“That’s a fair question,” said Seth, “and I’m willin’ to answer it.  It was because of the rheumatics.  I had ’em powerful bad at the mines, and I’ve come home to kinder recuperate, if that’s the right word.  But I’m goin’ back ag’in, you may bet high on that.  No more work in the shoe shop for me at the old rates.  I don’t mean that I’d mind bein’ a manufacturer on a big scale.  That’s a little more stiddy and easy than bein’ at the mines, but that takes more capital than I’ve got.”

“How much does it cost to go out there?” asked Dan Tompkins.

“More money than you can scare together, Dan.  First-class, nigh on to three hundred dollars, I believe.”

This statement rather dampened the ardor of more than one of the listeners.  Three hundred dollars, or even two, were beyond the convenient reach of most of those present.  They would have to mortgage their places to get it.

“You can go second-class for a good deal less, and you can go round the Horn pretty cheap,” continued Seth.

“How far away is Californy?” inquired Sam Stone.

“By way of the isthmus, it must be as much as six thousand miles, and it’s twice as fur, I reckon, round the Horn.  I don’t exactly know the distance.”

“Then it’s farther away than Europe,” said Joe, who had been listening with eager interest.

“Of course it is,” said Seth.  “Why, that’s Joe Mason, isn’t it?  How you’ve grown since I saw you.”

“Do you think I have?” said Joe, pleased with the assurance.

“To be sure you have.  Why, you’re a big boy of your age.  How old are you?”

“Fifteen—–­nearly sixteen.”

“That’s about what I thought.  Where are you livin’ now, Joe?”

“I’m working for Major Norton.”

Seth burst into a laugh.

“I warrant you haven’t made your fortune yet, Joe,” he said.

“I haven’t made the first start yet toward it.”

“And you won’t while you work for the major.  How much does he pay you?”

“Board and clothes.”

“And them are the clothes?” said Seth, surveying Joe’s appearance critically.

“Yes.”

“I guess the major’s tailor’s bill won’t ruin him, then.  Are they the best you’ve got?”

“No; I’ve got a better suit for Sunday.”

“Well, that’s something.  You deserve to do better, Joe.”

“I wish I could,” said Joe wistfully.  “Is there any chance for a boy in California, Mr. Larkin?”

“Call me Seth.  It’s what I’m used to.  I don’t often use the handle to my name.  Well, there’s a chance for a boy, if he’s smart; but he’s got to work.”

“I should be willing to do that.”

“Then, if you ever get the chance, it won’t do you any harm to try your luck.”

“How much did you say it costs to get there?”

“Well, maybe you could get there for a hundred dollars, if you wasn’t particular how you went.”