"Yes. In fact, I haven't thought of anything else since the news came in. You see, we're poor over our way, and father isn't very well, and I'd like to go to California and make some money to send home to the folks." "It's a long journey," said Bob, and now he looked the strange boy over more carefully. He was well set up, and looked as if he could stand almost any amount of knocking round. "I don't care how long the trip is." "Say, if you are acquainted around here, maybe you could put us on the track of buying a cheap but good wagon," said Mark. "A wagon? Why, we've got a wagon father may let you have--if it's good enough. We don't use it any more." "Will you show it to us?" "Certainly. Come on." The boy led the way, and as they walked on he introduced himself. His name was Silas Williams, although he said everybody called him plain Si. He was the oldest of eight children, and his parents had emigrated from New Jersey to Missouri six years before. The Williams farm proved to be in fairly good condition, although the lack of money to do with was plainly evident. They found Mr. Williams sitting by the kitchen door, nursing a leg that was rheumatic. Two boys were at work over a chopping block, and a girl was weeding a garden patch. "These boys want to see the red wagon," said Si. "Perhaps they'll buy it. They want a wagon for the trip to California." "All right," answered Mr. Williams. "They can have it for forty dollars and not a cent less. But why didn't their men folks come over?" "They haven't any men folks, father; they are going it alone." "Gee shoo! Oh, well, show the wagon to 'em." Si led the way to a shed and rolled the red wagon into view. A glance told Mark and Bob that the wagon was a fair one and in good repair. "There's a top for it--up in the barn loft," said Si. "But it's full of holes and will have to be mended." "Well, I guess we could mend it," answered Mark. "But don't you think forty dollars is a good price?" He was growing as cautious as was Bob. "Father wants forty dollars--I don't think he'll take less. Still you might ask him." They examined the wagon with care and ran it around the yard of the farm. Then they walked back to where Mr. Williams was sitting. "I'll give twenty-five dollars for the wagon," said Bob. "Make it thirty-five dollars and it's yours." "No, twenty-five." "Then split the difference and call it thirty dollars," said Mr. Williams, and this was the selling price finally agreed upon. The boys said they would bring the mule around the next morning and take the vehicle away. "Sit down and tell me about your plans," said Mr. Williams, after the money had been paid over. And a talk lasting over an hour followed. They were joined by Mrs. Williams and her daughter Bess, who was a year younger than Si. "If they can do that, pa, I don't see why our Si can't do it," said Bess. "He's just as big and every bit as strong. Why don't you let Si go?"