"Hamilton—Dick Hamilton," replied the young millionaire.
"Oh, Hamilton—Millionaire Hamilton's son, eh?" asked Dick's questioner, with an unpleasant air.
"I believe so," answered Dick, trying to smile good-naturedly in spite of the overbearing air of the lad, who was no older than himself.
"I've heard about you," went on the other. "Fellows," he said, turning to those surrounding him, "this is the young hostage of fortune who has consented to dwell a while in our midst. I saw a little paragraph in the paper a few days ago to the effect that Millionaire Hamilton's son had decided to take a course at Kentfield Military Academy. That is he condescended to inflict his presence on us. I'm sure the academy is highly honored," and the lad made a mocking bow.
Dick felt the hot flush rising to his face. He had never been so insulted before. An angry reply was on his lips.
"Millions don't go here, Hamilton," said another youth. "Your money won't count, and the sooner you find that out the better. Come on, fellows, let's see if old Toots is still alive, and then we'll have some fun."
"Ta-ta, Hamilton, I suppose you brought a solid gold bedstead with you," said the lad who had first spoken, as he turned on his heel, and followed the others. "Maybe you'd like to buy the place," he fired back over his shoulder.
"You—you——" began Dick angrily.
He was stopped by a touch on his shoulder. He looked around, to see William the Silent standing near him.
"Take it easy," was all Will said, but Dick understood.