"Well, Dick," remarked Mr. Hamilton at breakfast the next morning, "your party was a great success."
"I hope they all had a good time. They seemed to. I know I did."
"Yes, they were a fine lot of young people," went on the millionaire. "Oh, by the way, I had a letter from the man in Yazoo City I wrote to about your gold mine stock. Nick Smith, his name is. He's an old forty-niner, I understand."
"What does he say?"
"The mine is all right. He sent me a report from the government assay office, and I guess the Dolphin is as good as the Hop Toad."
"Then I'd better finish paying for the stock when Mr. Vanderhoof comes to town again," said Dick. "It will be mine then, and all I'll have to do is to wait for it to increase and pay me big dividends."
"I hope it does," answered Mr. Hamilton. "I also had a letter from Vanderhoof yesterday.He also had heard from Smith, it appears, and as he learned the mine was favorably reported on, he sent word that he'd call to-day for the fifteen hundred dollars."
"He can have it, dad," said Dick. "I guess I'll go down to the bank with you. What time will Mr. Vanderhoof be there?"
"At eleven, his letter said. Well, if you have finished breakfast, come along. You're getting to be quite a financier."
"I'm going to make that a paying investment if it's a possible thing," answered Dick, as he walked through the well-kept grounds toward the street and thought of Uncle Ezra's place.
Mr. Vanderhoof was promptly on time, and had the bonds ready for Dick, who paid for them with a check. The youth, who had about given up trying to recall where he had seen Vanderhoof before, thought the mining promoter smiled more than ever like a cat as he handed over the securities and took the money.
"I'm sure I hope you double your capital," he remarked, with a smirk that showed nearly all his teeth.
"Oh, if I make twenty-five per cent. I'll be satisfied," answered Dick.
"Well, I'll be in town for a few days," Mr. Vanderhoof went on, "and if either of you would like to take some more mining stock I'll be glad to accommodate you."
"I have enough," replied the millionaire, andDick answered that he wanted to see how this investment turned out before venturing another.
"Well, I'll be in town, at any rate," was the promoter's parting remark.
Dick felt quite like a man of business as he looked over his check book a little later and noted what he had paid out. True, he had taken in nothing since he had come into his fortune, but he knew the wealth his mother had left him was accumulating interest all the while—faster, in fact, than he had spent it so far. Still he wished that he was receiving an income from some efforts of his own.
"Never mind, wait until my stock in the gold mine and the milk company begins to boom," he told himself. "That is, if that milk concern doesn't demand another assessment," he added, dubiously.
Dick walked slowly home, and, passing around the side of the house, approached the stable. He intended taking a gallop on Rex that afternoon and wanted the groom to have the horse in readiness. As he neared Grit's kennel he noticed that the chain was thrown over the top of the house, as it usually was when the dog was loose.
"Where's Grit?" he asked of Peters, the groom.
"Grit, Master Dick?" inquired the man, in great surprise. "Sure an' didn't you send for him about an hour ago?"
"Me send for him?" repeated Dick in some alarm, for Grit, even if he was unchained, wouldnot stray away from the stable. He was nowhere in sight, and Dick at once became worried.
"Sure, Master Dick," went on the groom. "About an hour ago a youngish chap came here and said you'd sent him for Grit."
"And you let him take him?"
"Why, sure, I thought you'd sent for him, as you did once."
"Yes, but then I sent a note, Peters."
"That's so, but the young man had Grit's leash, sir; and, though the dog was inclined to be a bit ugly, he seemed to know the leash and went along after a bit."
"What sort of a man got him?" asked Dick, quietly, though he was much excited over what seemed to be the theft of his pet.
"A young man, not very nice-looking, Master Dick, and smelling very strong of the stables. In fact, that's what made Grit finally take to him. Grit's very fond of horses and stables, sir. He'll let almost anyone come near him as long as they've been around a barn."
"That's so. Did the man say anything, or give any name?"
"No. He just said you were going for a walk and wanted Grit to go 'long. Said you was too busy to come and had sent the leash so's he'd have no trouble. He didn't have—that is, not very much—barring that Grit wanted to get hold of his leg first. But when the dog had sniffed at the leash, probably knowin' it came from you, hewas quiet enough. But I could see the man was askeered of him, Master Dick. He walked to one side like. Why, Master Dick, is anything wrong?"
"Wrong? I should say so! Grit's been stolen, Peters."
"You don't say so, Master Dick!" exclaimed the man, much alarmed at his part in the matter.
"Yes, he's been stolen, and by a clever trick," went on Dick. "But I don't blame you, Peters. I remember now, I lost the leash thong last night. I had it on Grit and I took it off and put it in my pocket. Then I missed it after the party, and I was too tired to look for it. Someone must have found it, and, knowing it belonged to Grit, made up his mind to steal him. The fellow must have known he'd come more willingly after smelling his own leash."
"But you must have lost it somewhere around here," went on Peters. "Someone at the party may have found it."
"If they had they would have known it was mine," answered Dick. "No, I think someone outside found it and he stole Grit. Well, I've got to find him, that's all. Saddle Rex, and I'll make some inquiries about town."
"But it's near dinner-time, Master Dick."
"I don't care. I can't eat if Grit is gone," and with a heavy heart Dick waited for the horse to be saddled. He whistled shrilly his favorite call to Grit, hoping the dog might have broken awaynot far from the stable, and be in hiding somewhere, but no Grit appeared.
On the back of Rex, Dick made a hasty tour of the immediate neighborhood, inquiring of various persons he met if they had seen the bulldog. Grit was well known about Hamilton Corners, for he was often seen in his master's company. But this time no one had noticed him being led off in leash by a young man who seemed quite afraid of the brute that was so handsome for his very ugliness.
"He's been stolen for a reward," was Mr. Hamilton's opinion when he came home to lunch and heard Dick's woeful story. "You'll hear from him sooner or later. Better advertise in the county papers."
Dick put in several notices that afternoon, offering to pay a reward of a hundred dollars for the return of Grit.
"Now we'll have to wait," said the millionaire. "Never mind, Dick; if Grit is gone you can get another dog," for Mr. Hamilton was as fond of animals as was his son.
