CHAPTER XVIII
ANOTHER FRUITLESS ATTEMPT
For a moment the young millionaire did not know what to say or think.His father in trouble! Uncle Ezra had come to take him away fromKentfield! And in the height of the football season just before thefirst big game!
"Is my father ill?" asked Dick.
"No, not ill, only worrying over business. I always said he had too manyirons in the fire, and now some have burned him," declared the old manas he walked along beside his nephew out of ear-shot of the crowd. "I'vecome on to try my hand at helping him."
"But what can you do here?" asked Dick. "And why must I leaveKentfield?"
"To help your father. I should think you'd be glad to. He needs money.It costs money to stay here and play those silly, dangerous games."
"Not very much money, Uncle Ezra."
"Don't tell me! You ought to be in my woolen mill earning four dollarsand a quarter a week, instead of wasting cash here. Now I want to have aserious talk with you, Nephew Richard. Your father is in trouble, andit's your duty to leave here and help him."
"I think I can help him by staying here just as well. But did he tellyou to take me away from Kentfield--just when I have the football teamin good shape? Did he say I was to leave?"
"No, he didn't exactly say so, but I know it would help. Besides, youmight get injured playing this game, and then you'd be a cripple forlife. You ought to be at work. Now I can make a place for you in themill. In time you could work up to twelve or fifteen dollars a week, andof course, being my nephew, and the son of my only sister, I'd give youa chance. Better come, Dick. You might be hurt here."
"And I might be hurt in the mill, Uncle Ezra. I have heard of peoplebeing caught in the machinery."
"Well, of course it's possible," admitted the crabbed man. "But you mustbe careful. Besides if you got hurt in the mill it would be in a goodcause. Though I warn you I carry accident insurance for all my employeesand you can't collect any damages from me."
"Then I think I'll stay and play football, Uncle Ezra."
"Oh, the perversity and foolishness of the rising generation!" groanedMr. Larabee. "But hurry on and get cleaned up. It is a disgrace for meto be seen walking with you, and I have on my best black suit that Idon't want to get spoiled. Besides I must hurry back. I have a lazyhired man that loafs when I'm away."
Dick thought that any hired man who would not take a little chance ofresting when his taskmaster was away from home would not show muchspirit. But there was Mrs. Larabee to reckon with, and she was almost asmuch of a "driver" as her husband.
"There, now I am ready to hear all about it," said Dick, when he had ledhis uncle to one of the reception rooms of the academy, and had removedmost of the traces of the recent football conflict. "Are father'saffairs in much worse shape?"
"I should say they were!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "This man Porter--whyNephew Richard--what is that on your nose?" and the horrified old mansprang from his chair and approached our hero.
"Nose? What's the matter with it?" asked Dick in some alarm.
"There's a great big cut on it! How did it happen?"
"Oh, that's where I tried to stop Hal Foster's shoe with my nose, Iexpect. That's nothing. It's only a little cut. You should have seen theone I had last year. And when Teddy Naylor broke his collar bone----"
"That's enough! Not another word about the brutalities of football! I'veheard enough! It's disgraceful. Let us talk about something else."
"I'm anxious to hear about father's affairs," said Dick.
"I don't know very much," replied his uncle, "but I know that hisenemies are pressing him hard to get the control of the trolley lineaway from him, and it is paying well, too. I never thought it would, butyour father insisted that he was right. But he has too many irons in thefire, I'm sure. This time this Mr. Porter is fighting him, and when Isaw your father yesterday he said he did not know what to do, because aMr. Duncaster would not sell his stock."
"Yes, I know that Mr. Duncaster," said Dick, with a grim smile at therecollection of the interview with the man.
"I came here to argue with him," said Mr. Larabee.
"You did?" cried Dick.
"Yes, your father consented. He said you had been unable to do anythingwith him, and it would do no harm if I tried. I'm a fighter, I am!" andUncle Ezra squared his jaw aggressively. "I'll make him do as we wanthim to."
Dick had his doubts about this, but said nothing. He had, moreover, alittle feeling against his uncle.
"I want to help dad myself," reflected the young millionaire, "and Ibelieve I can do more with this Mr. Duncaster than Uncle Ezra can. Idon't like him 'butting in,' but if dad told him to it must be allright. But I don't believe he'll have much success."
"Now I thought if you could take me to see this person who has thestock," went on Mr. Larabee, "I can induce him to sell it. Once yourfather has possession of it matters will be all right. Could we go outto his place this afternoon?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Dick. "It is not much of a run to Hardvale."
"I'm glad of it, for then I can start back home to-night. If I takealong some sandwiches, which perhaps you can get from the kitchen herefor me, I can ride all night in a day coach, and so save a hotel bill.We'll start for Hardvale at once. It is within walking distance, Ipresume."
