"Kentfield! Kentfield! Kentfield!Rah! Rah! Rah!Boom! Boom!Boom!Ah! Ah! Ah!Kentfield!"
"Kentfield! Kentfield! Kentfield!Rah! Rah! Rah!Boom! Boom!Boom!Ah! Ah! Ah!Kentfield!"
"Kentfield! Kentfield! Kentfield!Rah! Rah! Rah!Boom! Boom!Boom!Ah! Ah! Ah!Kentfield!"
"Kentfield! Kentfield! Kentfield!
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Boom! Boom!Boom!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Kentfield!"
Thus the school cry was given, coming from a thousand hoarse throats, and then came:
"Three cheers for Dick Hamilton!"
The grandstands rocked and swayed and creaked with the stress of emotion displayed.
"It was great, old man! Great!" cried Paul, clapping his panting chum on the back.
"Thanks. I knew I had to do it to save the game."
"And you did!" exclaimed Beeby. "Somebody punch me—I'm too happy to last!"
Some one obliged him with such force that Beeby stumbled, and to save himself he had toexecute a forward somersault, at which trick he was an adept.
"Armstrong up!" called the scorer, when he could make himself heard.
"Oh, what's the use of playing it out?" asked Beeby.
"Let's sweeten the score if we can," urged Dick, who did not like doing anything by halves. But there was little interest in the game now, for Kentfield had won, and nothing could take it from her. Still Armstrong got up, and promptly fanned out, over which fact there was no regret, rather gladness on the part of the champions, who wanted to quit and celebrate.
Dejectedly Blue Hill filed off the field, after they had cheered and been cheered. The great game was over, the crowds thronged down from the grandstands. The Kentfield nine and the substitutes got together, and cheered Dick to the echo. Then with a singing of the song that always followed a victory they dispersed to the dressing rooms. Their baseball season was over.
"You certainly did yourself and us proud, Dick," said Paul, as he and his chum walked away together. "I wish Uncle Ezra could have seen you."
"Oh, he'd probably say that the money spent on baseball might better be used to buy interest-bearing bonds," laughed Dick. "But say, I thought I saw some of the girls here."
"They are. We'll look 'em up after we tidy up a bit."
And then came the shower baths, a changing into clean raiment and a gladsome time with the girls, who crowded around the hero of the day.
"Well, I suppose we'll soon be away from here," remarked Paul that night as he, Dick and Innis Beeby sat in the room of the latter, and talked over the great game.
"Yes, my folks wrote to say that the cottage by the sea was open, and I'm expected there soon," said Innis.
"I'm booked for the White Mountains this trip," said Paul, "and I'm not very keen for it, either."
Dick was silent for a few seconds, looking over some papers.
"What are you going to do, old man?" asked Paul.
"Fellows, I've got the best scheme yet!" exclaimed Dick. "I've just got it worked out. What do you say to a trip to California with me in the new auto I'm going to get? Will you come?"
"Will we!" cried Innis without a moment's hesitation. "Will a duck swim?"
"Put her there, old man!" yelled Paul, slapping his hand into that of Dick. "When do we start?"
"Do you mean it?" asked Dick, hardlybelieving his chums were in earnest. They assured him that they did.
"Then here's my game," he went on. "Dad wrote to me to get some catalogues and pick out the auto I wanted. I'm going to go him one better."
"What's that?" asked Paul. "Have a car made to order?"
"No, that would take too long. But the New York Automobile Show is on, in Madison Square Garden. There are lots of cars there that can be bought for immediate delivery. And I can pick out a car twice as good from seeing it, rather than by looking at a picture of it.
"Now we three will take in that auto show. I'll pick out the car I want, dad will foot the bill, according to his promise, and we'll start on our tour across country. How does that strike you?"
"Great!" declared Innis.
"Bully!" assented Paul. "Dick, you're a gentleman and a scholar. This is too much!" and he pretended to weep on Beeby's shoulder.
"Then pack up, and we'll leave day after to-morrow for New York," said Dick. "I'll write to dad. I'd go to-morrow only I don't want to miss the graduation dance."
"No, and I fancy someone else doesn't either," said Paul, with a significant glance at the picture of a pretty girl on the bureau.
So it was arranged. The dance was a success,as all such affairs at Kentfield were, but we shall not concern ourselves with that. The day after it saw Dick and his chums, with Grit, on the way to the big auto show in New York.
"What kind of a car have you in mind, Dick?"
"Get a six cylinder, anyhow."
Dick Hamilton looked at Paul and Innis, who were in the parlor car with him, speeding on to New York.
"I haven't exactly made up my mind," answered the young millionaire. "I want a powerful car; if we're going to cross the Rockies I'll need power. But I want a comfortable one, too. It wants to be enclosed, and so arranged that if we have to we can sleep in it."
"Say, you want a traveling hotel; don't you?" asked Paul.
"Something like that, yes," assented Dick. "But I don't want such a heavy machine that we'll be having tire trouble all the time. I'm not going to make up my mind as to any particular car until I see what kinds there are in the Garden."
The boys talked of many things as the train sped on. Dick had engaged rooms for himself and his friends at the hotel where he and his father always stopped on coming to themetropolis, and a few hours more would see them at their destination.
The porter came up to Dick, his honest black and shining face wearing a broad grin, as he remarked:
"'Scuse me, but does one ob yo' gen'mans own a bulldog what is in de baggage car?"
"I do!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "What about him?"
"Den yo' presence am earnestly requested up dere by de baggageman," went on the porter.
"Is Grit hurt?" demanded the young millionaire.
"No, sah, leastaways he wasn't when I seed him. He were feelin' mighty peart!"
"Then what's the trouble?" asked Dick, as he prepared to follow the colored man to the car ahead.
"Why dere's a man in de car, an' yo' dog won't let him go out."
"Won't let him go out?" asked Dick, wonderingly.
"No, sah! He jest completely won't let him go out ob dat car, and he's keepin' him right by de do, so de baggage man can't slide out no trunks, no how. An' we's comin' to a station soon, where dem trunks hab jest natchally gotter be put off."
"I'll see what's the matter," promised Dick, hurrying on. "Be back in a minute," he called to his chums.
"If you want any help, send for us!" suggested Paul, "though," he added in a lower voice, "if Grit is on a rampage I'd rather not interfere—that is, personally."
