"But this is a sure thing," insisted Simon. "I got a tip on it from a friend in New York."
"I've read of too many 'sure things' going wrong," said Dick with a laugh. "I think I'll try real estate for a starter."
Simon looked a little disappointed, but he made up his mind he would try Dick again on that subject, and a strange, cunning look came into his face.
During the trip back Simon tried to learn from the millionaire's son more about his new wealth, but Dick did not give him much satisfaction. However, Simon was sharp, and by dint of skillful hints and questions learned more than Dick thought he had told. Guy, too, was much interested, and a visible change came over his manner.
Guy's father, Peter Fletcher, was president of the Hamilton Trust Company, and, though Mr. Hamilton owned most of the stock of the concern, and had only placed Mr. Fletcher at thehead of the institution for business reasons, Guy gave himself as many airs as though his father owned the bank. Learning that Dick had come into possession of some wealth on his own account, though he did not know the source, Guy was somewhat inclined to toady to the youth with whom he was on more or less friendly terms.
It was two days after this, when the evening papers arrived in Hamilton Corners, that a mild sensation was created. There, on the front pages, was what purported to be a picture of Dick Hamilton, while under it was the caption, in big letters:
Then followed a garbled, but fairly correct, account of how Dick, through the will of his mother, had come into possession of fabulous wealth. Of course the figure was put much higher than it really was. In fact, no one but Mr. Hamilton was aware of the exact amount, but this did not stop the writer of the article from guessing at it.
Dick was described as a modern King Midas, and he was credited with sleeping in an ivory bed and eating off of gold plates and the rarest of cut glass. Nothing was said about the peculiar provisions of the will regarding the investment he was to make; but the boundless opportunities open to a youth with unlimited wealth at his disposal were all pointed out.
"Well, if that isn't the limit!" exclaimed Dick, when he saw the paper. "I wonder who did it?"
Perhaps if he had asked Simon Scardale that question that youth might have been confused, but Dick never thought of it.
"It certainly is very unpleasant notoriety," remarked Mr. Hamilton, "but you'll have to put up with it. You are a sort of ward of the public now, and the newspapers think they have a proprietary interest in you. I have been through it all, and so has nearly every other person of wealth. The best way is to pay no attention to it, and to treat with courtesy any newspaper men who may wish to interview you. They have a hard enough life, and if our doings, to a certain extent, interest them, why I, for one, am willing to oblige them as far as I can. I suppose the transferring to your name of some stocks and bonds, that were your mother's, has started this piece of news. Well, you have achieved a certain degree of fame, Dick, my boy."
And Dick found this out to his cost. The article in one paper was followed by others in various journals, until Dick's wealth had been made the comment of newspaper reporters and editors in many cities. But, through it all the youth kept a level head.
"Where are you going to-day, Dick?" asked Mr. Hamilton after breakfast one morning.
"I thought of taking a run in my car. I've bought that property I was telling you about. I think it will be a good investment, and it only took five hundred dollars to secure it. I talked to the agent, and he said I was sure to be able to sell it for a thousand at the end of the year."
"Humph! Well—er—of course, you can't believe all that a real-estate agent says, Dick."
"No, of course. I'm making allowances for that, and I figure that it ought to be worth at least eight hundred a year from now. That will clear me three hundred."
"Well, you can do as you like about it. By the way, I had a visit at the bank yesterday from an agent for a motor boat concern. He said you had ordered a boat from them, and he wanted to know if it was all right."
"I did, dad. I've always wanted one. I hope you told him it was all right."
"I told him to see you about it. I have no objectionto you purchasing one of the craft. Only be careful when you go out on the lake. There are sudden storms on it, and you might be in danger."
"I'll be careful, dad. I guess I'll just run over to the motor boat place in my car and see if the boat is ready to deliver. They had to order one from the factory for me."
As Dick was riding through the town at an easy pace he passed a rather dilapidated looking house, in front of which stood a youth, at the sight of whom Dick called:
"Hello, Henry! Want a ride?"
"Thanks, Dick," was Henry Darby's answer. "But I can't go."
"Why not?" asked the millionaire's son, as he brought his runabout to a stop.
"Well, I'm engaged in a little business deal, and I'm so bothered over it that I wouldn't enjoy a ride. Besides, I have to go see a man."
"What's the business about, Henry? That same old iron?"
"That's it."
"But what are you bothered about?"
"Well, the truth is I have a chance to get hold of a lot of scrap at a very low figure. But the trouble is I must pay cash for it. I looked at it the other day, and told the man I'd take it. I figured then on having the money. Now I find I haven't got it."
"Did you lose it?"
"No," and Henry spoke hesitatingly. "But you see my father had an idea he could make some money by becoming agent for a new kind of soap. He borrowed my cash and sent for a big supply; but when he got it no one would buy it. So he has it on hand, and my money is gone. Of course what I have is my father's until I'm of age, but——"
Henry stopped. In spite of the selfish and lazy character of his parent he was not going to utter any complaint against him.
"How much money do you need to buy this iron?" asked Dick, a sudden resolve coming into his mind.
"It will take fifty dollars; but it might just as well be five hundred as far as I'm concerned. I could get it together in about a month, but it's out of the question now. I'm just on my way to tell the man I can't take the iron. It's too bad, as it's a bargain, and I could easily make considerable on the deal."
While Henry was speaking Dick had drawn a little red book from his pocket, and was busily writing in it with a fountain pen. He tore out a slip of paper and handed it to his friend.
"There, Henry," he said, "if you take that to the Hamilton National Bank they'll give you cash for it."
"But what is it—I don't understand—a check for fifty dollars!" exclaimed the other youth.
"That's what it is," replied Dick smiling. "It's a present from me, Henry."
"A present! I'm sorry, but I can't take it, Dick. I'm very much obliged to you, but it wouldn't be business, you know. I don't want anything I don't earn."
"But I have lots more," insisted Dick. "In fact, I'd never miss that sum."
"I can't help it. I couldn't take it, though I thank you very much," and Henry handed back the little slip.
"Wait!" exclaimed Dick. "Will you take it as a loan, Henry?"
"A loan?"
"Yes; to be paid back—whenever you get good and ready. Do take it—as a loan."
"A loan," repeated Henry in a low tone. "Well, I might do that. But if you're in any hurry for the money you'd better not let me take it. I don't know when I can pay it back."
