The Boys of the Wireless Part 13

CHAPTER X-A YOUNG CAPITALIST

Harry Ashley stuck his head up through the trap opening, and climbed into the room with the announcement:

"Overheard what you said, so-how much do you want?"

Tom only smiled. The idea of a money offer from Harry was amusing. Ben a.s.sumed a mock gravity of manner with the words:

"Give us a check right on the spot, I suppose?"

"About that, if you don't want too much," answered Harry seriously.

"We won't call on you just yet, Harry," said Tom. "What about Mr.

Barton?"

"We got him home all right."

"And the child?"

"You've done a big piece of work with your wireless this night, Tom Barnes," replied Harry, his eyes brightening. "We found the doctor at the Barton home when we arrived. He got there just in time. Said half an hour more and the patient would have been beyond help."

"That's grand!" voiced Ben.

"He's fixed up Mr. Barton's bruises. Says his arm is only sprained, and that he'll be around as well as ever in a week. I wish you'd heard that mother speak when they told her about what you had done in saving her child."

"With your help, remember that."

"H'm," said Harry with a wriggle, and blushing like a school girl. "The peddler has gone out into the country to bring a sister of Mrs. Barton to the house, and I wanted to get back here. Now that Ben is here, it seems jollier than ever. I must go to the peddler's house, though, and tell his wife that her husband won't be home for an hour or two. I promised him I would."

"All right, Harry," said Tom briskly. "Then we'll have a little lunch."

But Harry tarried. About to descend the ladder, he turned around with the pertinent query:

"About that money that had to be paid, or you'd lose the station here."

"You heard about it, did you?" questioned Tom.

"Didn't I tell you I did? Come, Tom, how much do you want?"

"Supposing you knew, what good would that do?"

"I may help you."

Ben looked skeptical and grinned. Then, sobering down, he said:

"Don't make fun of us."

"I'm not."

"It's serious enough as it is. Tom needs a hundred dollars."

"Does he?" exclaimed Harry with animation. "Well, he can have it."

"Who from?"

"Me. One hundred? Oh, that's easy-awfully easy," declared Harry, as if very much pleased.

"I suppose you are ready to supply the amount, cash down?" said Ben.

"On the nail head!" cried Harry, a ring of genuine confidence in his tone. "See here, you fellows, you've been the truest chums I ever ran across. I've got a hundred dollars, yes, nearly double that, and all you've got to do is to take it."

"I only want to borrow-until my aunt collects her interest money," said Tom, half hopeful, half doubting that unexpected good fortune was about to materialize.

"Six months, a year-it's all the same to me," declared Harry gaily. "I'd give it to you outright if-if I could," he stammered rather blunderingly. "There you are."

Ben in his stupefaction and Tom in wonder regarded the strange boy who had so warmly won their friendship during the brief period of their acquaintanceship. Harry had drawn off his rather threadbare coat. Then he reached inside the shirt he wore.

"Well, what next?" interrogated Ben, watching the movement curiously.

"The hundred dollars, of course," p.r.o.nounced Harry. "Think I'm fooling?"

He had been fumbling with one hand inside his shirt. Something clicked like a snap of a buckle. Then he drew into view a long snake-like object.

"A belt," murmured Ben.

"That's right," nodded Harry.

With a clang he landed it on the table. He beckoned to Tom and Ben to approach.

"I made that belt myself," he went on, with some pride in his tone.

"Looks like a sectional rattlesnake, eh? It's made out of snakeskin.

See, it's got pockets. This one," and Harry unsnapped a b.u.t.ton-"pennies."

A dozen cent pieces rolled out. He gave them a peep into five other similar pockets.

"Nickels, dimes, quarters, half dollars," recited Harry. "Then this one at the end-ten, twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred. There's your money, Tom. I'll take your note when it's convenient."

From a last compartment in the belt the speaker had produced a goodly roll of banknotes. He counted off the bills with the flippancy and skill of a bank cashier. Tom sat staring at the little heap that meant his business salvation, fairly agape.

"The mischief!" giggled the petrified Ben. "It's real money!"

"Yes, and hard earned, and mine," said Harry.

"But how, where--"