there awaiting transmission to the other side of the
creek, the old man set off with his little package, in high good humor
with the idea of earning money by no harder work than walking a few
miles.

Shortly after noon, he returned with a few messages from Hetertown, and
by that time there were some for him to carry back. So he made two trips
and forty cents that day--quite an income for Uncle Braddock.

In the evening, Jim Haskins made his appearance with his mule. He said
his brother hadn't told him anything about Harry's wanting him until
that afternoon. Notwithstanding Uncle Braddock's discouraging account of
the mule, Jim was engaged as messenger during the time that the creek
should be up, and Uncle Braddock was promised a job whenever an
important message should come during Jim's absence.

The next day it rained, and the creek was up, altogether, for five days.
During this time the telegraph company did a good deal of paying
business. Harry remained at his station, and boarded and lodged with
Aunt Judy. He frequently sent messages to his father and mother and
Kate, and never failed, from an early hour in the morning until dark, to
find the faithful Harvey at his post.

At last the creek "fell," and the bridge became again passable to Miles
and his waddling horse. The operators disconnected their wires, put
their apparatus in order, locked the wooden cases over their
instruments, and rode in triumph (Mr. Loudon had come in the buggy for
Harry) to Akeville.

Harry was received with open arms by his mother and Kate; and Mrs.
Loudon declared that this should be the last time that he should go on
such an expedition.

She was right.

The next afternoon there was a meeting of the Board of Managers of the
Crooked Creek Telegraph Company, and the Secretary, having been hard at
work all the morning, with the assistance of the Treasurer and the
President, made a report of the financial results of the recent five
days' working of the company's line.

It is not necessary to go into particulars, but when the sums due the
company from the Mica Company and sundry private individuals had been
set down on the one side, and the amounts due from the telegraph company
to Aunt Judy for candles and board and lodging for one operator; to
Uncle Braddock and Jim Haskins for services as messengers; to Hiram
Anderson for damages to boat (found near the river, stuck fast among
some fallen timber, with one end badly battered by floating logs), and
for certain extras in the way of additional stationery, etc., which it
had become necessary to procure from Hetertown, had been set down on the
other side, and the difference between the sums total had been
calculated, it was found, and duly reported, that the company had made
six dollars and fifty-three cents.

This was not very encouraging. It was seldom that the creek was up more
than five days at a time, and so this was a very favorable opportunity
of testing the value of the line as a money-making concern.

It was urged, however, by the more sanguine members of the Board that
this was not a fair trial. There had been many expenses which probably
would not have to be incurred again.

"But they didn't amount to so very much," said Kate, who, as Treasurer,
was present at the meeting. "Aunt Judy only charged a dollar and a half
for Harry's board, and the boat was only a dollar. And all the other
expenses would have to be expected any time."

After some further conversation on the subject, it was thought best to
attend to present business rather than future prospects, and to appoint
committees to collect the money due the company.

Harry and Tom Selden were delegated to visit the mica-mine people, while
Harvey, Wilson Ogden, and Brandeth Price composed the committee to
collect what was due from private individuals.

Before Harry started for the mica mine, he consulted his father in
regard to charging full price for the telegrams which he carried across
the creek in his pocket.

Mr. Loudon laughed a good deal at the transaction, but he told Harry
that there was no reason why he should not charge for those telegrams.
He had certainly carried them over in the first place, and the
subsequent double transmission over the wire was his own affair.

When Harry and Tom rode over to the mica mine the next morning, and
explained their business and presented their bill, their account was
found to be correct, and the amount of the bill was promptly handed to
them.

When this little business had been transacted, Mr. Martin, the manager
of the mine, invited them to sit down in his office and have a talk.

"This line of yours," said he, "is not going to pay you."

"Why not?" asked Harry, somewhat disturbed in mind by this sudden
statement of what he had already begun to fear was an unpleasant truth.

"It _has_ paid us," said Tom Selden. "Why, we've only been working it
five days, on regular business, and we've cleared--well, we've cleared
considerable."

"That may be," said the manager, smiling, "but you can't have made very
much, for you must have a good many expenses. The principal reason why I
think it won't pay you is that you have to keep up two stations, and you
all live on this side of the creek. I've heard that one of you had a
hard time getting over the creek last week."

"That was Harry," said Tom.

"So I supposed," said Mr. Martin; "and it must have been a pretty
dangerous trip. Now it won't do to do that sort of thing often; and you
can't tell when the creek's going to rise, so as to be over before the
bridge is flooded."

