asked Dick, somewhat surprised at the sudden turn
of events.

"There! there!" spoke the manager, soothingly. "It's all right. Don't
get excited. You're with friends."

"Don't you want this check?" asked Dick. "I'm in earnest. I want your
circus to come to Hamilton Corners."

"Yes, yes, of course, my dear boy. We'll come. I'll let you ride on one
of the elephants. You can feed the monkeys, and tickle the hippopotamus,
if you like. Poor boy," in lower tones, "so young, too."

"Say," demanded Dick, standing up, "do you think I'm crazy?"

"There! there!" repeated the manager, in that soothing tone he had
suddenly adopted. "Please don't get excited. It's the worst thing in the
world for you."

Dick glanced up at the man in uniform. Then a smile came over his face
that had assumed a rather angry look.

"Why, Marshall Hinckly!" he exclaimed. "How did you come to be here?"

"Dick Hamilton!" exclaimed the officer in surprise, "I didn't know you
at first. You see the authorities in Parkertown, being a little
short-handed, asked me to help out on circus day, and so I came over
from Hamilton Corners. But what in the name of green turtles is the
trouble here?"

"I don't know," replied the millionaire's son. "I merely offered to
guarantee this manager a thousand dollars if he would bring his circus
to Hamilton Corners, and he acts as though he thought I was crazy."

"And isn't he?" burst out the manager, less frightened, now that an
officer of the law was present. "Isn't he, Mr. Policeman? The idea of a
boy like him offering to make out a check for a thousand dollars to
have a circus come to town! In the first place, I don't believe he has
the money; and in the second, what does he want to hire a circus for?
Say, honest, hasn't he got away from some asylum?"

"Dick Hamilton broke out of an asylum!" exclaimed the marshall. "Well, I
rather guess not! As for him not having the money, you're wrong there.
Why, that's Mortimer Hamilton's son," and he showed his pride at being
acquainted with Dick.

"Mortimer Hamilton, president of the Hamilton National Bank?" asked the
manager, incredulously.

"That's him," replied the marshall.

"Say!" exclaimed the manager rather faintly, sitting limply down in a
chair. "Give me a glass of water, will you, please. Mortimer Hamilton,
the multi-millionaire! And I thought his son didn't have a thousand
dollars! Excuse me, Mr. Hamilton," he said, heartily, as he held out his
hand to Dick.