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[Illustration: "THE IDEA OF LEAVING THAT BIG FORTUNE TO A BOY LIKE YOU."
_Dick Hamilton's Fortune._ (Frontispiece.)]
DICK HAMILTON'S FORTUNE
OR
THE STIRRING DOINGS OF A MILLIONAIRE'S SON
BY
HOWARD R. GARIS
AUTHOR OF "FROM OFFICE BOY TO REPORTER," "LARRY DEXTER, REPORTER,"
"LARRY DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO. CLEVELAND
MADE IN U. S. A.
Copyright, 1909, by Grosset & Dunlap
PRESS OF THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO. CLEVELAND
PREFACE
My Dear Boys:
Allow me to introduce to you my friend, Dick Hamilton.
Dick, here are the boys, thousands of them.
Boys, here is Dick Hamilton.
Now I hope you will shake hands and become good friends; not doing as I
have sometimes seen boys do, when introduced, hang back and size each
other up, as if distrusting each other.
Go right up to Dick, get a good grip on his hand, and squeeze for all
you're worth. I'll wager you can't make him cry "enough!"
I know he will like you, boys, and I hope you'll like Dick. He's a fine
fellow, if I do say it myself, for I'm a sort of relation to him. He's
got lots of money, but he uses it in the right way, to help his friends,
and it doesn't keep him from getting into trouble.
I have endeavored to give you a story of Dick and his fortune; how he
tried to fulfil the strange condition of his mother's will; how he
escaped the toils of the sharper, was the target for many cranks, as
well as well-meaning persons; how he aided the "fresh-air kids," and,
finally, when the gold mines had failed, how he worked hard to escape
the clutches of his uncle Ezra.
As you have taken kindly to some of the other books I have been
privileged to write for you, I hope you will like this one; and now, if
you have read thus far, you may turn the pages and find out what Dick
had to do in order to retain his millions.
Yours sincerely,
Howard R. Garis.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Dick is in a Hurry 1
II. A Strange Will 12
III. Uncle Ezra Threatens 20
IV. Dick Becomes Celebrated 34
V. Dick Aids Henry 44
VI. A Trip to New York 50
VII. A Sharper Foiled 59
VIII. Dick and the Reporter 69
IX. A Circus Comes to Town 79
X. Dick Invests in Happiness 85
XI. Hank Darby in Business 96
XII. Gold Mine Stock 105
XIII. Dick's Brave Act 114
XIV. Dick Gives a Party 125
XV. The Conspiracy 135
XVI. Dick Turns Detective 141
XVII. Grit's Revenge 150
XVIII. Uncle Ezra's Visit 156
XIX. The Fresh-Air Youngsters 164
XX. Tim's Disclosure 173
XXI. In Which Mr. Vanderhoof Vanishes 183
XXII. Off for the West 189
XXIII. At the Mines 197
XXIV. A Night Trip 205
XXV. Down in a Gold Mine 215
XXVI. Simon's Confession 223
XXVII. The Panic 232
XXVIII. Henry in Trouble 242
XXIX. The Flying Machine 249
XXX. A Disastrous Flight 256
XXXI. Good News--Conclusion 264
DICK HAMILTON'S FORTUNE
CHAPTER I
DICK IS IN A HURRY
"Here comes Dick Hamilton!" exclaimed a flashily-dressed youth to his
companion, no less gaily attired, as the two stood in front of a
building from which sounded a peculiar clicking noise.
"So it is, Guy," was the answer. "Let's get him into a game. Maybe I can
win a little money. I need it, for I'm nearly dead broke."
"I thought you always had all the cash you wanted, Simon," remarked Guy
Fletcher, with something like a sneer in his voice. "I know I loaned you
some the other day."
"Do you think that lasted until now?" inquired Simon Scardale, glancing
down at his patent leather shoes. "I'm short of ready money now, and if
we can get your friend Hamilton into a game of billiards I think I can
beat him."
