Dick Hamilton's Football Team Or A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Part 44

"Just after I sent you that message, saying your father could have the stock, I picked up a magazine and read an account of a football game. It was the first I'd ever read, and thinks I to myself I'd like to see it.

Then, when I got your message saying you were going to play, and couldn't come to see me I made up my mind to come to see you. I did, and by heck! it was great--great! But your run was the best of all.

"First I was a little put out because you didn't come to see me, and I half made up my mind to give the stock to Mr. Porter. But I see now why you wanted to stay and play the game. You couldn't desert, and by heck!

I'm glad you won! Shake hands again!"

d.i.c.k did so, in a mist of tears that would not be kept back. The reaction was almost too much for him. To win the championship, and in the next breath to be told that his father's plans need not fail, was almost too much.

He managed to stammer out his thanks to Enos Duncaster, whom many spectators were regarding curiously.

"You cadets are all right!" the old man was saying. "It takes more s.p.u.n.k than I imagined to smash into each other that way. I'm coming to all the football games after this--that is as soon as I get my health back. I'm off for Europe now. I've just about got time to catch my train.

"Here's the stock your father wants, d.i.c.k Hamilton. I've got it all ready for you in a bundle, and inside is the address of my lawyers. You can----"

"But the pay----" stammered d.i.c.k.

"That's all right--you can send it to my lawyers. I'm in a hurry. Now good-bye--I'm off to the hot springs!" And once more he wrung d.i.c.k's hand. "That was a great run--great!" cried Mr. Duncaster, as he made his way off the stand.

"Three cheers for d.i.c.k Hamilton!" called Ray Dutton.

And how the people did cheer!

"And three for Mr. Duncaster--a convert to football!" shouted Paul Drew, and if they were not as loud as the first cheers they must have warmed the old man's heart.

d.i.c.k sent a telegram to his father conveying double good news--about the football victory and about the possession of the stock.

"I guess your troubles will be over now dad," wired d.i.c.k.

They were seemingly for a time, but later other financial matters involved d.i.c.k and his father, and how they turned out, and how d.i.c.k met them will be told in the next volume of this series, to be called "d.i.c.k Hamilton's Touring Car; Or, A Young Millionaire's Race for a Fortune."

In it we shall meet d.i.c.k and his friends and some of his enemies, and learn how he triumphed over the latter.

There was great rejoicing in Kentfield that night when the team broke training and the suits were burned. True to his word, d.i.c.k provided the finest banquet the cadets had ever had spread in their honor. There were speeches innumerable, and the coaches were given their full share of praise.

But it was toward d.i.c.k that most eyes were turned and he was called on again and again to respond to a toast.

"Well, which do you feel better over, d.i.c.k?" asked Paul that night, as they went to their room, "winning the championship or getting the stock from Mr. Duncaster?"

"Both," replied the young millionaire with a smile. "But it certainly was great to convert Mr. Duncaster into a gridiron rooter; eh, Grit?"

And Grit whined in delight, jumping up on d.i.c.k, while the two chums sat down in the little room and played the great game all over again.

THE END.