Adam, the oldest brother, took Mr. Manning back to Indian Pond on a fishing trip; and Samuel went along to help with the carries. And all the way the talk was of the wonders of city life. Samuel learned that his home was a God-forsaken place in winter--something which had never been hinted at in any theological book which he had read. Manning wondered that Adam didn't get out to some place where a man had a chance. Then he threw away a half-smoked cigar and talked about the theaters and the music halls; and after that he came back to the inexhaustible topic of Wall Street. He had had interesting news from the office that day; there was a big deal about to be consummated--the Glass Bottle Trust was ready for launching. For nearly a year old Harry Lockman--“You've heard of him, no doubt--he built up the great glass works at Lockmanville?” said Manning. No, Adam confessed that he had never heard of Lockman, that shrewd and crafty old multi-millionaire who had gone on a still hunt for glass-bottle factories, and now had the country in the grip of the fourteen-million-dollar “Glass Bottle Securities Company.” No one knew it, as yet; but soon the enterprise would be under full sail--“And won't the old cormorant take in the shekels, though!” chuckled Manning. “That might be a good sort of thing for a man to invest in,” said Adam cautiously. “Well, I just guess!” laughed the other. “If he's quick about it.” “Do you suppose you could find out how to get some of that stock?” was the next question. “Sure,” said Manning--“that's what we're in business for.” And then, as luck would have it, a city man bought the old Wyckman farm, and the trustees of the estate came to visit Ephraim in solemn state and paid down three crisp one-thousand-dollar bills and carried off the canceled mortgage. And the old man sat a-tremble holding in his hands the savings of his whole lifetime, and facing the eager onslaught of his two eldest sons. “But, Adam!” he protested. “It's gambling!” “It's nothing of the kind,” cried the other. “It's no more gambling than if I was to buy a horse because I knowed that horses would be scarce next spring. It's just business.” “But those factories make beer bottles and whisky bottles!” exclaimed the old man. “Does it seem right to you to get our money that way?” “They make all kinds of bottles,” said Adam; “how can they help what they're used for?” “And besides,” put in Dan, with a master-stroke of diplomacy, “it will raise the prices on 'em, and make 'em harder to git.” “There's been fortunes lost in Wall Street,” said the father. “How can we tell?” “We've got a chance to get in on the inside,” said Adam. “Such chances don't happen twice in a lifetime.” “Just read this here circular!” added Dan. “If we let a chance like this go we'll deserve to break our backs hoeing corn the rest of our days.”