"I say, is one of you named Dick Hamilton?"
"I am," replied the millionaire's son.
"Well, I've got a message for you from a lad named Simon Scardale."
"Simon Scardale?" repeated Dick.
"Yes. He was badly hurt last night by a fall from a horse he was riding. He's over at the other hotel, and he sent word that he wanted to see Dick Hamilton as soon as he came in. I looked over the register, but I couldn't see anyone by that name, and I thought he'd made a mistake."
Dick recalled his scrawling signature on the book, and did not wonder that the clerk could not make it out.
Telling Tim and Frank to go upstairs and notify Bricktop and Walter of their safe arrival, Dick started for the Imperial Inn. He found the night clerk on duty, and, telling his object, was shown upstairs by a sleepy bell-boy.
As he entered the room he saw Simon in bed. The youth's face was pale, and his head was covered with bandages. Two doctors were within call.
"Is that you, Dick Hamilton?" he asked in a weak voice.
"Yes. What do you want, Simon?" inquired Dick, softly, for the sight of Simon's sufferings banished all resentment.
"I'm afrad I'm badly hurt," went on Simon,
