A Young Inventor's Pluck: or, The Mystery of the Willington Legacy

Deb was delighted to learn that they were to receive fifty dollars in cash the next day.

"I'll be so glad to get rid of that horrid agent," she declared, and showed Jack the notice to quit.

In looking it over he discovered that it had been dated the day before.

"The mean fellow!" he exclaimed. "He thinks to get us out one day sooner than the law allows. Won't he be astonished when I pull out the roll of bills and pay him?"

In anticipation of the money soon to be received, and in honor of Jack's release, Deb prepared quite an elaborate dinner.

It nearly took her breath away when she discovered that the outlay footed up to nearly a dollar-a large sum for them. But then her brother did delight in cutlets, with potatoes and green corn, and somehow the table wouldn't have looked complete without some stewed prunes and a pudding-dessert-the latter just fixed to tickle Jack's palate.

During the meal Mont slipped in, and was compelled to sit down with them. He was delighted to see the young machinist free, but shook his head over the price that had been paid for liberty.

"What do you intend to do now?" he asked.

"Find Andy Mosey, if I can, and have him arrested," replied Jack. "It is the only way, I believe, that I can clear myself."

"It isn't likely you will find him," remarked the young man. "He will no doubt keep shady for a while."

"I shan't look for him to-day, excepting to strike a clue," was the young machinist's reply.

After the meal was finished, and Mont had gone, Jack announced his intention to do the repairs that he had promised Farmer Farrell.

"I might as well do them at once," he said to Deb, "it will be several dollars in pocket, and we need all the money we can get now. If this case goes to trial I'll have to hire a lawyer, and they charge heavily."

"So, I've heard," replied Deb, "but I wouldn't mind that if only you get free."

"I'll try my best," replied Jack taking up his kit of tools.

"When will you be back?" she asked as he started to go.

"I can't say. It depends on the job. Don't worry if it is late."

"All right; I'll keep the supper warm till you come."

So young, and yet a perfect housekeeper!

"She'll make some fellow a good wife one of these days," said Jack to himself as he strode along.

It was a fine day, and the walk by the river side was a delightful one, but the young machinist scarcely noticed the surroundings. His mind was busy with the numerous difficulties that had risen round him, and he endeavored to lay out a definite plan of action by which to extricate himself.

When he arrived at the farm, he found his acquaintance of the previous day hard at work on the patent rake, which he had taken almost entirely apart.

"Just in time, young man!" exclaimed farmer Farrell, wiping the perspiration from his brow; "I thought, seeing as how you didn't come this morning, I'd see what I could do myself. But the job's a leetle too much for me. I've got the pesky thing apart and can't put two pieces together again."

"That's because you don't understand machinery and haven't the tools," replied the young machinist, and taking off his coat, he set to work at once.

He picked out the worn screws and bolts and substituted the new ones which he had brought. Then he sorted out the various parts in their proper order, and examined each critically.

"This bit of iron that guides the pressure spring is warped," he remarked. "Did the rake pull hard when the left side was lower than the right?"

"Yes, and squeaked, too."

"Then, that's the cause of it, and all the oil in the world wouldn't help it."

"Can you fix it?" asked the farmer, anxiously.

"I can if I can get a hot fire," replied Jack.

"I'll start it up at once," returned farmer Farrell, and he disappeared into the house.

When he had the fire well under way, Jack heated the part, and gave it the proper shape. Then he put the machine together, adjusted it carefully, and oiled the parts.

"Guess it's all right now," he said, lifting it over.

"We'll soon see," returned the farmer. Going to the barn he brought out one of the horses and hitched him to the machine. Then he mounted the seat and drove up and down the field several times.

"Works like a charm!" he declared. "You understand your trade and no mistake. How much for the job?"

This question was a stickler to Jack. He did not wish to ask too much, and he could not afford to ask too little.

"They would charge you three dollars at the machine shops," he said.

"Then I suppose that's what it's worth," continued the farmer. He was a whole-souled man, and was taken by Jack's outspoken manner. "But there's the other things to do yet," he continued.

"I know it; so we'll put this job at two dollars," said the young machinist.

"Never mind, I'm satisfied to pay three," laughed farmer Farrell. "Come into the barn; I've found quite a lot of stuff that needs doctoring, and I want you to put everything in first-class shape."

"I'll do my best."

Farmer Farrell led the way, and Jack was soon as busy as a bee, putting the machines in running order and overhauling other farming implements.

"Why didn't you stop this morning?" asked the farmer, presently. He had intended going reaping, but Jack's handy use of tools interested him and made him linger.

In an easy manner that did not interfere with his work, the young machinist narrated the particulars of what had occurred to detain him.

"Well, now, that beats all! Trouble piling right up on top of ye! Wonder if I don't know this Mosey," continued the farmer, reflectively. "Is he a short man with a red beard?"

"Yes."

"Didn't he use to work over to Redrock?"

"I believe he did."

"Then I reckon I do. He's a bad egg. I used to sell the company he worked for hay for packing, and Mosey used to weigh it. Several times, when I was sure it was correct, he reported short, and when I spoke to him about it, he said it would never be right until I made it right with him, or, in other words, paid him for his good will."

"How did it turn out?" asked Jack, interested in the story.