Then there was a mad rush over the big lawn that led up to Sunnyside.

The children yelled, laughed, shouted, and fairly tumbled over each other in the very joy of being in the country. Pale cheeks reddened as the little lungs breathed in the pure, fresh air, dull eyes lighted up with pleasure, and little hands trembled with eagerness as they plucked b.u.t.tercups, dandelions and daisies that grew on the far edges of the lawns.

"Wow!" yelled one lad. "Wow! I've got to do somethin' or I'll bust!"

And that is the way most of them felt it seemed, for they raced, ran, jumped and tumbled like children just let out after being kept in after school.

And such a supper as Mrs. Foster had provided for the waifs! Their eyes bulged as they came to the table that was fairly groaning under the weight of good things.

"Now," called d.i.c.k, when they sat down, "let me see how you can eat."

"They do not need any coaxing," replied the matron, and d.i.c.k soon saw that she was right.

That was only the beginning of a happy two weeks for the youngsters.

They fairly went wild on the farm, for it had a hundred delights for them, from watching the cows being milked, to hunting for eggs in the big barn. d.i.c.k took them for automobile rides in relays, bringing several over to Hamilton Corners to see his father, who further delighted the childish hearts by gifts of dimes and nickels. On one of these trips the millionaire's son brought Tim Muldoon, the boy who had commented on d.i.c.k's riches that day the two met.

"An' does your governor own dat bank?" Tim asked, as d.i.c.k stopped the runabout in front of the inst.i.tution.

"Well, most of it, I guess."

"An' can he go in dere an' git money whenever he wants it?"

"Yes, I guess he can."

"Say!" exclaimed Tim, as he looked weakly at d.i.c.k, "an youse is his son?"

"Yes."

"An' youse is takin' me an' dese (indicating some of the other youngsters) out fer a ride in dis gasolene gig? Us what ain't got a cent?"

"Yes; why not?" asked d.i.c.k, with a smile.

"Well, all I've got t' say is dat dis is as near bein' rich as I ever expects t' be, an' say, it's dead white of youse; dat's what it is. Why, dem rich guys in N' York would no more t'ink of treatin' us dis way dan dey would jump off de dock. Dat's straight!"

"Oh, I guess they would if they thought about it, but they probably don't know how many boys and girls would like to get out and see the country," said d.i.c.k, not wanting to take too much credit to himself.

"Like pie!" was Tim's contemptuous rejoinder. Then, as he was gazing rapturously at the entrance to the bank, he suddenly started as he saw a man coming down the steps.

"Say," he whispered to d.i.c.k, grabbing his arm, "is dat guy in your governor's bank?"

"Which man? What do you mean?"

"I mean dat one wid de black moustache, jest comin' down de steps. Is he in de bank?"

"Oh, that's Mr. Vanderhoof," replied d.i.c.k, recognizing the mining promoter.

"Mr. who?" asked Tim.

"Vanderhoof. Why, do you know him?"

"Not by dat name. But say, if he's got anyt'ing to do wit de bank it'll soon be on de blink."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean put out of business. On de blink, excuse my slang. But youse had better tell your governor to keep his peepers open."

"Why?" inquired d.i.c.k, a vague suspicion coming into his mind.

"Because," replied Tim, earnestly. "Dat man's name ain't Vanderhoof any more dan mine is."

"Who is he?"

"Why, he's William Jackson, or Bond Broker Bill. I seen him in de police court in N' York. I sells papers, an' I knows lots of de cops an'

detectives. I saw 'em arrest dat man once, only he had a white beard an'

moustache den. Now he's shaved off de whiskers an' colored his moustache, but I knowed him de minute I set me peepers on him. I seen his mug in de papers lots of times. Youse wants to be on lookout fer him or he'll put de bank on de blink. He's a gold-brick swindler, an' I guess up to any other woozy game he can make pay!"

"Bond Broker Bill! William Jackson! Colonel Dendon!" murmured d.i.c.k, in a daze. "No wonder I thought I had seen Mr. Vanderhoof before. It was in the New York hotel, where he tried to swindle me! And he sold dad and me some gold mining stock! I must tell dad right away!"

d.i.c.k looked after the retreating form of Mr. Vanderhoof. Then turning to Tim, who had made the startling disclosure, he said:

"Wait here for me! I must see my father at once," and getting out of the auto he hurried into the bank.

CHAPTER XXI

IN WHICH MR. VANDERHOOF VANISHES

d.i.c.k found his father busy, looking over some books and papers. He waited until the millionaire had finished and looked up, remarking:

"Well, d.i.c.k, what is it now? Some more of the fresh-air kids outside?"

"Yes, dad, but I've got something more important to tell you than about them. Was Mr. Vanderhoof just in here?"

"He was, and I took some more stock in the Hop Toad Mine. I had an additional report from the government a.s.sayer at Yazoo City, and the ore is richer than ever."

"You bought more stock, dad?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because that man is a swindler! I just learned of it! His name is not Vanderhoof at all. He's the same man who tried to swindle me in New York. He goes by the name of Colonel Dendon. I thought there was something familiar about him the first day I saw him in here, but I couldn't place him on account of his dyed moustache. He's a swindler!"

"Who told you so?"

"Tim Muldoon, one of the fresh-air children. He saw him under arrest in New York. Probably he got out on bail. Oh, dad, I'm afraid we've both been swindled!"

"Well, don't get excited," counseled Mr. Hamilton, who was used to facing business troubles. "He may be a swindler, but I think our mining stock is good. The reports of it are all from reliable men. But I'll make an investigation at once."