ed back over his
shoulder.

"Don't let John Carter catch you with that book."

"I brought it along so I can read while I eat my dinner. I'll put it
away before we get to the Carter place."

"Eddication!" said Tom in disgust "I never had any, and I get along
better'n if I had. Take figuring. If a fellow owes me money, I take a
burnt stick and make a mark on the wall. When he pays me, I take a
dishrag and wipe the mark off. That's better than getting all hot and
bothered trying to figure.

"And writing? I can write my name and that's all the writing I need. But
the most tomfoolery of all is reading. You don't see _me_ waste _my_
time reading any books."

[Illustration]

The path ended at the edge of the woods, and Tom opened the gate into
the Carter cornfield. Row after row of tall corn stretched away in even,
straight lines. Mr. Carter was waiting.

"Ready to sign over that south field, Tom?" he asked. "A lawyer from
Rockport is drawing up the papers. He is riding up with them this
morning. I'll see you at dinner time."

After John Carter had gone back to his cabin, Tom and Abe set to work.
Using their sharp knives, they began cutting the corn close to the
ground. They stood the tall golden stalks on end, tying them together in
neat shocks or bundles. By the time the sun stood directly overhead,
several long rows had been cut and stacked, and John Carter was coming
toward them across the field. It was noon.

Abe laid aside his knife, sat down on the rail fence, and pulled out his
book. He took a piece of cornbread wrapped in a corn husk from his
pocket. As he ate, he read, paying no attention to the conversation
taking place a few feet away.

"Come and sit down, Tom," said Carter.

Tom sat on a tree stump. Carter was being more friendly than usual. He
was carrying a gourd full of ink, which he placed on another stump. He
set down a deerskin bag, which jingled pleasantly with coins. In one
pocket he found a turkey-buzzard pen. From another he brought out an
official-looking paper.

"Here is the deed for the south field," he explained. "Here's a pen.
I'll hold the ink for you. You make your mark right here."

"I don't need to make my mark," said Tom proudly. "I know how to sign my
name."

"Then hurry up and do it. Mrs. Carter has dinner ready, and I got to get
back to the house."

Tom took the paper and looked at it uncertainly. "I don't sign any paper
till I know what I'm signing. I want time to--to g