"There'll never be another Grit," answered Dick, sorrowfully.
Meanwhile, Grit was being led across the country fields which stretched out back of the Hamilton mansion.
"I've got to keep off the roads," muttered the youth who had hold of the leash. "There's too many people as knows a dorg like this. I wish Ihadn't gone into this game. It's too risky, not only at bein' caught, but I don't like the way this dorg looks at my legs. He looks hungry."
Indeed, Grit was in no amiable frame of mind. He consented to be led along because he recognized his old leash, and the man leading him had the familiar smell of horses, which Grit loved so well. The dog was a little suspicious, but once before Dick had sent a stranger for him and the man had smelled of horses, so Grit, though he had grave doubts, was willing to go along. But he was getting anxious to see his master, as his uneasy growls from time to time indicated, to the no small alarm of the somewhat ragged youth leading him.
"Easy now, old boy," he said. "That's a good dorg. We'll soon be there," he added, as he cast an uneasy look around. "The wagon must be waiting somewheres about here."
He cut through a little clump of trees and emerged upon an unfrequented road that led to Leonardville, a distant settlement.
"There's the rig!" he exclaimed, as he caught sight of a wagon and a horse hitched to the fence. "The worst of it's over."
"Did you get 'im?" asked a man in the wagon.
"Yep, an' I'll be glad to git rid of 'im. He's a little too anxious to see what my legs is made of."
Grit was led toward the wagon. He seemed to think something was not just right, for he growled menacingly and hung back.
"Hold 'im a minute now, until I git the bag," ordered the man in the wagon, and, as the ragged youth did so, the man suddenly threw a big sack over Grit's head. Then, hastily wrapping him up in it and tying several turns of rope about it, the sack and dog were tossed into the wagon.
"Quick's the word!" exclaimed the man, as he and the youth got up on the seat and drove off. "Now to get our share of the reward. I hope that young feller what put up this job knows what he's about."
Poor Grit, whining and growling alternately in the bottom of the wagon, tried to work the suffocating bag off his head, but it was too tightly fastened.
The mail the next day brought Dick a badly-written and worse-spelled missive, in which it was stated that if he wanted Grit returned he could have him by paying two hundred dollars' reward. No names were signed, and the handwriting was unfamiliar.
"I told you so," said Mr. Hamilton. "But who's got him?"
"The letter doesn't say. I'm to leave two hundred dollars to-night under a flat stone, near the stump just where the county road crosses Butternut Creek. Then, the letter says, the dog will be back at the stables to-morrow morning."
"Well," remarked Mr. Hamilton, "that's a hundred more than you advertised to pay. Iguess you can't help yourself. You'd better do as the letter says."
"I'll not!" exclaimed Dick.
"What are you going to do? Inform the police? They won't be able to do much. Besides, they'll never bother over a dog, no matter how valuable he is."
"No," replied Dick. "I'm not going to tell the police."
"What then?"
"I'm going to turn detective myself and find Grit! See, here is the first clue," and he held up the envelope of the letter. "This was mailed in Leonardville. I'm going there for a starter, and I'll find Grit!"
With flashing eyes Dick hurried to the stables to order Rex saddled.
Peters soon had the horse ready, and as Dick leaped into the saddle his father came hurrying out to the stables.
"Now be careful, Dick," he cautioned. "Don't do anything rash. What are your plans?"
"I'm going to ride in the direction of Leonardville. That's about ten miles by the main road. I'll inquire as I go along; but what I'll do after I get there I can't tell."
"Well, be careful, that's all," concluded Mr. Hamilton. "The fellows who stole Grit are no common thieves, I imagine, and I hope you don't get into trouble with them."
"I'm not worrying about trouble. Once I get where Grit is, he and I can take care of the thieves all right," and Dick laughed grimly.
He started off at an easy canter, though Rex was full of mettle and wanted to gallop.
"No, Rex," said Dick, for he had a habit of talking to his horse as he did to Grit. "We'll take it easy. We've got a long day ahead of us."
It was about ten o'clock, and Dick decided to ride several miles without stopping to make inquiries, as the day previous he had pretty well covered the neighborhood near his home. But in about an hour, having reached a small village, he asked several persons he met if they had seen anything of his dog. No one had, and he pushed on.
Mile after mile he rode, stopping every little while to make inquiries, but without avail. He got dinner at a wayside hotel and then resumed his trip. It was about three o'clock when, as he stopped at a watering trough under a big chestnut tree on the edge of the road, he saw a wagon coming toward him.
"I'll ask this man," thought Dick. He waited until the vehicle and the driver were in plainer view through the cloud of dust raised and then he exclaimed:
"Why, Henry! How'd you get out here?"
"Oh, I've been after some old iron," replied the secretary and general man-of-all-work of the International and Consolidated Old Metal Corporation. "I heard of a farmer who had a lot of scrap for sale and I went after it."
"Did you get it?"
"Sure. It's in the wagon," and Henry nodded toward the rear of his vehicle, which was filled with a mass of broken iron. "I started away from home yesterday afternoon expecting to get back last night, but I had a breakdown and I hadto stay until morning. But what are you doing out here?"
"Looking for Grit," and then Dick told about the theft of his dog. "I don't s'pose you've seen anything of him, have you?"
"Where did you say that letter came from?" asked Henry, showing some excitement.
"Leonardville. That's where I'm headed for. Why?"
"Then I saw your dog!" exclaimed Henry.
"Where?" asked Dick, excitedly.
"I was driving along last night," went on the young representative of the old metal concern, "and, just before I had my breakdown, I saw a wagon pass me. I looked in the back and saw something covered with a blanket. It was moving, and I wondered what it could be when I heard a dog bark. I thought it was rather funny to cover a dog up that way on a hot day. One of the men leaned back, and, when it barked, he hit the dog with a whip."
"Poor Grit!" murmured Dick. "Wait till I get hold of those fellows. Where did they go, Henry?"
"I'll tell you. I was thinking that was a pretty mean way to treat a dog, but I never thought they might have stolen him, and were trying to keep him hid. I watched their wagon until it was out of sight and then——"
"Did you lose sight of them?" broke in Dick.
