R XII

GOLD MINE STOCK

Dick looked sharply at the stranger as he passed the man. Mr. Vanderhoof
smiled, but when he did Dick thought the attempted pleasantry resembled
the grin of a cat when it is about to pounce upon a helpless mouse. With
a scarcely perceptible nod to Dick, Mr. Vanderhoof entered Mr.
Hamilton's private office and closed the door.

"I've seen you before, I'm sure of it," mused Dick, as he left the bank.
"I can't just think where, but there's something familiar about you. I
don't like your looks, though I suppose you must be all right or dad
wouldn't have much to do with you. I must ask him about you."

Dick found an opportunity a few evenings later. He saw his father
looking over some papers in the library at home, and, going in, inquired
if Mr. Hamilton was busy.

"Not very," replied the millionaire. "I'm just looking over some new
stock I bought to-day. Dick, I'm part owner in a gold mine, in addition
to my many other lines of industry," and he laughed pleasantly.

"A gold mine, dad?"

"Yes, a gold mine in--let's see where is it now--oh, in Yazoo City,
Nevada. Of course, I don't own the whole mine, I've only bought some
stock in it. There it is. I own a thousand shares in the Hop Toad Mine,
and I hope they do as toads do, and 'jump' in value."

"A gold mine," repeated Dick. "That would suit me. Why didn't I think of
it before."

"How do you mean, Dick?"

"I mean, why didn't I invest in something like that."

"Well, it's not too late, I suppose."

"Do you mean I can get some shares, dad?"

"I don't know that you can in the Hop Toad Mine, as I understand they're
all sold out, but I guess Mr. Vanderhoof has shares in other mines just
as good."

"Oh, is that what Mr. Vanderhoof is--a mining man?"

"Well, not exactly a mining man. He sells stock in mines. He's what they
call a promoter. Why, do you know him?"

"No, but somehow his face seemed familiar. I was sure that day I saw him
in the bank that I had met him somewhere else, but when I tried to think
I couldn't recall anyone with such a black moustache as he has."

"It is black," admitted Mr. Hamilton.

"And when he smiles he looks like--a cat," went on Dick.

"I can't say that I fancy his looks," agreed the millionaire, with a
chuckle. "But I don't do business on looks. I go by facts."

"Is this mining stock good?"

"I think so. I wrote to some men in Yazoo City and I made other
investigations, so that I think it as safe