"See here, major," said Smithers, "I'm a stranger, and not posted. You can call me Smithers. I've got a few hundred dollars and the goods in the wagon. My intention was to open a corner grocery to get a living." "Won't do; there are too many of them. I'll tell you what to do, and you can bet your life that I know this community better than you," said the major. "I guess you ought to." "You take me into partnership, and we'll run a game. The boys round here are all gamblers, and there are three games in full blast every night, all making money--dead piles of it--and no skin at that. Sail right in with me. I know all the boys, and I can work the racket." "But where's your share of the capital?" Maj. Allston touched his forehead. "Here," he said. "I've talent and experience. That's worth all the money you can put into the concern. Is it a go?" Desperate and callous as he was, Smithers did not care much what he did; he fancied that running a faro bank was an easy business, and less tiresome than working hard all day behind the counter of a store. "I'll do it," he replied, after a momentary pause for consideration. "Shake on that," cried the major, in a high state of delight. "Well, partner," exclaimed Smithers, "I'm in your hands now. What shall we do first?" "Leave it all to me. I'll sell the wagon, team and stores to my friend who keeps that saloon behind me. We'll engage his rooms over the store, and hire a nigger to wait on the guests. I've got all the tools for the game, and we'll open to-morrow night. I believe in doing things quickly--that's me. Come and take a drink on me." Smithers made no objection. Whichever way the current of his fate ran, he was willing to go with it just then. The major certainly showed himself a man of brains. In a couple of hours he had sold the stores, wagon, and team, engaged the rooms for the game, with the sleeping apartments overhead, hired a negro, and begun business, which proved very successful. One afternoon, when the major and his partner were in the gaming rooms discussing their future prospects, there was a ring at the bell below. The negro descended the stairs and saw a boy on the sidewalk, who looked tired, worn and travel-stained. "What do you want, sonny, hey?" asked the negro, eying him suspiciously. "If you please," replied the boy, "I want a job, and they told me that perhaps the major, who keeps here, would require an office lad." "Go 'long; take yourself off right away," answered Cæsar, "we've no use for boys here. If you're hungry I'll gib you ten cents to buy some molasses and a bit of bacon." "It's work I want," rejoined the boy. "I have been informed that I've a relative in this town, but I can't find him. I and a friend came from San Francisco, but the Indians attacked us, killed my friend, and robbed us of all we had. Speak to your boss for me." Hearing that there was some conversation going on downstairs, Smithers exclaimed: "What do you stand chinning there for?"