"We never could have won but for you!" admitted the captain. "Wow! but it was a fierce game!" and he sat down on the grass to recover his wind, after his lusty cheers. They escorted Dick back to the dressing room in a sort of triumphal procession, scores of cadets pouring from the stands to join it. Never did a hero takes his honors more modestly. It was enough for Dick that he had helped win the victory, and he saw coming to him now what he had waited nearly a year for--fellowship. Through the throng came Dutton and Glen. "I say, Hamilton," called Glen, "your uncle's waiting for you." "I know it," answered Dick. "But I couldn't talk to him until after the game." "He's got news for you--bad news," went on Glen, with the relish some persons seem to take in telling of calamities. "What is it?" inquired Dick, alarmed by the cadet's words and manner. "Your father's fortune is wiped out, and so's yours! The New York bank has failed!" For an instant Dick stared at the speaker. Then a changed look came over his face. He stepped forward, his suit covered with dirt, his face bleeding from a scratch, and still panting from his great run. "My fortune lost?" he said. "I don't care a hang! We've won the game!" There was a moment of silence so surprised were the cadets at the manner in which Dick took the news. Then Glen cried out: "My word, but you're plucky! Three cheers for Hamilton--who used to be a millionaire--but isn't any longer," he added, and Dick's ears rang with the joyous shouts. CHAPTER XXX A BROADSWORD COMBAT "Well, Nephew Richard, I've been waiting some time for you," said Uncle Ezra Larabee a little later, when Dick, having gotten out of his suit and donned his cadet uniform, went into the reception room. "I've been here for some time, and very likely I've lost my train, but I couldn't go back without seeing you." "I'm sorry I kept you so long, Uncle Ezra," replied Dick, "but you see I was in a baseball game, and I couldn't leave until we won. It was very important to win." "Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the old man. "Baseball is a dangerous and wicked game. It leads to all sorts of trouble. When I was a boy we played such sensible games as tag and blind-man's buff. Baseball! The idea!" "The cadets of Kentfield would look pretty playing tag," thought Dick, but he did not say anything. "I have some bad news for you, Nephew Richard," went on Uncle Ezra. "I suppose you wonder what it is." "I know." "You know?" "Yes, Glen told me." "Oh, he must be the young man whom I was talking to. Well, I regret very much to be the bearer of such ill tidings," went on Mr. Larabee, "but, if you are hoping that it is not true, you are much mistaken. I received word from New York yesterday that the bank in which was most of your father's wealth, as well as your own, which your mother, my sister, so foolishly left you----" "Sir!" cried Dick, for he could not bear to hear his mother spoken of in that way.