“Hardy,” he said enthusiastically, “you are a genius!” And then his face shadowed, and he shook his head.
“That would certainly head off the Saxton crowd, and my correspondent at Washington is a bright active man, but—why, Hardy, it would cost at least one hundred dollars to telegraph all that stuff.”
“Yes, sir; I suppose so,” said Ben quietly, “so I brought the money to pay for it. There is one hundred and fifty dollars.”
CHAPTER XVII
ON TIME
The lawyer sat staring in surprise at the little roll of bills Ben had placed on the desk before him. Then his countenance expanded.
“You have solved the problem, Hardy. You are sure you want to invest all that money?”
“To help my father—I guess so!” replied our hero with energy.
“All right,” cried Mr. Pearsons briskly, arising from his chair. “Here sit down at that desk yonder,” and he pointed to an inner room. “Now then, you’re a smart boy, and I see it. Write out in the most exact detail what you want wired.”
“You think your Washington correspondent can follow out instructions explicitly?”