"He's no friend of mine," returned Guy, with a short laugh. "He isn't my
kind, even if his father is a millionaire."
"That's the main reason why you ought to cultivate his acquaintance,"
returned Simon. "It pays to keep in with such fellows. But here he is.
Let me do the talking. You needn't play if you don't want to."
The two boys, who in spite of their fine clothes, did not have an air of
good breeding, watched the approach of Dick Hamilton as he sauntered
down the main street of the town that pleasant afternoon late in June.
Dick was a boy a little above the average height, well built, with
curling brown hair and eyes of the same hue. The eyes were bright and
clear, and, when he looked at you they seemed to glint like moss agates,
as some of his friends used to say.
"And you ought to see them when he's excited," one of Dick's
acquaintances once remarked. "His eyes sparkle and seem to look right
through you."
It needed but a glance to see that Dick was well dressed, with that
careless air of studied negligence which so marks the person accustomed
to fine raiment. Dick wore his garments as if he was "used to them and
not dressed up," as Fred Murdock remarked. There was that about him
which at once proclaimed him for what he was--the son of a very wealthy
man, for his father, Mortimer Hamilton, counted his fortune in the
millions.
As Dick came opposite the place whence issued that peculiar sound,
produced by ivory balls hitting against one another, he was hailed by
Simon Scardale.
"I say, Dick, come in and have a little game of billiards?"
Dick paused and looked at the speaker with a quizzical glance.
"Who's going to play?" he asked.
"Why--er--I--am--for one," replied Simon. "And maybe Guy, here, will take
a cue. I'll bet I can beat you, and I'll give you twenty-five points to
start with. I'll bet you ten dollars----"
"No, thanks," answered Dick, in rather languid tones, but the sparkle in
his brown eyes showed there was more spirit in the words than at first
might be apparent. "I don't believe I care to play."
"Afraid I'll beat you!" exclaimed Simon, with a sneer.
"You were very far from doing that the last time you played at my
house," retorted Dick, quickly.
"Oh, well, that--er--that was on a table you were used to, and----"
"He's worried about losing the money!" interrupted Guy Fletcher. "Come
on, Simon, I'll play you. I'm not afraid of ten dollars, even if my
father isn't quite as wealthy as his."
As a matter of fact Guy's father was very far from being as well off as
Mr. Hamilton, but Guy took upon himself as much importance, and gave
himself as many airs, as though his parent was a multi-millionaire.
"Hold on!" exclaimed Dick sharply, straightening up and thrusting his
hands in the pockets of his well-fitting coat. "Now don't you fellows
get any wrong notions into your heads. Go a little slow. You asked me to
come into a public billiard-room and play a game with you. I----"
"Yes, and you refused because you're afraid!" retorted Guy.
"That's where you're wrong," replied Dick coolly. "I refused because, in
the first place, I don't play billiards in a public resort like this. I
like the game, but I have a fine table at home, and I see no reason why
I should waste my time hanging around in a place that's thick with
tobacco smoke, and where the language isn't the most polite, not to put
it too strong. Besides, the tables are in such poor condition that----"
"Oh, so you've turned Miss Nancy!" exclaimed Simon, with a mean smirk.
"If you think so just come up to my gymnasium and put on the boxing
gloves with me," invited Dick with a meaning smile; but Simon knew
better than to accept. He had once boxed a friendly round with Dick and
had been sore for a week afterward, for Simon was "soft."
"Another reason," continued Dick, "is that I never gamble, whether it's
over a game of billiards or something else. I don't believe it's right.
It isn't a question of money at all. In fact, if you need a little
cash, I don't mind lending it to you. But I'll not gamble for it.
"However," went on the wealthy youth, "don't let me stand in the way of
you two having a good time. 'Every one to their notion,' as the old lady
said when she kissed the cow," and Dick laughed.
"What's the cow got to do with it?" inquired Simon, who did not see the
point of Dick's joke.
