, and while we've got a
week's rations of bacon and hominy ahead, I shan't kick against luck.
But grub's ready."

Both lads fell to with a relish. Beans seemed to be the central dish at
almost every meal, and yet they somehow never seemed to tire of them.

They had encountered a good many hard knocks since leaving their Western
home, but were evidently none the worse for them.

Dave Freeman, the son of a hard-working Kansas farmer, had come South to
better his prospects, and with a deep but unexpressed longing to help
the home folks.

At Flomaton, or Pensacola Junction, as it is now called, he had fallen
in with Tom Byrne, an Indiana boy, and the two had soon become fast
friends.

By getting occasional jobs along the way, and not infrequently "tramping
it," they had reached their present quarters, near Panasofkee, in Sumter
County.

Here they had taken a contract from a "papertown" proprietor to clear
five acres of land for seventy-five dollars.

This was a low figure, as the ground was full of palmetto roots, and not
only were the trees to be cleared from the land, but all stumps to be
burned out.

The boys already had been at work over two months, and hoped that
another week would complete the job. On the first, their employer was to
commence gathering his oranges, and they expected several weeks'
employment with him.

Although the work of clearing was very hard, the boys were rugged and
hearty, and thoroughly enjoyed their novel surroundings.

After finishing their beans, they put away the few dishes, and began the
round of their stumps. Here and there one was dying out, and new fuel
had to be piled around it. As one stump burned out, it was dragged from
its hole and placed against the roots of another.

And so, from one stump to another, adding fuel to this or dragging that
away, their faces covered with soot, and looking more like negroes than
white folks, the boys darted around, shouting gleefully to each other
whenever one of the tall pines burned through and came crashing to the
ground.

A little to one side, and out of reach of the fires, the boys had built
a little six-by-ten shanty, where they kept their belongings and
occasionally slept. More frequently, however, they slung their hammock
between two pines, near the camp-fire.

At first, the peculiar roar of the alligators from the swamp near by had
disturbed their rest, but they very soon got accustomed to it, and also
to the startling chal