Mr. Hamilton glanced at his son. Dick was all excited over the events of the last hour and by the sudden desire that had come to him.
"You go to Nevada?" repeated the millionaire.
"Yes, dad, and look up this mining business. I could see the lawyer and find out whether we have been swindled. The trip would do me good," he added, with a smile.
"I haven't any doubt of that, Dick," replied his father. "And, after thinking it over, I don't know but you could make whatever investigation would be needed. I think I'll let you go. How soon can you be ready?"
"To-night."
"Well, there's no such rush as that. If we've been swindled, finding it out now isn't going to help matters any. If, on the other hand, as I hope may be the case, the mines are all right, there's no need of hurrying out there. You'd better make good preparations for the trip. It isn't going to be much fun traveling alone."
"But, dad, I needn't travel alone. I was thinking I could take some of my chums with me. Bricktop, Frank Bender and Walter Mead would think it bully fun to go along. Why couldn't I take them?"
"I suppose you could if their parents did not object. They would be your guests, of course—that is, you would have to pay all expenses."
"I'd be willing to. I've got two thousand dollars invested in the Dolphin mine, and I've got to spend some more to see if I've thrown that money away. I might as well have some fun out of it, if I can."
"Four lads will make a nice party. I'll have McIverson go to the depot and get some time-tables. Meanwhile you had better get the fresh-air boys back to Sunnyside. It's getting near supper-time, and the matron may be worried about them."
"Say, is youse really goin' out where they make gold mines?" asked Tim Muldoon, as he and Dick went back to the automobile, around which the other lads, having spent all their money, and seen all the sights, were waiting. "Are youse goin' out West among de Indians an' cowboys?"
"Well, yes, but I guess there aren't any Indians left."
"Sure dere is! Didn't I read about in a book? It's a crackerjack! I'll lend it to youse. It's 'Three-Fingered Harry; or, De Scourge of de Redskins!'"
"No, thanks," answered Dick, with a laugh. "I wouldn't read such trash if I were you. There are very few Indians left out West and they're too scarce to kill off."
"Well," spoke Tim, with a sigh, "it's in de book. Say," he added, "does it cost much to go out West?"
"Well, I'm not sure just how much it does take, but I guess it's rather costly."
Tim sighed heavily.
"What's the matter?" asked Dick.
"I've got three dollars an' nineteen cents salted down in de dime savings bank," replied the newsboy. "I was savin' it fer a new overcoat, but I'd rather go out West. How far could I go fer three dollars an' nineteen cents? Could I travel wit youse as far as it lasted?"
The boy looked wistfully at Dick, and there was a world of longing in the blue eyes of Tim Muldoon as they met the brown orbs of the millionaire's son. Then Dick came to a sudden resolve.
"Would you like to go with me and the other boys?" he asked.
"Would I? Say, Mr. Dick, would a cat eat clams? Would I? Don't spring dat on me agin," he added, with an attempt at a laugh. "I've got a weak heart an' I might faint. It's back to little ole N' York an' Hester Street fer mine, I guess."
"No," said Dick. "I mean it. You may haverendered me and my father a great service, Tim, in telling us about Vanderhoof. If he proves to be what you say he is, a swindler, it is a good thing we found it out when we did. We may be able to save some of our money. If you can arrange to go I'll take you out West with me. Do you think you can?"
"Can I go? Well, I should say I can. Where's me ticket? I ain't got no trunk to pack."
"But what will your folks say?"
"I ain't got no folks, Mr. Dick. I'm all dere is," and, though he spoke flippantly, there was a suspicion of tears in Tim's eyes.
"Then, if the matron who brought you here says it is all right, you shall go," decided Dick.
Dick was actuated by two motives. He wanted to give pleasure to the little waif, to whom he had taken a great liking, and he also felt that Tim might be of service to him. If Vanderhoof turned up out in Nevada, it might be well to have Tim on hand to confront him. Then, too, Tim was a bright, quick lad, and Dick felt he would be useful on the trip.
Dick returned his charges to Sunnyside, and the matron, after hearing of the plans for the western trip, readily consented that Tim should go. He was an orphan, she explained, who had been taken in charge by a philanthropic society in New York. The boy was good-hearted and honest, she said, and had proved that he couldbe trusted. While his talk might be a bit rough and slangy a true heart beat under Tim's patched but neat jacket.
In spite of the prospective trip Dick did not forget the fresh-air children. It was found that it would require several days to get the through tickets for Yazoo City, and, in the meanwhile, the millionaire's son arranged for a big outdoor clambake for the youngsters. He and the three boys, whom he had invited to make the long journey with him, attended, and helped the waifs to have a good time—if they needed such assistance, which was doubtful.
Then, after arranging for another lot of the little unfortunates to come to Sunnyside when the first crowd had reached New York, Dick bade good-bye to those into whose lives he had been able to bring much happiness because of his wealth.
Tim was taken to the Hamilton mansion, where he was fitted up in a manner that made him think he had fallen heir to some vast treasure, such as those he read about in dime novels.
"If me Hester Street friends could see me now," he murmured, as he looked at the new suit Dick had bought him, "dey would sure take me for a swell."
"Don't think too much of good clothes," warned Dick.
"Well, it's de first time I ever had any to t'ink about," replied Tim, "an' youse must let me lookat dem till I gits used to 'em," which Dick laughingly agreed to do.
"I hear you're going out West," remarked Henry Darby to Dick, when he met him on the street the day before that set for the start.
"Yes. Going to look up some gold mines," and Dick laughed.
"If you find any lying around loose, or one that no one else wants—or even an old one that someone has thrown away—why just express it back to me," requested Henry. "I'd rather have a good gold mine than this old metal business, I think."
"How is it going?" asked Dick.
"Pretty well. Say, I don't think I ought to keep that hundred-dollar check you sent me for telling you that I'd seen Grit in the man's wagon."
"Of course you've got to keep it!" exclaimed Dick. "I would have paid it to the first person who gave me the right clue, and I'm sure I couldn't give it to anyone I like better than you."
"It certainly came in mighty handy," said Henry.
"Why?"
"I had a chance to buy up the refuse from an old boiler factory just before I got it and I hadn't any cash. Dad had taken all the surplus. He's got some scheme on hand, and he won't tell me what it is. He says there's lots of money in it. There may be," went on Henry, with an oddsmile, "but what's worrying me is whether dad is going to get the money out of it. That's mostly the trouble with his schemes. There's thousands of dollars in 'em, but the cash generally stays there for all of him. But maybe this one will turn out all right. I hope so, because he's got all the surplus. But I used the hundred dollars to buy some old iron, and I think I can dispose of it at a profit. Well, I hope you have good luck."