"Afraid," murmured Guy, but so low that Dick did not hear him.
"The cow," retorted Dick, with a glance at Simon, "is a second cousin to
the one that jumped over the moon. But, aside from all this," he
continued, more seriously, "if I did feel like playing billiards with
you in there, I couldn't do it this afternoon, for I promised my father
I'd be home early. He has an appointment with me--a very important
one--and I'm in a hurry to keep it."
"Didn't look so, by the way you were walking along the street a moment
ago," sneered Simon.
"I was just looking at some new fishing tackle in White's window,"
answered Dick. "I have my horse tied in front of the post-office, and I
guess you know he goes fast enough to take me home in a hurry. Now I
think I'll say ta-ta, and get along. Try to work some one else into your
billiard game," and, with a nod that had in it not the least sign of
displeasure, in spite of his firm words, Dick turned and walked off.
"Well, if he ain't the limit!" ejaculated Guy. "He makes me tired. Come
on in, I'll play you a game; but not for ten dollars. Dad growled the
other day because I asked him for money, and I've got to go slow."
"I wish I'd taken him at his word and borrowed about twenty-five dollars
from him," remarked Simon, as he followed Guy into the billiard-room.
Meanwhile Dick had reached the post-office, where his horse, a handsome
bay of fine spirit, but gentle disposition, was waiting him. The animal
whinnied with pleasure as the lad came up, and when he patted the black
muzzle, the horse showed every evidence of delight.
"I wonder if they think I can't get home in a hurry on you, Rex?" asked
Dick, as he loosened the strap and vaulted into the saddle. "Come on,
now, show 'em how you can go!"
The splendid animal was off like a shot, many persons in the street
turning to look at the pleasing picture the well-built youth made on his
handsome steed. Past the billiard parlor Dick rode at a fast pace, and
several youths inside hurried to the door.
"There he goes," remarked Simon, with a sneer. "I'd like to take some of
the starch out of him."
"Who?" inquired another player, chalking his cue.
"Dick Hamilton."
"He hasn't any starch in him," was the answer. "He's one of the best
fellows in the world. One of the very few who has not been spoiled by
their father's wealth. You don't know Dick Hamilton, or you wouldn't say
he's stiff or proud."
"We don't want to know him," put in Guy.
"Well, I'd be proud to," went on the player at the next table. "He isn't
in my class, or, rather, I'm not in his, but he always bows pleasantly
and speaks to me every time we meet. He's a real sport, he is. None of
your tin-horn variety."
Through the main street of the town Dick rode, waving his hand now and
then to acquaintances who saluted him. To some he called out cheery
words of greeting, and to several elderly men he bowed respectfully.
As Dick turned out of the main thoroughfare into one that led to the
handsome mansion where he and his father lived, he came in sight of a
spectacle that made him pause. It was a rattletrap of a wagon, drawn by
a horse that seemed as much in danger of falling apart as did the
vehicle. In the wagon was a miscellaneous collection of scrap iron,
broken pipes, pieces of stoves, fractured pulleys and bent shafting
mingling in a confused mass. On the seat sat a pleasant-faced,
bright-looking youth, about Dick's age, and nearly of his size.
"Hello, Henry!" called Dick. "What in the world have you got there?"
"Scrap iron, scrap wagon and a scrap horse," replied Henry Darby, with a
grin.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, I'm in a sort of new venture," was the answer. "I'm collecting
old iron, wherever I can find it, and selling it again. I bought up a
lot out in the country, and I hired this rig to get it back to town
with; only I'm afraid I'm not going to arrive."
"What's the matter?"
"Why, this horse--if you can call such an animal a dignified name like
that--has the heaves, a spavin, spring-halt, blind-staggers, and a few
other things. It got tired a few minutes ago, and went on a strike. I'm
afraid to do anything to it to make it go for fear it'll fall apart
right here in the road."
