John Miles laughed.
"Well, at any rate, it seems you believe in luck after all. I am sure you both wish me to be prosperous, whether you call it luck or by some other name. Tom, if I meet with any good opening that I think will suit you, I shall write you. You don't want to stay here, particularly?"
"No; the place is not so pleasant since these new people have come here. Missouri Jack isn't a neighbor that I like."
"He is exerting a bad influence," said Ferguson. "I am afraid Peabody visits him too often for his own good."
"He ought to have stayed in Boston," said Miles. "He is not the man for such a life as ours. He is too delicate to work, or thinks he is, and I see no other reliable road to success."
"I saw Peabody reeling out of the saloon this afternoon," said Tom. "I asked him if he considered it was 'high-toned' to drink in a saloon, as that is the word he is always using, but he said it didn't make much difference out here, where he wasn't known."
"Peabody isn't overstocked with brains, though he does come from Boston," said Miles.
Ten o'clock came, and Miles rose to go.
"I must have a good night's rest," he said, "for to-morrow night must see me many miles on my road. Tom, I will attend to that commission of yours just as soon as I have the opportunity."
"Thank you, Mr. Miles."