"I went on a little farther," continued Henry,"and one of the springs of my wagon broke. I knew I couldn't get it fixed until morning, so I unhitched the horse and drove him along until I came to a hotel. This was at Maysville, and when I got to the tavern I saw the same two fellows. They were just driving away, and I heard one say it wasn't far to the Eagle Hotel. Now there's an Eagle hotel in Leonardville, and I'll bet you'll find your men and dog there. I'd like to go back with you and help——"
"That's all right, Henry," interrupted Dick. "I guess I can manage," and, calling back his thanks to the young iron merchant, and promising to see him later, Dick urged his horse off at a gallop, disappearing in a cloud of dust.
"Now there's a good example for you to follow, old bag of bones," said Henry, addressing his own steed. "Why don't you try that for a change and you'd get home to supper quicker. Well, I s'pose you'll last longer if you don't go so fast," and, with that comforting reflection, Henry managed, after a time, to get his horse in motion, the beast having almost gone to sleep during its driver's talk with Dick.
"Now to find Grit!" exclaimed the millionaire's son, as he galloped on. "Poor dog, I hope they haven't abused you very much."
Dick did not stop along the road to make any further inquiries. He reached Leonardville in good time and soon found his way to the Eagle Hotel. He let Rex trot into the stable yard, and,dismounting, told one of the hostlers to feed and water the animal when it had cooled off.
As Dick started up the steps to the porch, intending to make some inquiries of the landlord, he suddenly started back in surprise, for, coming out of the main entrance, was Simon Scardale.
"Hello, Simon!" exclaimed Dick.
"Why-er-w-w-why, hello—Dick," stammered Simon. "Have you come to—what are you doing here?" he managed to say, with an attempt at pleasantry.
"I might ask you the same thing," responded Dick.
But Simon did not wait to hear anything further. He darted back into the hotel murmuring:
"Wait a minute—I've forgotten something—see you right away——"
"He acts as though he was afraid to meet me," thought Dick, as he walked on. "I wonder what he's doing here?"
An instant later he was surprised to see Simon come out of a side door and fairly run to the stables. At the same instant a man appeared in the door of the barn, and to him Simon made frantic gestures to remain hidden. Then, as Dick watched this by-play with a bewildered air, there came from the stable the bark of a dog.
"Grit!" exclaimed Dick. "Grit! Grit, old boy!"
The barks became a howl of rage and there sounded the rattle of a chain.
"Grit! Grit!" cried Dick, running toward the stable.
There was the noise of a chain snapping. Then came frightened shouts. An instant later Simon, followed by a ragged man and a youth, dashed from the barn with the bulldog in close pursuit. Out of the hotel yard they raced, with Grit growling and barking and making fierce leaps for them.
"Grit!" called Dick, but, for once, Grit refused to obey his master's voice. His heart was too full of revenge for the insults he had suffered.
Out into the highway ran Simon and the two others, with the dog gaining at every leap.
"Help! Save me!" cried Simon, as Dick ran out to see what the end would be. He was fearful that Grit would get one of the fleeing ones down and set his teeth into his throat.
"Grit! Grit!" he called, frantically, but the bulldog never heeded.
Simon turned, hoping to get out of the path of the maddened beast, but he did not reckon on Grit's quickness. The dog made a grab for Simon's trousers and caught them at the seat. There was a ripping sound, a frantic yell from Simon, and he fell, rolling over and over in a cloud of dust.
"Grit! Don't bite him!" shouted Dick, fearful of what might happen.
But Grit had no intentions of wasting time on Simon when his revenge was not complete. He dropped the large piece of cloth he had torn from Simon's trousers and kept on after the two other fleeing individuals.
The ragged youth was the faster runner, and the man, lagging behind, turned as if to beat off the dog. But Grit was fearless. Right at the man he sprang, and the fellow gave a yell of agony as he saw the brute launched at his throat. But Grit was not blood-thirsty. He caught the man by the lapel of his ragged coat, and, in an instant, had pulled him to the ground. Then, having worried him until the thief must have thought he was being eaten alive, Grit left him and set off after the third of the trio.
The youth was becoming exhausted, but Grit was as fresh as ever. There was no give-up to him. He caught the ragged lad before he had gone a hundred feet farther and soon had him down. He fairly tore the coat off his back, and, after standing over him a few seconds, growling as though he was about to tear him into littlepieces, Grit, with a satisfied shake of his head, started back on the run toward Dick.
"Grit! Grit, old boy! So they tried to steal you, did they?" murmured Dick, as the dog bounded up on him and frantically licked his face. "Well, I guess they wish they hadn't."
Grit nearly shook himself apart trying to wag his stump of a tail to show his delight at again being with his master. Dick fairly hugged his pet, but the tears almost came to his eyes as he saw several cruel welts on the dog's satin-like coat, where he had been beaten.
"So they struck you, eh?" asked Dick, a fierce light coming into his brown eyes. "I don't blame you for taking after them as soon as you broke loose. I guess I'll have a score to settle with Simon and his cronies."
But there was no chance to do this. Simon gave one look at Dick and Grit as they walked back to the hotel. Then, trying to pull his coat down so as to conceal the big hole in his trousers, he hurried away up the road, after the man and youth, who had continued their interrupted escape as soon as they were assured that Grit had left each two legs on which to run.
"Well, Grit, old boy," went on Dick, as he entered the hotel. "I got you back without putting any two hundred dollars under a stone at Butternut Creek, didn't I? But I guess Henry is entitled to his hundred of the reward. Now to make some inquiries."
The landlord soon told all he knew of the case. Late the previous night, he said, the ragged youth and his companion had arrived at the hotel, bringing the dog in the wagon. They said they had purchased it and were taking it to a man in the country. They paid for the keep of themselves and their horse and remained all night.
"This morning the well-dressed young fellow came along," went on the landlord.
"That was Simon," murmured Dick.
"He registered as Thomas Henderson," said the hotel keeper. "I didn't much like his looks, but I'm here to hire rooms and furnish meals to travelers, not to criticise 'em. I was a leetle s'prised that he seemed to know them other two, but I thought that was his business. He seemed to know the dog, too, but the beast didn't take much of a notion to him. They stayed here all day, and one of my hostlers says the dog tried to break loose several times. They kept him chained in the stable, and they licked him more than once, I guess. They said he was savage and had to be beat to make him mind."
