hundred dollars.”
“It isn’t much. Is that all that your uncle left?”
“I think so. He said nothing about having more.”
“It isn’t much to begin the world with. I wish for your sake, boy, that I had some to give you, but I never knew how to get together money.”
“I guess it will do, Luke. I have health and strength. I think I can make my way.”
“But you have no trade.”
“Have you?”
“No, Ernest. You’ve got me there. I am only a hunter, but I don’t make much of a living. I don’t recommend you to follow in my steps.”
“One thing is certain, Luke. I must get away from here. There is nothing I can do in Oak Forks.”
“Where do you want to go, lad?”
“I don’t know. I might go eastward to Chicago or New York, or I might go West to California. Have you ever been to either place, Luke?”
“No, lad, but if I had my choice I’d go westward. I’ve heard fine stories of California. I think I should like to see that land.”
“Why don’t you go?”
“Stop a minute! Let me think!”
The hunter assumed a thoughtful look. He remained silent for five minutes. Then he said, as if to himself: “Why not?”
Ernest still kept silence, but his eyes were fixed upon the face of the hunter.
Finally Luke looked up.
“How do you want to go, lad?” he asked. “Do you want to go over the railroad, or are you in for a tramp over the mountains and plains?”
“That depends on whether I am to go alone or not. If I go alone I shall prefer to go by rail.”
“Are you in for a long tramp with me?” asked Luke, his face glowing with new-born enthusiasm.
“I will go anywhere with you, Luke.”
“Then it is agreed. We will start to-morrow.”
CHAPTER VII
ON THE ROAD
Nothing could have pleased Ernest better than to travel with Luke Robbins. He felt that he should be safe with the sturdy hunter, who was strong, resolute and reliable.
True he was not a man who had succeeded as man reckons success. He had lived comfortably, but it had never occurred to him to lay up money, nor indeed had he had any opportunity to do so. He mentioned this as an objection to the trip which he had himself proposed.
“My lad,” he said, “I am afraid I can’t go with you after all.”
“Why not, Luke?”
“Because you’re rich compared with me.”
“I have but a hundred dollars.”
“And I – well, lad, I’m ashamed to say so, but I have only fifteen.”
“We’ll share and share alike, Luke.”
“No, lad. Luke Robbins is too proud to live upon a boy. I reckon I’d better stay at home.”
“But I want you to go and take care of me, Luke. How can I travel alone?”
Luke brightened up.
“That puts a different face on it, Ernest. If you think you need me, I’ll go.”
“I do need you.”
“Then go I will, but one thing is understood: I won’t take any of your money.”
“There won’t be any trouble on that score.”
So the two prepared for their trip. Ernest, with Luke’s help, purchased an outfit, and on the morning of the third day the two started out together, neither having a very definite idea where they were going except that their course was westward.
Luke knew very little of the States and Territories that lay between Oak Forks and the Pacific Coast. Ernest, whose education was decidedly superior to his companion’s, was able to give him some information. So they plodded on, enjoying the unconventional life and the scenery on the way.
They were in no hurry. They stopped to hunt and fish, and when the weather was unfavorable they stayed at some wayside cabin. When the nights were fine they camped out under the open canopy of heaven.
Part of their way led through woods and over prairies, but here and there they came to a village. There was little occasion to spend money, but they were compelled to use some.
One day, some weeks from the time when they started, Luke turned to Ernest with a sober face.
“Ernest,” he said, “I think you’ll have to leave me at the next poorhouse.”
“Why, Luke?”
“Because my money is nearly all gone. I started with fifteen dollars. Now I have but one.”
“But I have plenty left.”
“That doesn’t help me.”
“I want to share it with you, Luke.”
“Don’t you remember what I said when we set out, lad?”
“What was it?”
“That I would not touch a dollar of your money.”
“Then do you mean to leave me alone, Luke?” pleaded Ernest reproachfully.
“You are a boy and I am a man. I’m forty years old, Ernest. Is it right that I should live on a boy less than half my age?”
Ernest looked at him in perplexity.
“Is there no way of getting more money?” he asked.
“If we were in California now and at the mines, I might make shift to fill my purse; but there are no mines hereabouts.”
“Let us keep on and something may turn up.”
When this conversation took place they were approaching Emmonsville, a thriving town in Nebraska. As they walked through the principal street, it was clear that something had happened which had created general excitement. Groups of people were talking earnestly, and their faces wore a perturbed and anxious look.
“What’s the matter?” asked Luke, addressing a well-to-do appearing man.
“Haven’t you heard of the bank robbery over at Lee’s Falls?”
“No.”
“Two men fully armed rode up to the door, and, dismounting, entered the bank. One stepped up to the window of the paying teller, and covering him with his revolver, demanded five thousand
