DICK MAKES PLANS
"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 the _Last 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, the _Last Word_ suits 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 money he 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!"