CHAPTER XII UNCLE EZRA PLOTS
"What's our time-table, Dick?" asked Paul, as they swung out of Hamilton Corners into the less-populated country.
"We haven't any. That is, we're not going to try to make any special time, as long as we get to 'Frisco by September first," for Dick had told his chums of the endeavor he was going to make to save Mr. Wardell's fortune.
"What's our programme, then?" Innis Beeby wanted to know. "Are we going to run along, hit or miss, or have we some definite plan?"
"I thought I gave you our route."
"Well, old man, we went over it so often, and made so many changes, that I don't know now whether we're going by way of New Orleans or Alaska."
"More like Alaska this time of year!" exclaimed Paul. "Shall I start the electric fan, Dick?"
"Yes, do. There isn't much breeze to-day," and soon a big electric fan near the roof of the touring car was stirring the air, making the three travelers more comfortable.
"This is the schedule the way I have worked it out," went on Dick, as he steered out to avoid a load of hay being driven along the country road. "We'll go to Buffalo, and from there on to Cleveland. Next, in the order as they come, will be Chicago, Des Moines, Omaha, Denver, Leadville, Salt Lake City, Carson City, Sacramento, and then 'Frisco."
"All good places to visit," observed Innis, reflectively.
"Well, we may not strike all of them," Dick went on. "If we have to change our route because of bad roads, or from other causes, we may cut out the big cities, and just go somewhere near them. But that route will give us plenty of travel."
"I should say so!" agreed Paul. "Nearly four thousand miles, I guess. Well, your car looks good for it, Dick!"
And indeed the Last Word appeared able to navigate to the Arctic regions if called on to do so.
"Are we going to put up at a hotel for lunch?" asked Innis, when they had gone on several miles farther. "That isn't a hint that I'm hungry!" he hastened to add, "but I was just wondering, Dick."
"I think we'll try camping out a bit," said that young man. "We might as well get used to it, and the weather is good now."
"That's right," agreed Paul.
"I have some grub stowed away in back," Dick resumed. "We will stop at some butcher shop and grocery in the next town, get some steak and bacon, and cook it on our electric stove. Then we can eat it alongside the road. There will be plenty of chances to go to hotels later."
The boys laughed and joked, thoroughly enjoying themselves in the big touring car. It rode easily, even over rough roads, and it was roomy enough so that they could move about in it, not having to stay cramped up in one seat. Paul and Innis took turns at driving, as Dick wanted them to become familiar with the mechanism.
* * * * *
But perhaps if Dick and his chums could have been made aware of a little scene that had taken place in the office of a certain lawyer in Dankville that morning they would not have felt so care-free and light-hearted. About the time Dick started off on his tour a crabbed old man might have been seen going into this law office, on the door of which was the name:
Harrison Black.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Larabee!" the lawyer greeted his visitor. "Come right in," and the two were closeted together for some time. When they came out, Mr. Black said:
"Now don't you have a bit of worry, Mr. Larabee. I'll attend to the matter for you, and this young man will never see his money again."
"He don't deserve to, anyhow. Folks that is as careless as he was, don't deserve no pity."
"That's right, so they don't, Mr. Larabee. Ha! ha! You have exactly the right idea."
"And now about this foolish young nephew of mine," went on Mr. Larabee. "I didn't hear all he and his father talked about that night when I came down on 'em unexpected-like, but I'm sure my nephew has some crazy notion about helping this Wardell. It mustn't be allowed—he must be stopped!" and Uncle Ezra clenched his fist and struck a desk a smart blow.
"I agree with you, Mr. Larabee. He must be stopped. But does he know of this time limit?"
"He might. I wouldn't take any chances. He's fooled me more than once. Don't take any chances, Black."
"I won't. If he has any papers to file inside the time limit, he won't be allowed to do so. We'll take some means to stop him. Wait, I'll call one of my men who—er—who attends to all these little matters for me. Jake, here, I want you!"
From an outer room came a man with a hard face, and a jaw like that of a prize fighter. He had little, shifty eyes that seemed never to look one in the face.
"Jake this is Mr. Larabee," went on Mr. Black. "This is Jake Morton," to Uncle Ezra. "He'll see that your foolish nephew doesn't do anything rash."
"That's what I want."
"It—er—it may cost something, Mr. Larabee."
"Cost something?" and Uncle Ezra clapped his hand on his pocket. "Not much, I hope!"
"Well, of course your nephew has started off in an auto, I believe you mentioned that."
"Yes, in a great big touring car like a steam coach—him and two other spendthrifts. Oh, the money they waste!" and Uncle Ezra shook his head.
"Well, if they're in an auto, I presume they'll have to be followed in an auto," went on Mr. Black, "and auto hire costs money."
"Couldn't—couldn't they be followed on a bicycle?" asked the crabbed old man. "I wouldn't mind buying a second-hand bicycle for your man, and he could follow them on that. Bicycle riding is healthy."
