"Well, is your name Theodore Chester?" Hiram asked in some desperation. "I suppose it is. At least, that is what I have always called myself." "Now you know, Ted, I always treated you right," began the bearded man. But Hiram stopped him. He waved a commanding hand. "Get those calves into that pen. If Ted wants to talk to you, he can do so afterward. But it doesn't seem to me as though it was any of our business whether he is Ted Chester or somebody else." "Well, I tell you right now," growled the farmer. "I ain't going to lose that fifty if I can help it." When the calves were unloaded and the real Orrin Post had driven away grumbling, Ted Chester--if that was his name--turned to look at Hiram in rather a sheepish fashion. "I suppose you think it's up to me to explain, Strong?" he asked. "Well, I am curious," admitted Hiram. "Of course, you, thinking my name was Orrin Post until now--" "No. I might as well tell you that I suspected you had been known as Ted Chester about a year ago," interrupted Hiram, and he told him how he had come to that belief. "Well, it is a fact. That was Orrin Post. I worked for him. He is the man who chased me when I was sick. I don't know how I came to give you his name, unless it was because he was on my mind. And in my opinion--then, at least--one name was as good as another." "Was there any reason why you were afraid to use this one of Chester?" "Only that I did not want to be traced." "By whom?" "By anybody." "Then you knew," said Hiram thoughtfully, "that somebody was after you?" "I was told so." "Who does that lawyer represent?" "Hang it all, Hiram!" exclaimed the other, "I have been in a reform school. Back East. I ran away. I never had any bringing up--much. Only for a couple of years I lived with nice people. Then I got into trouble and was arrested. I stayed in the reform school some time." "This must have happened a good while ago," guessed Hiram shrewdly. "I was only nineteen when I ran away from the institution." "The authorities cannot be searching for you through that lawyer," declared Hiram. "It must be for something else you are wanted." "I--I never thought of that," murmured his friend. "Who were your people?" "I don't know. First I remember I was in an orphanage." "Just like Sister." "I suppose so," said the other. "How do you know 'Theodore Chester' is your name?" demanded Hiram. "Why, that is what they called me. No! Not altogether," he added. "I saw the books once and I know they had me down as 'Ted C.' They always called me Ted. I named myself Chester." "Just as Sister names her brother--and herself for that matter," muttered Hiram. "Say, Orrin--I mean, Ted! Suppose your name should be the same as Sister's?" "What do you mean, Strong?" cried the other. "Suppose your real name is 'Cheltenham,' too?" propounded Hiram Strong shrewdly. "Stranger things have happened, don't you think?"