tanneries filed the men. But Peter Coddington had won a place for
himself, and with it a new name. Henceforth throughout the works he was
known as "The Little Giant."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III

A NEW FRIEND

For a week Peter worked patiently cutting ropes from freshly received
shipments of skins, trimming the skins, and learning to sort them. Every
night he went home exhausted after his day's work. Sometimes it was hard
to realize that he was the same boy who, but a short time before, had
jauntily sauntered out to play tennis every evening with his classmates.
He couldn't have played tennis now had he tried, and he was not sorry
when the rumor reached him that it was commonly reported at the high
school that he had been sent away to a distant military academy. So that
was the reason why the fellows had not hunted him up! Perhaps it was
just as well. It saved many embarrassing questions, and he was much too
worn out when night came to do anything but fall into his bed. Still he
did not complain of his fatigue. He was too proud to do that. Moreover
had he not brought the entire situation upon himself? He would swallow
his medicine in silence.

But he knew from his mother's troubled questions; from her unusual care
that his luncheon be tempting and nourishing; from the solicitous gaze
she fixed on him that the present ordeal worried her not a little. Once
he overheard her say to his father: "The boy isn't strong enough to
stand it! He will be ill."

"Don't have any anxiety about Peter," was the retort. "The young
scoundrel finds energy enough, I hear, to play ball with the men every
noon time. He is the star pitcher of Factory 1." A chuckle came from the
older man. "It is something of a joke, too," he continued, "for I
thought I had put him beyond all possible range of a bat and ball. Don't
fret any more about him. Let him alone. He is showing more pluck than I
dreamed he possessed."

"But suppose he should overdo."

"He won't overdo."

And the prediction was true. Tired as he was every night Peter awoke in
the morning entirely refreshed. The lameness of back and muscles soon
wore away. At the end of the week, when he received his first pay
envelope, no boy in the wide world ever felt as rich as he. Six dollars!
Six dollars of his very own! To be sure his father had often given him
twice that amount; but receiving it as a present was a vastly different
matter from earning it.

"I mean to save up f