Dick found matters as the porter had described. A rather flashily dressed young man stood close against one of the side doors of the baggage car, while Grit, who had broken his chain, stood in front of him, with his bowed front legs far apart, and his black lips drawn back from his teeth. From time to time the bulldog growled menacingly, especially whenever the young man moved. The baggageman, with a puzzled expression on his face, had placed some trunks in the middle of the car, ready to be put out of the side door when the next station stop should be reached.
"But every time I try to get out of the way," said the flashily dressed man, "this confounded dog of yours acts as if he was going to eat me up. I daren't move. Call him off or I'll kick him, and break his jaw."
"I wouldn't," said Dick, quietly. "It would probably be your last kick—with that foot, anyhow."
"Something has to be done," declared the baggage man. "I must put these trunks off soon. That door's on the station side, and the other door opens against a high concrete wall. I can't get a trunk off there."
"I'll take care of Grit," said Dick. "Whatdid you do to him?" he asked the young fellow.
"Nothing."
"Oh, yes you did," said Dick, quietly. "Grit doesn't act that way for nothing. Come here," he called, and the dog obeyed, though with fierce backward glances at the man by the door. "Now you can move," went on Dick. "What did they do to you, old fellow?" he asked, as he bent over his pet. Grit's neck was bleeding slightly where his collar had cut him as he wrenched against the chain, and broke it.
"He pulled his tail—that's what he did," asserted the now relieved baggageman. "I told him to let the dog alone, for I saw it was a thoroughbred, and was nervous. But he got funny with the animal, and then your dog broke loose, and drove him against the door."
"You're lucky he didn't bite you," said Dick, as he loosened the chafing collar. "He only wanted to teach you a lesson, I guess. Next time don't fool with a bulldog."
"If he'd a' bit me I'd a' had the law on you," threatened the young man, as he hurried out of the car, followed by the resentful glare of Grit.
"All right," assented Dick. "Only I guess you might have had to wait until you came out of the hospital. It was your own fault. Will he be all right with you?" he asked of the baggage man, referring to Grit.
"Oh, yes, he and I are good friends. I was in another part of the car, making out somerecords, or I'd have stopped that young idiot from pinching his tail. But he got all that was coming to him. He was mighty scared. I thought it best to send for you, though."
"That was right. Grit, old man, I can't blame you, but try and hold yourself in," said Dick, patting his pet.
The dog whined, and licked his master's hands, and then, having made sure that Grit and the baggageman would get along well together, Dick left his pet, having brought him some water, and bound up the cut on his neck with a spare handkerchief.
Grit whined lonesomely as Dick left, and the young millionaire called back:
"It'll only be a little while now, old fellow. We'll soon be at the hotel."
Grit's joy was unbounded when he was released from the car, and soon with his master, and the latter's two chums, was speeding across New York in a taxicab. Arrangements were made at the hotel to have Grit cared for, and he was to be allowed in Dick's room at certain times during the day, the young millionaire having ascertained that no nervous old ladies were near enough to be annoyed.
"And now for the auto show!" exclaimed Dick after dinner that night. "We'll make a preliminary survey, and see what we can find."
Madison Square Garden was a brilliant place, with the thousands of electric lights, theglittering cars and the decorative scheme, which was unusually elaborate that year.
"Say, this is great!" gasped Beeby, as the three entered through the crowd at the doors.
"I should say yes!" added Paul. "It's gorgeous! How are you going to pick out a car among so many, Dick?"
"Oh, there's only one kind I want. I hope I find it here. But there's no hurry. Let's look about."
And indeed the sights were well worth viewing. There seemed to be every kind of car represented, from little runabouts to palatial enclosed vehicles that would carry eight persons. And there were trucks, from small three-wheeled ones, that could be used to deliver a lady's hat, to monsters that could shift a five-ton safe with ease.
There was the hum of motors, electricity driven, for gasoline was not allowed in the building on account of the fire danger. There was the snapping of spark-plugs, some of which were being shown at work under water, to prove how hard it was to short circuit them. And there was the crackle of a wireless outfit in use, to demonstrate how it could be attached to an army-auto in war time.
The boys roved about the big space, visiting exhibit after exhibit. Several times Dick thought he saw what he wanted, but he always decided to look further, in the hope of finding something a little better.
As he and his chums passed a place where they had lingered long over some beautiful enclosed cars, powerful and efficient with many new appliances, Dick's eye was caught by a big car standing by itself in an open space. It was painted dark green, and for a moment its size almost made Dick believe it was a sort of dummy, used for advertisement purposes.
Then, as he saw the heavily tired wheels and caught a glimpse of the engine under the open hood, he exclaimed:
"That's the car for me, boys!"
The three crowded closer to the big auto, and their wonder grew as they noted how it was fitted out.
"What a car!"
"It's got folding bunks in, as sure as you're born!"
"And that looks like a small kitchen!"
"Those tires are a new kind, too—cushion instead of pneumatic!"
"Say, you could drive that through a hail storm and you'd never know it!"
"That's the car for me, boys, if dad will stand for it, and I can get it!" Thus exclaimed Dick Hamilton, the other exclamations coming from his two chums as they stood admiring the big car.
Nor were they the only ones, for a throng had gathered about the space where the peculiar auto was being exhibited. In general shape it was like any large enclosed car, but it exceeded in size any Dick had ever seen. And in the interior appointments, certainly it was the "last word" in auto construction.
Briefly described, for I shall go more into details later, it was a six-cylinder machine, with the whole body back of the engine itself enclosed inwood and glass. There was no division back of the steering wheel, the whole interior of the car, save for a space that Paul described as the "kitchen," being thrown into one compartment. And that apartment contained, as Beeby had said, folding bunks or berths, that served as long seats in the day time, while at night they made comfortable beds.
There was a small stove, evidently operated by an electric current; there were electric lights, and the car could be started by the same agency, as Dick noted. Then there were displayed dishes with which to set a folding table, and utensils for cooking on the electric stove. There was ample room for food and bed clothing, as well as for garments.
"That's the nearest thing to a traveling parlor and dining car that I've seen!" exclaimed Dick; "with sleeping berths thrown in. That's the car I want. I wonder if it's for sale, boys?" and he looked questioningly at a man who seemed to be in charge.
"Yes, it is," was the answer. "It has just been put on the market. In fact the car has been on exhibition only since this morning, when we got instructions to dispose of it."
"Do you make those up for stock?" asked Paul.
