CHAPTER III
DICK'S PLAN
Rain was coming down heavily when Dick finished the game, and he lookedout from the poolroom with rather a rueful face as he heard thedownpour.
"I'll run you back in my car," offered Porter. "We can stop at Martin'son the way in, and have a jolly little supper. What do you say, Ham?"
Dick rather resented being called "Ham" by a youth who had known him buta short time. Likewise he did not care to stop at Martin's. So hecovered his dislike as best he could, and answered:
"No, thank you. I have some business to attend to, and I don't want tokeep you. Go on back to Kentfield, and I'll take a taxicab when I'vefinished with my matters."
"Oh, I suppose you follow in the footsteps of the governor, and are inbusiness too," almost sneered Weston.
"Well, I help my father whenever I can," answered Dick, as the bloodsurged 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 therich lad, as he put on his coat, while Dick settled for the games, whichhe had almost purposely lost in order that he might have a better excusefor talking to Porter. "I'm a pretty good shot," and he laughed inDick's face.
"So I see," agreed Dick.
"Then you won't motor back with us?" asked Porter, for he had anexpensive 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 hewatched the two cronies going out together.
The storm continued, the rain coming down harder than ever, and, as Dickhad no umbrella he decided to go down to the telegraph office in ataxicab, a service but newly installed in the college town, but whichwas taken advantage of by many students.
Dick was not a spendthrift, and he knew the value of money. Still, whenhe did not have to count his dollars, he did not see the harm inspending a few in hiring an auto cab, when he had no umbrella.
A few minutes later he was bowling along the rain-swept streets towardthe telegraph office which he had but recently left.
"Dad will think I'm making the wires hot," he mused, as the taxicabcareened along, "but I guess I'd better keep him informed right up todate. That Mr. Porter means business, if I'm any judge. Probably he hasa syndicate of rich men back of him, and they are trying to get controlof father's interests. But we'll put a stop to that if possible.
"What a cad that Porter fellow is, with his billiard shots, and hiscigarettes! I could have beaten him easily, if I'd wanted to, but if Ihad he might have turned sulky, and wouldn't have talked so much. As itis I've gotten some good information out of him."
Dick leaned back on the cushions and let his thoughts wander free. As hehad said, there were two big problems ahead of him. He wanted to see thecadet football team triumph on the gridiron, and he wanted to help hisfather get ahead of his enemies.
Both matters were important to Dick, for he realized that his father'sinterests, being now so much bound up in the trolley line, would sufferseriously if antagonists got in control.
As for football, our hero, who was one of the best members of the team,wanted to see his eleven at the head of the Military League.
And, for several seasons past Kentfield had been the tail-ender, andpractically out of the league. True, they had won some games, and bigones, too, but it was more like a sudden spurt, and then the cadetsseemed to go "stale," and played in such poor form that inferior teamsbeat them.
"It's got to stop," said Dick to himself. "We've got to win, and if Ican put my plan through, and I don't see why I can't, we'll be at thetop of the heap pretty soon. That is if the fellows will work. Andthey've got to! By Jove I'm not going to stay at a college where alittle dinky team like the one from Blue Hill, can put it all over us,and write such letters as Beeby got to-day.
"Poor Beeby! He felt it a heap. It was like the time when we weremarooned on that island, and he managed to snap-shot a lot of birds, andcame in to tell us about them. We thought he meant he had killed themfor dinner. Oh, that was a time all right!" and Dick fell to thinking ofthe adventures he had gone through when he was taking the first voyagein his steam yacht.
The taxicab came to a sudden stop. The young millionaire looked out, andthrough the rain he saw the telegraph office.
"I guess the man will think I'm running a regular brokerage business,"he reflected as he alighted and went in. He sent a message to hisfather, telling what he had heard from Porter during the billiard game,and warning Mr. Hamilton to be on the watch for treachery.
