recuperate, if that's the right word. But I'm goin' back ag'in, you may bet high on that. No more work in the shoe shop for me at the old rates. I don't mean that I'd mind bein' a manufacturer on a big scale. That's a little more stiddy and easy than bein' at the mines, but that takes more capital than I've got."
"How much does it cost to go out there?" asked Dan Tompkins.
"More money than you can scare together, Dan. First-class, nigh on to three hundred dollars, I believe."
This statement rather dampened the ardor of more than one of the listeners. Three hundred dollars, or even two, were beyond the convenient reach of most of those present. They would have to mortgage their places to get it.
"You can go second-class for a good deal less, and you can go round the Horn pretty cheap," continued Seth.
"How far away is Californy?" inquired Sam Stone.
"By way of the isthmus, it must be as much as six thousand miles, and it's twice as fur, I reckon, round the Horn. I don't exactly know the distance."
"Then it's farther away than Europe," said Joe, who had been listening with eager interest.
"Of course it is," said Seth. "Why, that's Joe Mason, isn't it? How you've grown since I saw you."
"Do you think I have?" said Joe, pleased with the assurance.
"To be sure you have. Why, you're a big boy of your age. How old are you?"
"Fifteen–nearly sixteen."
"That's about what I thought. Where are you livin' now, Joe?"
"I'm working for Major Norton."
Seth burst into a laugh.
"I warrant you haven't made your fortune yet, Joe," he said.
"I haven't made the first start yet toward it."
"And you won't while you work for the major. How much does he pay you?"
"Board and clothes."
"And them are the clothes?" said Seth, surveying Joe's appearance critically.
"Yes."
"I guess the major's tailor's bill won't ruin him, then. Are they the best you've got?"
"No; I've got a better suit for Sunday."
"Well, that's something. You deserve to do better, Joe."
"I wish I could," said Joe wistfully. "Is there any chance for a boy in California, Mr. Larkin?"
"Call me Seth. It's what I'm used to. I don't often use the handle to my name. Well, there's a chance for a boy, if he's smart; but he's got to work."
"I should be willing to do that."
"Then, if you ever get the chance, it won't do you any harm to try your luck."
"How much did you say it costs to get there?"
"Well, maybe you could get there for a hundred dollars, if you wasn't particular how you went."
A hundred dollars! It might as well have been ten thousand, as far as Joe was concerned. He received no money wages, nor was he likely to as long as he remained in the major's employ. There was a shoe shop in the village, where money wages were paid, but there was no vacancy; and, even if there were, Joe was quite unacquainted with the business, and it would be a good while before he could do any more than pay his expenses.
Joe sighed as he thought how far away was the prospect of his being able to go to California. He could not help wishing that he were the possessor of the magic carpet mentioned in the Arabian tale, upon which the person seated had only to wish himself to be transported anywhere, and he was carried there in the twinkling of an eye.
Joe walked home slowly, dreaming of the gold-fields on the other side of the continent, and wishing he were there.
CHAPTER IV
The next day was Saturday. There was no school, but this did not lighten Joe's labors, as he was kept at work on the farm all day.
He was in the barn when Deacon Goodwin, a neighbor, drove up.
Oscar was standing in front of the house, whittling out a cane from a stick he had cut in the woods.
"Is Joe Mason at home?" the deacon inquired.
Oscar looked up in surprise. Why should the deacon want Joe Mason?
"I suppose he is," drawled Oscar.
"Don't you know?"
"Probably he is in the barn," said Oscar indifferently.
"Will you call him? I want to see him on business."
Oscar was still more surprised. He was curious about the business, but his pride revolted at the idea of being sent to summon Joe.
"You'll find him in the barn," said he.
"I don't want to leave my horse," said the deacon. "I will take it as a favor if you will call him."
Oscar hesitated. Finally he decided to go and then return to hear what business Joe and the deacon had together. He rather hoped that Joe had been trespassing on the deacon's grounds, and was to be reprimanded.
He opened the barn door and called out:
"Deacon Goodwin wants you out at the gate."
Joe was as much surprised as Oscar.
He followed Oscar to the front of the house and bade the deacon good morning.
"Oscar tells me you want to see me," he said.
"Yes, Joe. Do you remember your Aunt Susan?"
"My mother's aunt?"
"Yes; she's dead and buried."
"She was pretty old," said Joe.
"The old lady had a small pension," continued the deacon, "that just about kept her, but she managed to save a little out of it. When the funeral expenses were paid it was found that there were fifty-six dollars and seventy-five cents over."
"What's going to be done with it? he inquired.
"She's left it to you," was the unexpected reply, "You was the nearest relation she had, and it was her wish that whatever was left should go to you."
"I'm very much obliged to her. I didn't expect anything. I had almost forgotten I had a great-aunt."
"The money has been sent to me, Joe," continued the deacon. "I'm ready to pay it over to you when you want it, but I hope you won't spend it foolish."
"I don't think I shall, Deacon Goodwin."
"It wouldn't take long to spend it, Joe," said the deacon. "Do you want me to keep it for you?"
"I don't know," said Joe; "I haven't had time to think. I'll come round to-night and see you."
"Very
