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Show 13 steps. This time I heard Pa talking, way back in my head somewhere. "James Erickson, Son," he said. "Time to move on." I stuffed all my belongings-and Pa's savings-into a duffel bag, and took off down Market Street, wondering how I had mistaken kindly duty for favor. I resolved then I would not make the mistake again. I turned and waved goodbye to the faded green house, floating in the fog, and then hastened toward the harbor. To an orphan it does not matter if he is three blocks from the place he lives or three thousand miles. Therefore, it was not so unusual that at the age of thirteen I set out alone for the Far North, a gold nugget in my pocket, to seek my fortune. |