Dave Porter in the South Seas; or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel
by Edward Stratemeyer · English · Gutenberg #34347 · 352,238 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Dave Porter in the South Seas; or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel
Author: Edward Stratemeyer
Illustrator: I. B. Hazelton
Release date: November 17, 2010 [eBook #34347]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS; OR, THE STRANGE CRUISE OF THE STORMY PETREL ***
Produced by Sharon Verougstraete, Curtis Weyant and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
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EDWARD STRATEMEYER'S BOOKS
Old Glory Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Net $1.50 per volume._
UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA.
A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA.
FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS.
UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES.
THE CAMPAIGN OF THE JUNGLE.
UNDER MacARTHUR IN LUZON.
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ON TO PEKIN.
UNDER THE MIKADO'S FLAG.
AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR.
WITH TOGO FOR JAPAN.
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_Cloth. Illustrated. Net $1.50 per volume._
WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST.
MARCHING ON NIAGARA.
AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL.
ON THE TRAIL OF PONTIAC.
THE FORT IN THE WILDERNESS.
TRAIL AND TRADING POST.
Mexican War Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume $1.00._
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS.
WITH TAYLOR ON THE RIO GRANDE.
UNDER SCOTT IN MEXICO.
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_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume $1.00._
LOST ON THE ORINOCO.
THE YOUNG VOLCANO EXPLORERS.
YOUNG EXPLORERS OF THE ISTHMUS.
YOUNG EXPLORERS OF THE AMAZON.
TREASURE SEEKERS OF THE ANDES.
CHASED ACROSS THE PAMPAS.
Dave Porter Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Net $1.50 per volume._
DAVE PORTER AT OAK HALL.
DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS.
DAVE PORTER'S RETURN TO SCHOOL.
DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH.
DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES.
DAVE PORTER AT STAR RANCH.
DAVE PORTER AND HIS RIVALS.
DAVE PORTER ON CAVE ISLAND.
DAVE PORTER AND THE RUNAWAYS.
DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS.
DAVE PORTER AT BEAR CAMP.
DAVE PORTER AND HIS DOUBLE.
DAVE PORTER'S GREAT SEARCH.
DAVE PORTER UNDER FIRE.
DAVE PORTER'S WAR HONORS.
Lakeport Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Net $1.50 per volume._
THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE BASEBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE BOAT CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE FOOTBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE AUTOMOBILE BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE AIRCRAFT BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
American Boys' Biographical Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Net $1.50 per volume._
AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF WILLIAM McKINLEY.
AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
DEFENDING HIS FLAG. _Price $1.50._
[Illustration: The canoe was sent closer and finally beached.--_Page
258._]
Dave Porter Series
DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS
OR
THE STRANGE CRUISE OF THE STORMY PETREL
BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of "Under Togo for Japan," "Under the Mikado's
Flag," "At the Fall of Port Arthur," "Old Glory
Series," "Pan-American Series," "Colonial
Series," "American Boys' Biographical
Series," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY I. B. HAZELTON_
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, August, 1906
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD CO.
_All rights reserved_
DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS
Norwood Press
BERWICK AND SMITH CO.
NORWOOD, MASS.
U. S. A.
PREFACE
"Dave Porter in the South Seas" is a complete story in itself, but forms
the second volume in a line issued under the general title of "Dave
Porter Series."
In the first volume of this series, called "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," I
introduced a typical American boy, and gave something of his haps and
mishaps at an American boarding school of to-day. At this school Dave
made a number of warm friends, and also a few enemies, and was the means
of bringing one weak and misguided youth to a realization of his better
self. Dave was poor and had to fight his way to the front, and this was
not accomplished until he had shown those around him what a truly
straightforward and manly fellow he was.
The one great cloud over Dave's life was the question of his parentage.
He had been raised by those who knew practically nothing of his past,
and when he thought that he saw a chance to learn something about
himself, he embraced that opportunity eagerly, even though it
necessitated a long trip to the South Seas and a search among strange
islands and still stranger natives. Dave makes the trip in a vessel
belonging to the father of one of his school chums, and is accompanied
by several of his friends. Not a few perils are encountered, and what
the boys do under such circumstances I leave for the pages that follow
to tell.
In penning this tale, I have had a twofold object in view: first, to
give my young readers a view of a long ocean trip and let them learn
something of the numerous islands which dot the South Seas, and, in the
second place, to aid in teaching that old truth--that what is worth
having is worth working for.
