"Oh," said Dick blankly. He was rather surprised to be taken up so quickly. He turned to see who had spoken, and, as he did so, he uttered an exclamation of surprise that was echoed by Paul Drew. For, standing near the big car which he could not now possess, was the young man whom Paul and Dick had seen acting so strangely on the railroad tracks--the young man who, according to Paul, had been prevented from committing suicide by Dick's prompt action. The stranger, too, was as much surprised as were Dick and Paul. He paused as he was about to continue his explanation, and an odd look came over his face. Then he held out his hand, saying: "I believe I have met two of you boys before." "That's right," agreed Dick. "I'm glad to see you again. So this is your car?" "It _was_," he replied with a little smile. "Now it's for whoever can raise the money. I can't." "I came on from Kentfield," Dick explained. "The academy has closed for the summer, and I'm looking for a touring car. My father is giving me one as a sort of reward for not flunking in class." "I see. Well, you couldn't get a better car than this. I know the firm well, and, while it is rather peculiarly built, from ideas of my own, still it can compete with any of the regular machines, and beat most of them, though it has not abnormal speed, of course." "I'm not looking for speed," laughed Dick. "I want comfort." "It's rather odd that we should meet again," went on the young man. "I live out near Kentfield, but I thought I would take a run in to New York, to see if there was a chance of getting rid of the car. I haven't paid for it yet, but I believe I am, in a way, responsible, since I agreed to take it. I wouldn't like to see the firm lose money on it, but if it comes to getting it out of me they'll have hard work. I'm dead broke--cleaned out. "Three months ago I was worth over a million. Now I have barely enough to live on. But I'm going to make my pile again!" he exclaimed with energy. "I'm not going to give up, and when I come into my own again I'll have another car like this. I've been foolish once, but I'm through now. They don't catch me twice on the same bait. No more speculation for Frank Wardell!" and he slapped the big tire of one of the wheels determinedly. Dick Hamilton started. "What--what did you say your name was?" he asked. "Wardell--Frank Wardell. I'll give you a card," and he produced one. "Mine's Hamilton--Dick Hamilton," said Dick. "Glad to meet you. I know your father slightly--Mortimer Hamilton?" "Yes." "This is odd, a ruined millionaire and a successful one," and he laughed grimly. "Never mind, I'll be in your class soon again," and he shook hands with Dick, who had introduced his chums. "Wardell--Frank Wardell," murmured Dick to Paul. "Do you recognize that name?" "I can't say that I do. Why?"