From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience

"Nobody said I could go," answered the boy, firmly. "But I thought you'd all like to have some fish for supper, so I went."

"Humph! I suppose you thought as how them taters would hoe themselves, eh?" sneered Abner Balberry, who was not only Nat's uncle, but also his guardian.

"I hoed the potatoes," was the boy's answer. "Got through at half-past two o'clock."

"If you got through so soon you didn't half do the job," grumbled the man. "I ain't goin' to have you wastin' your time on no fishin', understand?"

"Can't I go fishing at all?"

"Not when there is work to do on this farm."

"But I did my work, Uncle Abner."

"An' I say it couldn't have been done right if ye didn't take proper time fer it, Nat Nason! I know you! You are gittin' lazy!"

"I'm not lazy!" cried the boy, indignantly. "I work as hard as anybody around here."

"Don't you talk back to me!" ejaculated Abner Balberry. "I say you are lazy, an' I know. How many fish did ye catch?"

"I only got two. They didn't bite very well to-day."

"Humph! A-wastin' three hours an' more jest to catch two little fish! If I let you go your own way, Nat Nason, you'll be in the poorhouse before you die."

"I don't think I'll ever get to the poorhouse, Uncle Abner."

"Oh, don't talk back! Take your fish to the kitchen an' then git down to the barnyard as quick as you can. You've got to help me milk to-night. An' don't you dare to go fishin' ag'in, unless I give ye permission," added Abner Balberry, as he strode off towards the barn.

A sharp answer arose to Nat Nason's lips, but he checked it and turned toward the kitchen of the farmhouse.

"What luck did you have, Nat?" questioned the did woman who was Abner Balberry's housekeeper.

"Not much luck, Mrs. Felton. They didn't bite very well to-day."

"What was Mr. Balberry saying to you?" went on Mrs. Felton, who had been housekeeper at the place since the death of Mrs. Balberry, two years before.

"He was mad because I went fishing."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Uncle Abner never wants me to have any sport."

"He's a hard-working man, and always was, Nat. He doesn't believe in wasting time."

"But a fellow ought to have a little time off."

"That may be true."

"Don't you think I work pretty hard for a boy of my age?"

"I do, Nat."

"Uncle Abner wants to make a regular slave out of a fellow."

"Didn't he say you were to help him milk to-night?"

"Yes, and I might as well get at it right away. If I don't, he'll give me another jawing," answered the boy, and placing his fish on a bench, he strode off toward the barnyard.

Nat Nason was an orphan, the only child of Mr. William Nason, who had been a brother to the late Mrs. Balberry. The boy's father had been killed in a runaway and his mother had never gotten over the shock of the sudden death.

When the youth found himself an orphan he was taken in by his Aunt Mary, who did what she could for him. The Nasons had not been rich, so there was little or no money coming to Nat. From the start he was told that he must earn his own living, and this he proceeded to do to the best of his ability.

The death of his Aunt Mary was almost as much of a blow to the lad as the loss of his mother, for it left him under the entire charge of his uncle, Abner Balberry. The latter had no children of his own and he made Nat work as hard as if he were a full-grown man.

The Balberry farm was located in Ohio, not far from the town of Caswell. It consisted of one hundred acres of good land, with a house and several outbuildings. Among his neighbors Abner Balberry was considered the meanest man in the district. Abner himself thought he was a pretty good man and he counted himself a real "pillow" of the church, as he expressed it.

For two years life on the Balberry farm had been one continual grind to Nat Nason. He was expected to work from morning to night, and such a thing as a whole day off was utterly unknown to him. He received next to nothing in the way of spending money.

"I'll save the money fer ye," Abner Balberry would say, when questioned on the subject. "'Tain't good fer boys to have too much cash on hand. It makes 'em reckless."

"But you never give me anything," had been Nat's answer.

"Never mind--I'm a-givin' you a good home an' good eatin'," was the answer.

The good home and good fare were something to be questioned. Nat's room was a small one under the roof, his clothing usually made over from the garments worn by Mr. Balberry, and such a thing as an elaborate table was unknown on the farm. Many times Mrs. Felton had wished to cook more, or make some fancy dishes, but Abner Balberry had always stopped her from doing such a thing.

"Plain fare is good enough," he would say. "An' if ye eat too much it only brings on the dyspepsy." More than once Nat went to bed feeling positively hungry.

When Nat reached the barnyard he found his uncle already there with the milk pails and milking an old white cow called Sukey.