THE MYSTERY OF THE DUN HEIFER “Brother Todderley,” said Zeb to the miller, “we’re defeated in our benevolent intentions. Puff’s boat went for twenty-two dollars.” “Who got it?” asked the miller. “A bloated young aristocrat from the city,” said Zeb. “I suspect him of being one of the new boarders. The Academy’s going to ruin, Gershom. There’s your twelve dollars, with my sincere thanks.” “Sorry, Zeb, very sorry,” remarked the miller; but another voice broke in with: “Who’d ha’ thought that of him? Thryin’ to rob a poor chap like Poof Evans! It’s worrus than wantin’ to dhrown old Docther Dhryer.” “Patrick Murphy,” replied Zeb, “what do you know about war? Hullo, there goes poor Puff on his way home. I haven’t the heart even to try and comfort him. Tell you what I’ll do, Brother Todderley, I’ll give my share towards buying him the timber to build another boat.” “You’re a good boy, Zeb,” responded the miller. “I’ll do my share, and he can have anything he wants out of my lumber. Do you hear that, Pat?” “Troth an’ I do, sor,” replied Pat. “Wull it be the crukked shticks I’ll give him?” “Crooked sticks!” exclaimed the miller. “Sure an’ he’s one of ’em,” said Pat. “He niver’d worruk well with straight ones.” “Never mind, Pat,” replied Zeb, “it’s a solemn thing for Puff. Just look at him. I never saw him walk so fast before.” “Indade,” said Pat, “it’s ginerally walkin’ behind he’s been iver since I’ve known him.” Plenty of sympathy poor Puff was getting, though he knew it not, but it would all have been too late to save his boat for him if it had not been for Bar and Val. These latter had put in their time, before dinner, in a very vigorous process of taking possession of their room, which was all a schoolboy could or should have asked for, though hardly as luxurious in its aspect or appliances as the one Val Manning had been accustomed to at home. As for Bar Vernon, he had seen all sorts of accommodations in his day, and was disposed to take a rose-colored view of every item belonging to his present quarters. By dinner-time the boys were in a high state of preparation for it, so far as appetite went, but they were hardly expecting the sort of company that awaited them on their entering the dining-room. “Mr. Manning! Mr. Vernon! My name is Brayton. Glad to see you both. My mother and sister have written me about you.” It was a bit of a surprise to find that their teacher was also to be their fellow-boarder, but neither Val nor Bar was the kind of boy to repel so very frank and kindly a greeting. In fact, before the meal was over, Brayton had even heard the story of the boat, as well as Bar’s repeated lamentations over his deficiencies. “Come up into my room,” he said, with reference to the latter. “I can hardly advise you what to do till we’ve had some further talk.” Up they went, and they saw quite enough, at once, to give them a good opinion of their new friend. Bar picked up a book which was lying on the table.