"Your father's fortune is wiped out, and so's yours! The New York bank has failed!"
For an instant Dick stared at the speaker. Then a changed look came over his face. He stepped forward, his suit covered with dirt, his face bleeding from a scratch, and still panting from his great run.
"My fortune lost?" he said. "I don't care a hang! We've won the game!"
There was a moment of silence so surprised were the cadets at the manner in which Dick took the news. Then Glen cried out:
"My word, but you're plucky! Three cheers for Hamilton—who used to be a millionaire—but isn't any longer," he added, and Dick's ears rang with the joyous shouts.
CHAPTER XXX
A BROADSWORD COMBAT
"Well, Nephew Richard, I've been waiting some time for you," said Uncle Ezra Larabee a little later, when Dick, having gotten out of his suit and donned his cadet uniform, went into the reception room. "I've been here for some time, and very likely I've lost my train, but I couldn't go back without seeing you."
"I'm sorry I kept you so long, Uncle Ezra," replied Dick, "but you see I was in a baseball game, and I couldn't leave until we won. It was very important to win."
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the old man. "Baseball is a dangerous and wicked game. It leads to all sorts of trouble. When I was a boy we played such sensible games as tag and blind-man's buff. Baseball! The idea!"