"No, thank you. I have some business to attend to, and I don't want to keep you. Go on back to Kentfield, and I'll take a taxicab when I've finished with my matters."
"Oh, I suppose you follow in the footsteps of the governor, and are in business too," almost sneered Weston.
"Well, I help my father whenever I can," answered Dick, as the blood surged up under his coat of tan. "Sorry I couldn't beat you, Mr. Porter. I hope to have better luck next time."
"You want to bring along all the luck you have, Hamilton," declared the rich lad, as he put on his coat, while Dick settled for the games, which he had almost purposely lost in order that he might have a better excuse for talking to Porter. "I'm a pretty good shot," and he laughed in Dick's face.
"So I see," agreed Dick.
"Then you won't motor back with us?" asked Porter, for he had an expensive machine, which was in the repair shop a good part of the time, owing to his reckless driving.
"No, I've got several matters to attend to," answered Dick, and he watched the two cronies going out together.
The storm continued, the rain coming down harder than ever, and, as Dick had no umbrella he decided to go down to the telegraph office in a taxicab, a service but newly installed in the college town, but which was taken advantage of by many students.
Dick was not a spendthrift, and he knew the value of money. Still, when he did not have to count his dollars, he did not see the harm in spending a few in hiring an auto cab, when he had no umbrella.
A few minutes later he was bowling along the rain-swept streets toward the telegraph office which he had but recently left.