"Poor Grit," murmured Dick, and the dog barked joyfully at being again with his master.
"Wa'al," resumed the hotel man, "Simon, as you call him, an' the other two, they had several talks together. I heard 'em say suthin' about expectin' someone with money."
"That was me," interposed Dick, with a smile.
"Only I determined to get my dog, if I could, without paying them anything."
"And you did it," said the landlord, with a laugh.
"I did," replied Dick. "But I never suspected Simon would try such a desperate game as this. He must have found the leash the night of the party," he went on, after telling the landlord what had happened. "Then he got in with these fellows and had them steal Grit. The letter they mailed gave me a clue, and Henry told me enough more to enable me to find Grit. Well, I guess I've seen the last of Simon Scardale."
It was not exactly the last, but Simon did not reappear in Hamilton Corners, and, though he afterward played a part in Dick's life, he had dropped out of it for the present.
The horse and wagon, which the man and youth left behind, was called for that evening by an individual of the tramp variety, but, as he brought the cash to pay the last of the hotel bill, the landlord let him take the rig. Dick decided to stay at the Eagle Hotel all night, and he sent a telegram to his father explaining his absence and telling of his success. He decided he would not follow up Simon or his cronies to prosecute them for the theft.
As the journey was a little too long for Grit to make afoot, and as Dick could not take him in the saddle with him, he sent Rex home in care of a man he hired, and engaged a carriage forhimself and the dog, arriving home the next day at noon.
"Well," remarked Mr. Hamilton, as his son came in with Grit, "your detective work was all right."
"Yes, thanks to Henry Darby," answered the son. "I'm going to send him a check for a hundred dollars," which he proceeded to do.
"Here are a couple of letters for you," went on the millionaire, handing the missives to his son. One proved to be a note from Guy Fletcher. He had heard what had occurred regarding the dog, for Mr. Hamilton told several friends of his son's telegram, and Guy hastened to assure Dick that he had no idea of Simon's scheme.
"He told me he was only going to play a joke on you," wrote Guy, in the note which was delivered by a messenger. "He took the leash from your pocket the night of the party, and said he was going to hide Grit and make you believe he was stolen. I hope you don't believe I'd have anything to do with Simon if I thought he intended to really steal your dog. He has gone out West, I hear, somewhere in the gold mine region. My father has forbidden me to ever speak to Simon again."
"I guess you'll not get a chance right away," murmured Dick.
The whole thing was plain to him now. Simon wanted money, and thought he could make it by getting the man and youth to steal Grit, and thenmaking Dick put the two hundred dollars under the stone. Everything had gone well up to a certain point. The dog had been taken away, carried in the wagon to Leonardville, and thither Simon had gone to make the final arrangements. The unexpected appearance of Dick had spoiled the scheme. Simon had hurried to the barn to warn his confederates, but at that instant Grit, excited by a beating he was getting, had broken loose.
"No," mused Dick, "I don't believe Simon will show up around here for some time."
"Who is the other letter from?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"I don't know. I'll open it."
Dick rapidly scanned the contents.
"Uncle Ezra Larabee is coming to pay us a visit," he announced. "He'll be here to-morrow."
"Uncle Ezra, eh?" repeated Mr. Hamilton. "I suppose he wants to see how you are getting on—with your investments."
"Hum!" exclaimed Dick, with an uneasy laugh, "maybe he thinks the year is up and I'm to go back with him. But it isn't—I'm glad to say."
"Well, we must make his visit pleasant," said Mr. Hamilton. "It isn't often he comes to Hamilton Corners."
Uncle Ezra Larabee arrived the next day. Dick was in the library reading when he heard the door bell ring and the butler answered it.
"Is Mr. Hamilton in?" he heard a voice ask,and he knew it was his uncle. The boy hastened to greet his relative.
"Why didn't you let us know what train you were coming on and I would have met you with the carriage," asked Dick, politely.
"No, thank you, Nephew Richard," replied Uncle Ezra, in rasping tones. "I'm not too old to walk, and it's well to save the horse all you can."
"And you carried that heavy valise?" asked Dick.
"Of course I did, Nephew Richard. You didn't suppose I was going to pay twenty-five cents to have a boy carry it, did you? Lots of them wanted to, but twenty-five cents isn't earned every day, so I brought it myself," and with an expression of pain that he could not conceal Mr. Larabee set the heavy satchel down. His arm was stiff from carrying it, but he smiled grimly with satisfaction when he thought of the quarter of a dollar he had saved.
"Come right upstairs and I'll show you to your room," invited Dick. "Then I'll telephone father you are here."
"No, no, don't waste any money telephoning, Nephew Richard," said Uncle Ezra, hastily.
"Why it doesn't cost anything, uncle. We have to pay for the telephone by the year."
"Well, don't do it. They might charge you something this time. You never can tell. Besides, you might interrupt your father in somebusiness deal and make him lose some money. No, I'll wait until he comes home."
"Very well," assented Dick.
"Gracious! What's that?" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, as a low growl came from a dark corner by the stairs. "Have you any wild beasts in here?"
"No, that's only my dog, Grit, uncle. He'll not hurt anyone."
"A dog? In the house?" exclaimed Mr. Larabee. "Why, he might chew a hole in the carpet. Besides, I can't bear dogs. Get out, you brute!" he exclaimed, aiming a kick at Grit, who walked toward Dick.
The bulldog, with an ugly growl, crouched for a leap at Mr. Larabee.
"Hold him back! Hold him! Let me hide! He'll bite me!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, as he saw Grit's wicked-looking teeth.
"Grit!" spoke Dick, softly, and in a reproving voice. "This is my Uncle Ezra," he went on. "Don't you know any better than that?"
Instantly Grit's manner changed. He showed that he was sorry for the mistake he had made of growling at one of the family visitors. He even approached Uncle Ezra as if to make friends, but Mr. Larabee shrunk away.
"I can't bear dogs," he said.
