They were all of a week in making their journey; and about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the old bell-mare struck a trot, Mr. Banta turned to Jack and gave him a poke with his finger.
"We are almost home," said he, joyfully. "I don't suppose this will seem like home to you, but it does to me, for it is the only home I have."
"Do you never get tired of this business?" asked Julian. "I should think you would like to go back to the States, where you belong."
"How do you know that I belong in the States?" asked Mr. Banta.
"I judge by your way of talking, as much as anything. You were not raised in this country—I am certain of it."
"Well, I will go back when I get enough."
"How much do you call enough?"
"Half a million dollars."
Julian and Jack opened their eyes and looked surprised.
"I've got three hundred thousand now in the bank at Denver."