"Thanks," answered Dick. "I'll remember what you said about a gold mine."
"Well, I'll not insist on a gold mine," called back Henry, as he started his horse up, a task that required some time, for the animal seemed to take advantage of every stop to go to sleep. "I'm not prejudiced in favor of a gold mine. A good-paying silver mine will do pretty nearly as well."
"I'll remember, Henry. Good-bye until I get back."
Early the next morning Dick and his four boy friends were on their way to the West. Their train was an express and the first stop was at a large city, where several railroads formed a junction. As the boys were looking from the window of the parlor car, Tim, who managed to take his eyes away from the gorgeous fittings long enough to notice what was going on up and down the long station platform, suddenly uttered an exclamation, and grabbed Dick's arm.
"Look! Dere he is!" he whispered.
"Who?"
"Vanderhoof! Colonel Dendon! Bond Broker Bill!"
"Where? I don't see anyone."
"Dat slick-lookin' man, wid de brown hat on," and Tim pointed to him.
"But he hasn't any black moustache," objected Dick, thinking Tim's imagination was getting the best of him.
"Of course not. He's cut it off. But I'd know him anywhere by dat scar on his left cheek. Dat's de swindler all right!"
As Dick looked he saw that the man with the brown hat did have a large scar on his cheek. It had been hidden by the moustache before.
Then, just as the train pulled out, the man looked toward the parlor car. His eyes met Dick's, and, an instant later, the man with the scar was on the run toward the telegraph office.
"Hold on!" cried Dick, jumping up. "Stop the train!"
The cars were rapidly acquiring speed, and Dick ran toward the door with the evident intention of getting off.
"Don't jump, Dick!" called Walter Mead. "We're going too fast!"
"Dat's right," chimed in Tim. "It's too late!"
"Yes, I guess it is," assented Dick. "But, Tim, how do you know that was Vanderhoof? To me he didn't look a bit like him. Besides, how did you know he had a scar under his moustache?"
"I've seen him wid his whiskers an' moustache off before," replied the newsboy. "I used to run errands for de sleuths at police headquarters, an' I seen lots of criminals."
"But are you sure you saw this man there?"
"Cert. He was brought in lots of times fer some kind of crooked game, but most times he was let go, 'cause they couldn't prove anyt'ing agin him. Sometimes he'd have a white beard an' agin a black moustache, but dem fly cops, demgum-shoe sleuths, dey knowed him every time. I'll stake me reputation dat was him on de platform."
"But what can he be doing here?" asked Dick, "and why should he make a bee-line for the telegraph office when he saw me? I'm positive he knew who I was."
"Course he did," replied Tim. "He's probably sendin' a telegram to some of his friends in Yazoo City t' be on de lookout for youse."
"Do you think so? But how would he know I had started for there?"
"Say," inquired Tim, in drawling tones, "don't de hull town where you live know dat Millionaire Hamilton's son is goin' off on a journey in a palace car, an' takin' some friends, includin' Tim Muldoon, wid him? In course dey does. An' youse can bet your bottom dollar dat everybody in Hamilton Corners is talkin' about it. Vanderhoof, or Bond Broker Bill, knowed it as soon as anybody, an' if he's been puttin' up a crooked deal he's gittin' ready t' fix t'ings on de other end—at Yazoo City, I mean."
"Then, if he has warned his confederates out West," went on Dick, "there's not much use in my going there to make an investigation. They'd be sure to have things fixed up to deceive me. I depended on finding out about the mines before those in charge knew who I was."
"You can do dat yet," said Tim.
"How?"
"Why, lay low, dat's how. Don't go out dere wid de idea of handin' your visitin' card t' every guy you meet. Drift int' town easy like an' look about on de quiet fer a few days. Den youse kin see how de land lays an' git a line on de fakers. After dat youse can go up to de villain like de hero does in de play an' say: 'Now den, Red-Handed Mike, I have caught youse at last! You shall give me dose paper-r-r-r-s er I'll shoot you down like a dog!'" and Tim laughed with the others at his imitation of the methods of the actors on the stage when a cheap melodrama is being performed.
"I don't know but your advice is good," agreed Dick. "I can't catch Vanderhoof now, but perhaps we can spoil his plans. Let's have a consultation and decide what's best to do."
The boys had the parlor car pretty much to themselves, and their talk was not likely to be overheard by the other passengers who were in the farther end.
The journey was a pleasant one, and the boys enjoyed every hour of it. The country through which they passed presented, almost constantly, something new in the way of scenery, and as they proceeded farther and farther west the boys were wild with delight at the beautiful prospect, the wild stretches of country and the glimpses of the free life on the plains.
Sleeping in the berths, eating in the dining-car and looking out of the windows of the big Pullmanwere keen delights to Dick's companions, none of whom had ever traveled in such a fashion before, though to the millionaire's son it was more or less familiar.
When they reached the last stage of their journey and were within a few hours' ride of Yazoo City the five boys, at Tim's suggestion, changed from the parlor car to an ordinary one.
"It'll look better t' climb down out of a poor man's car dan from de coach wid de velvet curtains at de windows," he said. "Students ain't supposed t' be lookin' fer places t' t'row money away." For they had agreed to pass themselves off as students, come West to look at mines in general.
Thus it was that no unusual comments were made by the crowd at the station in Yazoo City when the five boys and a few other passengers alighted from the train.
It was a typical Western town, rather larger than an ordinary one, for it was the centre for a prosperous mining section. Across from the station were two hotels, one called the Imperial Inn and the other the Royal Hotel.
"Doesn't seem to be much choice," observed Frank Bender. "Neither one looks as if royalty was in the habit of stopping at it."
"We'll go to the Royal," decided Dick. "The lawyer, whom dad wrote to about the mine, stops there, and I want to see him."
Accordingly the five boys walked across thestreet and entered the lobby of the hotel. It was even less pretentious on the inside than viewed from without, but it looked clean. Dick led the way up to the desk, to engage rooms for himself and friends.
"Glad t' see you, strangers," greeted the man behind the desk with easy familiarity. "What might yo' uns be, if I might make so bold as to ask? Travelin' show or capitalists lookin' fer a good payin' mine?"
"We're studying mining conditions," replied Dick. "Traveling for information."
"Ah, I see," interrupted the hotel proprietor, who also acted as clerk. "We've had some of you college boys out here before. Welcome to Yazoo City," and Dick and his companions were glad that the man had put his own interpretation on their object in coming West. He swung the book around to them and Dick signed first. The pen was poor and the ink worse, so it was no wonder that his name, when he had scratched it down, looked like anything but Dick Hamilton. Nor did the others do any better.