"That's true," said Harry. "Crooked Creek doesn't give much notice when
it's going to rise."

"No, it don't," continued Mr. Martin. "And it won't do, either, for any
one of you to live on the other side, just to be ready to work the line
in time of freshets. The creek isn't up often enough to make that pay."

"But what can we do?" asked Harry. "You surely don't think we're going
to give up this telegraph line just as it begins to work, and after all
the money that's been spent on it, and the trouble we've had?"

"No, I don't think you are the kind of fellows to give up a thing so
soon, and we don't want you to give it up, for it's been a great deal of
use to us already. What I think you ought to do is to run your line from
the other side of the creek to Hetertown. Then you'd have no trouble at
all. When the creek was up you could go down and work this end, and an
arrangement could easily be made to have the operator at Hetertown work
the other end, and then it would be all plain sailing. He could send the
telegrams right on, on the regular line, and there would be no trouble
or expense with messengers from the creek over to Hetertown."

"That would be a splendid plan," said Harry; "but it would cost like
everything to have a long line like that."

"It wouldn't cost very much," said Mr. Martin. "There are pine woods
nearly all the way, by the side of the road, and so it wouldn't cost
much for poles. And you've got the instruments for that end of the line.
All you'll have to do would be to take them over to Hetertown. You
wouldn't have to spend any money except for wire and for trimming off
the trees and putting up the wire."

"But that would be more than we could afford," said Tom Selden. "You
ought just to try to make the people about here subscribe to anything,
and you'd see what trouble it is to raise money out of them."

"Oh, I don't think you need let the want of money enough to buy a few
miles of wire prevent your putting up a really useful line," said Mr.
Martin; "our company would be willing to help you about that, I'm sure."

"If you'd help, that would make it altogether another thing," said
Harry; "but you'd have to help a good deal."

"Well, we would help a good deal," said Mr. Martin. "It would be to our
benefit, you know, to have a good line. That's what we want, and we're
willing to put some money in it. I suppose there'd be no difficulty in
getting permission to put up the line on the land between the creek and
Hetertown?"

"Oh, no!" said Harry. "A good part of the woods along the road belong to
father, and none of the people along there would object to us boys
putting up our line on their land."

"I thought they wouldn't," said Mr. Martin. "I'll talk to our people
about this, and see what they think of it."

As Harry and Tom rode home, Harry remarked, "Mr. Martin's a trump, isn't
he? I hope the rest of the mica-mine people will agree with him."

"I don't believe they will," said Tom. "Why, you see they'd have to pay
for the whole thing, and I reckon they won't be in a hurry to do that.
But wouldn't we have a splendid line if they were to do it?"

"I should say so," said Harry. "It's almost too good a thing to expect.
I'm afraid Mr. Martin won't feel quite so generous when he calculates
what it will cost."




CHAPTER XXVI.

A GRAND PROPOSITION.


The summer vacation was now over, and the Board of Managers of the
telegraph company, as well as the other boys of the vicinity, were
obliged to go to school again and study something besides the arts of
making money and transacting telegraphic business. But as there was not
much business of this kind to be done, the school interfered with the
company's affairs in little else than the collection of money due from
private individuals for telegraphic services rendered during the late
"rise" in the creek. The committee which had charge of this collection
labored very faithfully for some time, and before and after school and
during the noon recess, the members thereof made frequent visits to the
houses of the company's debtors. As there were not more than
half-a-dozen debtors, it might have been supposed that the business
would be speedily performed. But such was not the case. Mr. Darby, the
storekeeper, paid his bill promptly; and old Mr. Truly Matthews, who had
telegraphed to Washington to a nephew in the Patent Office Department,
"just to see how it would go," paid what he owed on the eighth visit of
Wilson Ogden to his house. He had not seen "how it would go," for his
nephew had not answered him, either by telegraph or mail, and he was in
no hurry to pay up, but he could not stand "that boy opening his gate
three times a day." As for the rest, they promised to settle as soon as
they could get some spare cash--which happy time they expected would
arrive when they sold their tobacco.

It is to be supposed that no one ever bought their tobacco, for they
never paid up.

The proceeds of the five days of telegraphing, together with the money
obtained by the sale of Harry's gun, were spent by Kate for Aunt
Matilda's benefit; and as she knew that it might be a good while before
there would be any more money coming, Kate was as economical as she
could be.

