"
"We should be glad to have you stay with us as long as possible,
Harry."
"Thank you, Mr. Howard, I don't doubt that, but the struggle of life
is before me, and I may as well enter upon it at once."
At four o'clock in the afternoon the conductor of the train on which
Harry was a passenger called out Bolton.
Harry snatched up his carpetbag, and made his way to the door, for
this was the place where he was to take the stage for Colebrook.
Two other passengers got out at the same time. One was an elderly man,
and the other a young man of twenty-five. They appeared to be father
and son, and, as Harry learned afterward they were engaged in farming,
"Any passengers for Colebrook?" inquired the driver of the
old-fashioned Concord stage, which was drawn up beside the platform.
"There's Obed and me," said the old farmer.
"May I ride on the seat with you?" asked Harry of the driver.
"Sartain. Where are you going?"
"To Colebrook."
"Then this is your team."
Harry climbed up with a boy's activity, and sat down on the broad
seat, congratulating himself that he would have a chance to see the
country, and breathe better air than those confined inside.
Soon the driver sat down on the box beside him, and started the
horses.
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