The Boys of the Wireless Part 6

"It was gibberish to me. Oh, we'll have to pa.s.s it up, Ben, just as Mr.

Edson said."

"Yes," a.s.sented Ben, "it's some novice or joker or crank experimenting, or trying to be smart. What's the matter?" challenged Ben, turning now upon the boy calling himself Harry Ashley, hoping for some explanation of his queer startled actions of a few minutes previous.

But whatever the refugee had on his mind he evidently was not disposed to impart it to his questioner.

Harry Ashley had somewhat recovered his composure. He still looked disturbed, but he said with a.s.sumed carelessness:

"Oh, nothing. I get a pretty sharp twinge in my lame foot every once in a while."

"I see," observed Ben, drily and unbelievingly.

The boys were soon on the ground and on their way towards the village.

Tom kept up a casual conversation. He did not ask the strange waif who had drifted into their keeping any leading questions, however. Much as he was interested in knowing more about Harry Ashley, there was something in the lad's manner that repelled curiosity. Furthermore, Tom did not wish to embarra.s.s a comrade he had invited to become his guest.

Ben was quite silent. He stole many a furtive look at Harry as they proceeded on their way. He was half satisfied with the lame explanation of his actions the boy had made in the wireless tower. He forged ahead a few yards with Tom as they came to the road leading south towards his home.

"I say, Tom," he remarked in a low tone, "there's some mystery about that fellow."

"Well, if that's true," returned Tom, "let the future work it out. He strikes me as a poor unfortunate who needs some help, and I'm going to give it to him."

"That's natural," retorted Ben, "you're always helping somebody."

Tom rejoined Harry. The latter became more chatty now. He did not say much about himself, but from what he did impart Tom surmised that he was practically a tramp, picking up a living at odd jobs.

"See here," said Harry, as Tom indicated the cheery lights of the old Barnes homestead, "it won't put you in bad with your folks, will it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lugging in a ragged stranger like me."

"My mother will answer that," replied Tom with a smile, leading the way around the house.

His companion halted outside the kitchen door, as Tom sang out to a portly bustling lady directing the operations of a hired girl.

"Mother, I've brought some company home to supper."

The kindly glance of the hospitable Mrs. Barnes swept the forlorn refugee, clearly reviewed in the light streaming out across the door-step.

"Come right in," she said, with a genial smile of welcome.

"It's Harry Ashley," explained Tom. "He may stay all night."

"You arrange where he shall sleep, then, Tom. Go into the dining room, boys. Father seems to be delayed in town, and we needn't wait for him."

Tom did not regret the kindness he was showing to his new friend. When he went to bed that night he felt that he had never pa.s.sed a more satisfactory evening. He had never seen a boy enjoy a meal as Harry Ashley did that supper. It was enough to warm the heart of a stone, he decided, to witness the happy comfort of Harry, as in the cozy sitting room he showed the stranger his books, and some of the electrical toys he had made for his young brother Ted.

Harry looked around the airy attic with a smile of pleasure as he noted a mattress filled with clean straw in one corner, a white coverlid and a pillow.

"Makes you think of home, doesn't it?" questioned Tom.

"No, it doesn't," sharply, almost rudely, snapped out Harry, and then, a slight moisture visible in his eyes, he added apologetically, "you've touched a sore spot, Barnes."

"I won't again," promised Tom gently.

"That's all right," replied Harry in his usual offhand way. "When you know me better I'll explain some things. I'll dream like a prince in a palace to-night."

Tom went to his own room. His head was pretty full with all the varied and exciting events of the day. Of course wireless details predominated.

He went to sleep building in fancy the station for his friend, Ben, down at his home. He woke up to the lively sound of whistling outside of the house. Tom went to the window and looked out.

Bright as a cricket, cheery and clean faced, Harry was surveying what had been a jumbled-up ma.s.s of kindling the night before. He had piled it up symmetrically and had swept up the last stray sliver of wood on the ground. Over towards the vegetable beds was a five-foot heap of weeds which his industry had collected.

Suddenly the happy whistle ceased. Tom saw his father come out of the house, stare at the strange boy, then at the evidence of his enterprise, and smile grimly. Mr. Barnes hailed the boy.

"You're the lad my wife told me about, I reckon," observed the farmer.

"If you mean the boy she was so kind to, yes sir," promptly responded Harry.

"Who hired you?" demanded Mr. Barnes.

"Who hired me?" repeated Harry in a puzzled way.

"Yes, to do that," and Mr. Barnes' hand swept the woodpile and the weed heap suggestively.

"Oh, that's to pay for supper and lodging," explained Harry brightly.

"Well, we'll count breakfast into the bargain," stipulated Mr. Barnes, "and if you get tired doing nothing there's five hundred weight of grain in the barn I'll pay you to grind."

"You will?" cried Harry, his eyes sparkling. "Show it to me, will you, please?"

"Good for him," commented Tom. "He's the real sort, and he's got father on his side all right."

Kindness, attention and the prospect of work seemed to have wrought a marvellous change in Harry. He little suggested the homeless forlorn refuge of the previous night as he sat at the breakfast table. He was lively and chatty, acting the pleasant chum with Tom, the grateful guest to motherly Mrs. Barnes, and narrating comical experiences with amateur farmers he had worked for to Mr. Barnes, keeping the latter in rare good humor throughout the meal.

About an hour later Ben arrived on the scene.

"Say, Tom," was his first sprightly hail, "Father says I've been hopping about like a chicken with her head cut off ever since I got up-and that was five o'clock."

"What's the trouble, Ben?" inquired Tom with a smile, guessing.

"Fever-the wireless kind," chuckled Ben. "I've got five fellows down at the old oak ready to give all day to helping me get the outfit in down at my house. Say, Tom, give me the key to the tower and let me get that box of tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs Mr. Edson gave us, will you?"

"I shall have to go on duty at the station soon, Ben," explained Tom, "but here's the key. Get down to the oak right away, and I'll instruct you how to dismantle my unfinished plant and start you in at your house.

Then at noon I'll give you another hour."

"You'd better come right up to our house for supper, Tom," suggested Ben, "and we can have two full working hours by daylight after you quit work."

"Very well," agreed Tom gladly.