Again I thank the many thousands of boys and girls, and older persons,
too, who have shown their appreciation of my efforts to amuse and
instruct them. I can only add, as I have done before, that I sincerely
trust that this volume fulfills their every reasonable expectation.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
April 10, 1906.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE BOYS OF OAK HALL 1
II. A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST 10
III. THREE CHUMS ON THE RIVER 19
IV. A PLOT TO "SQUARE UP" 28
V. WHAT THE PLOT LED TO 37
VI. THE FUN OF A NIGHT 46
VII. GUS PLUM'S MYSTERIOUS OFFER 55
VIII. SHADOW HAMILTON'S CONFESSION 64
IX. ABOUT ATHLETIC CONTESTS 72
X. HOW A RACE WAS WON 81
XI. A FIGHT AND ITS RESULT 90
XII. SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST 100
XIII. A PHOTOGRAPH OF IMPORTANCE 110
XIV. A GLEAM OF LIGHT 119
XV. WINDING UP THE SCHOOL TERM 128
XVI. PREPARING FOR A LONG TRIP 137
XVII. THE TRIP TO THE FAR WEST 146
XVIII. SAILING OF THE "STORMY PETREL" 155
XIX. DAYS ON THE OCEAN 164
XX. CAUGHT IN A STORM 174
XXI. CAVASA ISLAND AT LAST 183
XXII. ABOUT SOME MISSING MEN 192
XXIII. IN WHICH THE SUPERCARGO IS CORNERED 201
XXIV. THE CARGO MYSTERY EXPLAINED 210
XXV. SWEPT ONWARD BY A TIDAL WAVE 219
XXVI. EXPLORING A TROPICAL ISLAND 228
XXVII. A MAP AND A PLOT 237
XXVIII. MAROONED 245
XXIX. THE COMING OF THE NATIVES 254
XXX. THE RETAKING OF THE "STORMY PETREL" 262
XXXI. LIFTING THE CURTAIN 270
XXXII. HOMEWARD BOUND--CONCLUSION 278
ILLUSTRATIONS
The canoe was sent closer and finally beached
(page 258) _Frontispiece_
Page
Dave cleared the last hurdle, and came in a winner 87
"Tell me his name, at once!" 121
"Good-by to Oak Hall!" 137
Another flash lit up the scene 179
The former supercargo was washed off the steps and
came down flat on his back 225
Billy Dill managed to catch the last one and turn
him over 233
"I have come about seven thousand miles to see you" 274
DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS
CHAPTER I
THE BOYS OF OAK HALL
"Hello, Dave; where are you bound?"
"For the river, Phil. I am going out for a row. Want to come along?"
"That suits me," answered Phil Lawrence, throwing down the astronomy he
had been studying. "But I can't stay out late," he added, reaching for
his cap. "Got two examples in algebra to do. Have you finished up?"
"Yes," answered Dave Porter. "They are not so hard."
"And your Latin?"
"That's done, too."
Phil Lawrence eyed the boy before him admiringly. "Dave, I don't see how
you manage it. You're always on deck for fun, and yet you scarcely miss
a lesson. Let me into the secret, won't you?"
"That's right, Dave; pull the cover off clean and clear," came from a
youth who had just entered the school dormitory. "If I can get lessons
without studying----"
"Oh, Roger, you know better than that," burst out Dave Porter, with a
smile. "Of course I have to study--just the same as anybody. But when I
study, I study, and when I play, I play. I've found out that it doesn't
pay to mix the two up--it is best to buckle your mind down to the thing
on hand and to nothing else."
"That's the talk," came from a boy resting on one of the beds. "It puts
me in mind of a story I once heard about a fellow who fell from the roof
of a house to the ground----"
"There goes Shadow again!" cried Roger Morr. "Shadow, will you ever get
done telling chestnuts?"
"This isn't a chestnut, and I haven't told it over twice in my life. The
man fell to the ground past an open window. As he was going down, he
grabbed another man at the window by the hair. The hair--it was a
wig--came off. 'Say,' yells the man at the window. 'Leave me alone. If
you want to fall, 'tend to business, and fall!'" And a smile passed
around among the assembled schoolboys.
"Perhaps Roger would like to come along," continued Dave. "I was going
out for a row, and Phil said he would go, too," he explained.