Grit acted as if he understood, for he turned away. Nor did he seem to miss a caress from Mr. Larabee. Grit was a wise dog, and he well knew that the man disliked him.
"If you keep that dog in the house I'm afraid I can't stay, Nephew Richard," Dick's uncle went on. "I wouldn't sleep a wink thinking of him."
"Gibbs, take Grit to the stable," said Dick to the butler, with a little sigh, and the dog, with a somewhat reproachful look at his master, allowedhimself to be led away. Nor was he permitted to come into the house during Uncle Ezra's visit, which quarantine he seemed to resent, for he always growled menacingly whenever Mr. Larabee came near him out doors. But this was not often, as Dick's uncle was very much afraid of Grit.
Mr. Hamilton soon came home, and warmly greeted his wife's brother.
"I'm glad to see you," said the millionaire. "How would you like to take a run to Hazelton this evening to the theatre? They have a good summer company playing there and we can make a quick trip in Dick's runabout."
"I never go to theatres," said Mr. Larabee, in severe tones. "It's sinful, and a wicked waste of money. If there is a good instructive lecture in the village I would much rather go to that."
"I'm afraid there isn't," replied Mr. Hamilton, trying not to smile, for he respected his brother-in-law's scruples. "But we can spend the evening pleasantly at home—talking."
"Pleasantly!" repeated Dick to himself, with a sort of groan. "Pleasantly, with Uncle Ezra? Never!"
After supper Mr. Larabee and Dick's father chatted in the library. The talk ranged from business matters to subjects in Dankville, where Mr. Hamilton knew several families.
"Perhaps you'd like to take a look about the house," suggested Mr. Hamilton, after a pause"I've been putting in some improvements lately, and enlarging the conservatory. Dick will show you around."
"What? Tramp through the house just to look at it? I don't believe in doing that," replied Uncle Ezra, firmly. "Things wear out fast enough as it is without using them when it isn't necessary. No use walking on the best carpets when there isn't a need for it. Besides, I don't believe in spending money on a house when it's good enough. Your place was very nice without adding to it. Think of the money you could have saved."
"But I didn't have to save it," responded Mr. Hamilton. "I made lots this year, and I thought it was a wise thing to put it into something permanent. I have increased the value of my house."
"Much better put it in the bank," advised Uncle Ezra, with a disapproving sniff.
Mr. Hamilton and Dick tried to entertain their visitor, but it was hard work. He cared nothing for the things they were interested in, and was somewhat inclined to dictate what Mr. Hamilton should do with his money.
"You burn too many lights," he said, noting that several incandescents were aglow in the library where they sat. "One would do as well," and he turned out all but one.
"I contract for it by the year," said Mr. Hamilton. "It doesn't cost me any more to burn five lamps than it does one."
"But the lamps wear out," was Uncle Ezra's answer. "And speaking of things wearing out reminds me. We got a letter the other day and it almost made Samanthy sick. She hasn't got over the shock of it yet."
"What was it?" asked Dick.
"Why, it was from some crazy society in New York, wanting us to take twenty-five 'fresh-air children,' the letter said, to board at our house for a few weeks. Said they heard we had a big farmhouse and could accommodate 'em."
"Are you going to take them?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. "I think your house would be just the place for them. You have lots of room, and you can't eat all that you raise on the farm. It would do the poor things good."
"Are—we—going—to—take—them?" repeated Mr. Larabee. "I'm surprised at you, Mortimer Hamilton. The idea of taking twenty-five street-arabs in our house! Why, the very idea of it made Samanthy sick a bed for a day. Those rapscallions wouldn't leave a carpet on the floor! They'd tear the house apart! I know! I've read about 'fresh-air children' before."
"You might take the carpets up," suggested Dick, with a smile.
"What?" almost shouted Uncle Ezra. "Nephew Richard, there's carpets in our house that hasn't been up for years. Why the spare room hasn't been opened since sister Jane's funeral, and that was—let me see—that was theyear when Ruth Enderby got married. Take 'fresh-air children' into our house! Why, we wouldn't have any house left at the end of the week."
"Oh, I guess not as bad as that," replied Mr. Hamilton, indulgently. "But, of course, you know your own business best. I hope Mrs. Larabee soon recovers."
"She may, but it was quite a shock," replied Uncle Ezra. "Well, I think I'll go to bed. I must be up early in the morning. I came here to transact a little business, and the sooner it's over the sooner I can get back home. I'm afraid my hired man will burn too much kindling wood starting the fires. He's the most wasteful man I ever saw." And, sighing deeply at the depravity of hired men in general and his own in particular, Uncle Ezra went to bed.
Dick offered to take him for a spin in the runabout the next day, but his uncle declined, on the ground that there might be an accident.
"You might run somebody down and hurt them," he said. "Then they'd sue you for damages and I'd be liable for a share. I haven't any money to throw away on automobile accidents."
"All right," said Dick. "But I'm very careful."
"You can come walking with me instead," suggested his uncle. "You and I ought to be friends. We may have to live together some day, youknow," and he tried to smile, but it was only a forced grin.
"Not much!" thought Dick, as, with rather a heavy heart, he prepared to accompany his uncle on the walk. "No, no, Grit, you can't go," he said, as the dog jumped about in delightful anticipation, for he always went with Dick. "You might bite Uncle Ezra," he added, as, much against his wish, he chained Grit in the kennel. Dick could not bear to look back at his pet, who gazed reproachfully after him.
Dick showed his uncle such sights as there were in Hamilton Corners. It was a hot day, and, as they tramped along, Dick got quite thirsty.
"Come in here, Uncle Ezra," he suggested, as they passed a drug store, "and we'll get some soda water."
"What? Pay for a drink of water?" asked Mr. Larabee, horrified.
"Well, it's got ice-cream in it," replied Dick.
"It's a sinful waste of money!" declared his uncle. "We can get all the water we want to drink at home. But, as I am a little thirsty, I'll go in and ask the man for a glass of plain water. He'll be glad to give it to us."
Dick was a little doubtful on this score, and he felt that it would be rather embarrassing to have his uncle ask for water in the drug store, where Dick was well known. But he was too polite to object to what Mr. Larabee did. Thelatter walked into the store, and, in his rasping voice, asked for two glasses of water.
