"Herbert," said Eben, suddenly, "I want you to do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"You've always known me, you know. When you was a little chap, and came into the store, I used to give you sticks of candy."

"I don't remember it," answered Herbert, truthfully.

"I did, all the same. You were so young that you don't remember it."

"Well, Eben, what of it?"

"I want you to lend me ten dollars, Herbert, in memory of old times."

Herbert was generously inclined, on ordinary occasions, but did not feel so on this occasion. He felt that Eben was not a deserving object, even had he felt able to make so large a loan. Besides, he could not forget that the young man who now asked a favor had brought a false charge of stealing against him.

"You will have to excuse me, Eben," he answered. "To begin with, I cannot afford to lend so large a sum."

"I would pay you back as soon as I could."

"Perhaps you would," said Herbert, "though I have not much confidence in it. But you seem to forget that you charged me with stealing only a short time since. I wonder how you have the face to ask me to lend you ten dollars, or any sum."

"It was a mistake," muttered Eben, showing some signs of confusion.

"At any rate, I won't say anything more about it while you are in trouble. But you must excuse my declining to lend you."

"Lend me five dollars, then," pleaded Eben.

"What do you want to do with it?"

"To buy lottery tickets. I am almost sure I should win a prize, and then I can pay you five dollars for one."

"I wouldn't lend any money for that purpose to my dearest friend," said Herbert "Buying lottery tickets is about the most foolish investment you could make."

"Then I won't buy any," said Eben. "Lend me the money and I will use it to buy clothes."

"You will have to excuse me," said Herbert, coldly.

"I didn't think you'd be so mean," whined Eben, "to a friend in distress."

"I don't look upon you as a friend, and for very good reasons," retorted Herbert, as he walked away.

Eben looked after him with a scowl of hatred.

"I'd like to humble that boy's pride," he muttered, as he slowly resumed his march.

CHAPTER XXI. COL. WARNER.

When Herbert returned to the hotel he found George Melville in the reading room in conversation with a tall and dignified-looking stranger.

"Is that your brother, Mr. Melville?" asked the latter, as Herbert came forward and spoke to Melville.

"No, Colonel, he is my young friend and confidential clerk, Herbert Carr."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Carr," said the colonel, affably, extending his hand as he spoke.

"This is Col. Warner, Herbert," explained George Melville.

Herbert, who was naturally polite, shook hands with the colonel, and said he was glad to make his acquaintance.

"I have been talking with Mr. Melville," said the colonel. "I am sorry to hear that he is traveling in search of health."

"Yes, sir; I hope he will find his journey beneficial."

"Oh, not a doubt of it! Not a doubt of it! I've been there myself. Do you know, when I was twenty-five, which I take to be about the age of your employer, I thought I should die of consumption?"

"I shouldn't have supposed it, sir," said Herbert, and Melville, too, felt surprised, as he noticed the stalwart proportions of the former consumptive.

"Ha! ha! I dare say not," said the colonel, laughing. "I don't look much like it now, eh?"

"No, you certainly don't, colonel," said Melville. "I am curious to know how you overcame the threatened danger."

"I did what you are doing, sir; I came West."

"But the mere coming West did not cure you, did it?"

"No, sir; it was the life I lived," returned Col. Varner. "I didn't stay in the cities; I went into the wilderness. I lived in a log-cabin.

I bought a horse, and rode every day. I kept in the open air, and, after a while, I found my strength returning and my chest expanding, and in a twelvemonth I could afford to laugh at doctors."

"And you have never had a return of the old symptoms?" asked Melville, with interest.

"Never, except four years afterwards, when I went to New York and remained nearly a year. I am now fifty, and rather hale and hearty for my years, eh?"

"Decidedly so."

"Let me advise you to follow my example, Mr. Melville."

"It was my intention when I started West to live very much as you indicated," said Melville. "Now that I have heard your experience, I am confirmed in my resolve."

"Good! I am glad to hear it. When do you leave Chicago?"

"To-morrow, probably."

"And how far West do you intend to go?"