"No, this is the only car like it in the world, we believe. It was made to order for a gentleman, but now he does not want it, and heauthorized us to dispose of it for him. It has never been used, though it has been thoroughly tested."
"What's the matter?" asked Dick. "Didn't he like it?"
"Maybe it wasn't big enough," suggested Beeby.
"As to that I can't say," went on the salesman. "I only was told to dispose of it, and I'm afraid I'm going to have my own troubles. It's too large for use in the city. It was built for touring purposes exclusively, and it is very complete. But few persons would want a car like it, I am afraid. Would you like to look it over more closely?" he asked, seeing how interested Dick and his chums were.
"We sure would!" exclaimed Paul.
"And if dad doesn't keep his word, and get this for me," added Dick, "why—I'll get it myself. This car positively must be mine!"
"I'm afraid it will be more than the average young man can afford," remarked the agent, with a smile.
"The beauty of it, though," said Paul to the man in a low voice, as they slipped under the ropes, "is that he isn't an average young man."
"No?"
"That's Mortimer Hamilton's son," went on Paul.
"The millionaire?"
Paul nodded.
"Great Scott!" whispered the man. "I camenear making a break," and he hurried after Dick to explain the points of the car.
While Dick, his chums and others in the interested crowd looked on, the agent showed how the bunks could be utilized as seats in the day time, or even folded up out of the way and camp stools used when it was desired to eat. The table was let down from the "ceiling" and could be folded and raised with but little effort when not wanted.
There were enough dishes to feed six persons at a time, though four was all the car would "sleep." More could travel in it during the day, however. The electric stove, operated by a current from a dynamo, as well as from a storage battery, was very efficient, and a fairly complete meal could be cooked on it. There was also ample storage room for supplies.
The engine, in which Dick was also greatly interested, was of a new and very powerful type. It was almost "trouble-proof," and would stand up well under hard usage.
The use of a new type of cushion tires, instead of those inflated with air, insured freedom from punctures and blowouts, and would, because of the weight of the car, and a new kind of springs, make riding very easy.
"In short, it's a car for a long tour," said the agent.
"And it's the car for me!" exclaimed Dick. By this time most of the crowd had gone tolook at other exhibits, leaving the agent and the three boys comparatively alone. "But why did not the man who ordered it take it after it was completed?" asked Dick. "Was he dissatisfied with it?"
"Not at all!" exclaimed a voice back of the boys. "I couldn't take the car after I ordered it, for the simple reason that I didn't have the money to pay for it. I lost my fortune between the time I contracted for theLast Wordand the time it was finished. That's all."
"Oh," said Dick blankly. He was rather surprised to be taken up so quickly. He turned to see who had spoken, and, as he did so, he uttered an exclamation of surprise that was echoed by Paul Drew.
For, standing near the big car which he could not now possess, was the young man whom Paul and Dick had seen acting so strangely on the railroad tracks—the young man who, according to Paul, had been prevented from committing suicide by Dick's prompt action.
The stranger, too, was as much surprised as were Dick and Paul. He paused as he was about to continue his explanation, and an odd look came over his face. Then he held out his hand, saying:
"I believe I have met two of you boys before."
"That's right," agreed Dick. "I'm glad to see you again. So this is your car?"
"Itwas," he replied with a little smile. "Nowit's for whoever can raise the money. I can't."
"I came on from Kentfield," Dick explained. "The academy has closed for the summer, and I'm looking for a touring car. My father is giving me one as a sort of reward for not flunking in class."
"I see. Well, you couldn't get a better car than this. I know the firm well, and, while it is rather peculiarly built, from ideas of my own, still it can compete with any of the regular machines, and beat most of them, though it has not abnormal speed, of course."
"I'm not looking for speed," laughed Dick. "I want comfort."
"It's rather odd that we should meet again," went on the young man. "I live out near Kentfield, but I thought I would take a run in to New York, to see if there was a chance of getting rid of the car. I haven't paid for it yet, but I believe I am, in a way, responsible, since I agreed to take it. I wouldn't like to see the firm lose money on it, but if it comes to getting it out of me they'll have hard work. I'm dead broke—cleaned out.
"Three months ago I was worth over a million. Now I have barely enough to live on. But I'm going to make my pile again!" he exclaimed with energy. "I'm not going to give up, and when I come into my own again I'll have another car like this. I've been foolish once, but I'm through now. They don't catch me twice on thesame bait. No more speculation for Frank Wardell!" and he slapped the big tire of one of the wheels determinedly.
Dick Hamilton started.
"What—what did you say your name was?" he asked.
"Wardell—Frank Wardell. I'll give you a card," and he produced one.
"Mine's Hamilton—Dick Hamilton," said Dick.
"Glad to meet you. I know your father slightly—Mortimer Hamilton?"
"Yes."
"This is odd, a ruined millionaire and a successful one," and he laughed grimly. "Never mind, I'll be in your class soon again," and he shook hands with Dick, who had introduced his chums.
"Wardell—Frank Wardell," murmured Dick to Paul. "Do you recognize that name?"
"I can't say that I do. Why?"
"Don't ask me now. I'll tell you later. To think it should come out this way," went on Dick. "Frank Wardell! The man I met on the track—a ruined millionaire. No wonder he acted so strangely. Oh, if I could only help him! I hope he doesn't ask too much about my family. I'd hate to have to admit that I'm Uncle Ezra's nephew," and with this rather mystifying ejaculation, Dick gave his attention to what Mr. Wardell was saying—explaining some pointsabout the car that had escaped the attention of the boys.
"I do hope you will take it, Mr. Hamilton," the ruined millionaire went on. "I don't know of anyone I'd rather would get it than you. I know you'll appreciate it."
"I think very likely I shall take it," said Dick.
"Then you'll take a load off my shoulders," the other went on, "for I feel, in a measure, responsible for the price, and the land knows I could never raise the cash."
And Dick, as he looked over the wonderful touring car, could not help thinking how strangely fate had ordered matters. Paul looked at his chum, anxious to hear why the name "Wardell" should make such an impression on the young millionaire.
"Then you have fully made up your mind to take it, Mr. Hamilton?" asked the agent, of Dick.
"Yes, it is just what I want. I will wire my father to-night, and I'm sure he will agree, though the price may be more than he first decided on. But I'll make up the difference myself."
"Then I'll let Mr. Wardell know," for the former millionaire, after declining an invitation to come to supper with Dick and his chums, had left the auto show.
