Part 5 (2/2)

”Do you know, dad looked worried when he went away,” put in Sam.

”I noticed it, Sam. Did he say anything to you about business?”

”Not a word. Why, do you think it's that?”

”There is some trouble out west--has been ever since there was a strike at that Golden Horseshoe mine in which dad invested so heavily last summer. They had a strike, and now one crowd is trying to get the control from another crowd. I don't know the particulars, but I guess dad is worried.”

”d.i.c.k, don't you think you ought to help him in these affairs?” came suddenly from Sam. ”Uncle Randolph is too absorbed in his books and in scientific farming to pay any attention, and--well, dad isn't as young as he used to be--and we are growing older.”

”I've been thinking of that, Sam. I wish I was through college, I'd jump right into the game and try to take the load from his shoulders.”

”Are you going to take the full course?”

”No, I talked it over with dad last week and I'm going to take the shorter course. He said you two could take the long course if you wanted to.”

”Not much! The short course for yours truly!” cried Tom.

”Ditto here!” came from Sam.

”I want to settle down and get into business,” went on Tom.

”He thinks Nellie won't wait much longer,” remarked Sam, with a wink at d.i.c.k.

”Huh! I guess, you think Grace won't wait!” snorted Tom. ”Didn't I see you looking over that furniture and picture catalogue the other day? Ha!

I caught you, Sammy, my boy!”

”Rats!” cried Sam, growing suddenly red in the face. ”I was thinking of buying a new chair and maybe a picture or two for our quarters at Brill.

The old ones are pretty punk, if you'll remember. Besides, we've got to wait until d.i.c.k and Dora step off, you know,” went on the youngest Rover.

”That's so--so we have,” added Tom, with more of a grin than ever. ”By the way, d.i.c.k, how much longer are you going to linger before you sc.r.a.pe up money enough to pay the minister's fee?”

”Just long enough to hammer some common-sense into the heads of two brothers of mine!” cried d.i.c.k, and threw a book at Tom and a pillow at Sam. ”Now go to bed and don't forget to wake up early, for we want to be in Rayville by eight o'clock, so we can have all day, if necessary, to locate the biplane.” And then he chased Tom and Sam out of the bedroom and locked the door on them.

Left to himself, d.i.c.k walked slowly across the room to where the bureau stood. On the top was a small, framed picture of Dora Stanhope, that had been taken only a few months before. d.i.c.k could not help but take up the portrait and gaze at it long and earnestly.

”Dear, dear Dora!” he murmured fondly. ”The best girl in all this wide world! Some day you are going to be Mrs. d.i.c.k Rover, and that day can't come any too soon for me. Oh, I hope those rascals don't do anything more to harm you!”

d.i.c.k was still holding the picture when there came a soft knock on the door.

”Who is it? What do you want?” he asked, as he put the picture down.

”d.i.c.k, my child,” came in a whisper from the fun-loving Tom. ”Be careful and don't kiss all the glaze off that photo. She's a sweet girl, warranted all silk and a yard wide, but the glaze may be poisonous, and----”

”Tom, if you don't get to bed I'll--I'll throw a pitcher of water over you!” cried d.i.c.k, and started to unlock the door. With a merry laugh Tom ran off; and that was the last seen or heard of him that night.

Before retiring d.i.c.k gave his wounded head another application of liniment, and in the morning he was gratified to find that much of the soreness was gone. The cuts, of course, remained, and he bound these up with extra strips of adhesive plaster. The three lads had an early breakfast, and by half-past seven o'clock were in the touring car, bound for Rayville.

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