“Never mind.  Everybody would have called it a fluke if I had won,” said Edward.  “I expect to get the prize for the long jump.  I am good at that.”

“So am I, but I won’t compete; I will leave it to you.”

“No, no.  I want to win fair.”

Carl accordingly entered his name.  He made the second best jump, but Edward’s exceeded his by a couple of inches, and the prize was adjudged to him.

“I have my revenge,” he said, smiling.  “I am glad I won, for it wouldn’t have been to the credit of the club to have an outsider carry off two prizes.”

“I am perfectly satisfied,” said Carl; “I ought to be, for I did not expect to carry off any.”

Carl decided not to compete for any other prize.  He had invested twenty cents and got back a dollar, which left him a profit of eighty cents.  This, with his original quarter, made him the possessor of a dollar and five cents.

“My luck seems to have turned,” he said to himself, and the thought gave him fresh courage.

It was five o’clock when the games were over, and Carl prepared to start again on his journey.

“Where are you going to take supper?” asked Downie.

“I—­don’t—­know.”

“Come home with me.  If you are in no hurry, you may as well stay overnight, and go on in the morning.”

“Are you sure it won’t inconvenience you?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’ll accept with thanks.”

CHAPTER XII.

An Odd acquaintance.

After breakfast the next morning Carl started again on his way.  His new friend, Edward Downie, accompanied him for a mile, having an errand at that distance.

“I wish you good luck, Carl,” he said, earnestly.  “When you come this way again, be sure to stop in and see me.”

“I will certainly do so, but I hope I may find employment.”

“At any rate,” thought Carl, as he resumed his journey alone, “I am better off than I was yesterday morning.  Then I had but twenty-five cents; now I have a dollar.”

This was satisfactory as far as it went, but Carl was sensible that he was making no progress in his plan of earning a living.  He was simply living from hand to mouth, and but for good luck he would have had to go hungry, and perhaps have been obliged to sleep out doors.  What he wanted was employment.

It was about ten o’clock when, looking along the road, his curiosity was excited by a man of very unusual figure a few rods in advance of him.  He looked no taller than a boy of ten; but his frame was large, his shoulders broad, and his arms were of unusual length.  He might properly be called a dwarf.

“I am glad I am not so small as that,” thought Carl.  “I am richer than he in having a good figure.  I should not like to excite attention wherever I go by being unusually large or unusually small.”