literary taste, but could not get hold of books.
Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he had read
himself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of the
neighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way into
the settlement, and this, when it came into Ernest's hands, was
devoured, advertisements and all.

How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing,
for there was a small river two miles away; but one could not fish or
hunt all the time. He had often felt a vague yearning to go to
Chicago, or New York, or anywhere where there would be a broader field
and large opportunities, and he had broached the subject to Peter.

"I can't afford to go, Ernest," the old man would reply. "I must live
on the little I have, for I am too old to work."

"But I am young. I can work," the boy would answer.

"A boy like you couldn't earn much. Wait till I am dead and then you
can go where you like."

This would always close the discussion, for Ernest did not like to
consider such a contingency. Peter represented his world, for he had
no one to cling to except the man whom he supposed to be his uncle.

Now, however, the time had come when he could go forth and enter upon
a career. Accordingly he declined Joe Marks' offer to take him into
the store. He understood very well that it was only meant in kindness,
and that he was not really needed.

"You don't need me, Joe," he said. "You are very kind, but there must
be real work for me somewhere."

"Well, my lad, I won't stand in your way, but I've known you a long
time, and I shall hate to lose sight of you."

"I'll come back some day, Joe--that is, if I am prosperous, and can."

"If you are not prosperous, if you fall sick, and need a home and a
friend, come back, then. Don't forget your old friend Joe Marks."

"I won't, Joe," said Ernest heartily.

"You've got another friend here, Ernest," added Luke Robbins. "I'm a
poor man, and my friendship isn't worth much, but you have it, all the
same."

Ernest grasped the hands of both. He felt that each was a friend worth
having.

"You may be sure that I won't forget either of you," he said.

"When do you expect to go, Ernest, and where?" asked Joe Marks.

"I shall get away to-morrow, I think, but where I shall go I can't
tell yet."

"Do you need any money?"

"No; my uncle left me some."

Ernest had not yet secured the gold, but he knew exactly where it was,
an