“Yes, I see,” asserted Clint.  “You did the right thing.  You’d have been mighty silly to risk it, Durkin.  What about playing?  You—­you play pretty well, don’t you?  Couldn’t you make any money that way?”

“No.”  Penny shook his head.  “I don’t play well enough.  You see, I’ve kept thinking that some day I’d be able to get instruction, but I never have yet; except a few lessons a fellow in Parkerstown gave me one Summer.  I just scrape; that’s all.”

“I’ve always thought,” fibbed Clint stoutly, “that you played finely!”

“I’ve always thought I could if I’d had instruction,” replied Penny wistfully.  “I sort of love it.  Maybe some day—­” His voice dwindled into silence, and for several minutes the two boys, each busy with their separate thoughts, stared through the bare branches up to the blue afternoon sky.  They were aroused from their dreaming by the sound of voices and rustling of leaves under the feet of the speakers.  Clint, peering around, saw Harmon Dreer, and another boy whom he didn’t know by sight, climbing the slope toward them.

CHAPTER XXII

DREER LOOKS ON

“There’s Dreer now,” said Clint softly.

“And Beaufort,” added Penny.

“Who’s he?”

“He lives the other side of the village.  His father owned a lot of land around here and made heaps of money selling it off.  They call him ‘Babe’ Beaufort; this fellow, I mean, not his father; probably because he’s so big.”

“He looks like a walrus,” commented Clint.  Further confidences were impossible, for the approaching couple were now within earshot and had caught sight of the boys by the rock.  Dreer spoke to Beaufort softly and the latter turned a quick, curious look toward the boys under the ledge.  Then, without speaking, they passed on up the hill and out of sight amongst the trees.  Penny gave a sigh of relief.

“He’s a scrapper, and I thought maybe Dreer would try to start something,” said Penny.

“Who is?  Beaufort?”

[Illustration:  “No, he won’t!” exclaimed Clint, jumping to his feet]

“Yes, he’s a sort of village bully.  He’s been in trouble two or three times.  His father has so much money ‘Babe’ thinks he’s the whole thing in Brimfield.  He and Hatherton Williams had a row in front of the post-office a couple of years ago and it took the whole police force to separate them.”

“What does the Brimfield police force consist of?” asked Clint with a laugh.  “One constable with a tin star?”

“Two,” replied Penny, smiling.  “We were sorry the cops butted in, for Williams would have given him a fine licking, I guess.  He’s just the sort of chap Dreer would naturally take up with.”

“Listen!” commanded Clint.  “They’re coming back, I guess.”

Someone was certainly approaching down the hill.  Penny frowned.

“If it is they,” said Clint anxiously, “don’t have any words with them, Durkin.”