Chapter I

by Horatio Alger

　　"Sit up to the table, children, breakfast's ready."The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good-looking inthe ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she lookedgood. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico;but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressedwere six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest,Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broad-shouldered, sturdyboy, with a frank, open face, resolute, though good-natured."Father isn't here," said Fanny, the second child."He'll be in directly. He went to the store, and he may stop as hecomes back to milk."The table was set in the center of the room, covered with a coarsetablecloth. The breakfast provided was hardly of a kind to temptan epicure. There was a loaf of bread cut into slices, and a dishof boiled potatoes. There was no butter and no meat, for the familywere very poor.The children sat up to the table and began to eat. They wereblessed with good appetites, and did not grumble, as the majorityof my readers would have done, at the scanty fare. They had notbeen accustomed to anything better, and their appetites were notpampered by indulgence.They had scarcely commenced the meal when the father entered.Like his wife, he was coarsely dressed. In personal appearancehe resembled his oldest boy. His wife looking up as he enteredperceived that he looked troubled."What is the matter, Hiram?" she asked. "You look as if somethinghad happened.""Nothing has happened yet," he answered; "but I am afraid we aregoing to lose the cow.""Going to lose the cow!" repeated Mrs. Walton in dismay."She is sick. I don't know what's the matter with her.""Perhaps it is only a trifle. She may get over it during the day.""She may, but I'm afraid she won't. Farmer Henderson's cow wastaken just that way last fall, and he couldn't save her.""What are you going to do?""I have been to Elihu Perkins, and he's coming over to see what hecan do for her. He can save her if anybody can."The children listened to this conversation, and, young as they were,the elder ones understood the calamity involved in the possibleloss of the cow. They had but one, and that was relied upon tofurnish milk for the family, and, besides a small amount of butterand cheese, not for home consumption, but for sale at the storein exchange for necessary groceries. The Waltons were too poor toindulge in these luxuries.The father was a farmer on a small scale; that is, he cultivatedten acres of poor land, out of which he extorted a living for hisfamily, or rather a partial living. Besides this he worked forhis neighbors by the day, sometimes as a farm laborer, sometimesat odd jobs of different kinds, for he was a sort of Jack at alltrades. But his income, all told, was miserably small, and requiredthe utmost economy and good management on the part of his wife tomake it equal to the necessity of a growing family of children.Hiram Walton was a man of good natural abilities, though of notmuch education, and after half an hour's conversation with him onewould say, unhesitatingly, that he deserved a better fate than hishand-to-hand struggle with poverty. But he was one of those menwho, for some unaccountable reason, never get on in the world. Theycan do a great many things creditably, but do not have the knackof conquering fortune. So Hiram had always been a poor man, andprobably always would be poor. He was discontented at times, andoften felt the disadvantages of his lot, but he was lacking inenergy and ambition, and perhaps this was the chief reason why hedid not succeed better.After breakfast Elihu Perkins, the "cow doctor," came to the door.He was an old man with iron-gray hair, and always wore steel-bowedspectacles; at least for twenty years nobody in the town couldremember ever having seen him without them. It was the generalopinion that he wore them during the night. Once when questionedon the subject, he laughingly said that he "couldn't see to go tosleep without his specs""Well, neighbor Walton, so the cow's sick?" he said, opening theouter door without ceremony."Yes, Elihu, she looks down in the mouth. I hope you can save her.""I kin tell better when I've seen the critter. When you've gotthrough breakfast, we'll go out to the barn.""I've got through now," said Mr. Walton, whose anxiety for the cowhad diminished his appetite."May I go too, father?" asked Harry, rising from the table."Yes, if you want to."The three went out to the small, weather-beaten building whichserved as a barn for the want of a better. It was small, but stilllarge enough to contain all the crops which Mr. Walton could raise.Probably he could have got more out of the land if he had had meansto develop its resources; but it was naturally barren, and neededmuch more manure than he was able to spread over it.So the yield to an acre was correspondingly small, and likely, fromyear to year, to grow smaller rather than larger.They opened the small barn door, which led to the part occupied bythe cow's stall. The cow was lying down, breathing with difficulty.Elihu Perkins looked at her sharply through his "specs.""What do you think of her, neighbor Perkins?" asked the owner,anxiously.The cow doctor shifted a piece of tobacco from one cheek to theother, and looked wise."I think the critter's nigh her end," he said, at last."Is she so bad as that?""Pears like it. She looks like Farmer Henderson's that died a whileago. I couldn't save her.""Save my cow, if you can. I don't know what I should do withouther.""I'll do my best, but you mustn't blame me if I can't bring herround. You see there's this about dumb critters that makes 'emharder to cure than human bein's. They can't tell their symptoms,nor how they feel; and that's why it's harder to be a cow doctorthan a doctor for humans. You've got to go by the looks, and looksis deceivin'. If I could only ask the critter how she feels, andwhere she feels worst, I might have some guide to go by. Not butI've had my luck. There's more'n one of 'em I've saved, if I dosay it myself.""I know you can save her if anyone can, Elihu," said Mr. Walton,who appreciated the danger of the cow, and was anxious to have thedoctor begin."Yes, I guess I know about as much about them critters as anybody,"said the garrulous old man, who had a proper appreciation of hisdignity and attainments as a cow doctor. "I've had as good successas anyone I know on. If I can't cure her, you may call her a gonecase. Have you got any hot water in the house?""I'll go in and see.""I'll go, father," said Harry."Well, come right back. We have no time to lose."Harry appreciated the need of haste as well as his father, andspeedily reappeared with a pail of hot water."That's right, Harry," said his father. "Now you'd better go intothe house and do your chores, so as not to be late for school."Harry would have liked to remain and watch the steps which werebeing taken for the recovery of the cow; but he knew he had barelytime to do the "chores" referred to before school, and he was farfrom wishing to be late there. He had an ardent thirst for learning,and, young as he was, ranked first in the district school which heattended. I am not about to present my young hero as a marvel oflearning, for he was not so. He had improved what opportunities hehad enjoyed, but these were very limited. Since he was nine yearsof age, his schooling had been for the most part limited to elevenweeks in the year. There was a summer as well as a winter school;but in the summer he only attended irregularly, being needed towork at home. His father could not afford to hire help, and therewere many ways in which Harry, though young, could help him. So ithappened that Harry, though a tolerably good scholar, was deficientin many respects, on account of the limited nature of his opportunities.He set to work at once at the chores. First he went to the woodpileand sawed and split a quantity of wood, enough to keep the kitchenstove supplied till he came home again from school in the afternoon.This duty was regularly required of him. His father never touchedthe saw or the ax, but placed upon Harry the general charge of thefuel department.After sawing and splitting what he thought to be sufficient,he carried it into the house by armfuls, and piled it up near thekitchen stove. He next drew several buckets of water from the well,for it was washing day, brought up some vegetables from the cellarto boil for dinner, and then got ready for school.