Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 25

"Only I determined to get my dog, if I could, without paying them anything."

"And you did it," said the landlord, with a laugh.

"I did," replied d.i.c.k. "But I never suspected Simon would try such a desperate game as this. He must have found the leash the night of the party," he went on, after telling the landlord what had happened. "Then he got in with these fellows and had them steal Grit. The letter they mailed gave me a clue, and Henry told me enough more to enable me to find Grit. Well, I guess I've seen the last of Simon Scardale."

It was not exactly the last, but Simon did not reappear in Hamilton Corners, and, though he afterward played a part in d.i.c.k's life, he had dropped out of it for the present.

The horse and wagon, which the man and youth left behind, was called for that evening by an individual of the tramp variety, but, as he brought the cash to pay the last of the hotel bill, the landlord let him take the rig. d.i.c.k decided to stay at the Eagle Hotel all night, and he sent a telegram to his father explaining his absence and telling of his success. He decided he would not follow up Simon or his cronies to prosecute them for the theft.

As the journey was a little too long for Grit to make afoot, and as d.i.c.k could not take him in the saddle with him, he sent Rex home in care of a man he hired, and engaged a carriage for himself and the dog, arriving home the next day at noon.

"Well," remarked Mr. Hamilton, as his son came in with Grit, "your detective work was all right."

"Yes, thanks to Henry Darby," answered the son. "I'm going to send him a check for a hundred dollars," which he proceeded to do.

"Here are a couple of letters for you," went on the millionaire, handing the missives to his son. One proved to be a note from Guy Fletcher. He had heard what had occurred regarding the dog, for Mr. Hamilton told several friends of his son's telegram, and Guy hastened to a.s.sure d.i.c.k that he had no idea of Simon's scheme.

"He told me he was only going to play a joke on you," wrote Guy, in the note which was delivered by a messenger. "He took the leash from your pocket the night of the party, and said he was going to hide Grit and make you believe he was stolen. I hope you don't believe I'd have anything to do with Simon if I thought he intended to really steal your dog. He has gone out West, I hear, somewhere in the gold mine region. My father has forbidden me to ever speak to Simon again."

"I guess you'll not get a chance right away," murmured d.i.c.k.

The whole thing was plain to him now. Simon wanted money, and thought he could make it by getting the man and youth to steal Grit, and then making d.i.c.k put the two hundred dollars under the stone. Everything had gone well up to a certain point. The dog had been taken away, carried in the wagon to Leonardville, and thither Simon had gone to make the final arrangements. The unexpected appearance of d.i.c.k had spoiled the scheme.

Simon had hurried to the barn to warn his confederates, but at that instant Grit, excited by a beating he was getting, had broken loose.

"No," mused d.i.c.k, "I don't believe Simon will show up around here for some time."

"Who is the other letter from?" asked Mr. Hamilton.

"I don't know. I'll open it."

d.i.c.k rapidly scanned the contents.

"Uncle Ezra Larabee is coming to pay us a visit," he announced. "He'll be here to-morrow."

"Uncle Ezra, eh?" repeated Mr. Hamilton. "I suppose he wants to see how you are getting on--with your investments."

"Hum!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, with an uneasy laugh, "maybe he thinks the year is up and I'm to go back with him. But it isn't--I'm glad to say."

"Well, we must make his visit pleasant," said Mr. Hamilton. "It isn't often he comes to Hamilton Corners."

Uncle Ezra Larabee arrived the next day. d.i.c.k was in the library reading when he heard the door bell ring and the butler answered it.

"Is Mr. Hamilton in?" he heard a voice ask, and he knew it was his uncle. The boy hastened to greet his relative.

"Why didn't you let us know what train you were coming on and I would have met you with the carriage," asked d.i.c.k, politely.

"No, thank you, Nephew Richard," replied Uncle Ezra, in rasping tones.

"I'm not too old to walk, and it's well to save the horse all you can."

"And you carried that heavy valise?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Of course I did, Nephew Richard. You didn't suppose I was going to pay twenty-five cents to have a boy carry it, did you? Lots of them wanted to, but twenty-five cents isn't earned every day, so I brought it myself," and with an expression of pain that he could not conceal Mr.

Larabee set the heavy satchel down. His arm was stiff from carrying it, but he smiled grimly with satisfaction when he thought of the quarter of a dollar he had saved.

"Come right upstairs and I'll show you to your room," invited d.i.c.k.

"Then I'll telephone father you are here."

"No, no, don't waste any money telephoning, Nephew Richard," said Uncle Ezra, hastily.

"Why it doesn't cost anything, uncle. We have to pay for the telephone by the year."

"Well, don't do it. They might charge you something this time. You never can tell. Besides, you might interrupt your father in some business deal and make him lose some money. No, I'll wait until he comes home."

"Very well," a.s.sented d.i.c.k.

"Gracious! What's that?" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, as a low growl came from a dark corner by the stairs. "Have you any wild beasts in here?"

"No, that's only my dog, Grit, uncle. He'll not hurt anyone."

"A dog? In the house?" exclaimed Mr. Larabee. "Why, he might chew a hole in the carpet. Besides, I can't bear dogs. Get out, you brute!" he exclaimed, aiming a kick at Grit, who walked toward d.i.c.k.

The bulldog, with an ugly growl, crouched for a leap at Mr. Larabee.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE FRESH-AIR YOUNGSTERS.

"Hold him back! Hold him! Let me hide! He'll bite me!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, as he saw Grit's wicked-looking teeth.

"Grit!" spoke d.i.c.k, softly, and in a reproving voice. "This is my Uncle Ezra," he went on. "Don't you know any better than that?"

Instantly Grit's manner changed. He showed that he was sorry for the mistake he had made of growling at one of the family visitors. He even approached Uncle Ezra as if to make friends, but Mr. Larabee shrunk away.

"I can't bear dogs," he said.

Grit acted as if he understood, for he turned away. Nor did he seem to miss a caress from Mr. Larabee. Grit was a wise dog, and he well knew that the man disliked him.

"If you keep that dog in the house I'm afraid I can't stay, Nephew Richard," d.i.c.k's uncle went on. "I wouldn't sleep a wink thinking of him."

"Gibbs, take Grit to the stable," said d.i.c.k to the butler, with a little sigh, and the dog, with a somewhat reproachful look at his master, allowed himself to be led away. Nor was he permitted to come into the house during Uncle Ezra's visit, which quarantine he seemed to resent, for he always growled menacingly whenever Mr. Larabee came near him out doors. But this was not often, as d.i.c.k's uncle was very much afraid of Grit.

Mr. Hamilton soon came home, and warmly greeted his wife's brother.

"I'm glad to see you," said the millionaire. "How would you like to take a run to Hazelton this evening to the theatre? They have a good summer company playing there and we can make a quick trip in d.i.c.k's runabout."