going reaping, but Jack's handy use of tools interested him and made him linger.
In an easy manner that did not interfere with his work, the young machinist narrated the particulars of what had occurred to detain him.
"Well, now, that beats all! Trouble piling right up on top of ye! Wonder if I don't know this Mosey," continued the farmer, reflectively. "Is he a short man with a red beard?"
"Yes."
"Didn't he use to work over to Redrock?"
"I believe he did."
"Then I reckon I do. He's a bad egg. I used to sell the company he worked for hay for packing, and Mosey used to weigh it. Several times, when I was sure it was correct, he reported short, and when I spoke to him about it, he said it would never be right until I made it right with him, or, in other words, paid him for his good will."
"How did it turn out?" asked Jack, interested in the story.
"Oh, I spoke of it to the owners, but they believed his side of the story, and I lost their trade. But, all the same, he was discharged a month later for being drunk. If I ain't mistaken, I saw him pass early yesterday morning."
"I just wish I could lay hands on him," returned the young machinist; "I don't believe he would keep out of the way if he wasn't guilty."
"Maybe I'll see him," said the farmer. "If I do I'll watch him, and let you know."
It was close on to six o'clock when Jack finished the work. During the afternoon he had done jobs for which he asked five dollars, and farmer Farrell, who knew that he would have been charged twice as much in the town, paid the bill without a murmur.
Ten minutes later, with his kit under his arm, and the new five-dollar bill tucked safely in his vest pocket, the young machinist started for home.
The sun was setting, and the road, shaded for its greater part by large trees, was growing dark rapidly.
About midway of the distance to Corney stood an old mill, abandoned several years before, whose disused water-wheel still hung idly over the swiftly flowing river beneath.
It was a ghostly looking structure, and having the reputation of being haunted, was seldom visited, except by adventurous tourists and by amateur photographers, who remained at a safe distance to take views of the really picturesque locality.
As Jack passed the mill, he saw a man approach from the opposite direction. Judge of his astonishment when he recognized the individual as Andy Mosey!
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