“Humph!” said Adam. “Money's a scarce thing here.” “How much'll ye want?” asked the other. “Well,” said the boy, “I want enough to feel safe. For if I go, I promise you I shall stay till I succeed. I shan't play the baby.” “How do you expect to raise it?” was the next question. “I thought,” replied Samuel, “that we might make some kind of a deal--let me sell out my share in the farm.” “You can't sell your share,” said Adam, sharply. “You ain't of age.” “Maybe I'm not,” was the answer; “but all the same you know me. And if I was to make a bargain I'd keep it. You may be sure I'll never come back and bother you.” “Yes, I suppose not,” said Adam, doubtfully. “But you can't tell--” “How much do you expect to git?” asked Dan warily. “Well, I thought maybe I could get a hundred dollars,” said the other and then he stopped, hesitating. Adam and Dan exchanged a quick glance. “Money's mighty scarce hereabouts,” said Adam. “Still,” said Dan, “I don't know, I'll go to the village tomorrow and see what I can do.” So Dan drove away and came back in the evening and there was another council; he produced eight new ten-dollar bills. “It was the best I could do,” he said. “I'm sorry if it ain't enough”--and then he stopped. “I'll make that do,” said Samuel. And so his brother produced a long and imposing-looking document; Samuel was too polite to read it but signed at once, and so the bargain was closed. And that night Samuel packed his few belongings in a neat newspaper bundle and before sunrise the next morning he set out upon his search. CHAPTER III He had his bundle slung over his back and his eighty dollars pinned tightly in an inside pocket. Underneath it his heart beat fast and high; he was young and he was free--the open road stretched out before him, and perpetual adventure beckoned to him. Every pilgrimage that he had ever read of helped to make up the thrill that stirred him, as he stood on the ridge and gazed at the old farmhouse, and waved his hand, and turned and began his journey. The horse was needed for the plowing, and so Samuel walked the six miles to the village, and from there the mail stage took him out to the solitary railroad station. He had three hours to wait here for the train, and so he decided that he would save fifteen cents by walking on to the next station. Distance was nothing to Samuel just then. Halfway to his destination there was a fire in a little clearing by the track, and a young man sat toasting some bread on a stick. “Hello!” he said. “You're hittin' her lively.” “Yes,” said Samuel. The stranger was not much older than he, but his clothing was dirty and he had a dissipated, leering face. “You're new at this game, aren't you?” said he. “What game?” asked Samuel. The other laughed. “Where ye goin'?” “To New York.” “Goin' to hoof it all the way?” “No!” gasped the boy. “I'm just walking to the next station.” “Oh, I see! What's the fare?” “Six thirty-seven, I think.”