"Yes, my brother Tom is twenty-one years old. I expect he voted at the last town-meeting. I'm four years older than Tom."
"Have you been fortunate so far in California, Mr. Onthank?"
"Can't say I have. I guess I've wandered round too much. Been a sort of rollin' stone; and my granny used to say that a rollin' stone gathers no moss. I've got about enough money to get me to San Francisco, and I own this animal; but I haven't made a fortune yet. What luck have you two had?"
"Pretty fair, but it will take a good while to make our fortunes. We own this team, and that's about all we do own."
"A sort of an express wagon, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Ain't goin' into the express business, be you?"
"Probably not. We bought it on speculation."
"That reminds me of old Sam Bailey in our town. He was always tradin' horses. Sometimes he made money, and then again he didn't. How much did you give?"
Tom told him.