GOLD MINE STOCK
Dick looked sharply at the stranger as he passed the man. Mr. Vanderhoof
smiled, but when he did Dick thought the attempted pleasantry resembled
the grin of a cat when it is about to pounce upon a helpless mouse. With
a scarcely perceptible nod to Dick, Mr. Vanderhoof entered Mr.
Hamilton's private office and closed the door.
"I've seen you before, I'm sure of it," mused Dick, as he left the bank.
"I can't just think where, but there's something familiar about you. I
don't like your looks, though I suppose you must be all right or dad
wouldn't have much to do with you. I must ask him about you."
Dick found an opportunity a few evenings later. He saw his father
looking over some papers in the library at home, and, going in, inquired
if Mr. Hamilton was busy.
"Not very," replied the millionaire. "I'm just looking over some new
stock I bought to-day. Dick, I'm part owner in a gold mine, in addition
to my many other lines of industry," and he laughed pleasantly.
"A gold mine, dad?"
"Yes, a gold mine in--let's see where is it now--oh, in Yazoo City,
Nevada. Of course, I don't own the whole mine, I've only bought some
stock in it. There it is. I own a thousand shares in the Hop Toad Mine,
and I hope they do as toads do, and 'jump' in value."
"A gold mine," repeated Dick. "That would suit me. Why didn't I think of
it before."
"How do you mean, Dick?"
"I mean, why didn't I invest in something like that."
"Well, it's not too late, I suppose."
"Do you mean I can get some shares, dad?"
"I don't know that you can in the Hop Toad Mine, as I understand they're
all sold out, but I guess Mr. Vanderhoof has shares in other mines just
as good."
"Oh, is that what Mr. Vanderhoof is--a mining man?"
"Well, not exactly a mining man. He sells stock in mines. He's what they
call a promoter. Why, do you know him?"
"No, but somehow his face seemed familiar. I was sure that day I saw him
in the bank that I had met him somewhere else, but when I tried to think
I couldn't recall anyone with such a black moustache as he has."
"It is black," admitted Mr. Hamilton.
"And when he smiles he looks like--a cat," went on Dick.
"I can't say that I fancy his looks," agreed the millionaire, with a
chuckle. "But I don't do business on looks. I go by facts."
"Is this mining stock good?"
"I think so. I wrote to some men in Yazoo City and I made other
investigations, so that I think it as safe an investment as any are in
these days. Of course, nothing is a sure thing in this world, but I
believe this Hop Toad Mine has one of the richest veins of ore of any
mine in that vicinity."
"Then I'm going to invest some of my money in a gold mine," decided
Dick. "Where can I find Mr. Vanderhoof?"
"He'll be at the bank to-morrow and you can see him there. Remember, you
are doing this on your own responsibility, and if it turns out a failure
you've got to chalk it up against yourself."
"All right, dad."
"It will be an experience for the boy, anyhow," murmured the
millionaire, as his son left the room. "He's got to learn, the same as I
did. I think between his mother's will, his Uncle Ezra, and what I can
show him, we'll make a fine man of him in spite of his wealth, which is
a mighty handicap--a mighty handicap," and shaking his head doubtfully
Mr. Hamilton proceeded to look over some business papers, which task he
was at when Dick went to bed.
Dick received a letter the next morning which rather disquieted him. It
was from the firm of whom he had purchased his milk stock, and informed
him that owing to certain contingencies in the market they were obliged
to ask for an assessment on his stock.
"What's an assessment on stock, dad?" he asked of his father, when he
had called at the bank and shown the letter to Mr. Hamilton.
"It means that the company needs more money to run the business, and
that you, being part of the company, have to put up your share. Let's
see, they want a hundred dollars from you. Well, I guess you'll have to
pay it."
"But that's a queer way to do business," grumbled Dick. "I thought I was
going to make money, and, instead, I have to pay out more."
"Oh, well, new concerns frequently have to call for an assessment,
instead of paying dividends," consoled his father. "The stock may pay
well yet. Milk is something every family has to have, you know, and they
have to have it every day. The company may be all right when it gets
well started. I wouldn't worry now. I've had to pay assessments on many
a stock that afterward turned out well."
"I'm glad I thought of that gold mine stock," said Dick. "I guess that
will be the best thing yet. When will Mr. Vanderhoof be here?"
"Almost any minute now. Ah, there he comes," and, as Mr. Hamilton spoke,
the man with the very black moustache came down the corridor that led
to the private office and walked through the open doorway.
"Ah, two captains of industry," he remarked, with a nod at Dick and his
father. "The young and the--ah--er--I was about to say old--I will
change it to junior and senior," with a bow to Mr. Hamilton.