They were shown to their rooms, and, as it was late afternoon, they decided to defer beginning their investigations until the next day. The supper was good but plain, though the boys were more interested in watching the men about them, and hearing them talk, than they were in eating, hungry as they were.
They slept soundly, though Dick was awakened once or twice by revolver shots and loud yelling. He thought someone had been hurt, but on inquiring from a porter, passing through the hall, learned that he need have no cause for alarm.
"Land love yo', son!" said the porter, a burly Westerner. "Them's only th' boys gittin' rid of some of their animal spirits. Don't worry none. They seldom shoots this way, an' if they does they aims high, so they only busts the top window lights. Yo' ain't got nothin' t' be askeered of."
But though Dick was not exactly easy in his mind his rest was not disturbed by any bullets coming through his window, though there was considerable shooting all night.
"I think we'll take a trip out to the mines right after breakfast," decided Dick, when the boys had gathered in his room after dressing. "I'll hire a big carriage and we can all go. I inquired about them, and I learned that the Dolphin and Hop Toad mines are close together, a few miles outside of town."
"I think I'll stay around here," decided Tim.
"Why?" asked Dick.
"Because I want to see if anyt'ing happens. Youse kin go out to de holes in de ground. I'll see 'em later if dere worth lookin' at. But I t'ink I'll mosey around de hotel a while."
"Well, maybe it will be a good plan," agreed Dick. "We can't tell what sort of a game Vanderhoofis up to. Now, come on down to breakfast, boys."
After the meal Dick hired a large three-seated buckboard, and he and his chums were driven off toward the mines. The news had quickly gone around that they were young college students, who had come West to get practical illustrations bearing on their studies.
Tim stood on the hotel steps looking after Dick and his chums. As the carriage disappeared around a turn in the road someone came up to the newsboy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned quickly and saw, standing beside him, a well-dressed lad about his own age. The youth wore a showy watch chain and assumed a confident air that was not at all in keeping with his years.
"How's my friend, Dick Hamilton?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the carriage.
"Dick Hamilton," spoke Tim, in a sort of daze.
"Yes, Dick Hamilton, of Hamilton Corners. I suppose he came out here to see about the mines he and his millionaire father invested in."
"Mines," repeated Tim, somewhat surprised to thus learn that Dick's object was already discovered.
"Yes, mines," went on the other youth. "Oh, I know all about it. Dick thought he was cute, pretending to come here with a bunch of college lads. But I'm on to him, and so are the others."
"Who are you?" asked Tim, boldly.
"Just tell Dick that Simon Scardale was asking for him," replied the flashily-dressed youth, as he moved away. "I'll not give him my address, because I don't believe he'd like to call on me, but just tell him Simon Scardale was asking for him," and, with a mocking bow, Simon jumped on a pony and galloped off down the street.
Dick and his chums saw many interesting sights on their drive to the mines. All about them were evidences of the hustling West, and the noise of the stamping mills, or machines, which crush up the rocks and ore to enable the precious metals to be extracted from them could be heard on every side. They met many teams hauling ore from the mines to distant "stamps," and saw throngs of miners in their rough, but picturesque, garb, tramping along.
"Do you think they'll let us visit the mines?" asked Dick of the driver. "We want to find out all we can about 'em."
"Oh, I guess so. This is a free and easy country. Visitors are always welcome, providin' they don't want to know too much," and the driver winked his eye.
"Too much?" repeated Dick.
"Yes. Lots of men out here don't care to have their past history raked over. It ain't always healthy, son, to ask a man where he came from,or why he left there. There's secrets, you understand, that a man don't like strangers to know."
"I understand," replied Dick, with a laugh. "But we only want to see how they get the gold out of mines."
"Oh, yes, you can see that," was the driver's answer. "But there's lots of mines nearer than the Hop Toad and the Dolphin; lots of 'em."
"Aren't those good mines?" asked Dick, anxious to get the opinion of what might be presumed to be an unprejudiced observer.
"Well, so folks say," was the cautious answer. "All mines is good—until they're found out to be bad. I guess they're getting gold out of both mines. Leastways, that's what the men that's working 'em say."
When the buckboard with its passengers arrived at the Hop Toad mine the driver called to a man who seemed to be in charge:
"Say, Nick, here's a crowd of college students that want to see how you make gold. Any objections?"
The man addressed looked up quickly. Dick knew at once, from a description the lawyer had sent to Mr. Hamilton, that the man was Nick Smith, commonly known as "Forty-niner Smith," an old-time miner, who was in charge of the active operations at the two mines Dick and his father were interested in. But Dick resolved not to disclose his own identity unless it became necessary to do so.
"Come on, and welcome," responded Forty-niner Smith, with an assumed heartiness, but Dick did not like the look on the man's face. "We're just settin' off a blast," the miner went on. "Th' tenderfeet kin see a bucket full of gold in a minute."
The boys joined a group of waiting miners, who regarded them curiously. All about were piles of ore and, not far away, were the ruins of a stamp-mill.
"Our stamp's out of business," said Smith, noting Dick's glance at it. "We send our ore, and that from the Dolphin, down to the Wild Tiger mill. They're crushing it for us. Ah, boys, there she goes!"
There was a dull rumble from a hole in the ground, and the earth seemed to tremble. Then some smoke lazily floated from the mouth of the mine.
"As soon as it clears away they'll send up some gold ore," went on Smith, and, in a short time, a big iron bucket came to the surface on a strong, wire cable. It was filled with what looked like pieces of stone, but Smith, taking some of the fragments, passed them to Dick.
"See that yellow stuff!" he exclaimed, pointing to numerous shining particles. "That's pure gold! Here, take some samples along," he added, in a burst of generosity. "We'll never miss 'em," and he filled the hands of the four boys with the precious metal. "This is one of the richest minesin this locality," he added. "Now come on over and I'll show you the Dolphin," and he led the way toward the ruins of the stamp-mill.
"Somebody dropped a dynamite cartridge near it," he explained as he passed it. "But we don't mind. We've ordered two new ones. I guess they've got through blasting here. Yes, here comes some ore," he went on as a bucket of the stuff that looked like broken cobblestones came to the surface.
Dick's heart beat fast. At last he was looking at the mine in which he had invested two thousand dollars. And, best of all, real gold was being taken from it. At least it looked like real gold, and had the same appearance as that from the Hop Toad mine. Besides, if it was not gold, why would the men work so hard to get it up?
