"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."