"Say, what about him?" asked Paul, when he got a chance. "Who is this Wardell, anyhow?"
"Don't you remember," answered Dick. "That's the man Uncle Ezra came on from Dankville to see—to clean up, in other words—take his money away, you know. Don't you remember, Paul, hearing him tell about how a certain party didn't know enough to hold on to his wealth, and all that?"
"Is this the man—this Wardell?"
"The very same one, I believe. He must be. It couldn't be that there were two of the samename, both of whom had lost their fortunes at the same time. Uncle Ezra ruined the man whose auto I'm going to take, Paul."
"Well, I guess you're right, Dick. It's a strange coincidence. Are you going to tell him it was your uncle who got all his money away from him?"
"I certainly am not, Paul. It's not a thing to be proud of, and if I keep him from finding it out until we get this car, and leave, I'll be glad of it. Of course if he asks me I'll have to tell him. But I don't believe he will. Larabee and Hamilton are different names, and Mr. Wardell will not be likely to trace any connection, though he may.
"I thought sure you'd let out something about Uncle Ezra when you heard the name Wardell, Paul."
"No, it didn't strike me. But then you know I wasn't in the room all the while you and your uncle were talking. I don't recall hearing him mention Wardell at all."
"Well, I did, and I was startled when I found out who this man was," went on Dick. "I suppose it's a sort of puzzle to you, Innis," the young millionaire added, while the auto salesman was making out some papers for Dick to sign.
"Somewhat, yes," admitted Beeby, and then Dick and his other chum explained.
"Well, I know one thing I didn't knowbefore," said Paul, as they were ready to depart.
"What's that?"
"I know why this young Mr. Wardell was thinking of ending his life on the railroad track that day you saved him."
"Why was he?"
"Because he'd lost his fortune," went on Paul in a low voice. "Just think of it—a millionaire one week, and practically without a cent the next! I suppose that's the way it sometimes goes with rich men who make their living by speculation, but it's hard, just the same. And to know he couldn't pay for this fine car he'd ordered—no wonder he was tired of life."
"And to think that some member of my family was responsible," added Dick. "It makes me mad! I hope he doesn't connect me with Uncle Ezra."
"Do you suppose your uncle took advantage of him?" asked Innis. "I don't mean exactly that, either," he added hastily, thinking Dick might take the question as a reflection on his relative.
"Oh, you can't fuss me—saying things about Uncle Ezra," laughed the young millionaire. "While I don't believe he would do anything that was unlawful—that is, asheregards the law—I do think that he'd want every last cent that he could claim by any stretch of the statutes. He's a hard man, Uncle Ezra is, especially where money is concerned. I don't just know whatsort of dealings he had with this Mr. Wardell, but he got his fortune, that's sure, and maybe by a trick, for all I know.
"That's why I'm not at all anxious to have it known that I'm Mr. Larabee's nephew. I'm not at all proud of the connection, and I certainly would feel bad to have Mr. Wardell know it. Legally Uncle Ezra might be well within his rights, but morally I wouldn't be surprised if he was a good way outside of them. But let's forget all about such an unpleasant matter. I'll see when we can get this car, and try it."
A talk with the agent brought out the fact that Dick could take the big auto at any time after the money had been paid down. It was not a part of the regular auto show, and the space it occupied could be utilized by other machines.
"Very well then," said Dick. "I'll probably hear from my father in the morning. He'll likely send an order to his New York bankers to pay over the money, and then the machine will be mine."
"And I congratulate you," said the agent. "It is a car to be proud of, and if you intend making a long trip it will be just what you want."
"We'll go across the continent in her!" cried Dick. "Boys, are you with me?"
"That's what!" exclaimed Paul and Innis.
They spent some more time in looking at the various exhibits, and Dick sent his father amessage from the telegraph office temporarily set up in the Garden. Then they drifted back to the big car, which Dick had christenedLast Word, on learning that Mr. Wardell had tentatively selected that title.
"It sure is a peach!" exclaimed our hero.
"Think you can drive it?" asked Paul.
"One of the company's engineers will be glad to demonstrate it on the road for you," suggested the agent.
"Thanks," replied Dick. "I think I shall be glad to have a few lessons. I can drive an ordinary car, but this is an extraordinary one."
Dick's anticipation of his father's action was confirmed next morning. A telegram came, saying:
"Congratulations. Big car—big price. I'm satisfied if you are."
"Congratulations. Big car—big price. I'm satisfied if you are."
"That's like dad," remarked Dick.
"But he doesn't say anything about the money," remarked Paul, who was anxious to have a ride in the big machine.
"Oh, trust dad not to overlook that part," spoke the young millionaire. "We'll go see that agent. Probably he has already heard from my father."
And so it proved. Dick's purchase of the car was confirmed in a telegram to the makers, and the information was added that Mr. Hamilton'sbankers had been instructed to send a certified check for the price.
"I have sent for one of our engineers," the salesman told Dick, when the latter and his two chums visited the Garden after breakfast. "You can go for a spin on the road this afternoon."
"Good!" cried Dick. "Get ready, fellows!"
Matters went through without a hitch. The price was paid over, and the car formally became Dick's. Then the professional chauffeur arrived, and after some manipulation the big touring machine was run out of the Garden, while a crowd gathered around to see the novel sight.
"It looks almost as big as a Pullman coach," declared Innis Beeby.
"Well, let's get in and see if it rides like one," suggested Dick.
"Look at the auto swells!" cried a newsboy. "Hurray!"
"As long as our heads aren't swelled we're all right," remarked Paul.
The oil and gasoline tanks had been filled, and, after looking over the various parts, the chauffeur got in, taking the driver's seat, the boys disposing themselves comfortably on the long, leather-covered benches, that would later be made into sleeping berths.
"Isn't he going to crank up?" asked Innis in some surprise, for the motor was not running when the chauffeur took his place.
"You don't have to, on this car," the man explained. "It is a self-starter. It has two systems—an electric motor, operated by an accumulated current, that will turn over the engine, and even run the car on its own power for some distance. Then there is also an acetylene gas motor, so in case one fails the other will work. I'll start it by electricity now."
He pressed a button on the dash. There was a low humming from somewhere beneath the car, and then the gasoline motor took up the song of progress. The machine vibrated with the power of the engine, until the driver slowed it down. Then throwing in the gear, he let the clutch slip into place, and the big machine glided slowly forward.