It was all very proper and kind to make the old woman's income hold out
as long as possible, but Aunt Matilda did not like this systematic and
economical way of living. It was too late in life for her, she said, "to
do more measurin' at a meal than chewin';" and so she became
discouraged, and managed, one fine morning, to hobble up to see Mrs.
Loudon about it.

"Ise afraid dese chillen ain't a-gwine to hold out," said she. "I don
know but what I'd better go 'long to the poor-house, arter all. And
there's that money I put inter de comp'ny. I ain't seen nothin' come o'
dat ar money yit."

"How much did you put in, Aunt Matilda?" asked Mrs. Loudon.

"Well, I needn't be a-sayin' jist how much it was; but it was solid
silver, anyway, and I don't reckon I'll ever see any of it back again.
But it don't differ much. Ise an old woman, and them chillen is a-doin'
their best."

"Yes, they are," said Mrs. Loudon; "and I think they're doing very well,
too. You haven't suffered for anything lately, have you?"

"Well, no," said the old woman, "I can't say that I've gone hungry or
nuthin'; but I was only a-gittin' 'fraid I might. Dis hyar 'tic'lar way
o' doin' things makes a person scary."

"I am glad that Kate is particular," said Mrs. Loudon. "You know, Aunt
Matilda, that money isn't very plenty with any of us, and we all have to
learn to make it go as far as it will. I don't think you need feel
'scary,' if Kate's economy is all you have to fear."

This interview somewhat reassured Aunt Matilda, but she was not
altogether satisfied with the state of things. The fact was that she had
supposed that the telegraph company would bring in so much money that
she would be able to live in what to her would be a state of comparative
luxury. And instead of that, Kate had been preaching economy and
systematic management to her. No wonder she was disappointed, and a
little out of humor with her young guardians.

But for all that, if Harry or Kate had fallen into a fiery crater, Aunt
Matilda would have hurried in after them as fast as her old legs would
have carried her.

She went back to her cabin, after a while, and she continued to have her
three meals a day all the same as usual; but if she could have seen, as
Kate saw, how steadily the little fund for her support was diminishing
day by day, she would have had some reason for her apprehensions.

It was on a pleasant Saturday in early September, that Harry stood
looking over the front gate in his father's yard. Kate was at the
dining-room window, sewing. Harry was thinking, and Kate was wondering
what he was thinking about. She thought she knew, and she called out to
him: "I expect old Mr. Matthews would lend you a gun, Harry."

"Yes, I suppose he would," said Harry, turning and slowly walking up
toward the house; "but father told me not to borrow a gun from Truly
Matthews. It's a shame, though, to stay here when the fields are just
chock full of partridges. I never knew them so plenty in all my life.
It's just the way things go."

"It is a pity about your gun," said Kate. "There's some one at the gate,
Harry. Hadn't you better go and see what he wants? Father won't be home
until after dinner, you can tell him."

Harry turned.

"It's Mr. Martin," said he, and he went down to the gate to meet him.

"How do you do, Mr. President?" said Mr. Martin. "I rode over here this
morning, and thought I would come and see you."

Harry shook hands with his visitor, and invited him to walk into the
house; but after Mr. Martin had dismounted and fastened his horse, he
thought that the seat under the catalpa-tree looked so cool and
inviting, that he proposed that they should sit down there and have a
little chat.

"I have been thinking about the extension of your telegraph line," said
the manager of the mica mine, "and have talked it over with our people.
They agree with me that it would be a good thing, and we have
determined, if it suits you and your company, that we will advance the
money necessary to carry out the scheme."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Harry; "but, as I said before, you'll have
to bear the whole expense, and it will cost a good deal to carry the
line from the creek all the way to Hetertown."

"Yes, it will cost some money," said Mr. Martin "but our idea is that
you ought to have a complete line while you are about it, and that it
ought to run from our mine to Hetertown."

"From your mine to Hetertown!" exclaimed Harry, in astonishment.

"Yes," said Mr. Martin, smiling. "That is the kind of a line that is
really needed. You see, our business is increasing, and we are buying
land which we intend to sell out in small farms, and so expect to build
up quite a little village out there in time. So you can understand that
we would like to be in direct communication with Richmond and the North.
And if we can have it by means of your line, we are ready to put the
necessary funds into the work."

Harry was so amazed at this statement, that he could hardly find words
with which to express himself.

