The city was so far away that he did not think it possible to walk, and as for paying his fare on the stage-coach, he might just as well have cried for the moon.
The cost of riding from Jonesboro to Portland, in both stage and cars, was $7, and Ned had never been the possessor of a tenth part of that amount, although he was really as industrious as the townspeople would allow him to be.
From the day he was ten years old the unhappy boy had said to himself that he would go to the city at the first opportunity; but as the weeks went by and he could see no possibility of carrying out such a plan, he grew discouraged.
“I expect what the deacon said will come true,” he thought, “an’ it won’t be my fault. The people ain’t willin’ to give me a job, an’ if I do get a chance now an’ then, nobody wants to pay cash.”
It was when the future looked darkest, and he had begun to ask himself whether it would not be possible for him to walk to Portland, even though the distance was more than two hundred miles, that the longed-for opportunity arrived.
A drover passed through the town, or was about to do so, with a hundred head of cattle, when one of his drivers was taken sick, and he inquired for some one to fill the man’s place.
The stock was to be driven to the nearest shipping point on the railroad, and from there taken by cars to Portland.
Ned heard of the drover’s necessities and applied for the situation, agreeing to do the work, provided he was taken as far as the city and supplied with food during the journey.
On such terms there was but little difficulty in making a trade, and the boy left his native town, determined never to return until he could show Deacon Grout and his friends that it was possible for him to rise in the world when he was among those who would allow him an opportunity.
The journey, slow and fatiguing though it was, delighted Ned.