UNCLE EZRA LAUGHS
"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," said Dick 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 easily the 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 the _Last 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 accomplished without 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 from under 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, and I 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 twice as 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. But _I_ know, 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.