"Why, that would give us a regular, first-class telegraph line!" he
exclaimed.

"Certainly," said Mr. Martin, "and that's the only kind of a line that
is really worth anything."

"I don't know what to think about it," said Harry. "I didn't expect you
to propose anything like this."

"Well," said Mr. Martin, rising, "I must be off. I had only a few
minutes to spare, but I thought I had better come and make you this
proposition. I think you had better lay it before your Board of Managers
as soon as possible, and if you will take my advice, as a business man,
you'll accept our offer."

So saying, he bid Harry good-by, took off his hat to Kate, who was still
looking out of the window, mounted his horse, and rode away.

There was a meeting of the Board of Managers of the Crooked Creek
Telegraph Company that afternoon. It was a full meeting, for Harry sent
hasty messengers to those he called the "out-lying members."

A more astonished body of officials has seldom been seen than was our
Board when Harry laid the proposition of Mr. Martin before it.

But the boys were not so much amazed that they could not jump at this
wonderful opportunity and in a very short time it was unanimously voted
to accept the proposition of the mica-mine people, and to build the
great line.

Almost as soon as this important vote had been taken, the meeting
adjourned, and the members hurried to their several homes to carry the
news.

"We'll have to change our name," said Tom Selden to Harry. "We ought to
call our company 'The United States Mica and Hetertown Lightning Express
Line,' or something big like that."

"Yes," replied Harry. "The A 1 double-action, back-spring,
copper-fastened, broad-gauge telegraph line from here to the moon!"

And away he ran to meet Kate, who was coming down the road.




CHAPTER XXVII.

HOW SOMETHING CAME TO AN END.


The mica-mine management appeared to be thoroughly in earnest about this
extension of the telegraph line. As soon as the assent of the Board of
Managers to the scheme had been communicated to them, they sent a note
to Harry suggesting that he should, in the name of his company, get the
written consent of owners of the lands over which the line would pass to
the construction of said line on their property. This business was soon
settled, for none of the owners of the farms between the mines and
Hetertown, all of whom were well acquainted with Mr. Loudon (and no man
in that part of the country was held in higher estimation by his
neighbors), had the slightest objection to the boys putting up their
telegraph line on their lands.

When Harry had secured the necessary promises, the construction of the
line was commenced forthwith. The boys had very little trouble with it.
Mr. Martin got together a gang of men, with an experienced man to direct
them, and came down with them to Akeville, where Harry hired them; and
finding that the foreman understood the business, he told him to go to
work and put up the line. When paydays came around, Harry gave each man
an order for his money on the Mica Mine Company, and their wages were
paid them by Mr. Martin.

It was not very long before the line was constructed and the instruments
were in working order in Hetertown and at the mica mines. There was a
person at the latter place who understood telegraphy, and he attended to
the business at that end of the line, while Mr. Lyons worked the
instruments at the Hetertown station, which was in the same building
with the regular telegraph line.

It was agreed that the Mica Company should keep an account of all
messages sent by them over the line, and should credit the Crooked Creek
Telegraph Company with the amount due in payment, after deducting
necessary expenses, hire of operators', and six per cent. on the capital
advanced.

Everything having been arranged on this basis, the extended line went
into operation, without regard to the amount of water in the creek, and
old Miles carried no more telegrams to Hetertown.

The telegraph business, however, became much less interesting to Kate
and the boys. It seemed to them as if it had been taken entirely out of
their hands, which was, indeed, the true state of the case. They were
the nominal owners and directors of the line, but they had nothing to
direct, and very vague ideas about the value of the property they owned.

"I don't know," said Tom Selden, as he sat one afternoon in Mr. Loudon's
yard, with Harry and Kate, "whether we've made much by this business or
not. Those mica people keep all the accounts and do all the charging,
and if they want to cheat us, I don't see what's to hinder them."

"But you know," said Harry, "that we can examine their accounts; and,
besides, Mr. Lyons will keep a tally of all the messages sent, and I
don't believe that he would cheat us."

"No; I don't suppose he would," said Tom; "but I liked the old way best.
There was more fun in it."

"Yes, there was," said Kate; "and then we helped old Lewston and Aunt
Judy. I expect they'll miss the money they got for rent."

"Certainly," said Harry. "They'll have to deny themselves many a luxury
in consequence of the loss of that dollar a month."