"There, I guess that will make dad get busy," said the lad. "Now I'llwait for further instructions, and devote a little time to planning outwhat I want to do for the football team. We've got to be champions ofthe league or I'll know the reason why. What's the good of money if itcan't get you what you want?"
"Where to now, sir?" asked the taxi-driver, as Dick got in the machineagain. "Like to go around town for a while? Most of the cadets do whenthey get out."
"Back to the college," ordered Dick a bit curtly, for he did not likethe familiar tone of the man.
"Hum, he must be one of those tight-wads," thought the driver, as hethrew in his gears and started off. "I like a fellow that spends money."
If he had known how much Dick Hamilton _could_ have spent had our herobeen so inclined, the taxi-man might have had a different opinion ofhim.
The machine was bowling along at a good speed, through the principalstreet of the town, preparatory to turning off on the road that led tothe military academy. It was a cab with the front of glass, and Dickcould look out at one side of the driver, and observe what was going on.
Suddenly, as they crossed a side street, an elderly man, with a big,old-fashioned umbrella held low over his head, ran out directly in frontof the cab.
"Look out! Stop!" cried Dick, involuntarily jumping up. "You'll run himdown!"
The driver was on the alert, however, and jammed on the brakes with apracticed hand, and a quick foot. With a shudder of springs and ashriek of metal the cab came to a stop. Not before, however, it had runinto the man with the big umbrella, upsetting him, though so gently thathe was not hurt. His rain-shield however, was crumpled up and his legswere entangled in it.
Before the driver could leave his seat, Dick had jumped out and gone tothe aid of the pedestrian.
"I hope you're not hurt!" the lad exclaimed, as he helped the aged manto arise. "I'm very sorry it happened. I guess you held your umbrella solow that you couldn't see us coming."
For clearly it was not the fault of the driver that the accident hadoccurred.
"Ha! Hum! So that's what you think, eh?" demanded the man in a raspingvoice, as he fairly grabbed the broken umbrella from Dick's hand. "HereI be, walking peaceably along the street, trying to protect myself fromthe rain, when you reckless military students come along in one of thosefire-snorting new-fangled automobiles, and run me down. It was all yourfault, and if I could see a policeman I'd have you both locked up! Howmany of those tin soldiers from the military academy have you in thereanyhow? Cadets! Humph! Much better be at some honest business instead oflearning to kill folks! Are there any more of you? If there are, comeout, and I'll give you a piece of my mind! Learning murder as a fineart! How many in there?" and he glared at the taxicab.
"I'm the only one," said Dick modestly.
"Hum! Too mean to let some one else ride with you, I reckon. Well, itwas all your fault, and you'll have to settle with me. Duncaster is myname, Enos Duncaster, and I don't intend to be imposed upon."
Dick could not help thinking how like his uncle Erza Mr. Duncaster was.
"It was your fault, you old hayseeder!" cried the taxicab man with anervous voice, for he had been mortally afraid of a fatal accident."What do you want to run under a machine that way for? Hey? Why can'tyou look where you're going?"
"Young man!" exclaimed Mr. Duncaster in a calm voice, "if I didn't knowthat you were excited you'd
pay dearly for this. You don't know me, butI'll say, for your information, that I own enough stock in this taxicabcompany to have you discharged. I'm sorry I ever invested in it, but Ididn't know them machines were so rip-snorting. Now you can go on, butfirst give me your names."
"What for?" demanded the driver suspiciously.
"Oh, in case I find I have worse injuries than a broken umbrella,"replied the elderly man with a half-smile. "I may want to bring suitagainst the company in which I hold stock."
"Well, my name is Martin," replied the driver, "James Martin. Icertainly didn't mean to run you down, Mr. Duncaster. But the rain wasin my eyes, and----"
"That will do," said the man with an air of authority. "Now who areyou--my young soldier lad? I don't believe in this war business, but thecountry seems to be going crazy over it, so I might as well keep still.Who are you?"
"Hamilton--Dick Hamilton is my name."