"We're off!" cried Dick.
"Like a charm!" added Paul. "I never saw a big car start so easily."
"This machine has a new style of clutch," explained the chauffeur. "You'll find a number of the very latest wrinkles on her," he added with a smile. "Now, where do you want to go?"
"Out toward the Bronx," replied Dick. "Get us into something like the country—that is, as much as there is near New York," and soon they were spinning ahead at good speed. It did not take them long to get in the upper part of Manhattan, and a little later they were out on what might be called a country road.
"This is great!" exclaimed Dick, as he gazedfrom the plate glass windows of his touring car on the landscape that fairly flew past.
"It sure is!" agreed his chums.
"But wait until we start across the continent," went on the young millionaire. "Then we'll have some real fun!"
"Suppose you try it now, Mr. Hamilton," suggested the chauffeur, when they had gone several miles, the professional giving the new owner various instructions about the car.
"Yes, go ahead, Dick," urged Paul. "The sooner you get to know how to run it, the quicker we'll be off on our trip."
"Well, I want you fellows to pick up some of the fine points, too," said Dick. "I don't intend to run the car all the while."
"Oh, we'll do our share," agreed Innis. "Sit up now, Dick and show us what you can do."
It was not without a feeling of nervousness that Dick took the wheel, for certainly driving this big and powerful car was no light matter.
But they were on a broad and straight highway, where there was not much traffic, so Dick took his place at the wheel and levers, with the chauffeur near by in case of emergency, and Paul and Innis looking on, as anxious to learn as was Dick.
"She steers easier than I thought she would," remarked the wealthy youth, when he had driven for a mile or so.
"Yes, and that's one danger," the chauffeur explained. "You're likely to give too much of a twist. Just a little turn of the wheel answers."
"Look out for that dog, Dick!" yelled Paul, as a yellow cur shot from a yard, diagonally across the road, barking at the big car.
"I see him!" came the answer.
"And there's a goose on the other side!" added Innis, as Dick swerved the machine to one side. "There, you ran over its foot!"
A series of "honks-honks!" apprised the young driver that something had happened. Quickly he shut off the power and jammed on the foot and hand brakes. A woman rushed out of a rather dilapidated house crying:
"Oh, you've run over Heinie! You've run over Heinie! Oh, you've killed him!"
Dick turned pale.
"Is—is any one under the car?" he faltered.
"My Heinie! Oh, my Heinie!" cried the woman again. "You haf runned ofer my Heinie!"
With a bound Dick was out of the car through the sliding door in front, and peering between the wheels. He could see no child, and gave a sigh of relief.
"Who is Heinie?" he asked the woman.
"Who is Heinie? He is my best goose, and you haf runned over him mit your steam roller. You shall pay mit him yet!"
"Oh, if it's only a goose that's all right," saidDick as he took out his pocketbook. "How much?"
"Heinie was worth more as a dollar," she exclaimed, as she picked up the goose, which was still protestingly honking. "His feets is broken. He was worth more as two dollar."
"Here are five," said Dick, generously. "I couldn't help it. I steered out to avoid the dog, and your goose got in the way. I thought it was a child, by the way you called."
"Heinie is more as a child by me. I haf him more as five years now, and always—always he is careful mit der autos. But yours! it is not a auto—it is a house!"
"Well, maybe he'll get better. His foot isn't much hurt," said Dick with a laugh, as he passed over the money. "I'm sorry."
"Poor Heinie," murmured the woman, as she gathered her apron about the goose and went into the house. "He was worth more as fife dollar!"
"You're starting in great, Dick," laughed Paul, as his chum got back into the touring car. "At this rate you'll need to take a big pocketbook along every time you go out."
"He aimed at the dog and hit a goose," added Innis.
"Lucky it was no worse," said Dick. "I sure thought I was in bad by the way she yelled about 'Heinie.'"
"You don't yet quite appreciate how easilythe car steers, I guess," suggested the chauffeur.
"Try it some more."
They went on a little more slowly, and had no more accidents. Dick soon became familiar with the mechanism, and rapidly acquired confidence in himself. Then Paul and Innis took turns, under the watchful eye and ready hands of the chauffeur.
They stopped for dinner at a wayside hotel, and then drove back to New York, Dick arranging to have the car kept in a nearby garage. The next day he went out again, on a longer run, taking Grit with him. The bulldog seemed to take kindly to the new car, and made himself at home in it. The chauffeur had it easier now, for Dick felt confident enough to do all the operating himself.
"We ought to stock up and live in it one night," suggested Paul, the third day.
"Time enough for that," replied the delighted owner of theLast Word. "I'm going to drive it to Hamilton Corners in a few days."
"You are?"
"Sure. That won't be much of a run, compared with our trip across the continent."
Another week saw Dick so improved in skill that the chauffeur declared he need have no hesitation in taking the car on any trip. Then a license having been procured, and the tanks refilled, Dick and his chums started on the trip to Hamilton Corners. It was accomplishedwithout accident, an early morning start enabling them to arrive shortly before dark.
As they drove into the side entrance of Dick's house a voice called from the library:
"What's this, Mortimer? It looks like a railroad coach coming in."
"Uncle Ezra's here!" exclaimed the son of the house as he recognized the tones.
"I expect that is Dick's new touring car," replied Mr. Hamilton.
"Mortimer! You don't mean to say you let your son get an expensive auto like that?"
"I gave it to him, yes, Ezra," the boys heard Mr. Hamilton reply.
"Well, of all the sinful, foolish wasting of money, this is the worst! Why, such a car as that must have cost nigh onto a thousand dollars!"
"If he only knew!" murmured Dick, with a chuckle. "Come on in, fellows. You'll stay with me a few days, and then we'll arrange about our trip."
"Well, Nephew Richard, I see you haven't learned economy yet," rasped Uncle Ezra, as our hero entered the library with his chums. "Where do you expect to end your days?"
"I hope I don't have to think of that so soon, Uncle Ezra," replied Dick. "I guess you know my two chums; don't you?"
"Um! Is that dog in here?" the crabbed man asked quickly, as a low growl sounded fromunder a chair near the door. "Send him out at once, or I shall go."
"Take Grit away, Gibbs," Dick said to the butler. "He and Uncle Ezra seem to get on each other's nerves," he added in a low voice.
Dick briefly related the incidents of his trip, and thanked his father for the generous gift of the car. Then, as the young men were rather dusty and tired from their journey, they went to their rooms to dress for dinner, which would soon be served.
