"If you find any lying around loose, or one that no one else wants—or even an old one that someone has thrown away—why just express it back to me," requested Henry. "I'd rather have a good gold mine than this old metal business, I think."
"How is it going?" asked Dick.
"Pretty well. Say, I don't think I ought to keep that hundred-dollar check you sent me for telling you that I'd seen Grit in the man's wagon."
"Of course you've got to keep it!" exclaimed Dick. "I would have paid it to the first person who gave me the right clue, and I'm sure I couldn't give it to anyone I like better than you."
"It certainly came in mighty handy," said Henry.
"Why?"
"I had a chance to buy up the refuse from an old boiler factory just before I got it and I hadn't any cash. Dad had taken all the surplus. He's got some scheme on hand, and he won't tell me what it is. He says there's lots of money in it. There may be," went on Henry, with an odd smile, "but what's worrying me is whether dad is going to get the money out of it. That's mostly the trouble with his schemes. There's thousands of dollars in 'em, but the cash generally stays there for all of him. But maybe this one will turn out all right. I hope so, because he's got all the surplus. But I used the hundred dollars to buy some old iron, and I think I can dispose of it at a profit. Well, I hope you have good luck."
"Thanks," answered Dick. "I'll remember what you said about a gold mine."
"Well, I'll not insist on a gold mine," called back Henry, as he started his horse up, a task that required some time, for the animal seemed to take advantage of every stop to go to sleep. "I'm not prejudiced in favor of a gold mine. A good-paying silver mine will do pretty nearly as well."
"I'll remember, Henry. Good-bye until I get back."