“From what they told me in town,” Hi said, holding out his hand with a smile, “you must be Henry Pollock?” The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand. “That's what they call me--Henry Pollock--when they don't call me Hen.” “Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry,” laughed Hiram. “I don't like to have my name cut off short, either. My name's Hiram Strong. So if you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll always call you `Henry.'” “It's a go!” returned the other, shaking hands again. “You going to live around here? Or are you jest visiting?” “I don't know yet,” confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. “You see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place.” “That's right over yonder. You can see the roof if you stand up,” said Henry, quickly. Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a glimpse of the roof in question. “Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left it to?” asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. “Or are you going to rent it?” “What do you think of renting it?” queried Hiram, showing that he had Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another. “Well--it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old man couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who farmed it for him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell you!” “Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what I'll do,” said Hiram, slowly. “And of course I can't do that to-night. They told me in town that sometimes you take boarders?” “In the summer we do,” returned Henry. “Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?” “Why, I reckon so--Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come right in,” added Henry, hospitably, “and I'll ask mother.” CHAPTER VIII. THE LURE OF GREEN FIELDS The Pollocks proved to be a neighborly family--and a large one. As Henry said, there was a “whole raft of young 'uns” younger than he was. They made Hiram very welcome at the supper table, and showed much curiosity about his personal affairs. But the young fellow had been used to just such people before. They were not a bad sort, and if they were keenly interested in the affairs of other people, it was because they had few books and newspapers, and small chance to amuse themselves in the many ways which city people have. Hiram slept with Henry that night, and Henry agreed to show the visitor over the Atterson place the next day. “I know every stick and stone of it as well as I do ourn,” declared Henry. “And Dad won't mind my taking time now. Later--Whew! I tell you, we hafter just git up an' dust to make a crop. Not much chance for fun after a week or two until the corn's laid by.” “You know all the boundaries of the Atterson farm, do you?” Hiram asked. “Yes, sir!” replied Henry, eagerly. “And say! do you like to fish?” “Of course; who doesn't?”