Dick was ready first, and going downstairs he heard his father and uncle talking in the library. As he went toward the handsome room, intending to join them, he heard Mr. Hamilton remark:
"So you got possession of all his securities, Ezra?"
"Every one, Mortimer. I cleaned young Wardell out from head to foot, and it was all his own fault. He put up the stock as collateral for a loan. I supplied the money, and when the time came to pay me back he couldn't—he didn't have the cash."
"Because he bought some other stock that you controlled, and you so manipulated that market that the latter stock was worthless; wasn't that it, Ezra?" and Mr. Hamilton spoke coldly.
"Well, Mortimer, I didn't do nothin' unlawful; did I? I only did what other folks do every day. I had a right to swing my own market the way I liked; didn't I?"
"I suppose so"
"And if this Wardell didn't know enough to protect himself, that wasn't my fault; was it?"
"Perhaps not."
"He ought to have more sense."
"Perhaps. Still I feel sorry for him."
"Wa'al, I don't! He brought it on himself. Ha! ha! I won't forget how he begged me to hold off, and not close him out! Ha! ha!" and Uncle Ezra laughed heartily, in a sort of rasping chuckle. "I told him I wasn't no philanthropist, and he went away mighty mad, I reckon.
"But I'm not in business for my health. The funny part of it is, Mortimer, that even now, if Wardell only knowed enough, he could get back his fortune?"
"He could? How?" asked Mr. Hamilton, eagerly.
"Wa'al, I wouldn't tell everybody, but I know it will be safe with you. You see, when he got that big loan off me, to do what he calls speculatin', he gave me as security for the money some stock in that Western railroad—that California branch you know. Citrous Junction, I believe it's called."
"Yes," assented Mr. Hamilton.
"Wa'al, it was valuable stock, and I was hopin' all the while that something would turn up so's I could keep it, for I had some of their stock, and this would give me the control of the road.
"Wa'al, it did. Wardell turned up broke, andI got a hold on his stock. But the queer part of it is that there's some tangle in the matter—some legal complications that my lawyer is figuring out—and if Wardell only knowed enough he could file an injunction against havin' any of that stock transferred—even his lot that he put up with me as security. That would halt matters until he could make good on something else, and then he could pay me what he owes, and get this railroad stock back. But he don't know that he can do this, and I ain't goin' to tell him.
"It ain't up to me to do so. So all I've got to do is to hold on to his stock until a certain time, and then it will be too late for him to file any papers, and the stock will be mine forever, and I'll control the road. Ha! ha! It's a good joke on Wardell; ain't it?"
"I suppose you think so," said Mr. Hamilton, coldly, "but it seems like hard lines for him."
"Wa'al, he brought it on himself; didn't he? I didn't ask him to borrow my money. He asked me for it. I didn't ask him to go into any of these deals; he went into them himself with his eyes open. Now I'm not goin' to tell him he has a chance to get back his fortune, if he was only smart enough! No, sir. Ha! ha!
"I'm just goin' to keep quiet, and say nothin'. If the time limit expires, and he doesn't file that injunction, or whatever legal paper it is, with the California courts by a certain day, then his security railroad stock is mine, and it will be twiceas valuable as when Wardell owned it. It'll be worth nigh onto a million! That's what I call business, I do!"
"Oh, yes, it's business—of a certain kind," admitted Mr. Hamilton. "And so he has a chance to get back his fortune?"
"Yes, but he don't know it, Mortimer! He don't know it! Ha! ha! That's the joke of it! He don't know it! He don't know it! He! he!" and Uncle Ezra went off into a fit of laughter that nearly choked him.
Dick, in the hall, heard, though not intending to play the eavesdropper.
"So, Wardell doesn't know; eh?" mused the young man. "He doesn't know, and Uncle Ezra thinks that's a joke. A queer joke. Wardell doesn't know what chance he has to get back his fortune. ButIknow, and Uncle Ezra, unless I'm very much mistaken, I'm going to put a spoke in your wheel!" and then Dick went silently upstairs to join his two chums.
"Well, Dick, so you think you have the very car you want?"
"Yes, Dad, and I can't thank you enough for it. It's a dandy, and we're soon going to make a big trip in it—all the way across to San Francisco."
"More expense! More expense!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, raising his hands in protest. They were at the dinner table, talking over Dick's plans for the coming summer.
"It won't be much more expensive than going to some resort, Uncle Ezra," remarked Dick, thinking over what he had heard a little while before.
"And I think it will do the boys more good," said Mr. Hamilton. "They'll see something of life, and the experience will be a new one for them. Do you think you can make your car a base of supplies, Dick, and live in it without going to hotels, as you plan?"
"I think so, but we're not going to bind ourselves down by any hard and fast rules. If we want to go to a hotel we'll go; otherwise we'll camp out in theLast Word."
"More expense! More expense!" protested Mr. Larabee. "Oh, what is the present generation coming to?"
No one answered him.
"When do you expect to start?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"Just as soon as the boys can get ready," replied Dick. "It's up to them."
"I'll have to write home," said Paul. "I've no doubt, though, but what my folks will let me."
"Same here," observed Innis.
"What is that?" suddenly demanded Uncle Ezra. "Who is kicking my legs?"
He moved his feet about under the table, but as he sat at some distance from the others it was difficult to understand who could be kicking him. The mystery was solved a moment later, however, for a low growl came from beneath the oak table.
"It's that dratted dog!" exclaimed the crabbed old man. "Mortimer, if I can't eat my dinner in peace——"
"I didn't know he was in here," said Dick, apologizing. "Gibbs, have Grit taken to the stable."
"Yes, Mr. Dick," answered the butler, and again the unfortunate dog was led away, casting a sad look at Dick and a vindictive one at Uncle Ezra.
"It's lucky he didn't bite you," spoke Mr.Hamilton. "He must have sneaked in here after he was put out before."
"If he had bitten me——" began Uncle Ezra.
"He'd have done it at once, if he had any such intention, I think," interrupted Dick. "Grit isn't savage——"
"Isn't savage!" cried Mr. Larabee. "I'd like to know what you do call it?"
"You don't understand him," suggested the young millionaire. "He's as gentle as a cat with—his friends."
"Then I'm glad I'm not one of his friends!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra.