"Now you're making fun," said Kate; "but twelve dollars a year is a good
deal to those poor people."

"I suppose it is," said Harry. "In fifty years, it would be six hundred
dollars, if they saved it all up, and that is a good deal of money, even
to us rich folks."

"Rich!" said Kate. "We're so dreadfully rich that I have only forty-two
cents left of Aunt Matilda's money, and I must have some very soon."

The consequence of this conversation was that Harry had to ride over to
the mica mines and get a small advance on the payment due at the end of
the month.

The end of the month arrived, and the settlement was made. When the
interest on the money advanced to put up the line, hire of operators,
and other expenses, had been deducted from the amount due the Crooked
Creek Company, there was only two dollars and a quarter to be paid to
it!

Harry was astounded. He took the money, rode back to Akeville, and
hastened to have a consultation with Kate. For the first time since he
became a guardian, he was in despair. This money was not enough for Aunt
Matilda's needs, and if it had been, there were stockholders who were
expecting great things from the recent extension of the line. What was
to be said to them?

Harry did not know, and Kate could suggest nothing. It appeared to be
quite plain that they had made a very bad business of this telegraphic
affair. A meeting of the Board was called, and when each member had had
his say, matters appeared worse than ever.

It was a very blue time for our friends.

As for Kate, she cried a good deal that afternoon.

The time had at last come when she felt they would have to give up Aunt
Matilda. She was sure, if they had never started this telegraphic
company, they might have struggled through the winter, but now there
were stockholders and creditors and she did not know what all. She only
knew that it was too much for them.

Three days after this, Harry received a note from Mr. Martin. When he
read it, he gave a shout that brought everybody out of the house--Kate
first. When she read the note, which she took from Harry as he was
waving it around his head, she stood bewildered. She could not
comprehend it.

And yet it simply contained a proposition from the Mica Mine Company to
buy the Crooked Creek Telegraph Line, with all its rights and
privileges, assuming all debts and liabilities, and to pay therefor the
sum of three hundred and fifty dollars in cash!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days afterward, the line was formally sold to the Mica Company, and
the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company came to an end.

When accounts were settled, Aunt Matilda's share of the proceeds of the
sale were found to amount to two hundred and sixty-two dollars and fifty
cents, which Kate deposited with Mr. Darby for safe keeping.

It was only the sky that now looked blue to Harry and Kate.

The Akeville people were a good deal surprised at this apparently
singular transaction on the part of the Mica Company, but before long,
their reasons for helping the boys to put up their line and then buying
it, became plain enough.

The Mica Company had invested a large capital in mines and lands, and
the business required telegraphic communication with the North. The
managers knew that they might have a good deal of trouble to get
permission to put up their line on the lands between the mines and
Hetertown, and so they wisely helped the boys to put up the line, and
then bought it of them, with all their rights and privileges.

There was probably some sharp practice in this transaction, but our
young friends and Aunt Matilda profited by it.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

A MEETING.


About a week after the dissolution of the Crooked Creek Company, Harry
was riding over from Hetertown, and had nearly reached the creek on his
way home, when he met George Purvis.

This was their first meeting since their fight, for George had been away
on a visit to some relatives in Richmond.

When Harry saw George riding slowly toward him, he felt very much
embarrassed, and very much annoyed because he was embarrassed.

How should he meet George? What should he say; or should he say
anything?

He did not want to appear anxious to "make up" with him, nor did he want
to seem as if he bore malice toward him. If he only knew how George felt
about it!

As it was, he wished he had stopped somewhere on the road. He had
thought of stopping at the mill--why had he not? That would just have
given George time to pass.

Both boys appeared to be riding as slowly as their horses would consent
to go, and yet when they met, Harry had not half made up his mind what
he would say, or how he should say it, or whether it would be better or
not to say anything.

"Hello, George!" said he, quite unpremeditatedly.

"Hello!" said George, reining in his horse "Where are you going?"

"Going home," said Harry, also stopping in the road.

Thus the quarrel came to an end.

"So you've sold the telegraph?" said George.

"Yes," said Harry. "And I think we made a pretty good bargain. I didn't
think we'd do so well when we started."

"No, it didn't look like it," said George; "but those mica men mayn't
find it such a good bargain for them."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well, suppose some of the people who own the land that the line's on,
don't want these strangers to have a telegraph on their farms. What's to
hinder them ordering them off?"

