"Do you mean it?" asked Dick, hardly believing his chums were in earnest. They assured him that they did. "Then here's my game," he went on. "Dad wrote to me to get some catalogues and pick out the auto I wanted. I'm going to go him one better." "What's that?" asked Paul. "Have a car made to order?" "No, that would take too long. But the New York Automobile Show is on, in Madison Square Garden. There are lots of cars there that can be bought for immediate delivery. And I can pick out a car twice as good from seeing it, rather than by looking at a picture of it. "Now we three will take in that auto show. I'll pick out the car I want, dad will foot the bill, according to his promise, and we'll start on our tour across country. How does that strike you?" "Great!" declared Innis. "Bully!" assented Paul. "Dick, you're a gentleman and a scholar. This is too much!" and he pretended to weep on Beeby's shoulder. "Then pack up, and we'll leave day after to-morrow for New York," said Dick. "I'll write to dad. I'd go to-morrow only I don't want to miss the graduation dance." "No, and I fancy someone else doesn't either," said Paul, with a significant glance at the picture of a pretty girl on the bureau. So it was arranged. The dance was a success, as all such affairs at Kentfield were, but we shall not concern ourselves with that. The day after it saw Dick and his chums, with Grit, on the way to the big auto show in New York. CHAPTER V THE BIG CAR "What kind of a car have you in mind, Dick?" "Get a six cylinder, anyhow." Dick Hamilton looked at Paul and Innis, who were in the parlor car with him, speeding on to New York. "I haven't exactly made up my mind," answered the young millionaire. "I want a powerful car; if we're going to cross the Rockies I'll need power. But I want a comfortable one, too. It wants to be enclosed, and so arranged that if we have to we can sleep in it." "Say, you want a traveling hotel; don't you?" asked Paul. "Something like that, yes," assented Dick. "But I don't want such a heavy machine that we'll be having tire trouble all the time. I'm not going to make up my mind as to any particular car until I see what kinds there are in the Garden." The boys talked of many things as the train sped on. Dick had engaged rooms for himself and his friends at the hotel where he and his father always stopped on coming to the metropolis, and a few hours more would see them at their destination. The porter came up to Dick, his honest black and shining face wearing a broad grin, as he remarked: "'Scuse me, but does one ob yo' gen'mans own a bulldog what is in de baggage car?" "I do!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "What about him?" "Den yo' presence am earnestly requested up dere by de baggageman," went on the porter. "Is Grit hurt?" demanded the young millionaire. "No, sah, leastaways he wasn't when I seed him. He were feelin' mighty peart!"