The dinner went on, the talk being divided among the boys on one side, and Mr. Hamilton and his brother-in-law on the other, with occasional interchanges. Then the millionaire and Mr. Larabee went to the library to talk over some business, and the three chums went out to the garage to look over the new car, and see how it had stood the journey.
"It seems all right," said Dick. "Of course we didn't put much strain on it. When we get out West, trying to cross deserts, ford streams and climb mountains, then we'll see how she stands up. Jove! but I'm anxious to start.
"Say, can't you fellows get your folks on the long distance telephone, and see when you can go?"
Dick was always planning how to make short cuts.
"It's too late to call 'em up now," said Paul. "They'd think something had happened. We'll write."
"Then do it now," urged Dick. "You'll get an answer so much quicker. Explain everything and tell 'em you simply must go! It will do you good."
"Oh, we'll go, all right!" declared Innis, and they went back into the house to write the letters.
Dick got out a big map and began to figure on a tentative route. Not much preparation would be necessary, at least on this side of the Rockies, for he knew he could buy supplies of food and gasoline almost anywhere. Time was no object, so they could go along leisurely, and he made his plans accordingly.
The route would have to be decided on as they went from State to State, for Dick realized that local conditions might vary, and a stream that would be fordable at one time might not be at another.
"It will be a great trip!" he remarked to himself. "But if I could only do something for Mr. Wardell I'd feel better. It doesn't seem fair, the way Uncle Ezra acted, though maybe it's all right according to law. And it doesn't seem right that Mr. Wardell should lose his fortune when he can save it, if he only knew how. I wonder if it would be wrong to act on the information I overheard by accident? I'm going to ask dad."
Mr. Larabee retired early that night, as he always did, and he piled some chairs against his locked door.
"I'm not going to have that pesky bulldog getting in!" he declared. "Drat him! I wish he'd run away."
"Dad!" exclaimed Dick a little later, "I want a little talk with you."
"Want another auto, Dick?" asked Mr. Hamilton, with a smile.
"No, theLast Wordsuits me right down to the ground. It's about Mr. Wardell and Uncle Ezra."
"What do you know about them, Dick?" asked the millionaire, quickly.
"Well, I overheard something to-night," and Dick related it. "Do you know this Mr. Wardell?" he went on. "I bought the car from him, you remember."
"Yes. Well, I don't know that I can say I know him. I used to know his father, and a fine man he was, though he had rather queer notions of business. He was strictly honest, though, and perhaps if he had taken advantage of every legal trick he might have left more money."
"Tricks like Uncle Ezra's?"
"Well, Dick, we won't talk about them. Uncle Ezra is responsible to himself, and, as he says, he is strictly within the law. We all have different standards. But, Dick, what is it you want to do?"
"I want to save Mr. Wardell's fortune for him. You heard what Uncle Ezra said. Can't you take a hand, and change matters?"
Mr. Hamilton thought a moment.
"Dick," he said, "what your uncle told me was in confidence. I can't violate that. I'm sorry—in a way—that you overheard what you did, and yet it may be for the best in the end. I can't act, and yet——"
"Is there anything to prevent me, Dad?"
"No-o-o-o," was the answer, slowly given. "I don't know as there is."
"And you can advise me; can't you?"
"Well, Dick, if you ask me questions, I suppose I'll have to answer them," and there was a twinkle in Mr. Hamilton's eyes. "But Uncle Ezra won't like it if he finds it out," the father concluded.
"He won't find it out!" declared Dick, with energy.
"Now here is how I size it up," the young man went on. "Uncle Ezra got Mr. Wardell's fortune—which consisted mostly of railroad stock—in exchange for a loan."
"Yes, he took the stock, or, rather he has had his lawyers take it, because the money was not repaid to him."
"And it wasn't paid because Mr. Wardell bought other stock that proved worthless. Is that it?"
"That's about it, Dick."
"And Uncle Ezra sold Mr. Wardell this worthless stock?"
"Well, his representatives did. But look here, Dick, your uncle didn't force Mr. Wardell to buy this worthless stock, you know. Mr. Wardell did that with his eyes open."
"I know, but he didn't know it was worthless?"
"Probably not."
"And Uncle Ezra did?"
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that. There is a lot of stock in the market that is practically worthless, but which is sold with the best intentions in the world. It may be worth a fortune some day."
"All right. Anyhow, Mr. Wardell gave up some good stock, got bad stock, and lost his good stock."
"Yes."
"And now it develops that if, within a certain time, he makes a sort of legal protest—files a paper in court or something like that—he has a chance to get his stock back?"
"Provided, of course, he gives back the money."
"And he is practically assured of his money if he does make that protest, Dad?"
"Yes. It's quite complicated, but, to state it simply, if he files that paper, protesting against losing his old stock, the new stock that he bought will be worth considerable, and out of the moneyhe gets from selling that he can get back his old stock, which will be worth twice as much."
"It sounds like a Chinese puzzle, Dad, but the main thing to do is, I take it, to file this protest."
"Yes, if it's filed in time."
"That's what I wanted to know, Dad. I see my way clear now."
"What are you going to do, Dick?" asked Mr. Hamilton as he saw his son preparing to write a letter.
"I'm going to tell Mr. Wardell that there's a chance to save his fortune, and I'm going to offer my services to do it for him!" was the quick answer. "I want to have a talk with him."
"Dick, I don't know——"
"Mortimer!" exclaimed a voice in the hall, "I can't sleep with the howling of that pesky bulldog. I shall have to ask you to have him taken farther off."
"Great Peter!" gasped Dick. "Uncle Ezra!"
The tableau which presented itself to the view of Mr. Larabee showed Mr. Hamilton gazing at Dick, and our hero, with a strange expression on his face, looking at his father. He was wondering just how much his uncle had overheard.
"Can't sleep; eh?" repeated Mr. Hamilton, after a pause.
"No, that dog of Nephew Richard's makes such a noise. Can't he be sent farther off?"
"I—I'll have Grit taken away, Uncle Ezra," promised Dick, quickly. "I'll attend to it right away. I'm sorry he annoyed you."
"Huh!" snorted the visitor. "I never could see the use of dogs, anyhow. They eat 'most as much as humans, and never do any work."
"They keep tramps away," said Dick, in defense of his pet.
"Huh! A good shotgun near the door, where a tramp can see it, beats all your dogs, and it don't cost anythin' either," declared Mr. Larabee, with a sniff of disdain. "One charge of powder—not too much—and a little salt and pepper, will do for a whole season of tramps. You don't have to shoot the gun off, you know," heexplained. "Sometimes one load will do for several seasons, and think of the money you save."
