"Well, Nephew Richard, I've been waiting some time for you," said Uncle Ezra Larabee a little later, when d.i.c.k, having gotten out of his suit and donned his cadet uniform, went into the reception room. "I've been here for some time, and very likely I've lost my train, but I couldn't go back without seeing you."

"I'm sorry I kept you so long, Uncle Ezra," replied d.i.c.k, "but you see I was in a baseball game, and I couldn't leave until we won. It was very important to win."

"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the old man. "Baseball is a dangerous and wicked game. It leads to all sorts of trouble. When I was a boy we played such sensible games as tag and blind-man's buff. Baseball! The idea!"

"The cadets of Kentfield would look pretty playing tag," thought d.i.c.k, but he did not say anything.

"I have some bad news for you, Nephew Richard," went on Uncle Ezra. "I suppose you wonder what it is."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yes, Glen told me."

"Oh, he must be the young man whom I was talking to. Well, I regret very much to be the bearer of such ill tidings," went on Mr. Larabee, "but, if you are hoping that it is not true, you are much mistaken. I received word from New York yesterday that the bank in which was most of your father's wealth, as well as your own, which your mother, my sister, so foolishly left you----"

"Sir!" cried d.i.c.k, for he could not bear to hear his mother spoken of in that way.

"Well, I think it foolish to leave a youth so much money," said Mr.

Larabee, "and now my judgment is confirmed. You are no longer a millionaire."

"I don't know as I care much," said d.i.c.k coolly. "My money didn't do as much as I expected it would."

"Foolish, perverse youth," murmured his uncle. "But you must make a change in your plans. You can no longer stay at this expensive school.

You had better pack up your things and come home with me to Dankville. I will look after you until your father comes home from Europe. Doubtless I may be able to get you a position in a woolen mill in which I am interested. If you hurry we can take the late train, and I will be able to use the excursion ticket I bought."

d.i.c.k considered matters a moment. Then he said:

"I don't think I'll go with you, Uncle Ezra."

"Not go with me? Why, what will you do?"

"Stay here and finish out the spring term. I'm just beginning to enjoy himself. There are only a few weeks left."

"But how can you? You have very little, if any, money."

"My tuition and board are paid up to the end of this term," said d.i.c.k calmly. "I have considerable money on deposit in the Kentfield bank, that I drew out from my funds at Hamilton Corners, when I came here.

That will last me for some time. I think I prefer staying here to going back to--to Dankville."

"Well, of all the foolish, idiotic, senseless, rash proceedings I ever heard of!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "The idea! You will stay here and use up what little money is saved from the wreck of your fortune! Why, maybe you could get a rebate on what has been paid for board and tuition."

"I shouldn't think of asking for it," said d.i.c.k. "No, I think I'll stick it out here."

There was a movement at the door, and something came into the room, something that slid up to d.i.c.k, and began wiggling at his feet.

"Quiet, Grit, old boy," he said.

"Is that your bulldog?" asked Uncle Ezra.

"Yes; he was too lonesome at home without me, so I sent for him. He stays in the stable."

"Another foolish and useless expense," murmured the old man. "Oh, what is the world coming to!"

d.i.c.k didn't know, so he didn't answer.

"Think well," went on Mr. Larabee. "You had better come home with me. I can get you work in the woolen mill."

"I'll stay here," replied d.i.c.k firmly.

"Then I wash my hands of you!" exclaimed the aged man. "Never appeal to me for help! I am done with you! Of all the foolish, thoughtless, rash youths I ever met, you are the worst; and your father----"

What Mr. Larabee would have said about Mr. Hamilton he never finished, for Grit, hearing the voice of a man he considered his enemy, made a rush from under the table where he was lying, and growled as though he was going to sample Uncle Ezra's legs.

"Take that brute away!" exclaimed d.i.c.k's crabbed relative, but before the order could be executed Mr. Larabee turned and fled from the room, Grit pursuing him as far as the hall.

"I guess we've seen the last of him for a while," mused d.i.c.k. "Eh, Grit, old boy?"

The bulldog nearly shook off his stump of a tail.

"Well, I guess I had better write to dad, and find out how bad things really are," he went on. "Still, there's no use worrying. I got along all right before I knew I was a millionaire, and I guess I can now when I'm not."

Someone looked in the reception room. It was Glen.

"I say, Hamilton," he remarked, "the boys are looking all over for you.

They want you to lead a procession. We're going to have a grand celebration, burn the uniforms, and break training to celebrate the victory. Hurry up!"

"This is worth losing one's money for," thought d.i.c.k, as he took his place at the head of the procession of merry, shouting, laughing cadets.

"I'm getting to be popular, I guess."

Indeed, whether it was his victory on the diamond or the loss of his money, it would be hard to say, but, at any rate, more cadets made friends with d.i.c.k that night than had done so in his whole previous time at Kentfield.

But though d.i.c.k had won the hearts of the baseball nine and their friends, he was still far from being one of the really popular lads in the school. Dutton and his cronies held aloof from him, and many followed their example.

But, unexpectedly, there came a great change in d.i.c.k's life, and Dutton was partly responsible for it. d.i.c.k and some of his companions were at broadsword exercise on horseback one day, while, on the farther side of the cavalry plain, there was a cla.s.s drilling in artillery, under the direction of Dutton. d.i.c.k was fencing with Lyndon Butler, when suddenly Dutton's steed, frightened by the discharge of a cannon near it, reared, throwing the young major off.

Dutton's foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged along, unable to release himself, while six artillery horses, drawing a heavy gun, dashed down the field and seemed about to collide with the youthful major's animal.

d.i.c.k saw a chance to save his enemy, and turned his horse quickly, to make a dash. So rapid was his movement that Butler's sword gave him a gash in the face, d.i.c.k forgetting, in the excitement of the moment, to guard himself. With the blood streaming from a cut on his cheek d.i.c.k urged his horse at a gallop until he had caught Dutton's runaway mount.

He did it only just in time, for, as he pulled the beast, still dragging the young major, to one side, the artillery steeds dashed over the spot.

Dutton would have been killed but for d.i.c.k's prompt act.

Major Webster rode up quickly, and was glad to find that neither d.i.c.k nor Dutton was seriously hurt.

"Who caught my horse?" asked Dutton, as he struggled to his feet. "The last I remember was seeing him running toward the artillery animals, and I made up my mind there'd be quite a smash when they met."

"They didn't meet, thanks to d.i.c.k Hamilton," said the elderly major. "He stopped your horse just in time."

"And got a nasty cut into the bargain," added another cadet.