"Hum--Hamilton--no relation to Mortimer Hamilton; are you?"
"He is my father."
"What."
"I say he is my father."
"Why that's odd--I'm--no, never mind--so you're Mortimer Hamilton's son;eh? I heard he had one, and that he was going to some sort of militaryschool. I'm sorry to see it. And so you're the one who ran me down? Andyou haven't a crowd of roistering students with you?"
"No, I'm all alone. I've been attending to some business for my father."
"Hum! Business, yes. That's about all Mortimer Hamilton does. Well, youmay go. I know where to find both of you in case I want you."
The odd old man gathered up what was left of his umbrella, and,declining the aid of a policeman who came up to see what the gatheringcrowd meant, Mr. Duncaster walked off.
"We got out of that lucky," commented the taxi-driver, as Dickre-entered the vehicle. "I sure thought he would fire me. Who'd thinkold man Duncaster would be up here?"
"Is he really a wealthy man?" asked Dick.
"You bet he is. He lives away down in the country somewhere, and all hedoes is to cut off the interest coupons from his bonds. He's amillionaire, but you'd never think it to look at him. The idea ofwalking, when he could hire a machine and ride. But he's close--awfulclose."
"I hope he doesn't make trouble," commented our hero. "If he does, letme know. In spite of who he is I think it was his own fault that we hithim."
"Sure it was," declared the driver heartily.
Dick was soon back at school and his first visit was to the societyhouse of the Sacred Pig. He found only a few of his cadet chums there,as it was nearing mess time, and they had gone to dress for the meal.
"Well, you're a fine fellow to run off and desert us the way you did!"cried Innis Beeby, as he clapped Dick on the shoulder. "What's yourgreat scheme about a football team? The fellows are half wild trying toguess. Couldn't you explain before you hiked away?"
"No, didn't have time."
"Then tell me now."
"No, I'd like all the fellows to be together when they hear it and thenthey won't get it twisted. I'll meet you all here after grub, and tellyou what I think of doing."
"All right; it's a go."
Dick found a goodly crowd waiting for him in the main room of the clubhouse, for word had gone around of what was about to take place. Ourhero wasted no time on preliminaries.
"Boys," he began, "you know as well as I do, that we have received aninsulting letter from the Blue Hill academy. Our football team, of whichI have the honor to be a member----"
"Hurray for the team!" cried Paul Drew. "Long may she wave, o'er theland----"
"Order in the ranks!" cried Innis Beeby, who was presiding.
"Our team needs strengthening," went on Dick. "There is no use ignoringthe facts before us. We never have had a first class team--that is, tojudge by the records of the past. We have not a good team now, and I'mas bad as the worst member, so I'm not shielding myself. That being thecase, what's to be done?"
"Get a new team!" called someone.
"Revamp the old one," cried another.
"That's my idea exactly," went on Dick. "We must use the material wehave, but with this restriction--there must be a fair field and nofavors. The best men must be picked on the team."
"Sure!" cried someone.
"But who's going to do the picking?" demanded Beeby.
"That's what I'm coming to," went on Dick. "I was going to tell you myplan, when I had to leave this afternoon."
"Tell it now!" was the general shout.
"This is it!" replied the young millionaire. "You know what goodcoaching can do for a team. I think that's what we need, and it iscasting no reflection on the present coaches, for we all know they candevote only a little time to the work. Now what I propose is this: Wecan get two of the best coaches in the country--say one from Yale andone from Princeton. They can come here, and in a few weeks I'm sure theycan whip our team into shape. We have the material--all it needs is tobe developed."
"That's right--but how can we afford to pay for a Yale and a Princetoncoach?" demanded George Hall.
"I'll attend to that end," replied Dick calmly. "This is my treat. Iwant Kentfield to have the best eleven in the league, and if coachingcan do it we'll have it. Then we can win some games. I'll pay for thecoaches, and we'll see what they can do. That was my football scheme.What do you think of it, fellows?"
Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Page 4