"Do you mean soda water?" inquired the clerk.
"No, plain water. I don't drink such trash as soda water," replied Mr. Larabee.
The clerk looked at him in much astonishment, and then glanced at Dick. The latter managed to wink, and the clerk seemed to understand. He went to the back part of the store, and presently came back with two glasses of water.
"There, nephew," said Mr. Larabee, triumphantly, as he sipped the plain beverage. "You see our thirst is quenched and we have saved our money. Young men should economize, and when they are old they will not want."
"Yes, sir," replied Dick, dutifully, but when they went out he managed to lay ten cents on the counter where the clerk would see it. Dick wasn't going to be made fun of the next time he went in for a glass of soda.
"Now, I think we'll go home, Nephew Richard," suggested Mr. Larabee, when they had walked an hour longer. "There is no use wearing out our shoes any more than we can help. Besides, I have some business to transact this afternoon, and I must get the papers out of my valise."
Dick was glad enough to return, and gladder still, when, the next morning, Uncle Ezra announced that he was going back to Dankville.
"You must come and see me and your Aunt Samantha," he said to Dick, as he bade the ladgood-bye, and Dick murmured something that might be taken as an expression of a fervent desire to pay another visit to The Firs, but it was not.
"Dad," said Dick that night, "do you know what I'm thinking of?"
"Not exactly, you think of so many things."
"I'm thinking of those poor little fresh-air kids, and how disappointed they must be not to get a trip to the country. I don't know as I want them to go to Uncle Ezra's, but—er—say, dad, I'd like to give a bunch of fresh-air kids some sort of an outing. Think of the poor little tots shut up in sizzling New York this kind of weather."
"Well, you can bring them here, I suppose," began Mr. Hamilton, doubtfully, with a look around his handsomely furnished house, "only this isn't exactly the country."
"Oh, I didn't mean here," said Dick, hastily. "I was thinking we could have a crowd of 'em out to Sunnyside."
This was the name of a large farm which Mr. Hamilton owned on the outskirts of the country village of Prattville.
"The very thing!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton, with as much fervor as Dick had shown. "That's the ticket, Dick. I'll write to Foster at once and ask him if he and his wife can take a crowd of the waifs at Sunnyside for a few weeks. Then you will have to manage the other end yourself.Foster will do as I say, I guess, for he loves children and he has a heart as big as a barrel. You'll have to furnish the children."
"I'll do it!" exclaimed Dick, delightedly. "I'll write to Uncle Ezra and ask him the address of that committee in New York. Hurrah for the fresh-air kids! I hope they have a good time!"
"I guess they will if he has anything to do with it," mused Mr. Hamilton, with a fond look at his son as Dick went to get writing material to pen a letter to Uncle Ezra.
Two days later Dick received a reply from Mr. Larabee. In the meanwhile Mr. Hamilton had written to Foster, the man he hired to take charge of Sunnyside farm, and had told him to have the place in readiness for twenty-five youngsters.
"Did your Uncle Ezra give you the address of the Fresh-Air Committee?" asked Dick's father.
"Yes, and he sent me a letter of advice along with it."
"What does he say?"
"I'll read it to you," and Dick turned over the pages of the missive. "This is what he says about my plan of trying to give those kids a little fun:
"'I send you the address of the committee, as you requested, but, Nephew Richard, I want to warn you against taking them. In the first place, they will be no better off than they are at home. They will not appreciate what you do for them. Then, too, they might bring some terrible epidemic to this part of the country. Sunnyside is not so far from Dankville but that a diseasemight carry to my place, and you know my health is not strong.
"'If I had control of you (as I may have some day), I would not let you do this. But it is not for me to say at this time what you should do. I think you are throwing the money away, and you had much better put the amount you intend spending into the church missionary box and so aid the heathens. They need it.'
"As if those poor kids in the hot tenements of New York didn't need it, too," commented Dick. "Well, Uncle Ezra is certainly a queer man. I suppose he'll keep his house filled with disinfectants while the waifs are at Sunnyside, though it's many miles away."
In about a week Dick had completed arrangements with the committee in New York, the president of which wrote to thank him for aiding in the work they were doing. Dick was told that twenty-five youngsters, ten boys and fifteen girls, none of whom had ever been to the country before, would be sent to Sunnyside in charge of a matron. Dick had forwarded money to buy the tickets, and had planned with Foster to have a big stage meet the train on which the "fresh-air kids," as he called them, would arrive at the nearest station to the country home.
"Well, dad," remarked Dick, the day before the waifs from New York were to arrive, "you've seen the last of me for a week."
"Why; where are you going?"
"To Sunnyside. I want to see that the kids are started right, and I think I'll stay about a week to see that they have a good time. I'll take my runabout, and I can come back in a hurry if I need to. I'll bring a batch over to see you, maybe."
"Do," said Mr. Hamilton. "I like children. Poor things! I hope the trip to the country does them good."
Dick had read about fresh-air children who were much impressed by their first visit to the country, but this did not prepare him for the awed look on the faces of the twenty-five as they tumbled from the train at the little country depot, and made for the waiting stage.
"Now, children," said the matron, as Dick came up and introduced himself, "this is the gentleman who was so kind as to bring you out to this beautiful place," and she shook hands with the millionaire's son.
"Is dat de rich guy?" asked one boy, but though his words might sound disrespectful he did not intend them so.
"Hush!" exclaimed a girl in a much-patched red dress. "He'll hear you."
"What do I care! If I wuz as rich as him I wouldn't care who knowed it," retorted the boy.
"No more do I, old chap," replied Dick, with a laugh, as he patted the youngster on the back."Now, boys and girls, the stage is waiting for you."
"Oh, Nellie!" cried a little tot with light hair, "we're goin' to ride in a real wagon with real horses!"
"Don't speak so loud!" was the whispered answer of her companion. "It's like a dream, an' maybe we'll wake up an' find it all gone."
The children, in spite of the fact that they came from the slums of New York, were all neat and clean, for that was one of the requirements of the committee that took charge of the fresh-air work. And, though their manners might be considered a little rough, they did not intend them so. It was due to the influence of their surroundings. Soon they had all piled into the stage, and the driver from Sunnyside started the four horses.