"Maybe I'm having all my trouble for my pains," thought Dick. "I guess these mines are good, after all. Vanderhoof may have been a swindler, but this looks as if dad and I had made good investments."
"Here, have some of this ore," added Smith, with another show of generosity. "We'll never miss it. Have it made into watch charms or scarf pins. That's what lots of 'em do."
"Can we go down in the mine?" asked Frank Bender.
"Not to-day," replied Smith, with a sharp look at Dick. "You see it's a little dangerous, so soon after a blast, unless you've had some experience.Come out some other day and maybe you can. Glad to see visitors any time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go and see about sending some of this ore to the stamp-mill. It's so rich we have to send a guard with it to protect it from thieves," he added, in a burst of confidence.
"Well, I guess we've seen enough," spoke Dick. "Come on, boys."
As they rode back to the hotel, Dick soon decided on a plan of action. He would take to a government assayer the ore he and his companions had received, and learn whether the mine was or was not a good one. This time there would be no chance for deception, he thought. He had seen, with his own eyes, the ore taken from the mine. The government assayer, he knew, would tell the truth about the value of it. Then he could be satisfied that his investment, as well as his father's, was a good one.
Explaining his purpose to the boys they readily gave Dick their samples of ore, though he suggested they save small pieces for souvenirs, which they did.
"Maybe you'd better see the lawyer your father wrote to," suggested Walter Mead, when they were almost at the hotel.
"Good idea," declared Dick, but he could not carry it out, for, on inquiring, he learned that the lawyer had gone on a journey and would not be back for a month.
"I'll go ahead on my own responsibility," Dickdecided. "I think I'll hunt up the government assayer. I wonder where Tim is?"
The newsboy was not about the hotel, and, thinking he had gone off to see the sights, Dick did not look for him. He got the address of the assayer from the hotel proprietor, and was soon at the official's office.
"So you want some of this Hop Toad, and Dolphin ore tested, eh?" inquired the assayer. "Well, you're not the first person who has brought me some. I tested some for a man named Hamilton, away out East, some time ago. His lawyer brought it to me. I found it good then and I guess it's good yet."
"Was it really good?" asked Dick, eagerly, and then, judging the government official could be trusted, he told the object of his western trip.
"Young man," said the assayer, when Dick had finished, "I'll tell you all I know. This ore is good. It's very rich. In fact, I don't need to assay it to tell that it runs many dollars to the ton. But one thing I can't tell you to a certainty is that it came from the Hop Toad or Dolphin mine. You see we assayers have to take the word of the miners as to where the ore comes from. All we do is to make a test, and, by finding out how much gold there is to a certain amount of ore, figure out how much it will assay to a ton of the same ore. That's the basis on which mines are valued."
"I can assure you that this ore we have camefrom the Dolphin and Hop Toad mines," said Dick. "We saw it taken out."
"Seeing isn't always believing, when it comes to mines," replied the assayer. "Still it may have been taken directly from the drifts. I wouldn't say it to everyone," he went on, "but I believe there is something crooked about those mines. I have thought so for some time, but I can't decide just what it is. They have a reputation of being very rich, and the ore assays well, but I don't like the actions of the men running them."
"Do you think I have been cheated?" asked Dick.
"I do, but I can't give my reasons for it."
"Then what would you advise?"
"Well, you're out here to investigate. Keep on investigating. I'm a government official and I can't take either side. But if I were you," and he came close to Dick and spoke in a low tone, "I'd visit that mine when none of the men were around. I think they knew you were coming and prepared for you."
"Why?" asked Dick, much surprised.
"Well, I can't tell you all my reasons now. Do as I advise, and try to inspect the mines when no one is around."
"When would be the best time for that?"
"At night. That's the only time it would be safe. But be very careful. This is a queer country. Men act quickly out here and they don't always stop to ask questions before they shoot.But you boys are quick and sharp and—well, good luck to you, that's all I can say."
"I'm much obliged to you," answered Dick. "I'll do as you advise."
As he and his chums left the assayer's office they met Tim, who had returned to the hotel, and, on inquiring, had learned where they had gone.
"Have a good time?" asked Dick, of his newsboy friend.
"Not so very," replied Tim, rather solemnly.
"Why not?"
"Because I was chasin' after a fellow what called himself Simon Scardale, and I couldn't catch him."
"Simon Scardale here?" exclaimed Dick.
"That's what he is, and he's on to our game," replied Tim. "Dick, youse has got to act quick, I guess."
For a few moments Dick was too surprised to know what to say. He began to see through it now. Simon was a friend of Vanderhoof, and, though he might not be mixed up in the swindling games, he had, likely, given information that would prevent the millionaire's son from accomplishing his object. Dick was in a maze. He was not altogether sure that the mines were a swindle, but he strongly suspected it. Simon's presence in the western city seemed to argue that some strange game was about to be played.
"We must talk this over," decided Dick."Come on, boys. We'll go back to the hotel and have a conference. Then we can decide what to do."
In Dick's room the chums went over all the points of the matter. But, try as they did, they could not see a reason for Simon's presence in Yazoo City, nor for his remarks to Tim.
"But dat government feller give youse good advice," declared the newsboy. "Why don't youse go out to de mine? Maybe youse kin git on to der game. I'm wid youse."
"I believe I will," decided Dick. "Tim, you and Frank and I will go. Yes, Walter, you and Bricktop had better stay at the hotel," he added, as he saw a look of disappointment come over the faces of the other two boys. "Five would be too many, and, by some of us staying here, there will be less liability of suspicion. We'll make a night trip to the mine and, if it's at all possible, I'll go down inside."
"Dat's de way to talk!" exclaimed Tim.
Cautiously they made their plans. Dick decided he and his two companions would walk to the mines, as, if they hired a rig, it would become known to Smith or Simon, who were probably spying on their actions. Tim related how he had tried to follow Simon when he rode off on the pony, but had been unsuccessful.
"It's a nice moonlight night," said Dick, when the plans had been made. "We can take some candles with us and I guess we can get down thecable at the mine. Then we'll see if there's any crooked work going on."
After supper Tim, Frank and Dick started off. They little realized what was before them, or perhaps they would not have been so light-hearted.
"It's going to take over two hours to get out there," said Dick, as he and his companions tramped on. "I don't know how long we'll stay. It all depends on circumstances. If they discover us we'll not stay as long as we otherwise would," and he laughed. "But I guess it's an all-night job. Well, the road is a good one, and it's a nice night."
"That's what it is," answered Frank. "That moon looks as if it was pure silver, hung up there in the sky."
"You're getting poetical," commented Dick.
