"That's right," answered Henry Darby, with a laugh. "But this isn't a new horse, Dick." "No? You don't mean to say that it's the one you used to have--the same one that couldn't draw the load of iron when I once met you?" "The same one. I bought him from the man who sold me the iron, and I fattened him up. The horse got rid of the ringbone, spavin, blind staggers, dinkbots, and a few other things he had, and he's all right now." "You must have fed him on some iron filings to make him so strong," for the animal was pulling a heavy load. "No, I didn't do that, but maybe he got out of the stable and helped himself to an old radiator or a wagon tire once in a while. So you're back from the military school, Dick?" "Yes, and glad of it in a way. I'm going to have a steam yacht, and travel around a bit this vacation." "My, oh my! Some folks are born lucky!" cried Henry, with a jolly laugh. "Now, if I'd only been rich instead of good looking I'd buy a yacht, too," and the two lads, both of whom were really fine-appearing chaps, laughed together. "I'll give you a ride when you get your vacation," promised Dick. "The trouble is I never get one," replied Henry. "The old iron business, that you helped me start on such a good footing, takes all my time. Well, I must be traveling, Dick. This horse hasn't had his supper, yet, and he needs it. So long." "So long, Henry. Come over and see me when you get a chance." "Humph! There aren't many millionaires who would give a fellow like me such an invitation as that," remarked Henry Darby as he drove along, while Dick galloped off in the opposite direction. Dick met several of his friends in town, and spent a pleasant hour chatting with them, before he trotted leisurely back home. He found his father reading in the library, but Uncle Ezra had gone to bed early, as he said he must take the first train for home in the morning. Mr. Hamilton did not tell his son of the peculiar words and actions of his uncle. "Well, Dick," said Mr. Hamilton, musingly, "I suppose you'll soon be going to New York, to buy your yacht." "Day after to-morrow, dad." "All right. I'll give you a letter to my lawyers there, and they'll see to the transfer of the boat, and attend to the legal matters. Now, don't buy any gilt-edged mining shares, Dick," and Mr. Hamilton smiled grimly, in memory of a visit his son once paid to the metropolis, as related in the first volume of this series. "I'll not," promised the young millionaire, and, after he and his father had spent an hour chatting in the big apartment, the walls of which were lined with many books, Dick retired to bed, Mr. Hamilton soon following.