“Not exactly anxious,” answered Hodge; “but I have a wish to go into business in the East, and the money I should receive would be enough to set me up. Frank has his other mines to look after, and he’s willing to let go of the Phantom. Still, we know it’s valuable property, and we’re not going to sell it for anything under a fair price.” “I thought,” said Dick, “that there still might be some trouble over that mine, and that possibly you were willing to dispose of it for that reason.” “Not a bit of trouble,” smiled Hodge. “All that thing seems settled. Frank has downed his enemies in the West, and things are moving swimmingly. His San Pablo Mine, in Mexico, is the richest property, but the expense of packing ore a long distance to the railroad, and shipping it north to a smelter, cuts down his profits. He has a scheme now of organizing a company to build a railroad that will give him an outlet to the north. It’s likely he’ll try to push this project along while he is in Chicago. If the railroad is ever constructed, it is likely he’ll be actively engaged in the work. Dick, your brother is a hustler.” Dick’s eyes gleamed and his face wore an expression of pride. “Frank’s all right,” he declared. “Not many fellows have a brother like him.” Bart smiled and nodded. “Those are nearly the words he used about you the night before I left Chicago. We were talking of old times at Fardale, and finally he fell to speaking of you. He’s pretty proud of you, Dick.” “I don’t know of anything I have ever done to make him proud of me,” said the boy. “Well, I rather fancy you’ve demonstrated that you have the right stuff in you. He feels certain you’ll make a good record at Yale if you get there.” “Bart,” said Dick soberly, “the knowledge that my brother expects so much of me will be enough to always keep me at my best. Not only does this keep me at my best, but I fancy, at times, it causes me to rise above myself. Whatever I become, whatever successes I achieve, I shall owe everything to Frank.” Bart rose quickly and seized Dick’s hand. His own face was glowing now. “My own sentiments, my boy,” he cried. “Only for the influence and friendship of Frank Merriwell I might have gone to the dogs. I was well started on a bad road. When we first met I took a positive dislike to him, which rapidly developed into hatred. I was not above mean things at that time, and I lost no opportunity to injure him. Almost any other fellow having such an enemy would have sought revenge for those injuries. Instead of that, when I got into serious trouble Frank gave me a helping hand. At first I thought he feared me, but after a while events demonstrated that he feared no one, and I realized that his actions came through his natural generosity and nobility.