Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy

"You're in luck."

"Well, perhaps so. But my uncle is trying to cheat my mother out of it."

"Then he must be a rascal. Tell me about it."

The man looked sympathetic and trustworthy, and Mark without hesitation told him the story as it is already known to the reader.

"Do you think the stock has reached its highest point?" he asked anxiously.

"No; it will probably rise to two hundred."

"Then my uncle probably won't close it out just at present."

"No; he will hear how the matter stands, and if he is sharp he will hold on."

"I am glad of that, for I want a little time to decide how to act."

"I am going to stop at the mine on my way to 'Frisco."

"I will give you my address and ask you to write me a line to the care of my banker there, letting me know what you can about the mine."

"All right, boy! I like you, and I'll do it. When do you start?"

"To-morrow."

"We'll start together, and I'll get off the train in Nevada."

CHAPTER XXIX

NAHUM SPRAGUE AND HIS ORPHAN WARD

Leaving Mark on his way we will precede him, and carry the reader at once to Gulchville, in California, where he was to find the young boy of whom Mr. Gilbert had requested him to take charge.

In an unpainted frame house lived Mr. Nahum Sprague. In New England such a building would hardly have cost over five hundred dollars, but here it had been erected at more than double the expense by the original owner. When he became out of health and left California it was bought for a trifling price by Nahum Sprague.

The letter was a man of forty-five with small eyes and a face prematurely wrinkled. He was well-to-do, but how he had gained his money no one knew. He and his wife, however, were mean and parsimonious.

They had one son, a boy of fifteen, who resembled them physically and mentally. He was named Oscar, after a gentleman of wealth, in the hope that at his death the boy would be remembered. Unfortunately for Oscar the gentleman died without a will and his namesake received nothing.

The disappointed parents would gladly have changed the boy's name, but Oscar would not hear of it, preferring the name that had become familiar.

This was the family whose grudging hospitality had embittered the last days of John Lillis, and to them he was obliged to commit the temporary guardianship of his little son Philip.

In the field adjoining, Philip Lillis, a small pale boy, was playing when Oscar Sprague issued from the house.

"Come here, you little brat!" he said harshly.

Philip looked with a frightened expression.

"What do you want of me?" he asked.

"What do I want? Come here and see."

The little fellow approached.

He was received with a sharp slap in the face.

"Why do you hit me, Oscar?" Philip asked tearfully.

"Because you didn't come quicker," answered the young tyrant.

"I didn't know you were in a hurry."

"Well, you know it now."

"You wouldn't have hit me when papa was alive," said Philip with a flash of spirit.

"Well, he isn't alive, see?"

"I know he isn't, and I am alone in the world."

"Well, don't snivel! If anything makes me sick at the stomach it is to see a boy snivel."

"Maybe you'd cry if your papa was dead."

"There ain't much fear. The old man's too tough," responded Oscar, who had no sentimental love for his father. Indeed, it would have been surprising if he had shown any attachment to Nahum Sprague, who was about as unattractive in outward appearance as he was in character and disposition.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted me to do."

"Just wait till I tell you, smarty. Do you see this bottle?"

"Yes."

"Take it to the saloon and get it full of whisky."

"Papa didn't want me to go into a liquor saloon."

"Well, your papa ain't got nothing to do with you now. See? You just do as I tell you."

Philip took the bottle unwillingly and started for the saloon.

"Mind you don't drink any of it on the way home," called out Oscar.

"As if I would," said Philip indignantly. "I don't drink whisky and I never will."

"Oh, you're an angel!" sneered Oscar. "You're too good for this world. Ain't you afraid you'll die young, as they say good boys do?"

"I don't believe you'll die young, Oscar."