"Well," remarked the judge with a little smile, "in that case I think we shall have to give him back his old one. I find for Mr. Wardell, let judgment be entered accordingly," and he signed the papers and turned them over to his clerk for formal filing.
"What does that mean?" whispered Dick to his lawyer.
"It means that you have saved Mr. Wardell's fortune for him. I congratulate you."
"Well, I had a race for it!" said Dick, grimly. "But it was fun after all."
Of course Uncle Ezra's lawyers tried their best to upset the judgment in Mr. Wardell's favor, but they were ruled out of court. Uncle Ezra even came on himself, crabbed and angry at having spent money on railroad fare.
"And so you're responsible for my losing all this money, be you, Nephew Richard?" he snarled, when he found he had lost his case.
"It wasn't yours by rights," declared Dick. "I'm sorry to have to go against you, but it was the only thing I could do."
"Humph!" sniffed Mr. Larabee. "Don't you let that pesky dog of yours nip me, or I'll sue you for damages!" he cried, as Grit growled and showed a desire to get nearer to Uncle Ezra's legs.
"Down, Grit," said Dick, quietly. "I don't suppose, Uncle Ezra," he went on, "that you'll want to ride back with us in the big auto. We'll be touring back after we see something of California."