The fish proved acceptable, and Randy readily got Jerry Borden to trade him some bacon for a mess, and also give him some fresh vegetables. "Gosh! Wish I'd gone fishing," said Sammy. "I like to catch big fish." "Well, I am not going to stop you," said our hero. "Sammy never has no luck," put in Mrs. Borden. "Once he went fishing all day and all he got was three little fish." "Didn't nuther!" cried Sammy. "I got twelve big bites, but they got away." "It's the big fish that always get away," said Randy, with a smile. "Never mind, Sammy, maybe we can go together some day." "I'd like that," answered the overgrown country boy. "Did that Bartlett boy get any fish?" asked Mrs. Borden. "Just as many as I did." "I understand they are going to move away." "Yes, to Albany." "They say down to the iron works that Mr. Bangs is glad to have Mr. Bartlett out of the place." "I guess that is true." "It's too bad! All of the men liked Mr. Bartlett." "Don't they like Mr. Bangs?" "Not a bit--so Mr. Reilly was telling my husband. They say Mr. Bangs is mean to everybody." Two days slipped by, and Randy was at work in the garden one afternoon when he saw a buggy stop at the front of the cottage and a portly man alighted. Knowing his mother was busy, our hero went to meet the newcomer. "Is this where Randy Thompson lives?" asked the portly gentleman. "Yes, sir, I am Randy Thompson." "Oh!" The gentleman held out his hand. "I am glad to know you. My name is Andrew Shalley. You did my wife and little girl a great service the other day." "I only did what seemed necessary," answered Randy, modestly. "Will you come into the house, Mr. Shalley?" "Thanks, I'll sit down on your porch." The gentleman did so. "What are you doing, farming?" "A little. We got this place so late this season I cannot do a great deal. Next year I hope to have the farm in much better shape." "Do you like it?" "I try to like it." "Then you are not naturally a farmer?" "No, sir." "Is your father living?" "Yes, sir; but he is laid up with rheumatism, so he cannot work at present. He is a carpenter." "Indeed! I was a carpenter when I was a young man." "I thought Mrs. Shalley said you were a steamboat owner." "I am, now. I gave up carpentering to go into the freight business. I made money, and then bought a small freight boat. Then I branched out, and now own a steamboat running up and down the Hudson River, and I also own several steam tugs." "Do you own the one that got into trouble the other day?" "No, a friend of mine owns that--that is how my wife and little girl happened to be on board. I am----" Mr. Shalley stopped short as a form appeared in the doorway behind him. "This is my mother. Mother, this is Mr. Shalley, the steamboat owner." "I am glad to meet you," said Mrs. Thompson, politely. "Will you come in?" "Thank you, but it is very pleasant on the porch. Madam, you have a good son," went on the steamboat owner. "I know that."