“I don't know yet. I want to go to California, but I can't unless the old man comes down with the requisite amount of tin. You'll soon have your situation back again. I won't stand in your way.”
“I'm not very particular about going back,” said Herbert, “but I must find something to do.”
“Just so!” said Eben. “The place will do well enough for a boy like you, but I am a young man, and entitled to look higher. By the way, I've got something in view that may bring me in five thousand dollars within a month.”
Herbert stared at his companion in surprise, not knowing any short cut to wealth.
“Do you mean it?” he asked, incredulously.
“Yes,” said Eben.
“I suppose you don't care to tell what it is?”
“Oh, I don't mind—it's a lottery.”
“Oh!” said Herbert, in a tone of disappointment.
“Yes,” answered Eben. “You may think lotteries are a fraud and all that, but I know a man in Boston who drew last month a prize of fifteen thousand dollars. The ticket only cost him a dollar. What do you say to that?”