ing billiards with
you in there, I couldn't do it this afternoon, for I promised my father
I'd be home early. He has an appointment with me--a very important
one--and I'm in a hurry to keep it."

"Didn't look so, by the way you were walking along the street a moment
ago," sneered Simon.

"I was just looking at some new fishing tackle in White's window,"
answered Dick. "I have my horse tied in front of the post-office, and I
guess you know he goes fast enough to take me home in a hurry. Now I
think I'll say ta-ta, and get along. Try to work some one else into your
billiard game," and, with a nod that had in it not the least sign of
displeasure, in spite of his firm words, Dick turned and walked off.

"Well, if he ain't the limit!" ejaculated Guy. "He makes me tired. Come
on in, I'll play you a game; but not for ten dollars. Dad growled the
other day because I asked him for money, and I've got to go slow."

"I wish I'd taken him at his word and borrowed about twenty-five dollars
from him," remarked Simon, as he followed Guy into the billiard-room.

Meanwhile Dick had reached the post-office, where his horse, a handsome
bay of fine spirit, but gentle disposition, was waiting him. The animal
whinnied with pleasure as the lad came up, and when he patted the black
muzzle, the horse showed every evidence of delight.

"I wonder if they think I can't get home in a hurry on you, Rex?" asked
Dick, as he loosened the strap and vaulted into the saddle. "Come on,
now, show 'em how you can go!"

The splendid animal was off like a shot, many persons in the street
turning to look at the pleasing picture the well-built youth made on his
handsome steed. Past the billiard parlor Dick rode at a fast pace, and
several youths inside hurried to the door.

"There he goes," remarked Simon, with a sneer. "I'd like to take some of
the starch out of him."

"Who?" inquired another player, chalking his cue.

"Dick Hamilton."

"He hasn't any starch in him," was the answer. "He's one of the best
fellows in the world. One of the very few who has not been spoiled by
their father's wealth. You don't know Dick Hamilton, or you wouldn't say
he's stiff or proud."

"We don't want to know him," put in Guy.

"Well, I'd be proud to," went on the player at the next table. "He isn't
in my class, or, rather, I'm not in his, but he always bows pleasantly
and speaks to me every time we meet. He's a real sport, he is. None of
your tin-horn variety."