"That's all right. Keep it as long as you like."
"But there's another objection," said Henry, who appeared to be very conscientious about it. "You have no security for it."
"I don't need any from you, Henry."
"But it wouldn't be right to take it without security. Wait, I'll tell you what I'll do."
He hurried back into his house, to return in a few minutes with a folded paper which he handed to Dick.
"What is this?"
"That," said Henry proudly, "is my personal note for fifty dollars, payable in one month, with interest at six per cent., as security for this loan. You can have it discounted at the bank," he added with a laugh; "that is if you can get your father, or somebody with some money, to indorse it. Anyhow, it's my note. The first one I ever gave. Now you needn't worry about your money, Dick."
"I'm not worrying about it. In fact, I've got a deal of my own on hand that I expect to make some profit on. Besides, I'm going to buy a new motor boat, and I've got to go see about it. Will you come along?"
"No, indeed. I'm going to buy that old iron now," and as Dick started up his auto, Henry hurried into the house for his hat to go and complete his business transaction.
Dick rode on for about a mile, when he saw coming toward him a man in a carriage. The man held up his hand as he approached, indicating that he wanted the automobilist to stop.
"I wonder what's the matter?" thought Dick. "I can't be going so fast that I'm in danger of scaring his horse. Why, it's Mr. Bruce," as he recognized the real-estate agent of whom he had purchased the land he had been looking at with Guy and Simon one day.
"How are you?" asked Mr. Bruce. "I was just coming over to see you, Mr. Hamilton;" for he had been quite respectful to Dick since he learned of his wealth.
"To see me? What about?"
"About that land deal. In fact, I have bad news for you."
"Bad news?"
"Yes, I have just learned that they are going to put a fertilizer factory up on the property adjoining that which you bought, and yours will be valueless to sell for building lots. No one will want to live next to a fertilizer factory."
"Then it means——" faltered Dick.
"It means that your investment hasn't turned out well," went on the agent. "In fact, your land is worth less than half what you paid for it."
Dick was keenly disappointed, not so much at the news of the loss of his money as he was over the fact that his first investment had proved a failure. He began to realize that it was not as easy to make money as he had supposed, even if you have a large amount to invest.
"It's too bad," continued Mr. Bruce. "Of course I did not know when I sold you the land that the factory was liable to go up near it."
"Oh, it's not your fault," replied Dick. "I guess the best thing I can do is to sell out and look for another investment. What do you think?"
"I believe I would do that. I'll sell the land for you and get the best price I can. When I first heard about it I tried to get the fertilizer concern to buy it, but they had all they wanted and stopped right next to your property. It's too bad."
"Well, it might be worse," said Dick cheerfully. "It's not going to make me poor, that's one consolation."
But, as he started up his runabout again, bidding the agent good-bye, his mind was busy withthoughts of what line he ought next to invest in so that he might fulfil the conditions of his mother's will.
"I guess I'll let real estate alone after this," he said. "It's too risky until you know what's going to be built on the property next to yours."
But the somewhat disappointing thoughts over his failure were soon dispelled when he saw the fine motor boat the firm had secured for him from the factory. It was complete in every detail, from a small whistle, worked by compressed air, to two small folding bunks in which passengers could sleep should the craft remain out on Lake Dunkirk all night.
Dick arranged to have the boat taken to the lake and floated, and, a few days later, he had the pleasure of starting it up for the initial spin. It ran at fast speed, and beat several more powerful boats.
Dick did not enjoy this pleasure all alone. He invited Guy Fletcher, Simon Scardale, Frank Bender, Fred Murdock and Chandler Norton, the latter known as "Bricktop," because of his red hair, to take a trip with him.
"This is great!" exclaimed Frank, as the boat cut through the water. "Say, Dick, you're all right, even if you are a millionaire's son and have money to burn."
"In fact, he's all the better for it," put in Guy, who had resolved to be very friendly to that fortunate youth. "Three cheers for Dick Hamilton!"
"Drop that!" commanded Dick, who disliked Guy's manner.
But the boys responded heartily, and if Guy and Simon joined in with sneers in their hearts, which did not show on their faces, they alone were aware of it.
"Here, where are you going, Frank?" asked Dick, a few minutes later as he saw one of his guests climbing out on the narrow bow of the boat.
"Watch me," replied Frank Bender, and, a moment later, he was standing on his head in his rather insecure place, his feet waving aloft in the air.
"Come back here!" cried Dick, as he slowed down the engine. "Do you want to fall off and drown?"
"No," replied Frank, as he assumed his normal position.
"But, you see, I never stood on my head on a motor boat before and I wanted to do it. I want to get all sorts of practice, for I'm going to join a circus some day, and there's no telling what stunts they may want me to do."
"Oh, you and your circus!" exclaimed "Bricktop." "You're always talking about it!"
Which was the truth, for Frank took every chance that came to him to indulge in acrobatics of one form or another. He was continually turning cart wheels, standing on his head or his hands, twisting himself into knots, from which itseemed impossible that he could ever get loose, or bending himself until he resembled an animated horse shoe. He was "as limber as an eel," the boys used to say.
"That's all right," responded the amateur circus performer, "I'll be in a show some day, with a suit of green and gold spangles, and you fellows will be paying money to see me. All except Dick. I'll give him a free pass."
"Thanks," answered Dick with a laugh, as he started the engine on full speed again.
"Say, wouldn't it be great if we could only make a trip to New York this way," remarked Fred Murdock.
"Yes, this boat would look nice traveling over dry land the best part of the way," said Dick with a smile. "If this lake only opened into a river or a canal we might do it, but it's out of the question now."
"Why don't you go in your automobile?" suggested Simon, with a curious look at Guy.
"That's so, I never thought of it," replied Dick. "I believe I will if dad will let me."
"Take us along?" asked Frank. "Maybe I could get an engagement there in one of the theatres. I can do quite a lot of turns now."
"My car's too small for this bunch," replied the millionaire's son.
"Hire a touring car; you have lots of money," spoke up Guy, with a covert sneer.
"Good idea!" exclaimed Dick, not noticing thetone of the remark. "I believe I will. Would you fellows all go?"
"Would we!" was shouted in a chorus. "Don't ask us twice," said Fred.
"All right; it's a go!" went on Dick. "I'll see about it at once."