Dick, who had brought his steed to a stop, laughed heartily.
"Well, you are in a fix," he said. "But I don't understand about this
old iron business."
"I've got to do something to make a living," answered Henry Darby, who
seemed confused about something. "I have been doing it on a small scale
for quite a while. Now I'm trying to branch out a bit. There's money in
old iron, if I could sell enough of it. But I don't see how I'm going to
get this load home. You might lend me your horse," he added with a
laugh; for in spite of the poverty of Henry Darby, and the wealth of
Dick Hamilton, the two boys were good friends.
"I'm sorry I can't do that, Henry," said Dick; and his voice showed that
he was sincere. "The fact is, I'm in a hurry to get home. When I went
out this morning father told me to be sure to be in at three o'clock, as
he had something important to tell me."
"Maybe he's going to reduce your allowance," suggested Henry, with a
laugh.
"No, I can't imagine what it is," and Dick spoke soberly "But that it's
important I know by the way he acted. Otherwise I'd lend you my horse to
pull that load back with. I'll tell you what I'll do, however. As soon
as I get home I'll send one of the grooms out here with one of the work
horses. They'll think that load is a feather. But now I am in a hurry,
so I must gallop on. It won't do to keep dad waiting, especially when he
laid so much stress on my being home on time."
"Oh, don't trouble about a horse. I guess I can get this--this animal to
go after a while," and Henry laughed; for he was of a happy disposition,
and trouble rolled away from him "like water off a duck's back," as he
used to say.
"But it's no trouble at all," insisted Dick. "You wait here and I'll
send a man back with a horse. You can drive him home to-morrow, or
to-night, if you like."
"All right. It's very kind of you," said Henry, but Dick did not stay to
listen to the thanks before he had called to Rex, under whose flying
feet the dust of the road arose in a cloud.
"He must be in a hurry to ride like that," thought Henry, as he tried to
lead on his apology for a horse. "I wonder what it is that his father is
going to tell him? It must be about money I guess, for Mr. Hamilton has
so much he doesn't know what to do with all of it."
Dick was also wondering, as he galloped along, what the important matter
might be that his parent was to speak to him about. He only had a hint
of it in what Mr. Hamilton had said that morning.
"This is your birthday," Dick's father had remarked, when he and his son
were at breakfast in the Hamilton mansion. "I wish you many happy
returns, and I will add that I have something very important to say to
you this afternoon--something that may have a great influence on your
future life. I will meet you here in the library at three o'clock, and
communicate to you certain portions of your dear mother's will."
For a moment emotion had overcame Mr. Hamilton, for his wife, of whom he
had been devotedly fond, though dead some years, was ever a living
memory to him. Dick's eyes filled with tears as he recalled the
sweet-faced woman to whom he had lisped "mother," for he was only a
small chap when she died.
"So, if you will be here on time, Dick," his father finally went on, "I
will read to you an important document, in accordance with your
mother's final instructions. Now don't be late. I am a busy man, and if
I make an appointment for a certain time, I like the other fellow to be
there also," and he smiled at his son.
"I'll be there, father," promised Dick.
So now he was hurrying on to keep his appointment. His home was about
two miles from the town of Hamilton Corners, in one of our eastern
states, the place having been named in honor of Mr. Hamilton, who, as
will be told later, was at the head of many industries that gave the
town its importance.
"I wonder what it can all be about?" mused Dick, as he turned his horse
into the driveway that led to the mansion.
In a vague way he knew that his mother had been very wealthy in her own
right; almost as wealthy as Mr. Hamilton, who was many times a
millionaire. But Dick had no idea of the provisions of his mother's
will. He had often heard his father speak of what a wise and far-seeing
woman Mrs. Hamilton was; but Dick, who was a healthy, happy youth, fond
of all kinds of sports, had not up to this time given much thought to
the future.
Now, to-day, he was to be given a glimpse into it, and he was not a
little sobered by the thoughts of the coming interview.