"Dat oughter be a gold moon to be right in de swim," was Tim's opinion.
"What do you expect to do when you get to the mine?" asked Frank, as, now that they were beyond the borders of Yazoo City, they were not afraid to talk of their object.
"I hardly know," answered Dick. "What I want to find out is whether or not that mine is a fake one."
"How do youse tell a fake gold mine?" asked Tim. "Is it like a lead nickel or counterfeit money so youse can tell by bitin' a chunk of it?"
"Hardly," replied Dick, with a laugh. "I've been reading up about mines lately, and, according to the book, the most common way of making a fake mine is to 'salt' it, or 'sweat' it."
"Salt it?" repeated Frank. "I've heard of salting cattle, but never mines."
"That doesn't describe it very well," went on Dick, "but that's what they call it. Sometimes it is termed 'sweating.' By either way it means making the ore in the mine look as if it was filled with gold, when, in fact, the gold had only been put there by some man who wanted a worthless mine to look like a good one."
"How do they do it?" asked Tim.
"The most common way is to take some real gold dust, put it into a shotgun, load it heavily with powder and shoot it at the side of the mine. The gold particles are shot into the rock a little way and it appears like real ore. They do this several times down the sides of a rocky mine and it looks very much like the real thing. After a man has bought the mine and begins to dig, he discovers it's all a fake."
"Wow!" exclaimed Tim. "T'ink of shootin' gold out of a gun. I wish somebody'd take a few shots at me. Easy ones, of course, so's I could live to enjoy it."
"There are other ways of making fake mines,"went on Dick, "but I didn't read much about them."
"Do you think the Hop Toad and Dolphin mines are fakes?" asked Frank.
"That's what I'm afraid of. But I'm pretty sure Smith and his confederates didn't use any such method as shooting the gold into the rocks. It's in too deep for that, and they could hardly hope to fool the assayer that way. No, they must have some new scheme, and maybe I can discover it."
The boys walked along briskly, and, almost before they realized it, they saw that they were approaching the mine.
"Now, go easy," advised Dick. "We first want to see if there is anyone in sight. If not, we'll take a trip down."
Near the mouth of the shaft was some machinery used to lift the bucket from the mine. The boys could see the dull gleam of the coals under the boiler of the hoisting apparatus, for the fire had been banked. But there was no sign of anyone around, and, after peering cautiously about, the boys reached the edge of the shaft.
"Now, if dey had an elevator fer us it would be dead easy," spoke Tim. "But I don't see how youse is goin' to git down."
"Wait until I take a look," replied Dick.
He approached the mouth of the mine and uttered an exclamation that brought the other boys to his side.
"There's a ladder leading down," he said. "We can use that. Now to explore a gold mine."
Seeing that he had his candles and matches ready, Dick began to descend. The other boys waited until he was down some distance and then followed. The ladder, as they could see, was built against the side of the shaft, and it was far enough away so that the ascending or descending bucket did not touch it.
"Hold on!" cried Dick, from the dark depths. "I'm going to light a candle."
Presently a faint gleam came up the shaft, and Tim and Frank could make out Dick's form standing below them on a rung of the ladder. They also lighted candles, and the descent continued. In about a minute Dick called again:
"Easy now, fellows; I've struck bottom. Got down to the first level, I guess."
In a little while Tim and Frank joined him. They found they were standing in a sort of cave, hollowed out under ground. Resting at the foot of the shaft was a big bucket, attached to the wire cable that extended to the hoisting drum.
"Is dis all dere is to de mine?" asked Tim.
"No, there seems to be a gallery leading off to no one knows where," replied Dick, pointing to a gloomy hole. "Come on, boys, I haven't seen any gold yet," and he waved his candle to and fro. It flickered over the rocky walls of the mine. They glistened with water that oozed frommany crevices, but there was no glitter of the precious metal.
The boys walked cautiously along the gallery, or tunnel, that extended at right angles to the perpendicular shaft. Suddenly, Dick, who was in the lead, stopped short.
"Hush!" he exclaimed, in a whisper. "I hear voices."
The boys listened. From somewhere in the darkness ahead of them came an indistinct murmur.
"Come ahead, easy!" whispered the millionaire's son.
They advanced on tiptoes. The murmur of voices became louder. Then, as the boys made a turn in the tunnel, a strange scene was suddenly presented to them.
In a sort of cave, formed by the widening of the gallery, a number of men stood in a group. Several torches, stuck into cracks in the rocky wall, gave light. But, strangest of all, was the occupation of the men.
One of them was stirring what seemed like a mass of mortar in a wooden box, such as masons use. Into it another was pouring from a sack, gleaming, golden, yellow particles, which, as the light gleamed on them, glittered like gold.
"Seems like throwing the yellow stuff away," remarked the man who held the sack.
"What of it. We'll get it back five times over," replied the one who, with a hoe, was stirring thestuff. "It's like planting gold in a garden. It grows, you know. This mine is our garden."
"They're 'salting' the mine," whispered Dick to his companions.
Off to one side another man was drilling holes in the soft rock. The musical clink of his hammer on the drill sounded faint and far off, so muffled was it.
"Haven't you got that stuff ready yet?" called the man with the drill. "I've got all the holes bored. Hurry up and get it in or it won't be hard by to-morrow, and there's no telling when that Hamilton kid may take a notion to drop in and visit his mine," and he laughed.
"Oh, I guess I can keep him away for a few days yet," answered one, whom Dick recognized as Forty-niner Smith. "I've got a game I haven't played. But I guess this stuff is mixed enough. Say, it's the best scheme I've struck yet for 'sweating' a mine. Beats the shotguns all to pieces."
From their hiding place the boys watched what the men did. The mixture with the gold particles in it was poured into the holes the man had dug. The boys could see now that it was not mortar, but concrete, which was being used. To Dick the whole scheme was now plain.
The men poured a lot of gold dust into some concrete, and mixed it up with water until it was about as thick as paste. Then they put it into holes drilled in the rocky walls of the mine. The concrete hardened and became almost like therock itself. Then, when a blast was set off, the rock, concrete and gold was all blown into small pieces, so that it looked as if the ore was of good, gold-bearing quality, whereas it was nothing but ordinary rock "salted."
That was how the men were working to fool investors. They had taken an abandoned mine, from which all the gold had been dug, and, by this ingenious method, made it look, to the ignorant, as though it was a regular bonanza.
"Well," remarked Dick, in a whisper, "we've discovered the trick. I guess dad's money and mine, too, is 'gone up the flume,' as the miners say. But I'm glad——"
At that moment, Frank, who was balancing himself on a bit of rock, in order to see better, stumbled and fell, making quite a noise. The men turned as if a shot had been fired.
