CHAPTER X

--A YOUNG CAPITALIST

Harry Ashley stuck his head up through the trap opening, and climbed into the room with the announcement:

"Overheard what you said, so--how much do you want?"

Tom only smiled. The idea of a money offer from Harry was amusing. Ben assumed a mock gravity of manner with the words:

"Give us a check right on the spot, I suppose?"

"About that, if you don't want too much," answered Harry seriously.

"We won't call on you just yet, Harry," said Tom. "What about Mr. Barton?"

"We got him home all right."

"And the child?"

"You've done a big piece of work with your wireless this night, Tom Barnes," replied Harry, his eyes brightening. "We found the doctor at the Barton home when we arrived. He got there just in time. Said half an hour more and the patient would have been beyond help."

"That's grand!" voiced Ben.

"He's fixed up Mr. Barton's bruises. Says his arm is only sprained, and that he'll be around as well as ever in a week. I wish you'd heard that mother speak when they told her about what you had done in saving her child."

"With your help, remember that."

"H'm," said Harry with a wriggle, and blushing like a school girl. "The peddler has gone out into the country to bring a sister of Mrs. Barton to the house, and I wanted to get back here. Now that Ben is here, it seems jollier than ever. I must go to the peddler's house, though, and tell his wife that her husband won't be home for an hour or two. I promised him I would."

"All right, Harry," said Tom briskly. "Then we'll have a little lunch."

But Harry tarried. About to descend the ladder, he turned around with the pertinent query:

"About that money that had to be paid, or you'd lose the station here."

"You heard about it, did you?" questioned Tom.

"Didn't I tell you I did? Come, Tom, how much do you want?"

"Supposing you knew, what good would that do?"

"I may help you."

Ben looked skeptical and grinned. Then, sobering down, he said:

"Don't make fun of us."

"I'm not."

"It's serious enough as it is. Tom needs a hundred dollars."

"Does he?" exclaimed Harry with animation. "Well, he can have it."

"Who from?"

"Me. One hundred? Oh, that's easy--awfully easy," declared Harry, as if very much pleased.

"I suppose you are ready to supply the amount, cash down?" said Ben.

"On the nail head!" cried Harry, a ring of genuine confidence in his tone. "See here, you fellows, you've been the truest chums I ever ran across. I've got a hundred dollars, yes, nearly double that, and all you've got to do is to take it."

"I only want to borrow--until my aunt collects her interest money," said Tom, half hopeful, half doubting that unexpected good fortune was about to materialize.

"Six months, a year--it's all the same to me," declared Harry gaily. "I'd give it to you outright if--if I could," he stammered rather blunderingly. "There you are."

Ben in his stupefaction and Tom in wonder regarded the strange boy who had so warmly won their friendship during the brief period of their acquaintanceship. Harry had drawn off his rather threadbare coat. Then he reached inside the shirt he wore.

"Well, what next?" interrogated Ben, watching the movement curiously.

"The hundred dollars, of course," pronounced Harry. "Think I'm fooling?"

He had been fumbling with one hand inside his shirt. Something clicked like a snap of a buckle. Then he drew into view a long snake-like object.

"A belt," murmured Ben.

"That's right," nodded Harry.

With a clang he landed it on the table. He beckoned to Tom and Ben to approach.

"I made that belt myself," he went on, with some pride in his tone. "Looks like a sectional rattlesnake, eh? It's made out of snakeskin. See, it's got pockets. This one," and Harry unsnapped a button--"pennies."

A dozen cent pieces rolled out. He gave them a peep into five other similar pockets.

"Nickels, dimes, quarters, half dollars," recited Harry. "Then this one at the end--ten, twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred. There's your money, Tom. I'll take your note when it's convenient."

From a last compartment in the belt the speaker had produced a goodly roll of banknotes. He counted off the bills with the flippancy and skill of a bank cashier. Tom sat staring at the little heap that meant his business salvation, fairly agape.

"The mischief!" giggled the petrified Ben. "It's real money!"

