"I'll get something," he replied, bravely. "And remember, I have a thousand dollars in cash in the bank."

"A thousand dollars won't last long, Philip, after once you begin to use it up."

"That is true."

"Have you anything definite in view?"

"Not exactly. I am going to write to my friend Mason, in Albany. He may be able to get me something to do at the iron works there. He is in charge."

"Well, I hope it is better than the place Amos Bangs offered you."

"There is only one trouble," went on Mr. Bartlett. "If I get work at Albany we will have to move to that city."

"Well, we can do that."

"Yes, but I hate to go away from Riverport. I wanted to watch Bangs."

"You might go to Albany every Monday and come home Sat.u.r.day night, at least for a time."

"Yes, I might do that," answered Philip Bartlett.

On the following morning he went down to the iron works as usual. As early as it was he found Amos Bangs ahead of him, and sorting out some papers at one of the desks.

"Morning," said Amos Bangs, curtly.

"Good-morning," answered Mr. Bartlett. "Mr. Bangs, what are you doing at this desk?"

"Sorting out things."

"Do you not know that this is my private desk?"

"Is it? I thought it belonged to the iron company," answered Amos Bangs with a sneer.

"The desk does belong to the company, but at present it contains my private papers as well as some papers of the company."

"Well, it is going to be my desk after this, I'll thank you to take your personal things away."

"You seem to be in a hurry to get me out."

"I want to get to work here. Things have dragged long enough. I am going to make them hum."

"I am glad to hear it," answered Philip Bartlett, pointedly. "I presume we can look for big dividends on our stock next year."

"Well--er--I don't know about that. We have got to make improvements and they will cost money."

"You didn't want any improvements when I was in charge."

"That was a different thing. The old concern was a small-fry affair. We are going to make the new concern something worth while," answered Amos Bangs, loftily.

"I hope you do--for my sake as well as for the sake of the other stockholders. But what salaries are the new officers to have?"

"That is to be decided later."

"I trust all the profits are not eaten up by the salaries."

"You cannot expect talented men--like myself, for instance--to work for low salaries."

"You used to be willing to work for fifty dollars a week."

"Those days are past. But I cannot waste time talking now. Clean out the desk and turn it over to me," concluded Amos Bangs, and walked away.

With a heavy heart Philip Bartlett set about the task before him. He was much attached to the iron works and hated to leave it. Presently his brow grew troubled.

"Mr. Bangs!" he called.

"What do you want now?"

"Did you see anything of some papers with a broad rubber band around them?"

"Didn't see anything but what is there."

"I had some private papers. They seem to be gone."

"I didn't take them," answered Amos Bangs, coldly.

"It is queer where they can be," went on Philip Bartlett.

"Well, I haven't got them."

Philip Bartlett hunted high and low for the missing doc.u.ments, but without success. Then he cleaned out the desk, put his personal things in a package, said good-by to his former employees, and quit the office.

"I am well rid of him," said Amos Bangs, to himself. "And I am glad I got hold of those private contracts. Now I can make a deal with Shaster and turn the work over to the Springfield concern--and make some money!"

CHAPTER VII

MORE TROUBLES FOR RANDY

Two days pa.s.sed quietly, and Randy did not see or hear anything more of Bob Bangs. Then he learned through Jack that Mrs. Bangs had gone off on a summer trip, taking her son with her.

"I hear there are great changes at the iron works," said Randy, to his friend. "Mr. Bangs, they say, is in charge."

"He is, and father is out of it," answered Jack, bitterly. "That is what Mrs. Bangs meant when she said I must be bitter against the family."

"Is your father out of it entirely, Jack?"