big barn. Dick took them for automobile rides in relays, bringing
several over to Hamilton Corners to see his father, who further
delighted the childish hearts by gifts of dimes and nickels. On one of
these trips the millionaire's son brought Tim Muldoon, the boy who had
commented on Dick's riches that day the two met.

"An' does your governor own dat bank?" Tim asked, as Dick stopped the
runabout in front of the institution.

"Well, most of it, I guess."

"An' can he go in dere an' git money whenever he wants it?"

"Yes, I guess he can."

"Say!" exclaimed Tim, as he looked weakly at Dick, "an youse is his
son?"

"Yes."

"An' youse is takin' me an' dese (indicating some of the other
youngsters) out fer a ride in dis gasolene gig? Us what ain't got a
cent?"

"Yes; why not?" asked Dick, with a smile.

"Well, all I've got t' say is dat dis is as near bein' rich as I ever
expects t' be, an' say, it's dead white of youse; dat's what it is. Why,
dem rich guys in N' York would no more t'ink of treatin' us dis way dan
dey would jump off de dock. Dat's straight!"

"Oh, I guess they would if they thought about it, but they probably
don't know how many boys and girls would like to get out and see the
country," said Dick, not wanting to take too much credit to himself.

"Like pie!" was Tim's contemptuous rejoinder. Then, as he was gazing
rapturously at the entrance to the bank, he suddenly started as he saw a
man coming down the steps.

"Say," he whispered to Dick, grabbing his arm, "is dat guy in your
governor's bank?"

"Which man? What do you mean?"

"I mean dat one wid de black moustache, jest comin' down de steps. Is he
in de bank?"

"Oh, that's Mr. Vanderhoof," replied Dick, recognizing the mining
promoter.

"Mr. who?" asked Tim.

"Vanderhoof. Why, do you know him?"

"Not by dat name. But say, if he's got anyt'ing to do wit de bank it'll
soon be on de blink."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean put out of business. On de blink, excuse my slang. But youse had
better tell your governor to keep his peepers open."

"Why?" inquired Dick, a vague suspicion coming into his mind.

"Because," replied Tim, earnestly. "Dat man's name ain't Vanderhoof any
more dan mine is."

"Who is he?"

"Why, he's William Jackson, or Bond Broker Bill. I seen him in de police
court in N' York. I sells papers, an' I knows lots of de cops an'
detectives. I saw 'em arrest dat man once, only he had a white beard an'
moustache d