"My gang of carpenters can put up the stave silo," Mr. Bronson said. "All right, sir. But buy iron hoops for supports, Mr. Bronson, and use wire stays or one of these big winds they tell about around here will blow your silo over--especially before it is filled." "Oh, yes, we'll do that, of course." The lumber began to arrive, truck load after truck load. The first drivers to arrive at Sunnyside were very curious about the identity of the boy from the East. "Where's the boss, son?" Hiram was asked again and again as he met strangers. "I guess you will have to get along with me as boss," he was wont to say quietly. "You don't mean it! Bronson hasn't hired you to run this farm?" "Yes. I'm going to try to run it." "Well, I always did say that Bronson was crazy," was one frank statement. "More money than brains--more money than brains! Ridiculous to give a boy like you such a job!" "That is to be seen," Hiram said coolly. "It does not always take frost on the hair to ripen brains." At this the man grinned and replied: "You've got a tongue, at any rate, young fellow." One incident did not pass off so pleasantly. A hulking young fellow turned in at the gateway of Sunnyside and hailed Hiram: "Where's your dad?" "Unfortunately he has been dead for some years," Hiram told him. "Won't I do?" "Huh! Where's Mr. Bronson?" "You'll find him at his home in Plympton." "Well, when's he here?" "I could not say for sure when he is to be here. Hadn't you better tell me your business?" "I hear he wants to hire men for work here; but I want to do my business with the boss." "Then you can talk with me, for anybody who works on this farm will have to look upon me as the boss," Hiram told him, smiling. "You ain't got charge of this farm?" "Yes. Mr. Bronson has hired me in that capacity." "Well, I'll be switched!" "I want some men to ditch and for other heavy work for a few weeks," Hiram said calmly. "After that I shall need plowmen at better pay. You are a farmer, I presume?" "I presume I am," said the fellow scornfully. "But I don't want to hire out to any kid. I want a man for a boss." "I'm afraid I would not suit you then," sighed Hiram, with perfect gravity. "Come around in a couple of years, when I am older, and perhaps we can make a dicker." The fellow went away muttering. Later Hiram chanced to pass the Pringle cottage and the owner came to the gate to hail him. "Did Adam Banks come to see you, Mr. Strong?" "The big fellow with the mop of yellow hair? Yes, Miss Pringle; he said he was looking for a job. But I doubt if he loses his eyesight looking for it." "You said something," declared Miss Pringle. "And he just said to me he wouldn't be caught working at Sunnyside if you were going to run the farm." "No?" "He said he should think Mr. Bronson could find enough men in the neighborhood to do his work without sending off for a--a----"