"The Army is fond of the Navy, of course," the lad added by way of explanation. "Yet, to a soldier, the Army is the whole thing."

"Oh, I see," smiled Captain Tom, though in truth he didn't "see" in the least.

"Yes, Ted's to be a soldier. He's doomed-or destined-to that career,"

nodded Mr. Dunstan good-humoredly. "There's a whole long story to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawson shall hear the story later. But for now we'd better get up to the house."

Master Ted evidently took this as a hint that the subject was to be pursued no further for the present, for he merely said in a very gracious way:

"Of course, I shall see you again. So now I'll take myself off-with Sheridan."

Resting his left hand through the bridle and gripping the pony's mane, Master Ted used his right hand to strike the pony a smart blow over the rump. As the pony bounded forward the lad made a flying leap into the saddle. It was such a flying start as almost to startle Tom and Joe.

"He rides like a cowboy," declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster out of sight.

"He has need to, I fancy," replied Mr. Dunstan gravely. "That is, since he's going into the Army, for Ted wouldn't be satisfied with being anything less than a cavalryman."

As Mr. Dunstan's last words or the tone in which they were uttered seemed to dismiss the subject, Halstead and his chum knew that they were not to be further enlightened for the present. They followed their employer up to the house.

He took them into a roomy, old-fashioned looking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusing himself, left them. He soon returned to say:

"The family are now at luncheon, all except Master Ted, so I have given instructions to have luncheon served to us in here presently."

In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstan and the boys. It tasted rarely good after their hasty s.n.a.t.c.hes of food aboard the boat. When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair on the porch, lighted a cigar and said:

"I'm going to take it easy for a while. Would you like to look about the grounds?"

Tom and his chum strolled about. They found it a delightful country place, covering some forty acres. There was a large stable, a carriage house and a garage which contained a big touring car. There were greenhouses, a poultry place and a small power house that supplied electric light to the buildings and grounds.

"It looks like the place of a man who has enough money, but who doesn't care about making a big splurge," commented Joe.

"It also looks like the place of an easy-going man," replied Halstead.

"I wonder how a man like Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boat craze?"

"Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on this beautiful old island, and merely keeps the boat as a means of reaching business," suggested Dawson.

After an hour or more they returned to the house to find Mr. Dunstan placidly asleep in the same porch chair. So the boys helped themselves to seats, kept quiet and waited. They were still in doubt as to whether their employer wanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirs was a long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and looked at the boys.

"Becoming bored?" he smiled.

"Oh, no," Tom a.s.sured him, "but I've had hard work to keep from falling sound asleep."

"Have you seen Master Ted lately?"

"Not since we first met him down by the pier."

"That's a youngster with quite a picturesque future ahead of him, I imagine," continued Mr. Dunstan. "I call him the luckiest boy alive.

Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going to be a very rich man if he follows a certain career."

"It must be an Army career, then," hinted Halstead.

"It is, just that. And I suppose I might as well tell you the story, if it would interest you any. A lot of people know the story now, so there's no harm in repeating it."

Their host paused to light a cigar before he resumed:

"Ours used to be a good deal of a military family. In fact, every generation supplied two or three good soldiers. There were five Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of the Revolution. There were four in the War of 1812, two in the War with Mexico and two in the Civil War. We gradually fell off a bit, you see, in the numbers we supplied to the Army. The two who served in the Civil War were uncles of mine. My father didn't go-wasn't physically fit. There were three of us brothers, Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were older than I. Aaron would have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that he couldn't wear the uniform almost broke his heart. Yet Aaron had one fine talent. He knew how to make money almost without trying. In fact, he died a very rich man.

"Greg, on the other hand, was what I expect you would call the black sheep of the family. He went to Honduras years ago. He's a planter, doing fairly well there, I suppose. He's pretty wild, just as he used to be. He's always getting mixed up in the many revolutions that they have down in that little republic of Honduras. One of these days I'm afraid he'll be shot by a file of government soldiers for being mixed up in some new revolutionary plot.

"My brother Aaron never married. Greg has two daughters, but no sons.

Ted is my only son and Aaron just worshiped the lad as the last of the race. Aaron wanted Ted to become a soldier and keep the family in the Army. The youngster was willing enough, but I didn't wholly fancy it.

However, my brother Aaron died a little while ago and I found he had fixed the matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier."

"How could your brother do that?" asked Tom.

"Why, you see, under the will, brother Greg is let off with one hundred thousand dollars and I get the same. But there's a proviso in the will that if, within ninety days from Aaron's death, Ted appears in probate court with me or other guardian, and there both Ted and myself promise that he shall be reared for the United States Army, then half a million dollars is to be paid over to myself or other guardian, in trust for the boy. The income from that half million is to be used to rear and educate him. But Ted, as a part of his promise, must make every effort to get himself appointed a cadet at West Point."

"Some other boy might get the cadetship away from him," suggested Joe Dawson.

"In case Ted simply can't win a West Point cadetship," replied Mr.

Dunstan, "then, at the age of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him to enlist in the Army as a private soldier and do all in his power to win an officer's commission from the ranks."

"Even then, there's a chance to fail," hinted Tom.

"If the lad fails absolutely to get a commission in the Army," responded Mr. Dunstan, "he will lose a lot of money-that's all. There is another fund, amounting to two and a half million dollars, that is to be kept at interest until the young man is thirty. By that time the money, through compound interest, will be much more than doubled. On Ted's thirtieth birthday all that huge sum of money is to be turned over to him if he has won, somehow, a commission as an officer of the Army. If he has tried, but failed, then the money is to be devoted to various public purposes.

"But if Ted fails to go into probate court on time, with myself or other guardian, and have the promise made a matter of record, then he loses everything. In that case I get the same hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only a hundred thousand is to get a cool million dollars."

"Isn't your brother Gregory likely to contest such a will?" asked Tom thoughtfully.

"The will provides that, if he does contest, he shall lose even his hundred thousand dollars," Mr. Dunstan replied. "I have had great lawyers go all over the will, but they can't find a single flaw through which it can be broken. You see, the will is right in line with what lawyers call 'public policy.' It's altogether to the public interest to have the boys of our best old families, as of the best new ones, brought up with the idea that, they're to give their lives to the service of their country. So the will is bound to stand against any contest, and if Greg or myself tried to break it we'd only cheat ourselves out of goodly sums of money."

"Then Master Ted, of course," pursued Tom, "has been or is going before the probate court to have the promise recorded."

"To-day is Tuesday," answered Mr. Dunstan. "The ninety days are up next Monday. On that day there will be a short session of probate court and Ted and I are going to be on hand."

"Is this the first time probate court has been in session since the will was read, sir?" asked Halstead.

"Oh, no," replied their employer in his most easy-going tone. "But there was no hurry and I wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time to consider the matter. Next Monday, being within the required ninety days, will do as well as any other time."

"Well, of all the easy-going men!" gasped Tom inwardly. "To think, with such a big fortune at stake, of dilly-dallying until the very last day of all!"

"So, you see, Ted really _is_ a very lucky boy," finished Mr. Dunstan.

"I should say he is!" breathed Halstead, his face flushing at the thought. _He_ would have been happy over a West Point cadetship without any enormous reward.

"The luckiest boy I ever heard of!" vented Joe, his nerves a-thrill over this story of one of Fortune's greatest favorites. "No wonder your son, sir, is so eager about being a soldier."

"Is your brother Gregory in this country now?" asked Tom slowly.