"Yes, and hard earned, and mine," said Harry.

"But how, where----"

"Did I get it?" smiled Harry. "Work, hard work, fellows," and there was a mingled pride and fondness in Harry's voice. "That little heap means over a year of hard knocks and close scrapings, before I had the typhoid fever."

A strange silence fell over the trio of chums. Harry had come into the life of Tom and Ben in a strange way, and had won their confidence and friendship from the start. He had become quite a fixture at the Barnes homestead. Mr. Barnes had come to depend on him for an hour or two of pottering around at odd tasks on the farm, and felt that his young helper amply paid for his meals and lodging. At length Tom spoke, his face flushed with pleasure.

"You're a queer fellow, Harry," he said heartily, "and you are a good fellow. You are willing to lend me this money?"

"Willing?" repeated Harry. "Glad, honored, delighted. Is a hundred enough?"

"Yes, indeed."

"All right, there it is. Don't you look at me in that leery way, Ben Dixon," said Harry, with a chuckle. "I haven't been stealing anything. That money is mine, all mine, and honestly mine. There is this much I will tell you about it, though: it is a part of a certain amount I am hoping to reach to pay a certain person."

"Money that you owe?" ventured Ben, consumed with curiosity.

"Yes, and no. I'm to save five hundred dollars,"

"Whew! that's a heap."

"I'll reach it," declared Harry confidently--"in time. It's money that I must repay."

"That you borrowed?"

"No."

"Oh, that you took?" insinuated Ben, in his blunt, straightforward way.

"No, sir! Do you take me for a thief?" cried Harry indignantly. "I'll tell you this much more: I was living with a man I didn't like so very much. I made up my mind to cut out from him. I wanted first to find some papers of mine I believed he had in his possession. When he was away from home one night, I took a lighted candle and made a tour of investigation. I came across a pile of banknotes. A strip around them said 'Five Hundred Dollars.' I went on searching for what I was after, but didn't find it. When I turned around to take up the candle, the drawer in which I had placed it was all ablaze. The banknotes were a heap of crisp cinders."

"Well!" ejaculated Ben.

"I tell you I was scared," confessed Harry. "He was a close-fisted, mysterious old fellow, and--well, I decided to get out. I left a note telling the circumstances of the accident, and said that I would work my finger nails off to earn that five hundred dollars and bring it back to him, some day. I've been doing it ever since."

"That's a remarkable story, Harry Ashley," said Ben, in earnest admiration.

Harry pushed the bills over to Tom, restored the belt to its place, and, with the indifference of a millionaire, started for the trap door.

"I must tell the peddler's wife about her husband's delay," he said. "Glad to oblige you, Tom. I'll be back soon."

Tom grasped the banknotes thoughtfully, and with an expression of gladness and relief on his face.

"What luck!" commented Ben.

"I am awfully glad to get the money," said Tom, with deep feeling. "Harry is a splendid fellow. It's only a loan, but think what it means to me just at this time!"

"There's something!" exclaimed Ben suddenly.

"Hello!" said Tom, all attention at once to the clicks. Then his face broke into a smile.

"'Donner' again!" cried Ben.

"After a lapse of two days," observed Tom. "Listen."

The mysterious "spook" of Mr. Edson was in evidence once more.

"He's getting along better," said Ben.

"'Donner' tapped that out pretty fair. 'Lost boy.' What's that? 'Money' again. Thousand dollars.' He's getting extravagant. 'Donner.' H'm!"

There was a lapse. Tom laughed and Ben chuckled. "Donner" was a standing joke now.

"There, he's at it again," announced Ben a moment later. "'Donner. Lost boy.' Yes, we've heard that before. Hello! here's something new."

"Yes," nodded Tom, translating the message: "Lost boy named Ernest Warren. Look out for sun, moon and stars on his left shoulder."

"Wonder who the lost boy can be?" said Ben in a ruminative tone.

They were soon to learn that--in a startling and unexpected manner.

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