"They wouldn't do that," said Harry. "None of the people about here
would be so mean. They'd know that it might upset our bargain. There
isn't a man who would do it."

"All right," said George. "I hope they won't. But how are you going to
keep the old woman now?"

"How?" said Harry. "Why, we can keep her easy enough. We got three
hundred and fifty dollars from the Mica Company."

"And how much is her share?"

"Over two hundred and sixty," answered Harry.

"Is that all?" said George. "That won't give her much income. The
interest on it will only be about fifteen dollars a year, and she can't
live on that."

"But we didn't think of using only the interest," said Harry.

"So you're going to break in on the principal, are you? That's a poor
way of doing."

"Oh, we'll get along well enough," said Harry. "Two hundred and sixty
dollars is a good deal of money. Good-by! I must get on. Come up,
Selim!"

"Good-by!" said George; and he spurred up his horse and rode off gayly.

But not so Harry. He was quite depressed in spirits by George's remarks.
He wished he had not met him, and he determined that he would not bother
his head by looking at the matter as George did. It was ridiculous.

But the more he thought of it, the more sorry he felt that he had met
George Purvis.




CHAPTER XXIX.

ONCE MORE IN THE WOODS.


"Harry," said Kate, the next day after this meeting, "when are you going
to get your gun back?"

"Get my gun back!" exclaimed Harry. "How am I to do that?"

"Why, there's money enough," answered Kate. "You only lent your
gun-money to Aunt Matilda's fund. Take out enough, and get your gun
back."

"That sounds very well," said Harry; "but we haven't so much money,
after all. The interest on what we have won't begin to support Aunt
Matilda, and we really ought not to break in on the principal."

Kate did not immediately answer. She thought for a while and then she
said:

"Well, that's what I call talking nonsense. You must have heard some one
say something like that. You never got it out of your own head."

"It may not have come out of my own head," said Harry, who had not told
Kate of his meeting with George Purvis, "but it is true, for all that.
It seems to me that whatever we do seems all right at first, and then
fizzles out. This telegraph business has done that, straight along."

"No, it hasn't," said Kate, with some warmth. "It's turned out
first-rate. I think that interest idea is all stuff. As if we wanted to
set up Aunt Matilda with an income that would last forever! Here comes
father. I'm going to ask him about the gun."

When Mr. Loudon had had the matter laid before him, he expressed his
opinion without any hesitation.

"I think, Harry," said he, "that you certainly ought to go and get your
gun."

And Harry went and got it.

The rest of that day, which was Saturday, was delightful, both to Harry
and Kate. Harry cleaned and polished up his gun, and Kate sat and
watched him. It seemed like old times. During those telegraphic days,
when they were all thinking of business and making money, they seemed to
have grown old.

But all that was over now, and they were a girl and a boy again. Late in
the afternoon, Harry went out and shot half-a-dozen partridges, which
were cooked for supper, and Mrs. Loudon said that that seemed like the
good old style of things. She had feared that they were never going to
have any more game on their table.

On the following Wednesday there was a half-holiday, and Harry was about
to start off with his gun, when he proposed that Kate should go with
him.

"But you're going after birds," said Kate, "and I can't go where you'll
want to go--among the stubble and bushes."

"Oh! I sha'n't go much after birds," said Harry. "I wanted to borrow
Captain Caseby's dog, but he's going to use him himself to-day, and so I
don't expect to get much game. But we can have a good walk in the
woods."

"All right," said Kate. "I'll go along." And away she went for her hat.

The walk was charming. It was now September, and the fields were full of
bright-colored fall flowers, while here and there a sweet-gum tree began
to put on autumn tints. The sun was bright, and there was a strong
breeze full of piney odors from the forests to the west.

They saw no game; and when they had rambled about for an hour or so,
they sat down under an oak-tree on the edge of the woods, and while they
were talking, an idea came into Harry's head. He picked a great big fat
toadstool that was growing near the roots of the tree, and carrying it
about sixty feet from the tree, he stuck it up on a bush.

"Now then," said he, taking up his gun, cocking it, and handing it to
Kate, "you take a shot at that mark."

"Do you mean that I shall shoot at it?" exclaimed Kate.

"Certainly," said Harry. "You ought to know how to shoot. And it won't
be the first time you have fired a gun. Take a shot."

"All right," said Kate. And she took off her hat and threw it on the
grass. Then she took the gun and raised it to a level with her eye.

