t the story.

J. R. S. C.

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 71._)

CHAPTER IX.

It was agreeable to think that I had nothing to do, and with my hands in
my pockets I turned to the right, strolling towards the railway station,
a few yards from which was a level crossing. The station yard and
booking office stood on the left, and before the entrance were one or
two old-fashioned-looking cabs; one in particular I noticed, having a
body like a small stage-coach and yellow wheels.

As I hung about the doorway it was alarming to realise that in spite of
my two days' journeying, and of all the accompanying dangers, I might
take a ticket and reach Castlemore in little over half an hour, and that
consequently any one else could travel from Castlemore to Polehampton in
the same short time. But it was easy to persuade myself that nobody
would feel the least desire to travel a yard on my account, although I
denied myself the pleasure of going on to the platform. Leaving the
station yard, I turned towards Mrs. Riddles' cottage again, and passing
this came to a standstill in front of a few shops on the opposite side
of the way. One was a butcher's; next to the butcher's was a grocer's,
and in its window I saw a card:

'ACTIVE LAD WANTED.'

I read, and as I stood gazing at the card, a short, red-haired man came
to the door, rubbing his hands and looking smilingly about him.

'Do you want a berth?' he asked, after he had eyed me once or twice.

'I don't know,' I answered.

'A stranger here?'

'Yes,' I said.

'Ah, well,' he answered, 'even if you wanted a job, I could not take you
without a character. But Mr. Raikes, at the Home Farm down the road,
would take any one this morning. He has got his large field of hay down,
and it will probably rain before Monday. If he does not get it carried
to-night, as likely as not half will be spoilt.'

With that he re-entered his shop, while I strolled on at first aimlessly
down the street.

I began to wonder how far it was to the Home Farm. A day's hay-making
seemed to be a kind of play, and if one could be paid for such
amusement, so much the better. For now that I had paid Mrs. Riddles I
had only five shillings, and when once I started again they would not go
very far. I had sufficient forethought to return to the cottage and ask
for some luncheon to put in my pocket; then, armed with a slice of bread
and a chunk of the fat bacon from which I had supped the pr