With Dick, to think was to act shortly afterward, and that night he asked his father for permission to take a crowd of his friends to the metropolis, which could easily be reached in a day by using a swift touring car.
"Besides," added Dick, as an added reason for the permission being given, "I may hear of some investment there."
"What's the matter with the land you bought?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"Oh, that failed," and Dick told the story of the fertilizer factory.
"Well, it's a good lesson to you, my son," was all Mr. Hamilton said by way of reproof. "No, I've no objection to you going to New York. Hire the car you wish, and be sure they supply a good driver. You're not quite capable of managing one of those ponderous machines yet. But be careful. Don't go to buying any gold bricks," and he laughed.
"No danger," replied Dick. "I've cut my eye teeth."
It was arranged that they should start in three days. Dick engaged the largest and finest car inthe garage of a neighboring city, and told his friends to get ready.
"Are you going?" asked Guy of Simon, the day before that set for the trip.
"Am I? Well, you can make up your mind to that. I can see something good in this for us."
"Good? What do you mean?"
"Money, of course."
"Don't get the idea that Dick is going to distribute five-dollar gold pieces along the route, Simon."
"I'm not; but I've got a plan of my own. If this wealthy young greenhorn doesn't drop a few hundreds in New York, and if I don't get my share, I'm very much mistaken. You can just as well have some as not."
"How you going to do it?"
"That's my secret," replied Simon, with a wink. "I didn't live five years in New York for nothing. I've got some friends there who will help me. Just you wait."
"But you want to be careful. Dick is no fool, even if he is wealthy."
"Don't you worry. I know what I'm about."
The pair, who were well matched, whispered for some time together, and when they separated, Simon, with many winks, gave his companion renewed assurances that Dick's trip to New York would prove financially beneficial to both of them.
Guy knew little of Simon, who had come to Hamilton Corners about six months before thisstory opens. He had met him in the billiard room, where several youths of the town, who might better have been at something else, frequently gathered. Simon never appeared to work, but generally had plenty of money.
He dressed flashily, and his conversation was filled with allusions to this or that "sport." Guy, who aspired to be thought a gilded youth of the city, rather than a plain country lad, with a father moderately well off, at once made fast friends with Simon.
Because of the business relations of Dick's and Guy's fathers, the two lads had been more or less friendly for several years, and, when Guy took up with Simon, Dick did not hesitate to admit him to his house, where the boys frequently assembled to play billiards or other games, or practice in the fine gymnasium Mr. Hamilton had provided for his son.
Thus, though Dick was aware of the rather sporty character of Guy and Simon, he was frank and pleasant with them, for he was a youth of rather free and easy ways, in spite of his wealth.
Dick would have been glad to take all his boy friends of Hamilton Corners with him to New York, but the capacity of the automobile was limited to seven; so, besides Dick, Simon and Guy, there went along "Bricktop," Frank Bender and Walter Mead.
Early on the appointed morning the big touring car, in charge of a skillful driver, drew up infront of Dick's house, where the boys had assembled.
"Get in!" called Dick, from the window of his room. "I'll be right down as soon as I can get my valise shut. I've got to say good-bye to Grit. Poor fellow, he knows something's in the wind and he's trying to break his chain to come along. But I'm afraid something will happen to him in New York, so he's got to stay home."
"He thinks as much of that dog as if it was a brother," remarked Guy with something of a sneer, as the five youths entered the tonneau, for Dick had elected to ride with the driver.
"I don't blame him," said "Bricktop." "Grit's a dog worth having."
"I hope Dick brings plenty of money along with him," whispered Simon to Guy, as they followed Frank Bender into the machine.
"Why?" asked Guy, also in a whisper.
"Because I've got everything all planned for a neat trick. I guess he'll not bring back as much as he takes away. I heard from my friend in New York. He'll meet us at the hotel, and then—well, we'll see what will happen."
Dick came running down the steps of the mansion.
"Good-bye!" he called to his father. "Yes, I'll be careful—good-bye!"
There was a tooting of the automobile horn, a throbbing of the powerful engine, a grindingsound as the gears were thrown into place, and the boys were off on their trip to New York, Dick with his heart full of happiness and anticipation, while Simon and Guy were thinking over the plot they had made to get away from the millionaire's son a little of his wealth.
Through Hamilton Corners the big car shot, its progress watched by throngs who had heard of Dick's trip. His conduct was commented on in various ways.
"Good land!" exclaimed Hank Darby. "If I had the money that spendthrift will get rid of before he gets back here I could make my fortune. All I need is a little capital and I'd be rich inside of a week. I have a great scheme on."
"Ain't goin' t' buy any more soap, be ye, Hank?" asked Porter Heavydale, a little, thin, wisp of a man, who was fully as lazy as Hank, but who made no secret of it. "Guess you had some slip-up there."
"Oh, that—that was an accident, such as is liable to happen to any business man," and Hank carefully whittled a stick until there was nothing left of it.
"Wa'al, a fool an' his money is soon parted, the proverb says," commented Porter. "Give Dick rope enough an' he'll come t' th' end of it sooner or later."
"Dick's no fool," retorted Hank. "But I do hate to see him spend money."
"Hasn't he a right to it, father?" asked Henry, always ready to come to Dick's defense. "It's his, and I'm sure he has been kind enough to me. Why, he loaned me fifty dollars the other day."
"He did! Land sakes, where is it now, Henry? If I knowed that I could have made a deal with it. Git it for me right away."
"I can't," replied Henry. "I bought some old iron with it and I'm waiting for a raise in the market. Besides, it's only a loan."
"He'll never miss it," said Mr. Darby. "Good land! I wished I a-knowed you had it! I could 'a' bought some oil well stock. It's awful cheap now."
"Yes, an' it would be a heap sight cheaper after you'd bought it," put in Porter with a laugh.
New York was reached by those in the touring car at nightfall, and Dick registered himself and his friends at one of the finest hotels, the manager of which his father knew. The boys had adjoining rooms in the best part of the big building, and "Bricktop," Frank and Walter were so excited over the beautifully fitted-up apartments that they could do nothing but stare about.
"Oh, they're not so bad," remarked Simon, in a patronizing tone when appealed to by "Bricktop," who demanded to know if this wasn't "the best ever." Simon had never been in such a fine hotel, but he wanted to pretend he was used tothe luxuries. Guy followed his crony's example and affected to sneer at the accommodations.
