"So you won't agree to my plan, to save your son from being a spendthrift, eh?" he murmured. "Then, I'll do it for you in spite of you and him! I'll prevent Richard from wasting all of his money, if I have to lock him up away from you, and where you can't see him."
After supper that night, or, rather, following dinner, as Gibbs, the butler, preferred to call it, Dick saddled Rex, his horse, and galloped over to town in the pleasant late June evening. As he was turning into the main street he saw a wagon coming toward him, drawn by a sleek, fat horse, and driven by a genial-faced lad of about our hero's age.
"Hello, Henry!" called the young millionaire, pleasantly, drawing rein. "Got a new horse, I see. How's the old iron business? Rattling away, I suppose?"
"That's right," answered Henry Darby, with a laugh. "But this isn't a new horse, Dick."
"No? You don't mean to say that it's the one you used to have—the same one that couldn't draw the load of iron when I once met you?"
"The same one. I bought him from the man who sold me the iron, and I fattened him up. The horse got rid of the ringbone, spavin, blind staggers, dinkbots, and a few other things he had, and he's all right now."
"You must have fed him on some iron filings to make him so strong," for the animal was pulling a heavy load.
"No, I didn't do that, but maybe he got out of the stable and helped himself to an old radiator or a wagon tire once in a while. So you're back from the military school, Dick?"
"Yes, and glad of it in a way. I'm going to have a steam yacht, and travel around a bit this vacation."
"My, oh my! Some folks are born lucky!" cried Henry, with a jolly laugh. "Now, if I'd only been rich instead of good looking I'd buy a yacht, too," and the two lads, both of whom were really fine-appearing chaps, laughed together.