"Yes, Mr. Dick," answered the butler, and again the unfortunate dog was led away, casting a sad look at Dick and a vindictive one at Uncle Ezra.
"It's lucky he didn't bite you," spoke Mr. Hamilton. "He must have sneaked in here after he was put out before."
"If he had bitten me——" began Uncle Ezra.
"He'd have done it at once, if he had any such intention, I think," interrupted Dick. "Grit isn't savage——"
"Isn't savage!" cried Mr. Larabee. "I'd like to know what you do call it?"
"You don't understand him," suggested the young millionaire. "He's as gentle as a cat with—his friends."
"Then I'm glad I'm not one of his friends!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra.
The dinner went on, the talk being divided among the boys on one side, and Mr. Hamilton and his brother-in-law on the other, with occasional interchanges. Then the millionaire and Mr. Larabee went to the library to talk over some business, and the three chums went out to the garage to look over the new car, and see how it had stood the journey.
"It seems all right," said Dick. "Of course we didn't put much strain on it. When we get out West, trying to cross deserts, ford streams and climb mountains, then we'll see how she stands up. Jove! but I'm anxious to start.
"Say, can't you fellows get your folks on the long distance telephone, and see when you can go?"