"Be easy now," said Harry. "Hold the butt close against your shoulder.
Take your time, and aim right at the middle of the mark."

"I'm afraid I'm shutting the wrong eye," said Kate. "I always do."

"Shut your left eye," said Harry. "Get the sight right between your
other eye and the mark."

Kate took a good long aim, and then, summoning all her courage, she
pulled the trigger.

The gun went off with a tremendous bang! The toadstool trembled for an
instant, and then tumbled off the bush.

"Hurra!" shouted Harry. "You've hit it fair!" And he ran and brought it
to her, riddled with shot-holes. Kate was delighted with her success,
and would have been glad to have spent the rest of the afternoon firing
at a mark. But Harry was not well enough supplied with powder and shot
for that. However, he gave her another shot at a piece of paper on the
bush. She made three shot-holes in it, and Harry said that would do very
well. He then loaded up again, and then they started off for home. The
path they took led through a corner of the woods.

They had not gone far before they met Gregory Montague.

"Oh, Mah'sr Harry!" said Gregory, "I done foun' a bees' nes'."

"Where?" cried Harry.

"Down in a big tree in de holler, dar," pointing over toward the
thickest part of the woods. "You have to go fru de brush and bushes, but
it's a powerful big nest, Mah'sr Harry, right in de holler ob de tree."

"Are you sure it's a bees' nest?" said Harry. "How do you know?"

"I knows it's a bees' nest," said Gregory, somewhat reproachfully.
"Didn't I see de bees goin' in an' out fru a little hole?"

"Kate," said Harry, "you hold this gun a little while. I'll run down
there and see if it is really a bee-tree that he has found. Hold it
under your arm, that way, with the muzzle down. That's it. I'll be back
directly." And away he ran with Gregory.

And now Kate was left alone in the woods with a gun under her arm. It
was a new experience for her. She felt proud and pleased to have control
of a gun, and it was not long before she began to think that it would be
a splendid thing if she could shoot something that would do for supper.
How surprised they would all be if she should bring home some game that
she had shot, all by herself!

She made up her mind that she would do it, if she could see anything to
shoot.

And so she walked quietly along the path with her thumb on the hammer of
the gun, all ready to cock it the instant she should see a good chance
for a shot.




CHAPTER XXX.

A GIRL AND A GUN.


A short distance beyond the place where Kate had been left, there was a
small by-path; and when, still carefully carrying her gun, she reached
this path, Kate stopped. Here would be a good place, she thought, to
wait for game. Something would surely come into that little path, if she
kept herself concealed.

So she knelt down behind a small bush that grew at a corner of the two
paths, and putting her gun through the bush, rested the barrel in a
crotch.

The gun now pointed up the by-path, and there was an opening in the bush
through which Kate could see for some distance.

Here, then, she watched and waited.

The first thing that crossed the path was a very little bird. It hopped
down from a twig, it jerked its head about, it pecked at something on
the ground, and then flew up into a tree. Kate would not have shot it on
any account, for she knew it was not good to eat; but she could not help
wondering how people ever did shoot birds, if they did not "hold still"
any longer than that little creature did.

Then there appeared a small brown lizard. It came very rapidly right
down the path toward Kate.

"If it comes all the way," thought Kate, "I shall have to jump."

But it did not come all the way, and Kate remained quiet.

For some time no living creatures, except butterflies and other insects,
showed themselves. Then, all of a sudden, there popped into the middle
of the path, not very far from Kate, a real, live rabbit!

It was quite a good-sized rabbit, and Kate trembled from head to foot.
Here was a chance indeed!

To carry home a fat rabbit would be a triumph. She aimed the gun as
straight toward the rabbit as she could, having shut the wrong eye
several times before she got the matter arranged to her satisfaction.
Then she remembered that she had not cocked the gun, and so she had to
do that, which, of course, made it necessary for her to aim all over
again.

She cocked only one hammer, and she did it so gently that it did not
frighten the rabbit, although he flirted his ears a little when he heard
the "click, click!" Everything was so quiet that he probably thought he
heard some insect, probably a young or ignorant cricket that did not
know how to chirp properly.

So he sat very still and nibbled at some leaves that were growing by the
side of the path. He looked very pretty as he sat there, taking his
dainty little bites, and jerking up his head every now and then, as if
he were expecting somebody.

"I must wait till he's done eating," thought Kate. "It would be cruel to
shoot him now."

