Read Ebook: Dick Hamilton's Touring Car; Or A Young Millionaire's Race For A Fortune by Garis Howard Roger

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Ebook has 1945 lines and 60070 words, and 39 pages

"Yes, I might," was the answer, as though Mr. Larabee was doing Dick a favor.

"Then I'll send word to have a place laid for you at our table. You know some of my friends, I think."

"Humph! Yes, I do, and I can't say I altogether approve of 'em, Nephew Richard. They spend too much money."

"Well I guess they've got plenty to spend," said Dick, for Kentfield Academy was attended by the sons of many rich men, though it was in no sense a snobbish institution.

"Yes," went on Uncle Ezra, with a grim chuckle, "I came here to meet a young man, and I met him. I came to teach him a lesson, and I taught it. I guess Mr. Frank Wardell won't be so high and mighty after this. I cleaned him out--and it was all done in a regular way, too. I cleaned him out."

"Ruined him, you mean, Uncle Ezra?"

"But what will become of him, Uncle Ezra, if he hasn't any money?"

"I don't know, and he didn't either by the way he rushed off after I got through with him," and the old man chuckled. "But I reckon he can go to work like the rest of us. I offered him a place in my woolen mill at Dankville. I said I could pay him five dollars a week to start, though I know he wouldn't be wuth it. But he might learn the trade."

Dick said nothing, but the thought of a ruined man, who must have had a considerable fortune, going to work for Uncle Ezra in the woolen mill for five dollars a week, struck our hero as being rather pathetic.

"Did he take your offer, Mr. Larabee?" asked Paul.

"He did not!" exclaimed Dick's uncle. "He said he'd become a tramp first. Wa'al, he kin if he wants to--there's no law ag'in' it!" and again he chuckled mirthlessly.

"I'll go see about lunch," volunteered Dick. "Oh, something for me, Toots?" he exclaimed, as he opened the door, and saw an old Sergeant standing there with an envelope in his hand.

"Yes, a letter, Mr. Hamilton."

"It's from dad!" exclaimed our hero, as he noted the writing.

"I hope he has taken my advice, and will withdraw you from this useless military academy," spoke Uncle Ezra. "It is time you went to work, Nephew Richard."

"I'll be back in a little while," replied Dick, not taking the trouble to answer his uncle directly, and he hurried off down the corridor to arrange about having his guest at luncheon in the mess hall.

While preparations for the meal are under way I shall ask for a few minutes of your time--you my new readers--while I briefly explain about Dick Hamilton, and introduce you more formally to him, as he has appeared in the previous volumes of this series.

Dick was the only son of Mortimer Hamilton, of Hamilton Corners, in New York State. Mr. Hamilton was a millionaire, with varied interests, and Dick had a fortune in his own right, left to him by his mother.

In my first book, called "Dick Hamilton's Fortune," I related how this inheritance came to the youth, and under what peculiar conditions, so that he really had to work hard to deserve it. And he nearly lost it at that. The second volume deals with Dick's life at a well-known military academy--Kentfield--and is entitled, "Dick Hamilton's Cadet Days." How he had to struggle against heavy odds, and how he won out, is related in the story.

In "Dick Hamilton's Steam Yacht," our hero found himself confronted with a queer problem. How he worked it out, and defeated the aims of Uncle Ezra, you will find fully set forth.

Uncle Ezra Larabee was a curious character. He was quite rich, perhaps not so much so as Mr. Hamilton, but with a large fortune. He did not seem to enjoy life, however, and was continually preaching economy. He had a particular aversion to the bulldog, Grit, and, it might be said in passing, Grit returned the compliment, so to speak.

When Dick and his chums at Kentfield found that their football challenge to the Blue Hill Academy was treated as a joke, they were quite angry, and justly so. True, the former military academy team was in poor shape, but the lads were eager to do better.

And in "Dick Hamilton's Football Team," the fourth book of the series, I related how the young millionaire made a big change at Kentfield, and what came of it, and I also related how he was instrumental in helping his father in a business transaction.

