all boy, and
they lived in Rhode Island; but they both got sick and died, so I came
here to live with my uncle."

"What is your uncle's name?" Fred went on to inquire.

"His name is Frank Baumgarten."

"Oh, I've seen him plenty of times. I used to take goods to his house
from the store. It seems queer that I never saw you."

"I don't go out any nights, for I get tired out by working in here
eleven hours and a half every day, I can tell you," said Carl.

"Yes, I should think you would; you don't look very strong."

"Well, I guess I can get along better now that you are here; but Tim
Short used to shirk and crowd me. If Mr. Hanks would do his part of the
work it wouldn't be so hard; but he won't do it, and is cross and finds
fault if we don't hurry things up."

When Fred's eyes first fell upon the pale, sad face of Carl, and he
noticed his dwarfed and disfigured form, he had a feeling of pity for
him. There was that about his manner which at once interested him. The
boy's features were good, and yet they had that sharp, shrunken
appearance which may be said to be characteristic of the majority of
those afflicted with spinal trouble. He was a little humpback, who, from
his size, would be taken for a lad of not more than thirteen, though he
was then seventeen, one year older than Fred, as the latter afterward
learned.

The interest our hero felt in Carl had gradually increased as he noticed
how intelligent he appeared, and when he said that he had no father nor
mother, and told how he had been treated, Fred's sympathy was touched,
and he said to himself, almost unconsciously, "I'm glad I'm here, for
now I can do the heavy work, and will protect him from the abuse of this
man Hanks!" Then he said to the boy (for he seemed but such beside his
own sturdy form), "Yes, I think you will get along better now, for I am
strong and well, and will do all the heavy work for you."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" replied Carl, with a sense of gratitude which showed
itself in his bright eyes, "for it hurts my back every time I lift one
of the heavy bags of wet flocks, and almost makes me think I will have
to give up the job. Then I think my uncle can't support me, and so I
keep on."

"You shall not lift any more of them while I am here. I would rather do
that, any way, than stay here in the dust."

"How long will you be here?" asked the little humpback, anxious lest the
brighter prospect might last but a short time.

"I don't know. I d