A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 9

He picked out the worn screws and bolts and subst.i.tuted the new ones which he had brought. Then he sorted out the various parts in their proper order, and examined each critically.

"This bit of iron that guides the pressure spring is warped," he remarked. "Did the rake pull hard when the left side was lower than the right?"

"Yes, and squeaked, too."

"Then, that's the cause of it, and all the oil in the world wouldn't help it."

"Can you fix it?" asked the farmer, anxiously.

"I can if I can get a hot fire," replied Jack.

"I'll start it up at once," returned farmer Farrell, and he disappeared into the house.

When he had the fire well under way, Jack heated the part, and gave it the proper shape. Then he put the machine together, adjusted it carefully, and oiled the parts.

"Guess it's all right now," he said, lifting it over.

"We'll soon see," returned the farmer. Going to the barn he brought out one of the horses and hitched him to the machine. Then he mounted the seat and drove up and down the field several times.

"Works like a charm!" he declared. "You understand your trade and no mistake. How much for the job?"

This question was a stickler to Jack. He did not wish to ask too much, and he could not afford to ask too little.

"They would charge you three dollars at the machine shops," he said.

"Then I suppose that's what it's worth," continued the farmer. He was a whole-souled man, and was taken by Jack's outspoken manner. "But there's the other things to do yet," he continued.

"I know it; so we'll put this job at two dollars," said the young machinist.

"Never mind, I'm satisfied to pay three," laughed farmer Farrell. "Come into the barn; I've found quite a lot of stuff that needs doctoring, and I want you to put everything in first-cla.s.s shape."

"I'll do my best."

Farmer Farrell led the way, and Jack was soon as busy as a bee, putting the machines in running order and overhauling other farming implements.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JACK WAS SOON AS BUSY AS A BEE, PUTTING THE MACHINES IN RUNNING ORDER AND OVERHAULING OTHER FARMING IMPLEMENTS.]

"Why didn't you stop this morning?" asked the farmer, presently. He had intended 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed the mill, he saw a man approach from the opposite direction. Judge of his astonishment when he recognized the individual as Andy Mosey!

He had seen the young machinist at the same instant, and turning rapidly from the road, he darted to one side of the mill.

For a second Jack stood still, hardly able to move. But he quickly recovered, and dropping his kit, which was heavy, he started in pursuit.

"He shall not escape me," he resolved. "He is larger than I, but I am not afraid to meet him face to face."

There was a large shed attached to the mill, and entering this, the young machinist looked carefully around to see if he could find any trace of the man. But a brief search a.s.sured him that the place had not been disturbed for months.

Pa.s.sing through the partly open door, he entered the lower floor of the mill, and found himself in the presence of Dennis Corrigan, Mosey's brother-in-law.

"What do you want here?" demanded Corrigan, springing up from the bench upon which he had been seated.

Jack could hardly form a proper reply. With two men against him, he realized that he was in a bad fix.

"Why, I didn't know that you were here, Corrigan," he began. "I thought----"

Jack never finished the sentence. He heard a noise behind him, but before he could turn to see what it was, he received a cruel blow on the head, and then all became a dark, terrible blank.

CHAPTER VII.

INTO THE RIVER