"A few brass buttons on
his coat has turned his head."
The train had fortunately been delayed, but it was now moving from the
station. Richard and Doc Linyard made a rush for it, and succeeded in
boarding the last car.
"Hope we're done with adventures," remarked the old tar, when they
were seated. "I'd rather have things quiet and easy."
"I must thank you," said Richard heartily. "I don't know what I would
have done if you hadn't come up just when you did."
"Shoo--'tain't nothing, Mr. Dare, alongside of what you did for me,"
replied the sailor. "But I've had a run of bad luck since I left New
York two days ago," he added meditatively.
"Yes?" questioned the boy with some curiosity. "How so?"
"Well, it's this way," began Doc Linyard, crossing his good leg over
the cork one: "My wife got a letter from England last week, saying as
how an uncle had died, leaving his property to her and her brother,
Tom Clover. In the letter she was asked to see her brother and fix the
matter up with him. They wrote they didn't have his address, and so
left it to her."
"I should think that would be all right," remarked Richard, as the old
tar paused.
"It would be, only for one thing--we don't know where Tom is. He used
to live in New York, but moved away, we don't know where.
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