"I'd rather have Grit," said Dick, simply.
"Sittin' up rather late; aren't you, Mortimer?" went on Mr. Larabee, who was attired in a faded dressing gown, rather too short for him. It showed his lean legs, the feet encased in ancient slippers, which, Uncle Ezra boasted, had lasted him many years.
"I seldom go to bed early," spoke the millionaire.
"But it's late for Nephew Richard," went on the old man. "Growin' boys should be a-bed early. When I was a lad we went to bed soon after sundown—we had to, for we had to git up at four o'clock to milk. But the present generation has it too easy—they're pampered too much."
"Dick and I were talking business," said Mr. Hamilton, and he glanced sharply at his brother-in-law, to see if he had overheard any of the conversation. If Mr. Larabee had done so, he showed no signs of it.
"Business!" he exclaimed. "Wa'al, of course that's a good thing if Nephew Richard profits by what he hears. I hope he does. But I've lost considerable sleep over that pesky dog. I wish you'd attend to him."
"I will!" exclaimed Dick, hurrying out to the stable. "I guess Grit hasn't done much sleeping, either," he murmured, "not while he knew UncleEzra was in the house, anyhow. I don't see why he has to be so mean—Uncle Ezra, I'm thinking of," went on Dick, reflectively. "I suppose it comes natural, but it isn't very pleasant.
"There's that Mr. Wardell—he's practically ruined him, just on account of a greed for money, when he's already got more than he knows what to do with. Well, I'm going to help that young fellow if I can—I'm going to try to help him get back his fortune. I know how I'd feel if I lost mine—especially by some trick like this.
"Yes, I'll get in touch with him, and see if we can't beat Uncle Ezra at his own game. Come on, Grit," he went on, speaking to the dog, who vainly tried to break his chain the quicker to get near Dick. "You've got to go into exile for the rest of the night, anyhow, all on account of Uncle Ezra. I'm sorry, but it has to be, old man."
Caressing his dog, Dick took him to a distant tool house in the garden, far enough off so that should Grit bark or whine Mr. Larabee would not hear him. The dog whimpered a bit when Dick went away, but soon accustomed himself to the new situation.
"To-morrow I'll write to Mr. Wardell," decided Dick, as he rejoined his father, Mr. Larabee having gone back to his room. Mr. Hamilton approved of this plan, and Dick went to bed to dream of saving the fortune of an unfortunate man, and shooting across country in his big touring car.
"I'll sort of combine business with pleasure," remarked the youth next morning, as he arose and recalled his dream.
The letter to Mr. Wardell having been written, Dick and his two chums took the new car out for a spin. Mr. Hamilton consented to be driven to the railroad depot in it, as he had to go to a distant city on some business. Mr. Larabee, who was going back to Dankville, much to the satisfaction of Dick, refused an invitation to try out theLast Word.
"Trust myself in that? Never!" he exclaimed. "I'd as soon think of riding on a fire engine. You mark my words, Nephew Richard, you'll come to grief in that car yet. It's too big and heavy."
"It has to be, for what I want of it," replied our hero. "I'm going to cross the continent in it, and sometimes we may be stuck where there are no hotels. In that case we'll have a hotel with us."
"Oh, the sinful shame and waste of money!" cried Uncle Ezra, dolefully shaking his head.
Dick and his chums, with Grit as a mascot, had a fine ride for a considerable distance out into the country and back. The car behaved perfectly, and Dick found she had more speed than he had suspected. The luxury of it appealed to the three young men, and they were looked on with envious eyes as they sped along the broad highways.
Dick posted his letter to Mr. Wardell, andthen there was nothing to do but await an answer. Paul and Innis planned to go to their homes, to arrange for the long trip with Dick, and were to return to Hamilton Corners in about a week. In the meantime the young millionaire would perfect his plans for the continental tour.
There was considerable to be done in the way of laying out a route, and arranging to communicate with his father at certain points. Also Dick wanted to have plenty of time to aid Mr. Wardell in recovering his fortune.
"And I've got to do it without Uncle Ezra knowing anything about it," decided Dick. "If he found it out he might find a way, law or no law, to prevent us from filing that protest in time. Oh, I've got to be as foxy as Uncle Ezra himself." But Dick little realized the resourcefulness of his relative.
A few days after Dick's chums had gone to their homes, when the former was wondering when he would hear from the man whose car he had purchased, Gibbs came to him in the library one afternoon with the information that a visitor wanted to see Dick.
"Bring him in here," he requested the butler. "Oh, hello, Mr. Wardell!" Dick exclaimed when he saw who his caller was. "I'm real glad to see you. I was getting ready to come on to New York and meet you, as soon as you sent me word."
"Were you, indeed? I thought I had bettertake a run up here, though, as I haven't any permanent address in New York at present. I haven't my plans made, and I may go away at any time. But I am curious to know what good news you have to tell me," for Dick had not given the particulars in his letter. "I don't see how there can be any good news for me any more," went on Mr. Wardell, rather despondently.
"Well, there is," said Dick, simply. "What would you say if I told you there was a chance to get back your fortune?"
"I'd say, I'm afraid, that you were dreaming."
"I never was more wide awake. Listen," and Dick quickly related the gist of what he and his father had talked over.
"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Mr. Wardell. "If the papers are filed in time I can save my fortune?"
"That's about it. Can you arrange to file them?"
"I can, I think—no, by Jove! Dick, I can't, either. At least I'm afraid I can't. I'll tell you how I'm fixed. I am about to go to South America for a mining concern. It's a good opening, and it's too good to turn down. I can make my living at it, and in time I may get rich by it. It's a bird in the hand, and it's worth two in the bush, where my former fortune seems to be at present. I don't see how I can go out to San Francisco and to South America, too. And yetI would like to get back my fortune, for I am beginning to believe that it wasn't taken from me altogether fairly."
"We won't go into that now," spoke Dick. "But can you arrange with your lawyer to furnish the necessary papers?"
"Yes. I guess Mr. Tunison would do that for me, even if I can't pay his regular fee. He's done enough business for our family in the past. But, look here, Mr. Hamilton, what good will the papers do me when I can't go to San Francisco to file them? At least, I don't think I ought to give up a certain, sure thing for one that's only a chance. I can't file the papers after I get them."