"My father and I generally put up at one of the better hotels," he said affectedly. "But, of course, this is all right for roughing it."
"Roughing it!" exclaimed Walter. "Come off! Why, it's good enough for a king here."
"Oh, well, wait until you've been about a bit," answered Simon languidly.
After supper Dick took his friends to a theatre, where a war-time play was in progress, and even Simon and Guy enthused over the stirring scenes.
The next day was spent in visiting Central Park, the big zoo at Bronx Park, and the Museums of Art and Natural History.
Simon acted as escort, for he was fairly well acquainted with objects of interest in New York, and Dick good-naturedly let him pilot the boys about as though Simon was paying for it all instead of the millionaire's son footing the bills.
It was not long before a keen reporter had learned of the presence in New York of the wealthy youth of whom the papers had recently contained so much, and there appeared several items telling of the trip. There were a number of incorrect stories in print, and Dick was credited with having expended nearly ten thousand dollars on his simple little pleasure jaunt.
The result of this was that Dick was visited by a number of cranks, or, rather, they came to the hotel; but the wise manager, who had been telephonedto by Mr. Hamilton, had an eye to the wealthy youth's comfort, and few of the bothersome ones got beyond the lobby.
"I say," spoke Guy to Simon, on the afternoon of the third day in New York, when Dick was in the far end of the room, writing a letter home, "when are you going to pull off that trick, Simon?"
"This evening," was the cautious answer. "I've seen Colonel Dendon, and he's coming here to-night. I'm going to introduce him to Dick. The colonel says he'll whack up with me whatever he gets out of him, and I'll see that you get your share."
"But, say," went on Guy. "This is no gold-brick swindle, is it? I wouldn't do anything wrong—or—er—criminal—you know. Is it all right?"
"Of course it is!" exclaimed Simon, with a show of indignation. "Do you think I'd do anything that wasn't right, or for which I could be—er—get into trouble?"
"I didn't know," ventured Guy.
"Of course I wouldn't," continued Simon, with a great show of indignation that any one should suspect him. "This thing is perfectly legitimate. I know a certain party here—Colonel Dendon by name—who has all kinds of stocks and bonds for sale. Some are better than others. On some he can make a large profit. They may not be quite as good as those some other men have, but that'snot the fault of Colonel Dendon, or you or me. It's the fault of the market.
"He's often said to me that if I could introduce him to somebody with money—somebody who'd buy some of his stocks—he'd give me twenty-five per cent. of what he made. It's a regular business deal. It's done every day. Colonel Dendon is a sort of a promotor. I'm only helping him. It's perfectly honest—that is, as honest—well, it's as honest as lots of things I know about. I wouldn't get you into any trouble, Guy."
"I hope not," answered the weak youth, who believed nearly all that Simon told him. "But if these stocks are good ones won't Dick make money on them? And if he does how is the colonel going to make any?"
"I didn't say for sure that the stocks were good," replied Simon. "They may be good for all I know. Maybe Dick will have to hold them for some time before he can realize on them. I don't bother with all those details. The colonel has stocks to sell—all kinds—I simply introduce Dick to him and he does the rest, and pays me and you for our trouble."
"Then I guess it's all right," assented Guy, a little doubtfully.
"Of course it is," declared Simon very positively.
That evening, as Dick and his friends sat in the private parlor of their suite of rooms, there was a knock at the door. Simon, being nearest it, answered,and, as soon as he had opened the portal, he exclaimed:
"Why, Colonel Dendon. Come right in. Richard, let me introduce you to Colonel Dendon, an old friend of mine," Simon added with a grand air. "Come right in, Colonel, I'm sure we're glad to see you," and Simon winked at the man who entered. The colonel was not at all war-like looking. He had shifty eyes, and a nervous manner. His white hair would seem to have indicated that he was elderly, but his white beard, which was stained by tobacco juice, did not tend to gain for him that respect for which silver locks generally call.
"I'll come in just for a minute—can't stay long—very busy," said the colonel jerkily, as he gave Dick a rather limp and flabby hand.
"I suppose you have some big deal on that won't keep," put in Guy, who was playing his part in the plot.
"That's it. Yes, I've got an appointment with some bank directors for seven o'clock, and one with the president of Pennsylvania Railroad at eight. A big bond sale involved. I heard you were in town, Simon, and I thought I'd look you up."
"Glad you did. But, by the way, I don't suppose you have anything in the line of investment that you would care to recommend to my friend, Mr. Hamilton, here? You've heard about him, I think."
"Is this the young man who has so much money?" asked the colonel, with a start of seeming surprise.
"Well, I don't know that it's such an awful pile," said Dick with a laugh, for he disliked having his wealth talked about by strangers.
"I've read lots about you," went on Colonel Dendon. "No, I'm afraid I haven't anything that you would care for. I only deal in big sums."
"Well, Dick can command large sums," put in Guy, with an uneasy laugh.
"I don't suppose you would care to take a hundred thousand dollars worth of mining securities of a gilt-edge kind?" asked the colonel, looking at Dick.
"No, I'm hardly up to that yet. I intend to do some investing sooner or later; but I'm going to begin small. A hundred thousand is a little too large for me just yet."
"I was afraid so," replied Colonel Dendon, with a queer smile. "Well, I must be going. I'm a very busy man."
He turned as if about to leave the room, and then he suddenly seemed to remember something.
"Now I think of it, I have a few securities that I might let your friend have as a favor to you," he said, addressing Simon. "They are mining stocks. I took them from a man who failed, and I know they are valuable. They are worth to-day half as much again as I paid for them. But, as a favor to Mr. Hamilton, I'd let him have them ata small advance over what I paid. I have to do business on business principles," he added, with an air meant to be very important.
"Here's your chance, Dick," whispered Guy. "This man is a big stock operator. You can almost double your money and make up all you spent on this trip."
Dick was doing some rapid thinking. The loss of the money he had invested in the land was something of a disappointment to him. Then, too, he felt under the necessity of making some kind of a paying investment. He had a vision of Uncle Ezra and the house at Dankville, and the memory of that gloomy place made him wish to comply as soon as possible with the terms of his mother's will.
"I don't mind investing some money, say five hundred or a thousand dollars, in good mining stocks—if you are sure they are good," he said, turning to Colonel Dendon.