"What's that?" asked Smith, in a hoarse whisper.
"Some loose rock caving in," answered one of the men. "Come on, finish up. We've only got one more hole to fill, and by that time Nash will be ready to hoist us up."
"That wasn't falling rock!" declared Smith. "Boys, I believe someone is spying on us. I'm going to take a look."
Seizing one of the torches he started toward where Dick and his companions were hiding.
"Come on!" exclaimed the millionaire's son,pulling Tim and Frank by the arm. "We've got to get out of this!"
They turned and ran, their footsteps echoing on the rocky floor of the mine. They could hear Smith coming after them. His torch flashed around the turn in the gallery. He caught sight of them.
"Stop!" he cried. "Stop or I'll shoot!"
Dick gave a hurried look behind him. He could see something shining in Smith's hand—something that the light from the torch glinted on.
"Keep on!" hoarsely whispered Tim. "He can't hit us down here. Keep on!"
Stumbling, almost falling, their candles showing but faint blue points of light as the flame flickered away from the wicks because of their speed, the boys ran toward the bottom of the shaft.
"If we reach the ladder I think we can get away," said Frank, panting from his exertion.
It seemed as if it was a mile back to the shaft, but it was only a few hundred feet. The boys expected every minute to hear the shot ring out. They caught the sounds of the footfalls of their pursuer and they sounded nearer and nearer. He was familiar with the gallery and his torch gave him better light to go by than did the candles give the boys.
Once more the angry miner's voice called:
"Hold on, whoever you are, or I'll shoot!"
"Quick! There's the shaft!" exclaimed Dick, pointing to where the big bucket rested at the bottom of the opening.
The boys made a rush for it. At the same instant a shot rang out in the darkness, the flash from the revolver lighting up the mine cavern with sudden glare. They could hear the bullet strike far above their heads with a vicious "ping!" Clearly, Smith was only firing to scare them, and did not want to run any chances of hurting them, as he had aimed high.
Then a strange thing happened. The cable, attached to the bucket, began to wind upward. There was considerable slack to it and the bucket did not immediately follow. It was evident that the machinery at the shaft mouth had started and that the ore-carrier was about to be hoisted up. An inspiration came to Dick.
"Into the bucket!" he called. "It's big enough to hold us all and we'll be hauled to the top! We can escape that way!"
Tim and Frank needed no further urging. They clambered over the iron sides of the bucket, followed by Dick. And not a second too soon, for, as he set his feet on the iron bottom, the cable tauted and the bucket started upward.
"Come back here!" yelled Smith, reaching the bottom of the shaft just in time to see the conveyor disappearing. He made an ineffectual grab for it, but, as his torch flared up when he threwit on the ground, the better to use his hands, Dick, looking over the edge of the iron receptacle, saw that the ugly miner was fifteen feet below them.
"Pull your head in!" advised Frank. "He might shoot!"
But Smith had no such intentions. Making a sort of megaphone of his hands, he shouted up the shaft:
"Nash! Nash! Stop the engine! Don't hoist the bucket! We're not in it!"
But the engineer at the mouth of the shaft never heard him. Higher and higher went the bucket, carrying the boys. They looked up the black opening and could see the moon shining overhead.
"Lucky escape!" murmured Dick. "I wonder how that bucket came to go up just when we needed it most?"
He learned a minute later. As the conveyor reached the surface and stopped, Dick and his friends stepped out. They saw that the fire under the boiler was burning brightly, and that a man, who had not been there when they arrived, was attending to the hoisting engine. As he caught sight of them he exclaimed:
"Who are you? Where's Smith?"
"Down there," replied Dick, not caring to go into details. "Come on, boys."
"But something's wrong," went on Nash, the engineer. "I was told to come here about oneo'clock, get up steam and be ready to hoist the bucket when I heard a revolver shot. I heard it and I hoisted away. But where's Smith and his men? He told me he'd fire a shot when he was ready to come up. I heard it plain enough, but who are you?"
"Smith will explain," replied Dick. "We came up first, that's all," he added, coolly. "Come on, boys."
Leaving behind them a much-puzzled engineer, the three boys hurried away from the mine. They were soon on the road leading back to Yazoo City.
"Do you think they'll chase us?" asked Frank.
"I don't believe so," replied Dick. "I guess Smith is worried enough as it is. He may suspect who we were, but I don't believe he knows for certain. However, we'll keep in the shadows for a way."
This they did, but there was no need of apprehension, for none of the miners pursued them.
"Well, youse had your money's worth of excitement, anyway," commented Tim. "Say, I t'ought it was all up wid me dere, one spell. But youse had your nerve wid you, Mr. Dick."
"Well, we had some luck with us, too," replied the millionaire's son. "Those fellows played right into our hands. They must have gone down the mine early in the evening, and arranged with the engineer to come back, when they were finished with their 'salting' process, to hoist up their tools and things so as to leave nothing suspiciousaround. When Smith fired at us the engineer, who arrived after we had gone down the mine, thought it was the signal agreed upon and he hoisted away. I guess he was surprised when he saw us get out of the bucket."
"And I guess Smith will be surprised when he finds out you know how he and his gang fixed up the fake mine," remarked Frank.
"I guess the best plan will be to say nothing to him about it," said Dick. "I don't see anything for me to do but go back home and report to dad. We've been swindled, and I'm out two thousand dollars. I don't know how much he lost. The Hop Toad and Dolphin mines aren't worth anything, I'm afraid."
"Did youse lose two t'ousand dollars?" asked Tim, as the boys hurried along the moonlit road.
"I'm afraid so."
"An' youse ain't agoin' to faint over it? Say, youse has got nerve, youse has," added the newsboy, admiringly. "Youse oughter be in N' York. How'd you come to put so much money in a fake mine?"
"I didn't know it was a fake," replied the wealthy youth.
The boys reached their hotel in the gray dawn of the early morning. They were worn out and tired from their long tramp and the excitement of the night. As they entered the lobby, where a sleepy clerk was on duty behind the desk, the latter called to them:
"I say, is one of you named Dick Hamilton?"
"I am," replied the millionaire's son.
"Well, I've got a message for you from a lad named Simon Scardale."
"Simon Scardale?" repeated Dick.
"Yes. He was badly hurt last night by a fall from a horse he was riding. He's over at the other hotel, and he sent word that he wanted to see Dick Hamilton as soon as he came in. I looked over the register, but I couldn't see anyone by that name, and I thought he'd made a mistake."
