my sleeve which I think will work." His eyes sparkled, and it was evident that he had just thought of some scheme. "That ought to do it," he said, speaking half aloud. "If I can't win any other way, I'll try that."

"Well, Dick," remarked his father, the next morning, "I suppose you are all ready to go to Kentfield?"

"Yes. I've got everything packed. What will be your address on the other side?"

"Oh, yes, I must leave you that. Here it is. You can forward me letters in care of my London bankers, and they will see that I get them. I may have to put in some time on the continent. By the way, Dick, I hear that Captain Handlee called to see you last night."

"Yes, he wants me to help him locate his missing son," and Dick told his father of the interview with the old soldier.

"Poor man," remarked Mr. Hamilton, shaking his head, "I fear there is little hope for him. I once aided him in making some inquiries, but they came to nothing."

"Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes, I have often aided him, and I would do more for him, but he is too proud to accept charity. He is rather odd at times, and does not remain at any employment long, or I could give him a good place. His whole mind is set on finding his son. If the missing corporal could be located it would be the making of Captain Handlee, for he would settle down then."

"I don't suppose I can help him."

"No, I'm afraid not. Still, do all you can. It is barely possible that Major Webster, or some of the officers who are stationed at Kentfield, may be able to put you on the track, but I doubt it. Well, I think I'll have to go down to the bank now. I'll see you to-night, and say good-bye in the morning."

Not long after Mr. Hamilton had left, and while Dick was in his room, packing some of his belongings, a maid who was new in the house came to inform him that a visitor was in the library.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's someone, Master Dick, who your dog doesn't like, for he's growling something fierce."

"I'll come down," said the young millionaire, and he hurried to the library. As he entered a tall, thin man, with a curious little bunch of whiskers on his chin, arose.

"Well, I must say, Nephew Richard," he began, in a rasping voice, "that this is a nice reception for me. Your horrible beast nearly bit me. The house is no place for dogs."

"I'm sorry that Grit annoyed you, Uncle Ezra," said Dick as he recognized the miserly man whom he had once visited.

"Hum!" grunted the old man. "If I hadn't stood on a chair he would have bit me, and then I'd get hydrophobia, and die. Your father would have had to pay damages, too."

"I'm glad no such thing as that happened, Uncle Ezra."

"Hum! Where's your father?"

"Down to the bank. I can telephone, and let him know that you are here."

"It isn't necessary. No need of wearing out the wires that way. I can wait. I hear he has some foolish notion of sending you to a military school."

"I am going to a military academy, Uncle Ezra, in accordance with my mother's wishes."

"Stuff and nonsense! A wicked waste of money! The ordinary schools were good enough for me, and they ought to be good enough for you. It's a sinful waste of money. Mortimer Hamilton ought to be ashamed of himself. The money ought to go to the heathen. It's foolish."

"My father doesn't think so," replied Dick as quietly as he could, though he was fast becoming angry at the dictatorial tone of his crabbed uncle.

"Hum! Much he knows about it! The idea of putting such ideas into boys' heads as fighting and killing. Hu!"

"But it might be useful in case of war."

"Stuff and nonsense! It's positively wicked, I tell you. I've come to remonstrate with Mortimer about it. If he has to go to Europe, which is another waste of money, he could leave you with me. I'd bring you up in the way you should go. There's no nonsense about me, nor my wife, either. If your father consents to having you come to my place, you'll learn more than you would at any military academy. Stuff and nonsense! Don't talk to me! I know!"

Dick could not repress a shudder as he thought of his uncle's gloomy home in Dankville, a house amid a clump of fir trees, so dark, so quiet and so lonesome that it reminded him of a vault in the cemetery.

"I think my father has made up his mind to send me to the military academy," said the boy.

"Well, perhaps I can make him change his mind. He doesn't know what's good for boys."

How Uncle Ezra Larabee could understand what lads needed, never having had any sons of his own, was more than Dick could fathom, but he said nothing.

"I'll wait and see your father," went on the crabbed man.

"I can get my automobile and take you to the bank," suggested Dick.

"No, you might burst a tire, and that would cost something to fix."

Dick could hardly repress a smile at the idea of a possible injured tire standing in the way of an auto ride.

"What's that girl walking back and forth so much for in the next room?" asked Uncle Ezra suddenly.

"That's the maid, clearing away the breakfast things."

"Hum! She'll wear the carpet out," commented the old man. "I must speak to Mortimer about it. I think I'll caution her now."

He rose, to do this, but accidentally stepped on one of Grit's legs, as the animal was reposing under a chair, where Dick had sent him to get him out of the way. The dog let out a howl, and then a savage growl, and made for the man he felt had purposely injured him.

"Hold him! Catch him!" cried Uncle Ezra, as he sprang away. "Hold him, Nephew Richard!"

"Grit!" called Dick. "Come here!"

But the dog refused to mind. Growling and snarling, he ran after Uncle Ezra. The latter did not stop to speak to the maid about wearing out the carpet. Instead he kept on to the front hall, and to the entrance door, which was, fortunately, open. Down the steps, three at a time, jumped Mr. Larabee, the dog close behind him.

But, by this time Dick had caught up to his pet, and grasped him by the collar.

"Grit! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" he asked, but he could hardly keep from smiling, while, as for Grit, he nearly wagged off his stump of a tail, so glad was he at having routed Uncle Ezra.

"I'll go down and see your father at the bank!" cried the excited man, turning when he was safely on the sidewalk. "The idea of having a savage beast like that in the house. I'll see Mortimer and make him change his plans. And I tell you one thing, Nephew Richard, if you come to live with me you'll have to get rid of that bulldog," and, angrily shaking his head, Uncle Ezra tramped down the street, walking slowly to save shoe leather, though he was a very rich man.

"I hope dad doesn't allow himself to be influenced by Uncle Ezra," thought Dick, as he went back into the house with the dog. "We never could stand it at Dankville; could we, Grit?" And the animal whined as if he understood.

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH DICK STARTS OFF

Mr. Hamilton came home early that afternoon, bringing Mr. Larabee, his brother-in-law, with him. Dick was anxiously awaiting their arrival.

"Is that fierce beast in the house?" demanded the boy's uncle, as he stood on the front steps. "If he is I'll not come in."

"I've sent him to the stable, uncle," replied the young millionaire.

"That's the proper place for him. Dogs