"Good! My dear young man, do you wish to insult me? As if I would deal in stocks that were anything but the best. I shall leave at once!" and, puffing up like an angry toad, the colonel again turned as if to go.
"Wait!" exclaimed Simon. "I'm sure my friend Dick didn't mean anything, Colonel. You see, he has never bought mining stocks before, and he doesn't know much about them."
"I know enough to want to be sure they are good!" replied Dick sharply, for he rather resented Simon's tone. "I'm not going to be swindled."
"Of course not," said the colonel, in less aggrieved tones. "I was a little too hasty. But I can assure you, Mr. Hamilton, that these securities are the very best of their kind. They are gilt-edged."
As he spoke he drew from his pocket a bundle of certificates which, as far as appearances went, were "gilt-edged," for there was a broad band of gilt all around them.
"I can let you have these for eight hundred dollars," he said; "and they will be worth a thousand inside of a month. I would keep them myself only I have bigger schemes on hand. I will let you have them as a special favor, Mr. Hamilton."
Dick examined the certificates. They certainly looked just like those he had often seen in his father's bank. They bore a number of flourishing signatures and a printed notice to the effect that they were listed on the New York Stock Exchange. They called for a number of shares of stock in a Pennsylvania oil well concern.
Dick felt impelled to take them. It seemed all right, even if he did have some lingering suspicion regarding the colonel. Still, appearances might be against him, and certainly Simon seemed to know the man.
Dick saw a vision of his investment turning out well, so he would have no further worry aboutfulfilling the conditions of the will. Once they were met he could enjoy his new wealth.
"I think I'll take these," he said, reaching for his pocket-book, where he carried several hundred dollars, though he had left some of his money in the hotel safe. "I will give you part cash and a check."
"It will be a fine investment," said Colonel Dendon; but he did not say for whom. "I can assure you, Mr. Hamilton, that I never sold such gilt-edged securities before. I am glad——"
At that instant the door of Dick's apartments opened, and a quietly-dressed man entered. He looked at the group of boys, noted the bundle of stock certificates, and then his glance rested on Colonel Dendon.
"I must ask you to leave this hotel at once," he said sharply, to the white-haired man. "If you don't go I shall be under the necessity of putting you under arrest."
For a few moments after the surprising announcement, no one spoke. The boys and Colonel Dendon stared at the newcomer. The colonel was the first to recover himself.
"What is the meaning of this unwarranted intrusion?" he demanded, in pompous tones. "These young gentlemen and myself were discussing some financial matters when you interrupt us. You have doubtless made a mistake, and I will overlook it this time. Withdraw at once, sir, or I shall have to call the servants and have you thrown out of these private apartments, sir!"
"Better go easy," suggested the quiet-looking man, with just the suggestion of a smile. "If there's any throwing out to be done I reckon I'll take a hand in it."
"What do you mean, sir? Leave the room at once!" exclaimed the colonel, getting red in the face.
"I mean just this, William Jackson,aliasColonel Dendon,aliasBond Broker Bill!" said the man sharply, "that you must leave this hotel at once or I shall arrest you. You can't conduct anyof your swindling games here—trying to sell fake stocks and bonds. I saw you come in, and learned that you were calling on this young man," and he nodded to Dick, who was much surprised at the proceeding. "I got up here in time to warn him, I see. I hope you haven't given him any money?" he asked of the millionaire's son.
"I—I was just going to—for some bonds he had."
"Lucky I came in," was the man's reply. "Now beat it, Bill," and he waved his hand toward the door. "Take your trash with you," he added, sweeping the bonds from the table.
Dick and the other boys, with the possible exception of Simon, expected to see the colonel defend himself and indignantly reply to the stranger. Instead he hurriedly gathered up his papers and fairly raced from the room.
"Is he—is he a swindler?" asked Dick, faintly.
"One of the slickest in New York," was the answer. "His game is to sell fake bonds in companies that never existed, though some of them are legally organized. Once in a while, just to fool the police, he deals in regular stocks, but the kind he usually sells are fake ones. I'm the hotel detective," the man went on. "We have to be always on the lookout for such chaps as he is, especially when we have young millionaires stopping at the house," and he smiled at Dick.
"I'm much obliged to you," answered Dick heartily. "You've saved me a considerable sum."
"That's what I'm here for," returned the detective cheerfully. "Don't go buying any gold bricks, now," and, with a nod at the boys, he was gone.
"Well, wouldn't that rattle your teeth!" exclaimed "Bricktop." "I've read about those confidence men and green-goods swindlers, but I never saw one before."
"Me, either," remarked Frank Bender. "Say, this will be something to tell the folks back home," and, in the excitement of his spirits he tried to stand on his head in a washbowl on the stand. It was full of water, and his acrobatic feat was brought to an abrupt end as he lifted his head, dripping wet.
"That's a new way to do it!" exclaimed Walter Mead, with a laugh.
"Ugh! Burrrr! Wow! Whew! Give me a towel, quick!" yelled Frank. "The water had soap in it, and it's got in my eyes!"
He groped around with outstretched hands, seeking a towel, which, after he was able to stop laughing, Dick handed him.
"Did you know that Colonel Dendon was a swindler?" asked Walter of Simon, when the excitement had somewhat subsided.
"Me? No, of course not!" exclaimed Simon hastily. "All I knew was that he sold bonds, and I thought it would be a good chance for Dick to make money. He said he wanted to learn business and make money. I—I was as much surprised as any of you," concluded Simon, with an injured air. "I hope you don't think, Dick, that I would have had anything to do with that man if I had known what he was?"
"I'm not blaming you any," replied Dick. "Mistakes will happen in the best of regulated financial affairs. Glad that detective happened to come in when he did or I might have been badly stung."
It was now too late to go out to any amusement and the boys, after discussing the recent happenings, went to bed, planning to visit many points of interest the next day.
"Well, your scheme didn't work out, did it?" said Guy to Simon, as they went to their rooms.
"Not exactly," was the answer. "But I give you my word I didn't know the colonel was such a swindler as that. Never mind, though, I'll make money out of Dick—somehow."
Dick and his chums had scarcely finished their breakfast the next morning, and were preparing to go out, when the bell boy brought up a card reading:
"Who is it?" asked "Bricktop," "another man to sell bonds?"