Then he stopped nibbling all of a sudden, as if he had just thought of
something, and as soon as he remembered what it was, he twisted his head
around and began to scratch one of his long ears with his hind foot. He
looked so funny doing this that Kate came near laughing but,
fortunately, she remembered that that would not do just then.

When he had finished scratching one ear, he seemed to consider the
question whether or not he should scratch the other one; but he finally
came to the conclusion that he would not. He would rather hop over to
the other side of the path and see what was there.

This, of course, made it necessary for Kate to take a new aim at him.

Whatever it was that he found on the other side of the path it grew
under the ground, and he stuck his head down as far as he could get it,
and bent up his back, as if he were about to try to turn a somersault,
or to stand on his head.

"How round and soft he is!" thought Kate. "How I should like to pat him.
I wonder when he'll find whatever it is that he's looking for! What a
cunning little tail!"

The cunning little tail was soon clapped flat on the ground, and Mr.
Bunny raised himself up and sat on it. He lifted his nose and his
fore-paws in the air and seemed to be smelling something good. His queer
little nose wiggled so comically that Kate again came very near bursting
out laughing.

"How I would love to have him for a pet!" she said to herself.

After sniffing a short time, the rabbit seemed to come to the conclusion
that he was mistaken, after all, and that he did not really smell
anything so very good. He seemed disappointed, however, for he lifted up
one of his little fore-paws and rubbed it across his eyes. But, perhaps,
he was not so very sorry, but only felt like taking a nap, for he
stretched himself out as far as he could, and then drew himself up in a
bunch, as if he were going to sleep.

"I wish he wouldn't do that," thought Kate, anxiously. "I don't want to
shoot him in his sleep."

But Bunny was not asleep. He was thinking. He was trying to make up his
mind about something. There was no way of finding out what it was that
he was trying to make up his mind about. He might have been wondering
why some plants did not grow with their roots uppermost, so that he
could get at them without rubbing his little nose in the dirt; or why
trees were not good to eat right through trunk and all. Or he might have
been trying to determine whether it would be better for him to go over
to 'Lijah Ford's garden, and try to get a bite at some cabbage-leaves;
or to run down to the field just outside of the woods, where he would
very likely meet a certain little girl rabbit that he knew very well.

But whatever it was, he had no sooner made up his mind about it than he
gave one big hop and was out of sight in a minute.

"There!" cried Kate. "He's gone!"

"I reckon he thought he'd guv you 'bout chance enough, Miss Kate," said
a voice behind her, and turning hurriedly, she saw Uncle Braddock.

"Why, how did you come here?" she exclaimed. "I didn't hear you."

"Reckon not, Miss Kate," said the old man. "You don't s'pose I was
a-goin' to frighten away yer game. I seed you a-stoopin' down aimin' at
somethin', and I jist creeped along a little at a time to see what it
was. Why, what _did_ come over you, Miss Kate, to let that ole har go?
It was the puttiest shot I ever did see."

"Oh! I couldn't fire at the dear little thing while it was eating so
prettily," said Kate, letting down the hammer of the gun as easily as
she could; "and then he cut up such funny little capers that I came near
laughing right out. I couldn't shoot him while he was so happy, and I'm
glad I didn't do it at all."

"All right, Miss Kate," said Uncle Braddock, as he started off on his
way through the woods; "that may be a werry pious way to go a-huntin'
but it won't bring you in much meat."

When Harry came back from hunting for the bee-tree, which he did not
find, he saw Kate walking slowly down the path toward the village, the
gun under her arm, with the muzzle carefully pointed toward the ground.




CHAPTER XXXI.

A MAN IN A BOAT.


On a very pleasant afternoon that fall, a man came down Crooked Creek in
a small flat-bottomed boat. He rowed leisurely, as if he had been rowing
a long distance and felt a little tired. In one end of the boat was a
small trunk.

As this man, who had red hair, and a red face, and large red hands,
pulled slowly along the creek, turning his head every now and then to
see where he was going, he gradually approached the bridge that crossed
the creek near "One-eyed Lewston's" cabin. Just before he reached the
bridge, he noticed what seemed to him a curious shadow running in a thin
straight line across the water. Resting on his oars, and looking up to
see what there was above him to throw such a shadow, he perceived a
telegraph wire stretching over the creek, and losing itself to sight in
the woods on each side.

A telegraph wire was an ordinary sight to this man, but this particular
wire seemed to astonish him greatly.