"No," answered Dick, and he felt a secret delight in his answer, "theonly way to get out there and back in time for you to make an earlystart for home is to take an auto."
"An auto!" cried Uncle Ezra in horror. "Never! I'll never waste money onone of those affairs, and when I undertook to come here on your father'sbusiness I stipulated that I would pay all expenses. He is to give me acommission for doing the work, provided I get the trolley stock, and theless expenses I have the more money I can make."
"But if you don't hire an auto you'll be here so long that you'll haveto stay over and pay a hotel bill," said Dick, trying not to smile.
"Couldn't we hire a horse and carriage, or go in a trolley car--trolleysare cheap." Mr. Larabee looked hopeful.
"There is no trolley line to Hardvale," said Dick, "and a horse andcarriage would be too slow. It's an auto or a hotel bill, Uncle Ezra."
"Oh dear! What a hard world this is! Well, let us go and get a cheapauto. I'll bargain with the driver."
The chauffeur wanted six dollars to go out to Hardvale and back with histaxicab. At the first mention of the price Dick thought his uncle wouldhave a fit. Then, with a grim tightening of his lips, the old man beganto bargain.
"I'll give you two dollars," he said.
"It wouldn't pay for my time, oil and gasolene," declared the man.
"I'll make it three, and not a cent more!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra firmly,with his hand on his pocketbook as if afraid it would be taken away fromhim.
"You'd better walk!" said the chauffeur. "I haven't any more time tobother with you."
Uncle Ezra begged and pleaded, but the driver was firm.
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," said the crabbed old man finally."I'll pay your price, though I want you to understand that I think it'srobbery, but will you throw in some sandwiches for my supper. I'm goingto travel all night."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," finally agreed the chauffeur. "Though it's thefirst time I've ever given a tip in my own cab. Hop in."
They arrived at Mr. Duncaster's house a little before dusk, and UncleEzra rapped on the door. There was a long silence and he knocked again.
"Nobody home I guess," ventured the chauffeur, who was lighting hislamps, preparatory for the trip back.
"Let me try," suggested Dick, and he gave several vigorous blows on thedoor. Uncle Ezra had rapped lightly, probably so as not to unduly wearout the pair of ancient gloves he was wearing.
This time a window over the front door was opened, and the head of Mr.Duncaster, graced with a nightcap and a tassle, was thrust out.
"What do you want? Go away from here! I've gone to bed!" he shouted."I'll have you arrested for disturbing the peace! Get
away!"
He started to close the window.
"Here! Wait!" cried Mr. Larabee. "I want to talk to you about yourtrolley stock."
At the mention of stock the window was opened again, and once more thehead came out.
"Stock is it? Trolley stock? I suspected it was something like that whenI smelled your gasolene wagon coming to my door. Well, that stock isn'tfor sale, and don't you bother me any more about it. I won't sell toeither side. Now you get away. I always go to bed early and it's past mysleeping time now. Get away!"
"But you don't understand!" cried Mr. Larabee in desperation. "We wantyour stock, and I am authorized to offer you----"
"I won't listen to you! Get away, I'm going to sleep!" The head wasdrawn in and the window came down with a bang.
"Wait! Hold on! I'll increase the price! I must talk to you!" criedUncle Ezra, but Mr. Duncaster was firm, and there was no reply torepeated knockings.
"I guess we'd better go," said Dick gently. He had surmised how it wouldbe.
"I'm going to try the back door," said Uncle Ezra craftily. "Maybe I cansurprise him." But he had his knocking for his pains, and came backcrestfallen.
"Come on," suggested the chauffeur. "I want to get back and do somebusiness where I can make something."
"Humph! You made enough out of us," declared Mr. Larabee as the mancranked up. "Now don't you forget my sandwiches."
They were bowling along through the outskirts of the town when suddenly,around the corner swung another auto. The driver of the one containingDick and his uncle tried to get out of the way, but it was impossible.
The next instant there was a crash of glass, and Dick found himselfsitting on the curbstone, while his uncle with a slight cut over his eyefrom which the blood was coming, was holding to a street lamppost. Bothautos were slightly damaged, but the drivers were not hurt and theyproceeded to lay the blame one on the other.
"I'll sue you for this! I'll have damages! I'm an injured man!" criedUncle Ezra, as he put his handkerchief to his cut eye, while Dick triedto get up, but found that he could not.
"By Jove! I hope my leg isn't broken!" he thought in dismay. "And theHaskell game Saturday! Whew, this is tough luck!"
Once more he made an effort to get up, but fell back in a faint as asharp pain shot through his ankle. He was conscious of a horrible fearof being disabled, as he felt some one lift his head while a girl'svoice exclaimed:
"Why, it's Dick Hamilton! Call a doctor, Mildred." Then Dick lostconsciousness.