Dick recalled his scrawling signature on the book, and did not wonder that the clerk could not make it out.
Telling Tim and Frank to go upstairs and notify Bricktop and Walter of their safe arrival, Dick started for the Imperial Inn. He found the night clerk on duty, and, telling his object, was shown upstairs by a sleepy bell-boy.
As he entered the room he saw Simon in bed. The youth's face was pale, and his head was covered with bandages. Two doctors were within call.
"Is that you, Dick Hamilton?" he asked in a weak voice.
"Yes. What do you want, Simon?" inquired Dick, softly, for the sight of Simon's sufferings banished all resentment.
"I'm afraid I'm badly hurt," went on Simon,"and I want to tell you something before—before I go away from here. Come closer."
"Now don't excite yourself," advised one of the doctors.
"I won't, but I must tell Dick," went on Simon. "I'm sorry I put up that game to steal Grit," he said, almost in a whisper. "But I needed money very much and I didn't see any other way to get it. Guy didn't have anything to do with it."
"I know," said Dick, softly.
"I played another mean trick on you," went on the injured youth. "I've been spying on you for Vanderhoof. After I got Grit and you saw me that day at the hotel, I was afraid. I knew Vanderhoof, or Colonel Dendon, as he sometimes calls himself, and I went to him. He said he could give me a job out West and he sent me here. Then, I guess it must have been the day you started, he telegraphed me to be on the lookout for you, and to inform Forty-niner Smith when you arrived. I did."
"Were you in the game to help work off a worthless mine on me?" asked Dick, a little resentfully.
"No, no," replied Simon, earnestly. "I only learned of that by accident. When I found out the mines were no good I was going to have nothing more to do with any of the gang. But Smith told me your father had once got the best of Vanderhoof in a business deal and that this was the only way they could get their money back—tosell him a worthless mine. They said it was done every day and—and I believed them. I only kept them informed of your movements so they could fix things up to—to deceive you, I suppose."
"Yes," assented Dick.
"But I'm done with 'em now," went on Simon. "I was riding out to the mine to-night, after I saw you three start for it. Oh, I kept close watch on you," he said in answer to Dick's look of surprise. "I started for the mine to warn them you were coming, as I knew they were going to do some 'salting.' My horse threw me before I'd gone far and—well, I'm pretty badly hurt, I guess."
"Now that will do," interrupted one of the physicians. "You can tell the rest another time. You must be quiet now."
"There isn't any more to tell," said Simon, in a whisper. "That's all, Dick, but I feel better for having told you."
"Well, Simon," said the millionaire's son, "I'm sorry you are hurt. I forgive you. I guess you didn't realize what you were doing."
"That's it. I never realized what bad men Vanderhoof, Smith and the others were. I'm done with them forever. I guess I can go to sleep now."
He turned over and closed his eyes. Dick softly left the room, followed by one of the doctors.
"Is he badly hurt?" he asked of the medical man, when they were out in the corridor.
"Well, he is hurt internally. I think we can pull him through with careful nursing. Is he a friend of yours?"
"I used to think he was," answered Dick. "I guess he got into bad company, that's the trouble. I'd like to help him if I could. Here, doctor, take this and see that he has good nursing, will you, please," and Dick thrust a hundred-dollar bill into the physician's hand.
"But this—this is quite a sum of money."
"Well, I guess dad would want me to spend it," replied Dick. "I've got lots more. Anyhow, I couldn't bear to think of Simon suffering, even if he did do me some mean turns. Will you look after him, doctor? I've got to go back East."
"I will, young man, and he can thank you for befriending him. I guess those men won't have anything more to do with him after this, and it's hard for a lad like him to be sick in a wild country like this. I'll see that he has the best of care."
Pondering over the strange events of the last few hours, Dick went back to his hotel. It was now nearly breakfast-time and he was ready for the meal, especially the hot coffee. Tim and Frank, also, did full justice to it, and then, being very sleepy, they went to bed, as did Dick.
"We'll start back home to-morrow," the millionaire's son said to his chums as he went to his room.
Although a little apprehensive that Smith and his gang might make trouble for him, Dick leisurely made his preparations for going back East, when, late in the afternoon, after a long slumber, he awoke much refreshed. But the miner and his men did not appear in Yazoo City. Dick called on the government assayer and told him what he and his chums had seen.
"That's a new way of 'salting' a mine," the official said. "A very good one, too, from a swindler's standpoint. Now, if you want to, you can make a complaint against those men and have them arrested."
"I'm afraid it wouldn't make the mines any good, or save the money dad and I put into them," said Dick.
"No, I don't believe it would. Besides, they are a slick crowd, I suppose, and you'd have trouble convicting them. Perhaps it is better to let it drop. I'll be on the watch, however, and if I hear of anyone about to invest in the stock of any mines Smith and his men are interested in I'll warn him."
Dick called to say good-bye to Simon. Hefound the bad boy a little improved, and when informed that he would be well taken care of the tears came into the eyes of the youth who had done so much to injure Dick.
"You—you're a brick!" he stammered. "I don't deserve it, but if—if I ever get well maybe I can do something for you."
"Oh, that's all right," replied Dick, somewhat affected by Simon's misery. "You'll soon be as well as ever, and when you do get around again, you'd better steer clear of such men as Colonel Dendon."
"I will," promised Simon, and he tried to return the pressure of Dick's hand, but it was hard work, for he was very weak.
Early the next morning Dick and his friends started for home. Dick was a little thoughtful, and Frank asked:
"Worrying about your lost money, Dick?"
"Well, not so much about the money as I am over the consequences. I counted on this mine investment being a good one. But, I have another. I guess my stock in the milk concern will pan out pretty well."
"If it don't youse had better come to N' York wid me, an' sell papes," advised Tim.
"I'll think of it," promised Dick, with a smile.
The ride back home was uneventful. Tim decided he would not go back to Hamilton Corners, as he was anxious to get to New York.
"Got to look after me paper business," he said,with a laugh. "I left me pardner in charge an' he's a little chap. Some of de big guys might drive him offen de swell corner we has. It's de best corner in N' York fer doin' business," he explained. "I stands in wid de cop on de beat an' he sees I ain't bothered. But I'm gittin' worried. I see some of de yellow journals is predictin' bad times an' I wants to be prepared for 'em. Besides, I've got some customers what owe me—one man run up a bill of a quarter jest 'fore I went on dat fresh-air racket, an' I want to collect it. So I t'ink I'll git back to little old N' York."
