Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 41

The crowd gathered about the disabled airs.h.i.+p, which was mostly consumed by the flames before it had reached the earth. Herr Doodlebrod had the men save what they could, and, not a bit discouraged, he set about packing up the remnants to take away.

"Too bad," remarked Colonel Claflin, "but such accidents will happen.

He's a cool fellow, at any rate."

d.i.c.k and his father went home together in the runabout, the colonel declining their invitation to pay them a visit. The German inventor went away and that was the last seen of him.

Swiftly the days pa.s.sed, and in sheer desperation d.i.c.k invested several hundred dollars in three different schemes. But none of them paid. In one he lost all his money and in the others he got his money back and that was all.

"It's no use!" he groaned to himself. "I guess it takes a brighter fellow than I to make money."

Mr. Hamilton did not say much, but he was almost as anxious as his son, for he did not wish to see d.i.c.k fail.

One morning Mr. Hamilton went out with d.i.c.k in the youth's runabout.

"Well, my son, to-morrow is your birthday," remarked the parent, after speaking of many things in general.

"I know it, dad," was the gloomy answer. And then d.i.c.k went on: "I suppose there is no way of getting clear of the provisions of that will?"

"I know of none. Your dear departed mother's wishes must be respected."

"Oh, dear!" d.i.c.k gave a long sigh. "Well, perhaps I can stand Uncle Ezra, but it's going to be a--er--a stiff proposition."

"I'm sorry," commented Mr. Hamilton. "But perhaps it will be a good thing for you. Your Uncle Ezra has excellent discipline, and he's a good man of business."

"I don't doubt that, dad."

Father and son did not say much during the ride home, as each was busy with his thoughts. As d.i.c.k went up the steps of the Hamilton mansion the butler met him at the door.

"Your Uncle Ezra is here," he announced.

"Oh, dear!" commented d.i.c.k, with a groan.

"Ah, Nephew Richard," was Mr. Larabee's greeting when d.i.c.k found him in the library. "I've come to pay _you_ a little visit, you see. I happened to remember that to-morrow is your birthday, and, according to the--to the provisions of your mother's will you may be going to pay _me_ a visit. I can't say I altogether approve of that will, still we will not discuss that now. The main thing is, Have you made the paying investment called for?"

"No, I haven't, Uncle Ezra."

"Hum, well, I didn't think you would. Boys have no head for business nowadays. I knew your money would do you little good. So you are to come and live a year with me, eh?"

"I suppose so. Yes, of course, Uncle Ezra," and d.i.c.k tried to make his voice sound cheerful, but it was hard work when he thought of the gloomy house.

"Well, I told Samanthy I'd bring you back with me, and she's going to have your room all ready. Then, too, I've arranged to send you to a good boarding school. It is taught by a friend of mine; a man who doesn't believe in nonsense."

d.i.c.k could see, in fancy, the kind of a school Uncle Ezra would pick out, and he could also fancy the princ.i.p.al of it, a harsh, stern old man. He sighed, but there was no help for it.

"So I will take you away with me to-morrow," went on Mr. Larabee, rubbing his hands as if delighted at the prospect. "I shall--Gracious goodness! What's that?" he exclaimed, jumping from his chair, as a loud growl sounded from under the library table. "Have you a wild animal in here, Nephew Richard?"

"I guess it's my bulldog, Grit," replied d.i.c.k. "Here, Gibbs," calling the butler, "have Grit taken to the stable."

Grit was led away, growling out a protest.

"I can't bear dogs," said Uncle Ezra. "You'll not be allowed to have one at The Firs, so you had better get rid of this one."

"Oh, I suppose I can leave Grit home," answered d.i.c.k, with a sigh. "Can I get you something to eat, Uncle Ezra?" he asked, trying to be hospitable.

"No, thank you, Nephew Richard. I never eat between meals, nor do I allow it at my house. Three times a day is enough to eat."

"Maybe you would like some lemonade; it's quite warm to-day." d.i.c.k was both hungry and thirsty.

"No, lemonade is bad for the liver, I have heard. You may get me some plain water, if you please."

"And I've got to live a year with him," mused d.i.c.k as he went out to get his uncle a drink. "Why, oh why, didn't some of my investments succeed?"

d.i.c.k spent a miserable evening with his uncle. Mr. Hamilton came home from the bank, whither he had gone after the ride, and greeted his brother-in-law.

"Well, I guess you'll have to take d.i.c.k back with you," said the millionaire, with an attempt at cheerfulness.

"I intend to, and when he comes back from living with me he'll be a different lad," said Mr. Larabee, grimly.

"I guess that's true enough," thought d.i.c.k.

He dreamed that night that he went to his uncle's house in an airs.h.i.+p, and when they got there it turned into a vault in a cemetery and he was made a prisoner in it. He awoke with a start to find his uncle calling to him from the hall outside his door.

"Come, Nephew Richard," said Mr. Larabee. "It's six o'clock, and you'll have to get up early when you're at my house. Might as well begin now."

"Oh, this is a beautiful birthday," said d.i.c.k, with a groan, as he began to dress. "Six o'clock! Ugh!"

It was arranged that they were to take an early train to Dankville, and, soon after breakfast, d.i.c.k, having packed his suitcase, and arranged to have his trunk forwarded to him at The Firs, went to the library where his father and uncle were waiting for him.

"Well, d.i.c.k," remarked Mr. Hamilton, with a little catch in his voice, for he hated to part with his son, though he knew the experience might be good for him. "I guess it's time to say good-bye."

"I suppose so," replied d.i.c.k, trying to keep back the tears, which, in spite of all he could do, would come to his eyes.

"Yes, we must be going," agreed Mr. Larabee. "I'll write to you, Mortimer, and let you know how d.i.c.k gets along. I have no doubt but I'll make a fine man of him. Too much wealth is bad for a young man. Come along, Nephew Richard."

d.i.c.k started to leave the room. At that instant the doorbell rang and Gibbs, answering it, came into the library and announced:

"Mr. Henry Darby and his son, to see Mr. d.i.c.k."

"I guess they have come to say good-bye," said the millionaire's son.

"Show them in, Gibbs."

"Hank" Darby did not need any "showing." He was in the library as Gibbs turned to go back to the door.

"Excuse this intrusion," he began, "but I am in a hurry. I have a very important scheme on and I must attend to it at once. But my son insisted that we come and tell Mr. d.i.c.k what has happened, he being a partner in our enterprise--The International and Consolidated Old Metal Corporation."

"Yes, d.i.c.k!" cried Henry, unable to wait for his father to tell the news in his slow, pompous way. "Things are in fine shape. In fact the old metal business can now pay a dividend."

"A dividend?"