"Look, will yer! It's a regular tally-ho like de swells on Fif' Avenoo drives!" exclaimed the boy who had called Dick the "rich guy."
The ride to the farm was one continuous series of exclamations of delight from the boys and girls, who looked at the green fields on either side of the country road, at the comfortable farmhouses they passed, or at the range of mountains that towered off to the west.
"Look!" exclaimed one boy, who had kept tight hold of his sister's hand from the time he got off the train. "See, Maggie, that's where the sun goes to sleep. I never saw it before."
"Where?" asked the girl.
"Over there," and he pointed to the mountains behind which the golden orb was sinking to rest.
"Yes, dear," spoke the matron, who had overheard what was said, "and in the morning he'll get up and shine on the fields where you can run around and get strong.
"He's a sickly child," the matron added in a whisper to Dick. "I'm afraid he never will be strong. He has such queer fancies at times. His mother is a widow and goes out washing. The sister stays home and takes care of her little brother. It was a real charity that they could come, and I'm sure the committee doesn't know how to thank you for your generosity."
"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," replied Dick, blushing like a girl at the praise. "I ought to do something with my money. I'm glad I heard about this fresh-air plan. I'll have some of the youngsters out next year if——"
Then he stopped. He happened to think that if his investments did not succeed he would not have much money to spend the next year, and, besides, he might be living with his Uncle Ezra at Dankville.
But the matron did not notice his hesitation, for, at that moment, the stage turned into the drive leading up to Sunnyside, and Dick was besieged by several inquiries.
"Say, mister, is dis a park?" asked one boy, as he saw the well-kept drive.
"No, this is the place where you are going to stay," Dick replied.
"Can we get out an' walk?" asked another, and this seemed to strike a popular chord, for that request became general. The matron nodded an assent and the children jumped out of the stage, some boys going by way of the windows.
"You can drive on and tell them we are coming," said Dick to the driver.
"Oh, I guess they'll know it fast enough," responded the man, with a grin. "You can hear them kids a mile."
Which was true enough, for the boys and girls were fairly yelling in pure delight. Dick and the matron walked on behind the crowd, the millionaire's son watching with interest the antics of the waifs.
"Johnny! Johnny!" yelled a slip of a girl to her bigger brother. "Come right off the grass this minute! Do youse want a cop to put you out? He don't know no better, mister," she said, turning to Dick. "He didn't mean nothin'. Johnny, do you hear me? Come off that grass right away, or the man will have youse arrested."
"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Dick, with a laugh. "You can eat the grass if you want to. Do just as you please. There isn't a policeman within twenty miles."
Then there was a mad rush over the big lawn that led up to Sunnyside. The children yelled,laughed, shouted, and fairly tumbled over each other in the very joy of being in the country. Pale cheeks reddened as the little lungs breathed in the pure, fresh air, dull eyes lighted up with pleasure, and little hands trembled with eagerness as they plucked buttercups, dandelions and daisies that grew on the far edges of the lawns.
"Wow!" yelled one lad. "Wow! I've got to do somethin' or I'll bust!"
And that is the way most of them felt it seemed, for they raced, ran, jumped and tumbled like children just let out after being kept in after school.
And such a supper as Mrs. Foster had provided for the waifs! Their eyes bulged as they came to the table that was fairly groaning under the weight of good things.
"Now," called Dick, when they sat down, "let me see how you can eat."
"They do not need any coaxing," replied the matron, and Dick soon saw that she was right.
That was only the beginning of a happy two weeks for the youngsters. They fairly went wild on the farm, for it had a hundred delights for them, from watching the cows being milked, to hunting for eggs in the big barn. Dick took them for automobile rides in relays, bringing several over to Hamilton Corners to see his father, who further delighted the childish hearts by gifts of dimes and nickels. On one of these trips the millionaire's son brought Tim Muldoon,the boy who had commented on Dick's riches that day the two met.
"An' does your governor own dat bank?" Tim asked, as Dick stopped the runabout in front of the institution.
"Well, most of it, I guess."
"An' can he go in dere an' git money whenever he wants it?"
"Yes, I guess he can."
"Say!" exclaimed Tim, as he looked weakly at Dick, "an youse is his son?"
"Yes."
"An' youse is takin' me an' dese (indicating some of the other youngsters) out fer a ride in dis gasolene gig? Us what ain't got a cent?"
"Yes; why not?" asked Dick, with a smile.
"Well, all I've got t' say is dat dis is as near bein' rich as I ever expects t' be, an' say, it's dead white of youse; dat's what it is. Why, dem rich guys in N' York would no more t'ink of treatin' us dis way dan dey would jump off de dock. Dat's straight!"
"Oh, I guess they would if they thought about it, but they probably don't know how many boys and girls would like to get out and see the country," said Dick, not wanting to take too much credit to himself.
"Like pie!" was Tim's contemptuous rejoinder. Then, as he was gazing rapturously at the entrance to the bank, he suddenly started as he saw a man coming down the steps.
"Say," he whispered to Dick, grabbing his arm, "is dat guy in your governor's bank?"
"Which man? What do you mean?"
"I mean dat one wid de black moustache, jest comin' down de steps. Is he in de bank?"
"Oh, that's Mr. Vanderhoof," replied Dick, recognizing the mining promoter.
"Mr. who?" asked Tim.
"Vanderhoof. Why, do you know him?"
"Not by dat name. But say, if he's got anyt'ing to do wit de bank it'll soon be on de blink."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean put out of business. On de blink, excuse my slang. But youse had better tell your governor to keep his peepers open."
"Why?" inquired Dick, a vague suspicion coming into his mind.
"Because," replied Tim, earnestly. "Dat man's name ain't Vanderhoof any more dan mine is."
"Who is he?"
"Why, he's William Jackson, or Bond Broker Bill. I seen him in de police court in N' York. I sells papers, an' I knows lots of de cops an' detectives. I saw 'em arrest dat man once, only he had a white beard an' moustache den. Now he's shaved off de whiskers an' colored his moustache, but I knowed him de minute I set me peepers on him. I seen his mug in de papers lots of times. Youse wants to be on lookout fer him or he'll put de bank on de blink. He's a gold-brickswindler, an' I guess up to any other woozy game he can make pay!"
