“I guess I can give you work myself--There’s always more or less to do ‘round a place. I keep a man part of the time, but I reckon I can let him go and take you on instead. You see, that will count on your board, and you don’t want to spend your money too fast.” “Very well, sir. There’s only one thing I will stipulate; I will wait a day or two before going to work. I want to look about the place a little.” While this conversation was going on, they had traveled a considerable distance. A little distance ahead appeared a square house, painted yellow, with a barn a little back on the left, and two old wagons alongside. “That’s my house,” said John Fox. “There’s Joel.” Joel, a tall boy in figure, like his father, came forward and eyed Harry with sharp curiosity. “How are ye?” said Joel, extending a red hand, covered with warts. “Pretty well, thank you,” said Harry, not much attracted to his new acquaintance. “Here’s Sally, too!” said John Fox. “Sally, this is my ward, Harry Vane.” Sally, who bore a striking family resemblance to her father and brother, giggled. Mrs. Fox, to whom Harry was introduced at the supper table, was as peculiar in her appearance and as destitute of beauty as the rest of the family. The next day, Harry, feeling it must be confessed, rather homesick, declined Joel’s company, and took an extended stroll about the town. He found that though the railway by which he had come was eight miles distant, there was another, passing within a mile of the village. He struck upon it, and before proceeding far made a startling discovery. There had been some heavy rains, which had washed out the road for a considerable distance, causing the track to give way. “Good heavens!” thought Harry, “if a train comes over the road before this is mended, there’ll be a wreck and loss of life. What can I do?” Just across the field stood a small house. In the yard the week’s washing was hung out. Among the articles was a red tablecloth. “May I borrow that tablecloth?” asked Harry, in excitement, of a woman in the doorway. “Land sakes! what for?” she asked. “To signal the train. The road’s washed away.” “Yes, yes; I’m expectin’ my darter on that train,” answered the woman, now as excited as our hero. “Hurry up! the train’s due in fifteen minutes.” Seizing the tablecloth, Harry gathered it quickly into a bundle and ran back to the railroad. He hurried down the track west of a curve which was a few hundred feet beyond the washout, and saw the train coming at full speed. He jumped on a fence skirting the tracks, and waved the tablecloth wildly. “Will they see it?” he asked himself, anxiously.