The boys parted from Tim with regret, for they liked his sterling character, which shone out through a coat of rough manners. He changed at a junction point for a train that went direct to the big city, and gaily waved his hand to them as it departed. He had profited much by coming to Hamilton Corners, for Dick had fitted him up with some good clothes, and, at parting, had slipped a bank bill into his hand.
Mr. Hamilton was glad to see his son back, and listened with interest to the account of the western trip.
"And so our money is gone," finished Dick.
"Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, as the farmer's wife used to say," remarked the millionaire, with a calmness that Dick could not help envying. "It isn't the first time I've lost money by unwise speculation, but it's all in the game. I'm sorry for you, though, Dick."
"I'm sorry for myself. It looks as if I had a poor head for business."
"Oh, you'll learn," consoled his father. "It takes time."
"Yes, and there's Uncle Ezra waiting for me," went on Dick, as though he could see the harsh old man outside in a carriage, waiting to carry him off to the gloomy Firs. "When he hears of this he'll think sure I'm doomed to go and board with him."
"The year is quite a way from being completed," said Mr. Hamilton. "Lots of things may happen before your next birthday."
"I hope they do," said Dick, rather ruefully. "Anyway, I have my milk stock. They didn't send for another assessment while I was away, did they?"
"No, and I see the stock has advanced in value a point or two."
"Then I may be all right, after all. But I think I'll be on the lookout for another investment, and it's not going to be a gold mine, either," finished Dick.
It was about a week after this that, coming down to breakfast one morning, Dick was met by the butler.
"There's a gentleman waiting to see you, Master Dick," said the servant.
"To see me, Gibbs? Who is it?"
"I don't know, but he came very early and hesays he has something to show you. He says he wants you to help him with it."
"Maybe it's another of those reporters," said Dick. "I will see him right after breakfast."
"I'd rather you see me now," interrupted a voice, and to Dick's astonishment there walked into the dining-room, from the library where he had been waiting, a little man, whose hair seemed to stick out at every point of the compass. His clothes were rather ragged, and, as he advanced, he kept running his hands through his hair. To do this he had to transfer, first from one arm to the other, a large box he carried.
"I'll not take much of your time," said the little man. "All I want is your assistance in having a lot of these machines made. You see how this one works," and, stooping over, he placed the box on the floor. From it came a clicking sound, as the little man, with his head tilted to one side, waited with watch in hand.
"It will go off in three minutes," he said.
Following the startling announcement of the little man Dick and Gibbs, the butler, seemed paralyzed. The room was so still that the ticking of the machine on the floor sounded like an immense alarm clock. Then, as the seconds passed and the stranger stood calmly looking alternately at Dick, Gibbs, and the box, the butler, with a sudden start back to life, exclaimed:
"Jump out of the window, Master Dick! I'll attend to this lunatic!"
"I'm not a lunatic!" shouted the little man. "I'm Professor Messapatomia!"
"Jump!" shouted Gibbs to Dick. "It isn't far to the ground. This thing will go off in a minute!"
"Half a minute," calmly corrected the stranger, as he snapped his watch shut. At that instant Mary, the waitress, came into the room with a large pitcher of water. As Dick turned to flee, for he realized that he might be courting death to remain, should the lunatic's infernal apparatus go off, Gibbs grabbed the pitcher.
"I'll fix it!" the butler cried, throwing the water at the ticking machine. "But jump, all the same, Master Dick!"
As Dick prepared to jump from one of the dining-room windows, believing that, as he had often read of such things occurring, he was to be made the victim of a crank, the machine gave a louder click. Professor Messapatomia, with a sudden motion of his arm, diverted the aim of Gibbs, and the water flew to one side of the box. At the same moment there was a jar, as from a heavy spring, and a shower of white objects scattered about the room.
"There!" exclaimed the professor, triumphantly, "that's how it works! Very simple, you see, and it scatters the bait all around. Then all you have to do is to take your pole and line and catch all the fish you want."
"Fish!" repeated Dick, somewhat in a daze.He had expected the house to be half-blown apart, yet the machine only scattered harmless pieces of paper about.
"Fish, of course," replied the professor, "What did you think this was?"
"Aren't you an Anarchist, and isn't that an infernal machine?" demanded Gibbs, wiping away some of the water he had accidentally spilled over his head when the professor knocked up his arm.
"Anarchist? Infernal machine?" repeated Professor Messapatomia. "Why, my dear sir, that is my latest invention of a fish-catching device. You see, you wind up the spring, and you set it to go off at any hour you wish. Then you put some finely chopped pieces of meat in this top pan. That is the bait. Only in this case, as I didn't want to muss up the room, I used bits of paper. At the proper time the machine, which you have set beside the stream where you desire to fish, goes off. The bait is thrown all over the surface of the water. It attracts the fish, and when you throw in your line you have no end of bites. It's the greatest idea of the age! It will revolutionize fishing! It's simply marvelous!
"I have just perfected the invention, but I need money to put the machine on the market. You, sir," turning to Dick, "are just the person to help me. I read of your immense wealth and that you are fond of all sports. Fishing is a sport, therefore I came to you. All I need is ten thousanddollars and it will make both of us rich in a year. Now, if you will kindly write me out a check for that amount, I'll bid you good-morning, and you can go on with your breakfast which I have interrupted."
He began to pick up the scattered bits of paper, Mary helping him, while Gibbs gazed rather stupidly at the queer figure with the bristling hair. Then Dick laughed.
"Well, you certainly gave me a scare," he said. "I thought you wanted to blow the place up. But I'm sorry I can't invest ten thousand dollars in that machine. It seems to me it would be just as easy to stand on the shore and throw the pieces of meat in the water by hand."
"Yes, of course, you could do it that way," admitted the professor, "but it isn't half so scientific. However, I'll not urge you," and, picking up his apparatus, he left the room after a low bow to Dick.
"He went away with less trouble than I expected," remarked Dick, as he looked at the wet place on the floor and at some of the bits of paper that still remained. "Well, Gibbs, I admit I was scared for a minute."
"So was I, Master Dick. I shouldn't have let him in, only you had given orders that all respectable-looking visitors were to be treated nicely, and I'm sure he looked respectable in spite of his queer hair."
"Oh, yes, he was respectable, all right. It'snot your fault, Gibbs. I guess I'll have to draw the line about callers a little closer," concluded Dick as he sat down to breakfast.
The summer passed away and fall came. Dick returned to the academy, where he renewed his studies. Several times he was on the point of making another investment, but, as the stock of the milk company went up in value, he felt that this would answer the requirements of his mother's will, and furnish the profit called for. So, though he investigated many schemes that seemed to promise well, he did not take any stock in them.