Dick handed over the card.
"New York Leader, eh? I wonder what he leads, a band or some political party?"
"That's a reporter," said Walter. "Going to let him in, Dick?"
"Yes, I guess so. I'm tired of having stuff in the papers about me; but these reporters have to get the stories they're sent after, and it's no use making it any harder for them than they have it. Tell him to come up," he said to the waiting bell boy.
A tall, good-looking youth, with a pleasant, manly air, entered the room.
To those who have read some of my other books he will not be a stranger, for he was none other than Larry Dexter, whose various adventures I have described in "The Great Newspaper Series," starting with "From Office Boy to Reporter."
"Which one is the millionaire's son, with money to burn?" Larry asked, with a laugh that showed in his eyes. He was a little older than Dick.
"I suppose I am," answered the wealthy youth.
"I'm from theLeader," said Larry Dexter. "I've been sent to get your impressions of New York, and to ask whether you find it a good place to spend money. Do you mind talking for publication?"
There was such a winning way about this reporter,so different from that noticeable in many of the newspaper men Dick had been inflicted with, that the millionaire's son liked him at once. Larry did not take it for granted that Dick must submit to the questions, but, in a gentlemanly way, asked for permission to "write him up."
"I don't know that I can tell you anything that will be of interest to the paper," said Dick, "but I'll do my best."
"That's a relief," returned Larry. "I just came from a crusty old man—a professor who has discovered a new way of making milk keep—and he was so grouchy I couldn't get a word out of him. It's a big change to find somebody who will talk."
"Please don't make up a lot of silly, sensational stuff?" pleaded Dick. "I'm tired of all that. I'm no different from other fellows."
"Oh, yes, you are!" interrupted Larry with a laugh. "You have millions of money, and you'll find that makes all the difference in the world. It will gain you friends, position—in fact, almost anything. At least so they tell me," he added with another smile. "I never had a million myself. But now let's get down to business. What do you think of New York? Can you spend money here as fast as you want to?"
"He came pretty near spending it faster than he wanted to last night," put in "Bricktop."
"How was that?" asked Larry quickly, feeling that there was "in the air," so to speak, a story out of the usual run.
Thereupon Dick told about the attempted bond swindle.
"Say, this is great!" exclaimed Larry. "This is the best yet! This beats having you talk about New York. Do me a favor, will you?"
"What is it?" inquired Dick. "If it's to buy some gilt-edged bonds, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
"No, it's only this. Don't say anything about this bond business to any other reporters."
"I'm not likely to, unless they ask me to," replied Dick. "But why?"
"Because I want to get a beat out of it."
"A beat?" inquired "Bricktop," while the other boys looked puzzled.
"Yes. An exclusive story. I don't want the reporters for any other papers to get hold of it. If I have it all alone in theLeaderit will be a feather in my cap. News that no other paper has is the very best kind."?
"Gilt-edged, I suppose," put in Dick.
"That's it," replied Larry quickly. "Now don't tell any other reporters, will you?"
"Well, if they come here and ask about it, I can't say it wasn't so."
"No, I suppose not," assented Larry. "But, I tell you what you can do."
"What?"
"Go for a walk, and don't come back to the hotel until after my paper is out with the story.We publish in the afternoon and go to press about noon for the first edition. Would it be asking too much of you to do that?"
"No, for we were going out anyhow."
"Then come with me," suggested Larry. "I'll take you to theLeaderoffice and have a man show you how we make a newspaper. I guess no other reporters will come in there to get the story out of you," and he laughed in delight at the "beat" he had secured.
Dick and his friends were only too glad to get a chance to see a big paper printed, and soon they were on their way to theLeaderoffice, escorted by Larry.
"If any other reporters see me they'll think I'm taking some young men's club on a tour of the city," the young journalist remarked, as the little throng walked along. "Well, if they do, it will be a good way to throw them off the scent."
Larry reported to his city editor about having most unexpectedly come across a "big" story in connection with the young millionaire, and was told to "let it run for all it's worth."
"I'll see to it that the modern Crœsus and his friends are entertained," said Mr. Newton, another reporter, who was told by Mr. Emberg, the city editor, to show Dick and his chums around the newspaper plant.
It was getting close to edition time, and they noticed, with much amazement, how the reporters came hurrying in with the news they had gathered;how they sat down at typewriters and rattled it off; how it was corrected and edited; sent to the composing room in pneumatic tubes; set up on type-setting machines that seemed almost human; the type put into "forms" or strong steel frames; how a soft sheet of wet paper was pressed on the type and baked by steam until it took every impression and was the exact counterpart of a printed page.
The boys watched and saw that these baked sheets of paper, called "matrices," were sent to the stereotyping room, where, bent into a half-circle in a machine, they were filled with hot melted lead, which, hardening, took every impression of the cardboard.
Then the curved metal plates, each one representing a page of the paper, were clamped on a big press, that worked with a noise like thunder, and, in an instant, it seemed, white paper from a big roll, which was fed it at one end, came out printed, pasted, and folded newspapers at the other end of the machine.
A grimy boy gathered up an armful of them, as they kept piling up at the foot of a chute, which extended somewhere up inside the press. Mr. Newton, who had escorted Dick and his friends about, took up one of the journals.
"There you are!" he shouted, above the rumble and roar of the press, as he handed Dick a paper.
The wealthy youth unfolded it. On the front page was the story of himself and "Colonel Dendon."It was under a "scare" head, which announced:
ATTEMPTED SWINDLE OF YOUNGMILLIONAIRE!
SHARPER TRIES TO SELL TO DICK HAMILTON, WHORECENTLY INHERITED VAST WEALTH,WORTHLESS BONDS!
DETECTIVE ACTS IN TIME
"Humph!" murmured Dick, when he saw what a big story Larry had made of it. "If my father saw this he'd be worried."
"You're getting more famous than ever!" exclaimed Walter Mead.
"Looks so," admitted the young millionaire. "Well, I'm glad Larry got his beat, anyhow."
And it was a beat, for, when Dick got back to the hotel, the manager told him half the newspapers in New York had been calling him up to ask about the story.
Dick and his friends went home in the big automobile a few days later, having crowded into their stay as much sight-seeing as was possible. Dick had just finished telling his father, the evening of his arrival, of his various adventures, including the one with the swindler, when the servant announced:
"Some one to see you, Master Dick."
