ALL IS SETTLED.
“Goin’ to Californy!” ejaculated Mr. Tarbox in a dazed tone.
“Yes. I’ve seen John Heywood—that’s what I went to Crestville for—and he
tells me there’s a chance for a boy to make money out there.”
“Goin’ to walk, I s’pose,” said Seth satirically.
“I’m going across the plains, if that’s what you mean.”
“Where are you goin’ to get the money? It will cost a good deal.”
“I have made arrangements about the money.”
“Is John Heywood goin’ to supply you with funds?”
“I’d rather not tell,” answered Grant mysteriously. He was glad that
this idea had occurred to his step-father, as he did not wish him to
know that he had any funds of his own.
“I don’t know as I’ll let you go,” went on Seth Tarbox slowly.
“What right have you to stop me?” demanded Grant, not very much alarmed.
“I’m your step-father.”
“Yes; but you’re not my guardian.”
“Mind, I don’t say I’ll stop you,” said Seth, for an idea had occurred
to him whereby he might turn the expedition to his own advantage. Should
Grant bring back a good sum of money, he meant to get control of it, and
thought he should succeed on account of the boy’s being so young.
“No, Mr. Tarbox, it wouldn’t be any use.”
“Does John Heywood really think you can make it pay?”
“He says there’s piles of gold there.”
“Piles of gold!” repeated Seth Tarbox, an expression of greed stealing
over his face.
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“I wish I was a young man. I ain’t sure but I’d go myself. But I’m
sixty-eight.”
“That’s a little too old to go.”
“If you are prosperous, Grant, take care of your money and bring it all
home. We’ll be glad to see you back safe and prosperous, your mother and
me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tarbox.”
This conversation relieved Grant’s mind. Even if Mr. Tarbox were opposed
to his going, he meant to go all the same, but it was pleasanter to have
no trouble in the matter.
The next day he went to Crestville again, this time to see Jerry Cooper,
as everybody called him, and his son Tom, and ascertain whether they
were willing that he should join their party.
Mr. Cooper, a weather-beaten man of fifty, was at work in his yard when
Grant came up. Grant knew him by sight, and bade him good-morning.
“Has John Heywood spoken to you about me?” he asked.
“Yes. You’re the boy that wants to go to Californy with us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You look kind of rugged; I guess you can stand it,” said the
blacksmith, surveying critically Grant’s broad shoulders and athletic
frame.
“Yes, Mr. Cooper; I’m not a city dude. I’ve always been accustomed to
hard work.”
“That’s good. There’s a good deal of hard work in goin’ across the
plains.”
“How long do you think it will take to make the journey?”
“About four months.”
“It will give us a good chance to see the country——”
“That ain’t what I’m goin’ for. When you get to be fifty years old you
won’t care much about seein’ the country. You will be more practical.”
“I shall try to be practical,” said Grant, with a smile.
“It’s my belief we shall see more of the country than we care for. I
wish it wasn’t so fur.”
“So do I. Some time there may be a railroad across the continent.”
Mr. Cooper shook his head.
“I never expect to see that,” he said. “It wouldn’t pay. You’re a boy,
and by the time you get to be an old man there may be a railroad, but I
doubt it.”
“When do you expect to start, Mr. Cooper?”
“Next Thursday. Can you be ready?”
“I could be ready to-morrow if necessary,” returned Grant promptly. “How
much is it going to cost me, Mr. Cooper?” he added. “If you will tell
me, I can give you the money in a lump, and you can undertake to see me
through.”
“Mebbe that will be a good plan, as I shall have to lay in more
supplies. We’ll say seventy-five dollars; and it will be well for you to
bring a pair of blankets.”
“All right. I will give you the money now if you will give me a paper
acknowledging the receipt, and what it is for.”
“Just as you say, Grant.”
Grant had brought a hundred dollars with him, and handed over to Jerry
Cooper the sum he had mentioned, receiving back a receipt. This he put
into his pocket with a sense of satisfaction. He felt that now the die
was cast, and he was really bound for California; that he had taken the
first step on the road to fortune.
On his way home he chanced to meet Rodney Bartlett. Rodney was walking
with an affected step and swinging his cane. He had an idea that he was
a striking figure and excited the admiration of all whom he met.
When his eyes fell on Grant, he started in genuine surprise.
“How do you happen to be over here, Grant Colburn?” he asked.
“I am here on business,” answered Grant.
“Oh, come over on an errand for my grandfather, I suppose.”
“No, I came on business of my own.”
Rodney arched his eyebrows.
“Oh, so you have business of your own?” he said, in a ironical tone.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think you would feel interested in it.”
“Look here, Grant, I don’t believe you have any business here at all,”
said Rodney rudely.
“It makes little difference to me what you think,” returned Grant
briefly.
“I think you are playing truant from the farm—that you have come over
here to get rid of work. If I were grandfather I wouldn’t let you come.
I’d keep you at work.”
“You are very kind and considerate, as usual, Rodney. However, you are
mistaken in one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You think I am in the employ of your grandfather.”
“I know you are a farm boy.”
“I was, but am so no longer.”
“What do you mean? Has grandfather discharged you?”
“No, I have discharged myself. I don’t expect to work for your
grandfather any longer.”
“What are you going to do? Do you expect to live without work?”
“No; I expect to work harder next year than ever before.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Rodney, puzzled. “Are you trying to fool
me?”
“No.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I start next Thursday for California.”
Rodney _was_ surprised.
“You—don’t—mean—it!” he ejaculated.
“It’s true.”
“Who are you going with?”
“With Jerry Cooper’s family.”
“But you can’t go without money.”
“That’s true.”
“And you haven’t got any.”
“That’s a mistake. I have all I need.”
“Where did you get it?”
“That’s my business.”
“Who put you up to going?”
“I had a talk with John Heywood. He told me he thought I would succeed
in making money.”
“Oh, I see. I suppose he was fool enough to lend you the money.”
Grant smiled, but did not answer. This confirmed Rodney in his belief.
He looked at Grant with envy and dislike. With the amiable desire to
depress him, he said, “I predict that you’ll come back poorer than you
went away.”
“It may be so, but I don’t believe it.”
When he parted with Grant, Rodney went around to John Heywood’s house,
with the view of ascertaining whether he had supplied Grant with the
funds necessary for his journey.
“I think you are foolish, Mr. Heywood,” Rodney began, “to lend Grant
Colburn money to go to California.”
John Heywood looked up from his work.
“Who told you I had supplied him with money?” he asked.
“Well, no one.”
“Then why do you say I did?”
“He must have got the money somewhere, so I concluded you had let him
have it.”
“Then you concluded wrong. He never asked me to lend him money. If he
had——”
“Well, if he had?” repeated Rodney eagerly.
“If he had, I should probably have done it. Grant Colburn’s a
hardworking boy and a good fellow, and I think he’ll be happier out in
California than on your grandfather’s farm.”
“It’ll be a relief to grandfather to have him go. He’s been supporting
him for the last two years.”
“Grant has earned his living twice over. He’ll have to work hard in
California, but he’ll be paid for it. I shouldn’t be surprised to see
him a rich man some time.”
Rodney scowled and walked away. He thought the prediction ridiculous,
and hoped it would not come true.