"Say, if you expect me to trail along after a touring car on a bicycle—and a second-hand one at that—you can get some one else to do this job!" exclaimed Jake Morton. "I'm done! What! Maybe chase half way to San Francisco on an old wheel? I guess not."
"Wa'al, maybe I could stand a new one," whined Uncle Ezra.
"No, nor a new one, either. It's a touring car for me, or nothing!"
"Oh, the sinful waste of money!" exclaimed Mr. Larabee. "The awful waste!"
"You'd much better spend a few dollars to hire a touring car for my clerk than to lose all this money," said Mr. Black. "And, mind you, if your nephew files that paper it may result in a lawsuit, which would be very expensive, and, at the same time might go against you."
"Well, then, if you think it wise, perhaps I'd better. I don't want to lose this money I've worked so hard for."
A smile of something like contempt curled the lip of Mr. Black. He knew just how hard Mr. Larabee had "worked" for his money, for many a mortgage he had foreclosed for him, and many a transaction he had consummated—transactions that never got into the law courts.
"Then if you don't want to run any chances, you'd better do as I say," went on the lawyer. "My man will look after matters. You say your nephew and his chums have gone off on a tour. Do you know the route they are going to take?"
"Not exactly, for, though I looked and listened the young spendthrifts changed their plans so often I wasn't able to keep track of them. But they are going to the main cities. Why, would you believe it, they'd think nothing of going hundreds of extra miles, just to get to some place to see the sights! And gasoline is gettin' more and more expensive every day, to say nothin' of tires. Oh, the waste of it!"
"Well, I suppose your nephew is well off?"
"Yes; too much so for his own good!" snapped Uncle Ezra. "If I had the handlin' of his wealth, there'd be a different story to tell."
"I can well believe that," remarked the lawyer, drily. "Now to get down to business. Pay attention, Jake Morton. You will have to follow this party of young fellows in the big touring car as best you can, since Mr. Larabee doesn't know the exact route they will take."
"No, I couldn't find out," mumbled Uncle Ezra, "though I heard something of Buffalo, Cleveland, and so on."
"I guess I can get on their trail, all right," said the lawyer's henchman. "If it's a big touring car, as you describe, it ought to be pretty conspicuous. Folks will notice it and I can make inquiries as I go along."
"Yes, but keep your wits about you. Don't let them suspect, for they are sharp lads, I take it."
"Oh, I'll play foxy, all right. I'll hang back for a few days and watch my chance."
"But don't delay too long," cautioned Uncle Ezra. "Automobile hire is expensive, and I'm not as rich as Mortimer Hamilton. Don't go wastin' my money."
"Well, I'm not going to starve on the trip," laughed the man. "I've got to live decently if I'm to pose as a touring autoist."
"Oh, dear!" groaned Uncle Ezra. "This is going to cost a pile of money—a dreadful pile!"
"But you're going to make a lot out of it!" insisted the shyster lawyer.
"Maybe—maybe," assented the old man. "And say," he went on to Morton, "you'll get that paper away from him. I know he has some sort of a paper to file, to cheat me out of my hard-earned money. I was sharp enough to find that out, though he and his father think they fooled me. But I was too much for 'em—I was so—ha! ha!" and he chuckled so that he went into a coughing fit, and had to be thumped on the back to bring his breath into his lungs again.
"You—you'll get that paper; won't you?" he pleaded.
"Sure I will," declared Jake Morton. "And they won't know I have it until it's too late to file it."
"Good!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "And maybe, while you are at it, you could get that auto away from my nephew, or wreck it, or something like that."
"Good land, Mr. Larabee! You don't mean that; do you?" cried Mr. Black. "Wreck your nephew's auto?"
"Oh, not with him in it, of course. But if it could be disabled some way, maybe he'd desert it, and we could get it, and fix it up and sell it. I might get enough out of it to pay for the expenses of this trip, for it's goin' to cost a lot—a dreadful lot."
"I wouldn't advise you to try that," said the lawyer, significantly. "We're taking enough chances as it is. You don't want to make yourself criminally liable; do you?"
"Oh, my good land, no! Sakes alive! No! no!" cried Uncle Ezra. "I've always kept within the law. We ain't goin' to do nothin' unlawful; are we?" and he gazed anxiously at the lawyer.
"Oh, no. I'm not any too fond, myself, of overstepping the law. But I'll take all it allows!" he declared, thrusting out a lean and claw-like hand.
"Oh, so will I!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "All the law allows—yes; all the law allows! Ha! ha! I guess you'll find, Nephew Richard," he went on, "that two of us can play at that little game you started. Two of us; yes-um! We'll see who wins out! Ha! ha!" and, chuckling in a cackling sort of voice, Mr. Larabee left the lawyer's office, while Mr. Black and his henchman looked at each other.
"What do you think of him?" asked Mr. Black.
"I don't like to think. But, as long as he pays our price, we'll do his work; eh?"
"Yes. Now come in here and we'll talk over what's best to do. We must get that paper away from Dick Hamilton."