on the job until we win, or we have to admit we’re licked.” Bob held out his hand and the agreement was made, without further discussion.

“We’ll have to explain to Her Highness,” the younger boy declared.

“Sure thing. She’ll be disappointed unless there’s a lot of air work to it, and I have a hunch there will be.”

“Oh, boys—”

“Yes Aunt Belle,” Bob shouted.

“Do you know where your uncle is working?” Mrs. Fenton called from the roadway. “There’s a telephone message for him.”

“We’ll find him for you,” Jim promised. They hurried off in the direction Mr. Fenton had taken when he left them and soon the sound of a hammer ringing in the distance informed them they were on the right trail. A moment later they could see the man repairing a place in the rail fence that bounded the pasture.

“Uncle Norman, you’re wanted on the telephone,” Bob roared.

“All right, coming,” the man waved, and dropping his work, came as fast as his long legs could carry him.

“Guess you’re party’s holding the line,” Jim volunteered.

“They don’t mind that around here,” Mr. Fenton replied. He went ahead and the boys followed more leisurely.

“This certainly is a good looking spot. No wonder the early pioneers settled in rock-bound Vermont, but, gosh, what a fight they had to put up to get a living out of those rocks,” Bob remarked as his eyes roamed admiringly over the green hills, across the blue water, on to the distant mountains.

“It isn’t a rich state yet, but it has produced some fine men. Real rip-snorters, rearin’ to go,” Jim added. By that time they had reached the “hole” and could see the strange boy working industriously at his terrace.

“You know, Bob, we want to be kind of careful because we don’t want to do any butting-in on that kid. Maybe, far as he’s concerned, we had better mind our own business.”

“Reckon you’re right, but let’s try to make friends with him,” Bob suggested, and that was passed without a dissenting vote.

“Oh boys.”

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