hile ago as the man was
bringing in a roast chicken."

After supper there were more games, and the fun increased as the hours
passed. Dick was congratulated on every side, not only for the success
of his party, but on his speedy recovery from the boat accident.

As the millionaire's son was crossing the tent, with Grit following at
his heels, he met Guy and Simon, who had been together all the evening,
and who had not mingled much with the other guests.

"Hello, Grit, old boy!" exclaimed Simon, but the dog must have detected
the insincerity in the youth's tones, for he uttered a low growl and
showed his strong teeth.

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you," sneered Simon.

"No, I don't think it would be exactly healthy," remarked Dick.

"Is he a very valuable dog?" Simon went on, paying no further attention
to Grit.

"Well, he's rated at a thousand dollars in the records of the Kennel
Club," answered Dick. "I don't know that any dog is worth so much from a
financial standpoint, but I know I wouldn't sell him for that; would I,
Grit?" and the bulldog almost wagged his stump of a tail off in delight
at Dick's caressing words.

"Humph! I'd look at a thousand dollars a good while before I'd give it
for a dog," cried Simon.

"You don't know Grit," was Dick's quiet answer, as he turned away.

"Come on, Guy," said Simon, a little later. "I'm going to clear out of
here."

"What for? Let's have some more ice-cream. It's bully."

"No," replied Simon, shortly. "I've got a scheme on for making some
money out of Dick, and taking him down a peg. I owe him something for
spoiling that bond sale."

"But he didn't spoil it," replied Guy, who, in spite of certain mean
traits of character, was inclined to be fair. "Besides, you wouldn't
have sold Dick worthless bonds, would you?"

"How was I to know they were worthless?" asked Simon, with a short
laugh. "He has to take chances in this world. But this time there'll be
no slip-up. Come on, I've got to see a man to-night."

As the two walked from the tent, where the merry-making was still going
on, Guy saw something dangling from Simon's pocket. It looked like a
small black snake.

"What's that?" he asked, in some alarm.

"Hush!" whispered Simon. "That's the leash thong of Dick Hamilton's
bulldog. Come along!"

CHAPTER XVI

DICK TURNS DETECTIVE

"Well, Dick," remarked Mr. Hamilton at breakfast the next morning, "your
party was a great success."

"I hope they all