"Who is it?"
"Henry Darby."
"Ah, there's a young man who will make his mark some day!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton. "If his father was only like him Henry would have more chances."
"That's right," admitted Dick. "I wonder what he wants?"
"Well, I'll leave you together," said Dick's father, as he left the library, and a little later Henry was ushered in by the servant.
"Hello, Henry!" exclaimed Dick.
"Same to you and more of it," was Henry's greeting. "I've come to see if you don't want aparticularly fine line of gold bricks," he went on with a laugh, for he had read in the papers of the attempted bond swindle.
"You'll have to see my secretary," spoke Dick, joining in the spirit of the talk. "He buys all my gold bricks. But, to change the subject, how's the old iron business?"
"Pretty good. In fact, I came to see you about it, if you're not too busy," and Henry tried to look as though he had come to discuss the investment of millions.
"No, I guess I can spare you a few minutes. What is it?"
"I came to take up my note and pay it off," went on the young iron merchant, drawing a roll of much-crumpled bills from his pocket. "Want to save interest, you know. I managed to sell that iron I bought, and I made a profit on it. So I'll pay that fifty-dollar note now."
"Well, you certainly know how to make money," spoke Dick admiringly. "I'll have to take lessons from you. But say, Henry, I'm in no hurry for that money. If you can use it, why, just keep it."
"No—no," went on Henry, with rather a sorrowful air, Dick thought. "I'd better pay you while I have it. I might not be able to get it together again. You take it," and he shoved the bills over toward Dick with an air of desperation.
"But, I don't need it," persisted Dick. "You might just as well keep it a while, Henry."
"Do you mean that?" asked Henry earnestly.
"Sure."
"Then I will," and Henry appeared much relieved.
"In fact, if you want more I'll lend it to you," continued the millionaire's son.
"Are you in earnest?"
"Of course I am. Why?"
"Well, to tell you the truth I hated to pay back that fifty dollars. I mean I still had a use for it. In fact, if I had a little more I could branch out—I'm a sort of a little tree now—like one of those saplings they set out. I need branches."
"Tell me about it," suggested Dick.
"Well, if I had two hundred dollars more I could buy out the business of Moses Cohen, who deals in old metal. He's getting too feeble to carry it on, and I heard it was for sale. I made some inquiries and I found I can get it for about five hundred dollars."
"But you said two hundred and fifty was all you needed."
"So it is. I'm only going to pay half cash, and give a mortgage for the balance. That's the safest way. So I was in hopes you wouldn't take that fifty. I might induce him to take this on account and wait a while for the two hundred."
"He needn't wait at all," interrupted Dick. "I'll let you have two hundred more, with pleasure," and he drew out his check book with a little flourish.
"I can't give you any security but my note," said Henry. "Even that wouldn't be good in law, as I am not of age. But it shows I mean to pay you back."
"Of course it does."
"I'll get my father to give you his, also," went on the young lad of business. "Though I guess it isn't worth much more than mine," and he sighed a little, for Henry was aware of his father's failing.
"Yours is all I want," said Dick. "Tear up this old note and make out one for two hundred and fifty dollars. Then you can buy out Cohen's business."
Henry tore up the fifty-dollar promissory note Dick handed him and soon had made out another for the larger amount.
"There's the check," went on Dick, handing it over.
"I'll get dad to draw up some kind of a paper giving you a share in the business," continued Henry. "He heard about me going to buy out old Cohen, and he wants me to incorporate and make him one of the officers. I guess that's what he's best fitted for," and once more Henry smiled rather sadly.
"Well, I wish you good luck," returned Dick as he shook hands with Henry. "I'm going to put through some business deals myself soon, as for certain reasons, I've got to make a good investment," and he thought of his failure in the landscheme, while a vision of his Uncle Ezra came to him like the memory of a bad dream.
It was several days after this that Dick met Frank Bender on the street. Frank was attired in his "Sunday clothes" and seemed in a hurry.
"Where you going?" asked Dick.
"Circus."
"Where is it?"
"Over to Parkertown. They have some good acrobats in it, and I want to get a few points."
"I wonder why a circus never comes here," mused Dick, half to himself. "It's quite a trip to Parkertown."
"This place is too small," replied Frank.
"They have to have a big crowd to make it pay. A circus will never come here."
"No, I s'pose not," answered Dick. "Well, I wish I was going, but I've got to go down to dad's bank. I've got a little business on hand."
"So long," called Frank. "I must hurry to catch the train."
"I wish they'd have a circus here some time," continued Dick, as he walked along. "Hamilton Corners is too quiet. It needs stirring up."
Just then he caught sight of a curious procession. It was composed of a number of boys and girls, mostly little tots, walking along the street, two by two, led by three matronly ladies.
"The orphan asylum out for an airing," commented Dick. "Poor little kids! Poor little kids!"
There was a county orphan asylum in Hamilton Corners, and it was usually well filled with small unfortunates. Twice a week they were taken for a walk by some of the matrons in charge.
"Poor little kids!" repeated Dick. "I'll bet they never saw a circus in their lives. And they're not likely to. A circus will never come here. The place is too small. No, they'll never see a circus—unless——"
He came to a sudden stop in his musings. Then a light broke over his face.
"By Jimminy Crickets! I'll do it!" he exclaimed, so loudly that several persons in the street turned to look at him. "I'll do it! That's what I will!"
He looked at his watch.
"I've just got time to catch the train to Parkertown if I hustle," he added as he set off on a run.
Dick managed to swing aboard the last car as the train for Parkertown was pulling out of the station at Hamilton Corners. There was quite a crowd on it, as many were going to the circus.
"Hello!" exclaimed Frank Bender, as he caught sight of Dick walking up the aisle of the car in which he was. "I thought you weren't going."
"I wasn't, but I changed my mind. This is a free country."
"Of course," assented Frank, with a laugh. "We'll go together and have some fun."
"Oh, I'm going on business."
"That's too bad."
"Well, it's business connected with fun," explained Dick. "Maybe I'll have a chance to see the show with you later."
"See the show! Why, that's the main object of going to Parkertown," responded Frank. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. They've got a fellow in it, according to the pictures, who can stand on his head, hold a man in each hand, balance two others on his legs, hold one by a strapin his mouth—and all the while he's on a trapeeze at the top of the tent. It's great!"
