"We met your father in Boston," put in Earl. "He said if we should ever run across you to tell you to come home."
"I'm not going back," was the reply of the squire's son. "I came out here to make my fortune."
"I'm afraid you'll find it rather hard work," ventured Randy, and he glanced at Fred's shabby suit. Around Basco the youth had dressed better than any one else.
"I've been playing in hard luck lately," was the slangy reply. "But say, what are you two fellows doing out here?"
"We came on to join our uncle," said Randy. "He is going to take us to Alaska with him."
"Alaska! To those new gold fields a fellow reads about in the daily papers?"
"Yes."
"I'd like to go there myself," said the runaway, readily.
"It costs a good deal of money to go, Fred," remarked Earl. He rather liked the squire's son, in spite of his wild ways. "A fellow must take along a year's provisions."
"So I've heard. I wonder if I couldn't work my way up on one of the boats."