Jim named it.
“You say the old folks are living there yet?”
Jim nodded.
“Name is Powers, I suppose, same as yours; maybe you were named for your father, eh?”
“No; father’s name was Ebenezer, an’ mother objected—so it’s ‘Jim’ I am. Why? Goin’ ter dig up my family tree by the roots?” asked the little man whimsically.
“Not a bit of it!” laughed the miner, looking strangely embarrassed as he hurried out the door.
“Monte Cristo” had been Hustler Joe’s favorite tale in his boyhood days. He thought of it now, as he left the “Emporium,” and the thought brought a smile to his lips.
A few days later Pedler Jim was dumfounded to receive a call from a Westmont lawyer.
“Well, my friend,” the man began, “I have a few little documents here that demand your attention.”
Pedler Jim eyed the formidable-looking papers with some apprehension.