"Dick thinks he'd like to buy some gold mine stock," said the
millionaire. "I telephoned you about it, you recall, and explained my
son's position."
"I understand," remarked Mr. Vanderhoof. "He wants to make a good paying
investment."
"That's it," put in Dick, as he thought of his Uncle Ezra and what would
happen if he did not comply with the terms of his mother's will.
"Well, I think I can find him some good stock," went on the promoter.
"It won't be in the same mine you're in, Mr. Hamilton. That stock was
too valuable to last long. But I have some nearly as good. It is in the
same neighborhood. In fact, it is in the next mine to the Hop Toad--the
Dolphin. We think it very good. You can make the same inquiries that you
did in regard to the other stock. It will bear the closest
investigation."
"We'll take it, subject to a report from Yazoo City," said Mr. Hamilton,
with a look at Dick, who nodded an assent, for he knew very little about
buying stock.
"Then I suppose you'll pay enough to bind the bargain?" asked Mr.
Vanderhoof.
"Of course," replied Dick, producing his check book. "How much?"
"Five hundred dollars will do as a starter. But about how much stock
would you want?"
"Oh, I guess two thousand dollars' worth will do," replied Dick, with a
look at his father, who, by a nod of his head, assented.
Mr. Vanderhoof smiled, looking, Dick thought, more than ever like a cat
about to pounce on a mouse, and when the check was made out the promoter
handed him a document, showing that he was entitled to a certain number
of shares of stock in a gold mine bearing the name Dolphin.
"Well, Dick," remarked his father, when Mr. Vanderhoof had left, "you
are certainly getting right into business. How do you like it?"
"Very much. I only hope some of my investments pan out."
"Well, you haven't made very many, but what you have gone into you have
loaded up pretty well with. However, that may be a good way. Of course,
if they fail, the money loss will not make much difference to you, but I
don't want to see you lose. It would show a poor head for business if
you did, and I hope you haven't got that."
"So do I," remarked his son. "Oh, I'm going to make a success some way
or other," and once more the vision of his uncle's home, the gloomy
house set in the midst of the dark fir trees, like some residence in a
cemetery, came to him as the memory of a bad dream.
"Where are you going now?" asked his father, as Dick started to leave
the private office.
"I thought I'd take a ride with some of the boys in my motor boat. I
haven't been out for some time."
"All right, only be careful."
"I will, dad. Good-bye."
Dick stopped, on his way home, and called for Bricktop, Frank Bender and
Walter Mead, inviting them to go for a ride in his trim little craft,
which was in the boat house on Lake Dunkirk.
"Let's take our lunch and stay the rest of the day," suggested Bricktop.
"It's too fine out doors to be around the house."
"Good idea," assented Dick. "I'll have our cook put us up a basket of
stuff."
The eyes of the other boys glistened, for they knew from experience the
good things that came from the Hamilton kitchen, and they had visions of
cold chicken and turkey, fine cakes and big, thick, juicy pies.
As Dick and his friends entered the side yard, they saw, standing on the
driveway, a rather dilapidated wagon, drawn by a very bony horse. In the
wagon was something covered with a sheet, while on the seat sat a
grizzled, dried-up sort of a man, with a little bunch of whiskers on his
chin. Beside him was a woman in a calico dress, and she looked worried.
"Are you Mr. Richard Hamilton?" asked the man, looking at Bricktop.
"No; he is," was the answer, and Bricktop pointed at Dick.
"Hum! Well, I'm glad to meet you. I've been waitin' some time, an' the
hired man, the one with his shirt front all showin', where his vest is
wore out (for thus he described the butler's dress suit), said he didn't
know when you'd come home. But I brought it along with me, jest as I
said I would, an' I'll show ye how it works. Mandy, jest hold th' hoss
until I git th' machine out," and though the animal did not seem in need
of any restraint the woman grasped the reins her husband gave her.
Then, before Dick could remonstrate, the man got down from the wagon,
and began tugging at the object covered with a sheet. It seemed quite
heavy.
"Would one of you young gentlemen mind givin' me a hand?" he asked, and
Walter and Frank assisted him in lifting the object down to the ground.
"There ye be!" exclaimed the man, in an excited manner, while his eyes
glittered in a strange way. "There she is. Now watch, everybody, when
she gits goin'. Mandy, drive th' hoss up towards th' stable; it might
git frightened.
"Now," he went on, "ye're about t' witness one of th' wonders of th'
age. Look out, everybody!" and, with a flourish, he pulled the sheet
away.