"As much as that, Jake?" said Ben, eagerly.
"I reckon there is, though I can't justly tell."
"It doesn't seem possible I can be worth five hundred dollars," said Ben, thoughtfully. "We've only been here four weeks. That makes a hundred and twenty-five dollars a week."
"So it does. That's pretty high pay for a boy."
"Before I left home," said Ben, "there was an old farmer, Deacon Pitkins, who wanted to hire me for a year. What do you think he offered me?"
"How much?"
"Twenty dollars a year and board," answered Ben.
"I reckon you did better to come to Californy."
"It looks so now. How the old deacon would stare if he knew how I had been prospering at the mines! I wish there was any way of sending part of this money home. I would like to make a present to Uncle Job."
"When you get to 'Frisco you won't have any trouble about sendin' it."