Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

“I’m not very particular about going back,” said Herbert, “but I must find something to do.”

“Just so!” said Eben. “The place will do well enough for a boy like you, but I am a young man, and entitled to look higher. By the way, I’ve got something in view that may bring me in five thousand dollars within a month.”

Herbert stared at his companion in surprise, not knowing any short cut to wealth.

“Do you mean it?” he asked, incredulously.

“Yes,” said Eben.

“I suppose you don’t care to tell what it is?”

“Oh, I don’t mind—it’s a lottery.”

“Oh!” said Herbert, in a tone of disappointment.

“Yes,” answered Eben. “You may think lotteries are a fraud and all that, but I know a man in Boston who drew last month a prize of fifteen thousand dollars. The ticket only cost him a dollar. What do you say to that?”

“Such cases can’t be very common,” said Herbert, who had a good share of common sense.

“Not so uncommon as you think,” returned Eben, nodding. “I don’t mean to say that many draw prizes as large as that, but there are other prizes of five thousand dollars, and one thousand, and so on. It would be very comfortable to draw a prize of even five hundred, wouldn’t it now?”

Herbert admitted that it would.

“I’d send for a ticket by Monday morning’s mail,” continued Eben, “if I wasn’t so hard up. The old man’s mad because I ran into debt, and he won’t give me a cent. Will you do me a favor?”

“What is it?” asked Herbert, cautiously.

“Lend me two dollars. You’ve got it, I know, because you were paid off to-night. I would send for two tickets, and agree to give you quarter of what I draw. Isn’t that fair?”

“It may be,” said Herbert, “but I haven’t any money to lend.”

“You have three dollars in your pocket at this moment.”

“Yes, but it isn’t mine. I must hand it to mother.”

“And give up the chance of winning a prize. I’ll promise to give you half of whatever I draw, besides paying back the money.”

“Thank you, but I can’t spare the money.”

“You are getting as miserly as the old man,” said Eben, with a forced laugh.

“Eben,” said Herbert, seriously, “you don’t seem to understand our position. Mother has lost the post office, and has but eight dollars a month income. I’ve earned three dollars this week, but next week I may earn nothing. You see, I can’t afford to spend money for lottery tickets.”

“Suppose by your caution you lose five hundred dollars. Nothing risk, nothing gain!”

“I have no money to risk,” said Herbert, firmly.

“Oh, well, do as you please!” said Eben, evidently disappointed. “I thought I’d make you the offer, because I should like to see you win a big prize.”

“Thank you for your friendly intention,” said Herbert, “but I am afraid there are a good many more blanks than prizes. If there were not, it wouldn’t pay the lottery men to carry on the business.”

This was common sense, and I cannot forbear at this point to press it upon the attention of my young reader. Of all schemes of gaining wealth, about the most foolish is spending money for lottery tickets. It has been estimated by a sagacious writer that there is about as much likelihood of drawing a large prize in a lottery as of being struck by lightning and that, let us hope, is very small.

“I guess I won’t go any farther,” said Eben, abruptly, having become convinced that Herbert could not be prevailed upon to lend him money.

“Good-night, then,” said Herbert “Good-night.”

“Well, mother, I’m out of work,” said Herbert, as he entered the little sitting room, and threw down his week’s wages. Our young hero was of a cheerful temperament but he looked and felt sober when he said this.

“But for the Grahams we should have a comfortable living,” the boy proceeded. “First, the father took away the post office from you, and now the son has robbed me of my place.”

“Don’t be discouraged, Herbert,” said his mother. “God will find us a way out of our troubles.”

Herbert had been trained to have a reverence for religion, and had faith in the providential care of his heavenly Father, and his mother’s words recalled his cheerfulness.

“You are right, mother,” he said, more hopefully. “I was feeling low-spirited to-night, but I won’t feel so any more. I don’t see how we are to live, but I won’t let it trouble me tonight.”

“Let us do our part, and leave the rest to God,” said Mrs. Carr. “He won’t support us in idleness, but I am sure that in some way relief will come if we are ready to help ourselves.”

“God helps them that help themselves,” repeated Herbert.

“Exactly so. To-morrow is Sunday, and we won’t let any worldly anxieties spoil that day for us. When Monday comes, we will think over what is best to be done.”

The next day Herbert and his mother attended church in neat apparel, and those who saw their cheerful faces were not likely to guess the serious condition of their affairs. They were not in debt, to be sure, but, unless employment came soon, they were likely to be ere long, for they had barely enough money ahead to last them two weeks.

Monday morning came, and brought its burden of care.

“I wish there was a factory in Wayneboro,” said Herbert. “I am told that boys of my age sometimes earn six or seven dollars a week.”

“I have heard so. Here there seems nothing, except working on a farm.”

“And the farmers expect boys to take their pay principally in board.”

“That is a consideration, but, if possible, I hope we shall not be separated at meals.”

“I will try other things first,” said Herbert. “How would you like some fish for dinner, mother? My time isn’t of any particular value, and I might as well go fishing.”

“Do so, Herbert. It will save our buying meat, which, indeed, we can hardly afford to do.”

Herbert felt that anything was better than idleness, so he took his pole from the shed, and, after digging a supply of bait, set out for the banks of the river half a mile away.

Through a grassy lane leading from the main street, he walked down to the river with the pole on his shoulder.

He was not destined to solitude, for under a tree whose branches hung over the river sat a young man, perhaps twenty-five years of age, with a book in his hand.

CHAPTER VI. HERBERT’S GOOD LUCK

“Good-morning,” said the young man, pleasantly.