"Perhaps business will detain you, then, Mr. Tarbox."
"No, Mr. Peterson—that's his name—is goin' back to America in a week or two, and if he strikes a bargain I'll go too. Won't dad open his eyes when his son comes home with ten thousand dollars in his pocket? May be he won't think me quite such a fool as he thought when I started off for Europe, and wouldn't buy a farm, as he wanted me to, with that money I got as a legacy."
"But you will have half your patent also."
"Of course I will, and if that don't bring me in a fortun' it's because folks can't tell a good plow when they see it. But there's one thing I can't understand, Frank."
"What's that?"
"Where did you get all your money to travel after you got pitched over the precipice by that skunk?"
"Oh, I didn't tell you that. Well, after I was able to travel I examined my purse, and found I had only twelve dollars."
"That wa'n't much."
"No, particularly as I had to pay ten dollars to the good people who picked me up. I shall send them more as soon as I have it."