"Bond Broker Bill! William Jackson! Colonel Dendon!" murmured Dick, in a daze. "No wonder I thought I had seen Mr. Vanderhoof before. It was in the New York hotel, where he tried to swindle me! And he sold dad and me some gold mining stock! I must tell dad right away!"
Dick looked after the retreating form of Mr. Vanderhoof. Then turning to Tim, who had made the startling disclosure, he said:
"Wait here for me! I must see my father at once," and getting out of the auto he hurried into the bank.
Dick found his father busy, looking over some books and papers. He waited until the millionaire had finished and looked up, remarking:
"Well, Dick, what is it now? Some more of the fresh-air kids outside?"
"Yes, dad, but I've got something more important to tell you than about them. Was Mr. Vanderhoof just in here?"
"He was, and I took some more stock in the Hop Toad Mine. I had an additional report from the government assayer at Yazoo City, and the ore is richer than ever."
"You bought more stock, dad?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because that man is a swindler! I just learned of it! His name is not Vanderhoof at all. He's the same man who tried to swindle me in New York. He goes by the name of Colonel Dendon. I thought there was something familiar about him the first day I saw him in here, but I couldn't place him on account of his dyed moustache. He's a swindler!"
"Who told you so?"
"Tim Muldoon, one of the fresh-air children. He saw him under arrest in New York. Probably he got out on bail. Oh, dad, I'm afraid we've both been swindled!"
"Well, don't get excited," counseled Mr. Hamilton, who was used to facing business troubles. "He may be a swindler, but I think our mining stock is good. The reports of it are all from reliable men. But I'll make an investigation at once."
"What will you do?"
"I think I'll send for Mr. Vanderhoof and ask him to explain. We'll have your friend Tim in here. No doubt it is all a mistake. I wouldn't place too much faith in what a boy says."
"You don't know Tim," responded Dick. "He's as bright as they make 'em. I guess all New York newsboys are. But where does Mr. Vanderhoof live?"
"He is stopping at the Globe Hotel. He told me he would remain in town about two weeks longer, as he had some business to transact. I'll just call up the hotel and ask him to come here. Meanwhile, tell Tim to come in."
"Don't 'phone, dad," advised Dick. "I'll run down to the hotel in my auto. If you call him on the wire he may suspect something. I'll bring him here in the machine."
"All right, Dick. Maybe that's a good plan. But don't get excited. Be calm. This may beonly a boy's excited imagination. Mr. Vanderhoof certainly seemed like a business man and not like a swindler. Of course, I may be fooled. I have been, once or twice, in my time, but you've got to take those chances. However, we'll not decide anything until we talk to him. Go ahead."
"What will I do with the youngsters?" asked Dick. "I've got five of them with me."
"Give 'em a quarter apiece and let 'em buy ice-cream," advised the millionaire, with a laugh. "That is, all but Tim. Let him come in here and wait."
"Twenty-five cents' worth of ice-cream each would put them all in the hospital," explained Dick. "I'll make 'em distribute their wealth," and, in a few moments he had sent the four boys off to see the sights of the town, happy in the possession of a quarter of a dollar each, and with strict injunctions not to get lost, and to be back at the bank in an hour.
"Me to go inside de bank?" asked Tim, when Dick told him what was wanted. "Say, I'm gittin' real swell, I am! If de kids on Hester Street could see me now dey'd t'ink I was president of a railroad," and, with a laugh he went into Mr. Hamilton's private office. While Dick was gone the millionaire questioned the newsboy, who stuck to his story that the man he had seen was a swindler, who had been under arrest in New York.
Dick made fast time to the Globe Hotel. Whenhe jumped from the auto, and hurried inside, the manager, who knew him, nodded a greeting.
"Is Mr. Vanderhoof about?" asked Dick, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Mr. Vanderhoof?" repeated the manager. "No, he went out a little while ago."
"Where?"
"Why, he said he was going back to New York," was the rather surprising answer. "A telegram came for him as soon as he got here and he left in a hurry. He just caught the express, and didn't even have time to take his baggage. He paid me his bill and rushed out in a hurry, telling me he'd send word where to forward his trunk. Did you want to see him about anything important?"
"It was, but I guess it will keep," replied Dick, trying not to show any alarm.
His worst fears were realized. Vanderhoof,aliasBond Broker Bill, had been warned by some confederates, perhaps, and had fled, after securing large sums of money from Dick and his father.
"And maybe we're not the only victims," thought Dick, as he left the hotel and turned the auto toward the bank.
"Well, what luck?" asked Mr. Hamilton, as his son entered.
"He's skipped out, dad!"
"He has, eh? Now to find out how badly wehave been bitten. Dick, my boy, it looks as though there was a hoodoo hanging over your investments. Still, this mine stock may be all right. I'll wire to a lawyer in Yazoo City."
"Oh, he's a foxy guy, is Bond Broker Bill," said Tim, when Dick told him what had taken place. "I wish I'd a spotted him before. Maybe he seen me an' flew de coop."
"No, I don't believe he would have known you were on his trail," replied Dick, with an uneasy laugh. "I think he left on general principles."
It was several hours before Mr. Hamilton received a reply from the lawyer in Yazoo City, Nevada. When it came the telegram stated that the Hop Toad and Dolphin mines were producing a quantity of ore, and were generally believed to be good mines.
"Not much known about them here, though," the telegram went on. "Would advise a personal inspection. Believed that some promotor has a lot of stock and is trying to sell it in the East. Better look into it."
"Well, there's a chance yet," said Mr. Hamilton. "As I said, Vanderhoof may be a swindler, but the mines seem to be good. I'll have someone right on the ground look them up. We must make our plans carefully."
"Whom will you get, dad?"
"I don't know yet. I must write to this lawyer."
"Dad!" exclaimed Dick, suddenly. "Let me take a trip out West! Let me look up those mines! If they're no good I want to know it soon, so I can make some other investment. Can't I go to Nevada?"