"Well, maybe he can give you a few pointers," said Dick.
It was about an hour's run to Parkertown, and when the train reached the circus grounds there was a general rush to the big tents. It lacked about an hour to noon, and though the show had not opened yet there was much of interest to see. Dick and Frank watched the men putting finishing touches to the immense canvas shelters, while others were feeding the animals, getting the big gilded wagons into place, and arranging the sideshows.
In one tent hundreds of the performers and helpers were at dinner, while a curious crowd looked on under the raised flaps. The two boys, in company with scores of others, watched the cooks of the circus at work over the portable ranges and soup kettles, where it seemed as though enough food for an army was being prepared.
"Say, it's great, isn't it!" exclaimed Frank. "I can hardly wait until it's time to begin. Let's go get a hot frankfurter sausage somewhere."
"I'm afraid I've got to leave you," replied Dick. "I have some business on hand. I'll see you later. Maybe in the main tent."
"All right," assented Frank, a little disappointed, but he soon forgot about that in watching the many scenes of interest.
"Where can I find the manager?" asked Dick, of a man who wore a uniform and seemed to be some one in authority.
"In the ticket wagon," was the reply. "But you needn't think you can deadhead in. The free list is suspended."
"I've no intention of asking for a pass," replied Dick, with a smile. "Is the manager in?" he asked, a moment later, of the man who looked out of the high ticket wagon.
"I guess so. What do you want?"
"I want to see him in regard to the next town where he is to play."
"Who is it?" inquired a voice from within the vehicle.
"Some lad from our next town. Maybe the mayor's sent to say he's going to raise the license fee. I never see such a hold-up game as these country mayors try to pull off," and the ticket seller looked disgusted.
"No, I'm not from the mayor," said Dick. "I want to see the manager on my own account."
At this another man joined the one at the ticket window. He was large and fat, and wore a red necktie, in which sparkled a pin with a large stone. He had on a tall hat and a frock coat.
"Come around to the side door," he said, in no very gracious tones, and Dick noticed that a pair of steps at the side gave access to the wagon. He was soon inside the place, which was fittedup like a small office, with desks, and even a typewriter, at which a young man was busy pounding the keys.
"What is it?" asked the manager, abruptly.
"I've come to see if you won't give a show in Hamilton Corners," began Dick. "I think the town would like to see it."
"Maybe the town would, but I wouldn't," replied the manager quickly. "I'm not in business for my health. I want to make a little money, and Hamilton Corners is too small. We couldn't clear expenses."
"How much do you have to clear to make it worth your while to show in a town?" asked Dick.
"Well, a thousand dollars is fair business."
"If you were sure of a thousand dollars clear, would you come to Hamilton Corners?"
"Yes, or any place else within traveling distance. But what are you? A newspaper reporter? If you are, you want to see our press agent. He's in that tent over there."
"No, I want to do business with you," rejoined Dick, with a smile. "I live in Hamilton Corners. I'd like to see a circus there. In fact, I'm willing to pay for having one come there. I have a certain reason for it. If I give you a thousand-dollar guarantee will you bring the show there?"
"Yes, of course."
The manager seemed a little dazed. Dick drew out a thin red book.
"I'll give you the guarantee now," he said. "Can you come to-morrow?" and he began to use his fountain pen. "Whom shall I make it out to?" and he looked at the manager.
"Say," suddenly whispered the manager to the ticket seller. "Is the marshall out there? He is? All right. Call him here." Then in soothing tones he spoke to Dick. "That's all right," he said. "Never mind the check. We'll come to Hamilton Corners, anyhow. Now don't get excited. Here, take a drink of water and you'll feel better. The sun is very hot to-day. In fact, it makes my head buzz. Just put that red book away. Red is very heating, you know."
He paused, and looked rather helplessly about him. Then in a whisper he again asked the ticket seller:
"Is the marshall there? Tell him to come in before he gets violent."
The side door opened, and a town marshall, with a big nickel-plated star on his coat, entered the wagon.
"What's the matter?" asked Dick, somewhat surprised at the sudden turn of events.
"There! there!" spoke the manager, soothingly. "It's all right. Don't get excited. You're with friends."
"Don't you want this check?" asked Dick. "I'm in earnest. I want your circus to come to Hamilton Corners."
"Yes, yes, of course, my dear boy. We'll come.I'll let you ride on one of the elephants. You can feed the monkeys, and tickle the hippopotamus, if you like. Poor boy," in lower tones, "so young, too."
"Say," demanded Dick, standing up, "do you think I'm crazy?"
"There! there!" repeated the manager, in that soothing tone he had suddenly adopted. "Please don't get excited. It's the worst thing in the world for you."
Dick glanced up at the man in uniform. Then a smile came over his face that had assumed a rather angry look.
"Why, Marshall Hinckly!" he exclaimed. "How did you come to be here?"
"Dick Hamilton!" exclaimed the officer in surprise, "I didn't know you at first. You see the authorities in Parkertown, being a little short-handed, asked me to help out on circus day, and so I came over from Hamilton Corners. But what in the name of green turtles is the trouble here?"
"I don't know," replied the millionaire's son. "I merely offered to guarantee this manager a thousand dollars if he would bring his circus to Hamilton Corners, and he acts as though he thought I was crazy."
"And isn't he?" burst out the manager, less frightened, now that an officer of the law was present. "Isn't he, Mr. Policeman? The idea of a boy like him offering to make out a check fora thousand dollars to have a circus come to town! In the first place, I don't believe he has the money; and in the second, what does he want to hire a circus for? Say, honest, hasn't he got away from some asylum?"
"Dick Hamilton broke out of an asylum!" exclaimed the marshall. "Well, I rather guess not! As for him not having the money, you're wrong there. Why, that's Mortimer Hamilton's son," and he showed his pride at being acquainted with Dick.
"Mortimer Hamilton, president of the Hamilton National Bank?" asked the manager, incredulously.
"That's him," replied the marshall.
"Say!" exclaimed the manager rather faintly, sitting limply down in a chair. "Give me a glass of water, will you, please. Mortimer Hamilton, the multi-millionaire! And I thought his son didn't have a thousand dollars! Excuse me, Mr. Hamilton," he said, heartily, as he held out his hand to Dick. "I beg your pardon."