The Store Boy, Jr. Horatio Alger [best fiction books to read .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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"I understand," said Ben. "When do you wish me to start?"
"This afternoon. I have prepared written instructions, and here is a pocketbook containing a hundred and fifty dollars for expenses."
"Shall I need so much?"
"Probably not; but I wish you to be amply provided. You will remove all your things from my house, but you may store anything you don't need to carry."
When Conrad heard that Mrs. Hamilton had taken Ben with her, he was alarmed lest it should be discovered that the boy pawning the opera glass was not Ben, but himself. When, upon Mrs. Hamilton's return, he was summoned to her presence, he entered with trepidation.
"Is your toothache better, Conrad?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"A little better, thank you."
"I am going to make a change in your position. Ben is to leave me, and you will take his place as my secretary."
Conrad's heart bounded with joy and surprise.
"How can I thank you, Cousin Hamilton!" he said, with a feeling of great relief.
"By serving me well."
"All has turned out for the best, mother," said Conrad joyfully, as he sought his mother's presence. "Ben is bounced, and I am to take his place."
"Heaven be praised!" ejaculated Mrs. Hill.
"I hope you'll soon find a place," said Conrad mockingly, when Ben left the house, valise in hand.
"I think I shall," answered Ben calmly.
CHAPTER XXX — BEN "GOES WEST"
Undisturbed by the thought that his departure was viewed with joy by Conrad and his mother, Ben set out on his Western journey.
His destination was Centerville, in Western Pennsylvania. I may as well say that this is not the real name of the place, which, for several reasons, I conceal.
Though Ben was not an experienced traveler, he found no difficulty in reaching his destination, having purchased a copy of "Appleton's Railway Guide," which afforded him all the information he required. About fifty miles this side of Centerville he had for a seat companion a man of middle age, with a pleasant face, covered with a brown beard, who, after reading through a Philadelphia paper which he had purchased of the train-boy, seemed inclined to have a social chat with Ben.
"May I ask your destination, my young friend?" he asked.
Ben felt that it was well for him to be cautious, though he was pleasantly impressed with the appearance of his companion.
"I think I shall stop over at Centerville," he said.
"Indeed! That is my destination."
"Do you live there?" asked Ben.
"No," said the other, laughing. "Do I look like it? I thought you would read 'New York' in my face and manner."
"I am not an experienced observer," said Ben modestly.
"Centerville has a prosperous future before it," said the stranger.
"Has it? I don't know much about the place. I never was there."
"You know, of course, that it is in the oil region?"
"I didn't even know that."
"A year ago," resumed the stranger, "it was a humdrum farming town, and not a very prosperous one either. The land is not of good quality, and the farmers found it hard work to get a poor living. Now all is changed."
Ben's attention was aroused. He began to understand why Mr. Jackson wished to buy the farm he rented from Mrs. Hamilton.
"This is all new to me," he said. "I suppose oil has been found there?"
"Yes; one old farm, which would have been dear at three thousand dollars, is now yielding hundreds of barrels daily, and would fetch fifty thousand dollars easily."
Ben began to be excited. If he could only sell Mrs. Hamilton's farm for half that he felt that he would be doing an excellent thing.
"I suppose you are interested in some of the petroleum wells?" he said.
"Not yet, but I hope to be. In fact, I don't mind confessing that I represent a New York syndicate, and that my object in making this journey is to purchase, if I can, the Jackson farm."
"The Jackson farm!" repeated Ben, his breath almost taken away by his surprise.
"Yes; do you know anything about it?" asked his companion.
"I have heard of a farmer in Centerville named Peter Jackson."
"That is the man."
"And his farm is one of the lucky ones, then?"
"It promises to be."
"I suppose, then, you will have to pay a large sum for it?" said Ben, trying to speak calmly.
"Jackson is very coy, and, I think, grasping. He wants fifty thousand dollars."
"Of course you won't pay so much?"
"I should hardly feel authorized to do so. I may go as high as forty thousand dollars."
Ben was dazzled. If he could effect a sale at this price he would be doing a splendid stroke of business, and would effectually defeat the plans of Mr. Jackson, who, it appeared, had pretended that he was the owner of the farm, hoping to obtain it from Mrs. Hamilton at a valuation which would have been suitable before the discovery of oil, but now would be ludicrously disproportionate to its real value.
"Shall or shall I not, tell this gentleman the truth?" he reflected.
He thought over the matter and decided to do so. The discovery must be made sooner or later, and there would be no advantage in delay.
"I don't think Jackson will sell," he said.
"Why not?" asked the stranger, in surprise. "Do you know him?"
"I never saw him in my life."
"Then how can you form any opinion on the subject?"
Ben smiled.
"The answer is easy enough," he said. "Mr. Jackson can't sell what he doesn't own."
"Do you mean to say that he is not the owner of the farm which he proposes to sell us?"
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