The Fall and football were things of the past, and now the long summer vacation was approaching. Baseball had the call, and Dick was acting as the academy pitcher with great success. A few weeks more and Kentfield would close until Fall, and what to do in the interim was puzzling not only Dick, but some of his chums.

"Well, Uncle Ezra," said the cadet, as he came back into the room a little later, to find his chum Paul fidgeting about, for it was no joke to entertain Mr. Larabee, "I've arranged to have our lunch a little ahead of the rest. I know you want to catch your train."

"Yes, I do. I don't want to waste my return ticket. I'll go down at once."

Paul gave a sigh of relief, and winked at Dick. The three moved toward the dining hall, Dick making inquiries about his aunt, and some other distant relatives in Dankville, a place he hated above all others,--for his uncle's house there was almost the personification of gloom.

"Wa'al, your aunt's as well as she can expect to be," remarked Mr. Larabee. "She suffers consid'able from stomach misery, and the doctor don't seem to do her no good. He charges enough too, and he's allers changin' the medicine. I should think he could take one kind and stick to it."

"He has to try different kinds to see what is the best," suggested Dick.

"I know, but you ought to see the bottles, only half-took, that I have to throw away. I tried to git a rebate on 'em, but the druggist said he couldn't use 'em. So I'm that much out," and Mr. Larabee drew a deep sigh.

"Any news from home, Dick?" asked Paul, as the three sat alone in the mess hall, at a special table for visitors. "How is your father?"

GOOD NEWS

"Will you have some more of this roast beef, Mr. Larabee?" asked Paul, doing the honors for Dick, who was busy over the letter from his father.

"Wa'al, I might have a bit more. It seems like pretty tender meat."

"Yes, we get the very best at Kentfield."

"Hum! If I was runnin' this place I'd buy the cheaper cuts, and save money. Tough meat is better for growing lads, anyhow. I wouldn't give 'em such expensive meat."

"But we pay for it, Mr. Larabee."

"It's a waste of money," replied the miser, and went on with the meal, which, to do Dick justice, was exceptionally good. Dick never believed in starving even his ill-natured relatives.

"Hurray! This is great!" suddenly exclaimed the young millionaire. "Whoop! Oh, I say, excuse me, Uncle Ezra!" he added, quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you," for the aged man had jumped at Dick's exclamation, and some potato, covered with gravy, had fallen on his trousers.

"That's jest like you boys--allers shoutin' and makin' a noise," rasped out Mr. Larabee. "I'll have to pay for havin' that spot taken out," and he scrubbed vigorously at it with a napkin. "That is, unless my hired man can start it with some of my harness soap. I guess I'll have him try when I get back. No use payin' a cleaner if my hired man can do it."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ezra," spoke Dick, contritely, and trying not to smile at Paul Drew. "We can take it out here for you. A little ether will do the trick. It will dissolve the grease. I'll take you to the chemical laboratory after lunch."

"No, the ether might eat a hole in my pants, and they're my second best ones. I'll wait until I git hum, and try the harness soap. Next time please don't yell so."

"I won't, Uncle Ezra. But dad sent me some good news, and I just couldn't help it."

"Is he going to take you to Europe this vacation?" asked Paul.

"Europe! You don't mean to tell me that Mortimer Hamilton is going to waste money on another trip to Europe?" cried Mr. Larabee, in horror.

"No, it isn't that," answered Dick. "He writes that as he sees by my reports I have done well this term, I may have just what I've been wanting a long time."

"No, thank you, Uncle Ezra," laughed Dick. "I think I'll stay here at Kentfield for another term yet."

"But what is it your father is going to give you?" asked Paul. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"It's a touring car!" cried Dick, in delight. "He says I can select the best and biggest car made, and send the bill to him. Hurray! Isn't that great news? Say, I can just about see where my vacation is coming in now, Paul."

"That's right. You are in luck!"

"A touring car!" cried Mr. Larabee. "You mean an automobile, Dick? Why you've got one already. It would be a shameful waste of money to buy another. You can take what a touring car would cost, and invest the sum in some good securities. I have some that I acquired from that young man I spoke of to-day."

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