"That suits me," answered Roger Morr. "It will give us an appetite for
supper."
"What about you, Shadow?" and Dave turned to the youth on the bed.
Maurice Hamilton shook his head slightly. "Not to-day. I am going to
take a nap, if I can get it. Remember, I was up half the night."
"So he was," affirmed Phil Lawrence. "But he hasn't said what it was
about."
"Not much," growled the boy called Shadow. He was very tall and very
thin, hence the nickname. Turning over, he pretended to go to sleep.
"There is something wrong about Shadow," said Dave as he and his two
companions left the school building and hurried for the river at the
back of the grounds. "He has not been himself at all to-day."
"I think he has had something to do with that bully, Gus Plum," said
Phil. "I saw them together two days ago, and both were talking
earnestly. I don't know exactly what it was about. But I know Shadow has
been very much disturbed ever since."
"Well, the best he can do is to leave Plum alone," returned Dave,
decidedly. "I can tell you, fellows, that chap is not to be trusted; you
know that as well as I do."
"Of course we know it," said Roger Morr. "Didn't I warn you against Gus
Plum before you ever came to Oak Hall? And now that Chip Macklin has
turned over a new leaf and refused to be Plum's toady any longer, the
bully is worse than ever. Only yesterday Buster Beggs caught him back
of the gym., abusing one of the little fellows. Buster is generally too
lazy to rouse up, but he said it made him mad, and he told Plum to stop,
or it would be the worse for him, and Plum went off grumbling."
"It's a great pity Plum can't reform, like Macklin. I declare, Chip is
getting to be quite a decent sort, now."
"It's not in Plum to reform," exclaimed Phil Lawrence. "If I were Doctor
Clay, I'd get rid of him. Why, such a chap can keep a whole school in
hot water."
"Somebody said that Plum's father had lost a good bit of his money,"
observed Roger Morr. "If that is so, it must be a bitter pill for Gus to
swallow."
"Well, I wouldn't taunt him with it, if it's true," replied Dave,
quickly.
"Oh, I shan't say a word--although he deserves to have it rubbed in, for
the way he treated you, Dave."
"Yes, that was a jolly shame," commented Phil. "It makes me angry every
time I think of it."
"I am willing to let bygones be bygones," said Dave, with a little
smile. "As it was, it only showed me who my true friends were, and are.
I can afford to get along without the others."
"And especially after we waxed Plum and his crowd at baseball, and then
won our great victory over the Rockville boys," said Roger. "Oh, but
wasn't that a dandy victory! And didn't we have a dandy celebration
afterwards!"
"And do you remember the big cannon cracker we set off in the
courtyard?" Dave's eyes began to twinkle. "I heard afterwards that Pop
Swingly, the janitor, was scared almost to death. He thought somebody
was trying to blow up the building."
"Yes, and Job Haskers said if he could catch the fellow who----" Phil
broke off short. "Here comes Gus Plum, now," he whispered.
The others looked up, and saw coming toward them across the school
grounds a tall, broad-shouldered individual, loudly dressed, and with a
shock of uncombed hair and a cap set over on one ear.
"Hello, Plum," said Dave, pleasantly, while his two companions nodded to
the newcomer.
"Hello, yourself," came shortly from Gus Plum. "Hold up a minute," he
went on, planting himself in front of the three.
"What's wanted?" questioned Phil, in a little surprise.
"I want to know if Shadow Hamilton has been saying anything about me to
you," growled the bully of Oak Hall.
"I haven't heard anything," answered Phil, while Dave and Roger shook
their heads.
"Humph! He had better not!" muttered Plum, with a scowl. "If he
does----" The bully did not finish.
"I hope there is no more trouble in the air," was Dave's comment.
"There will be trouble, if Hamilton opens his trap. I won't allow
anybody in this school to talk about me, and all of you had better
understand it," and the bully glared at the others defiantly.
"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about," said Dave. "I
haven't said anything about you."
"And you haven't heard anything?" inquired Gus Plum, with a look of keen
anxiety showing on his coarse face.
"I've heard some roundabout story about your father losing money," said
Roger, before Dave could answer. "If it is true, I am sorry for you,
Gus."
"Bah! I don't want your sympathy. Did Hamilton tell you that story?"
"No."
"I suppose you are spreading it right and left, eh? Making me out to be
a pauper, like your friend Porter, eh?" continued Gus Plum, working
himself up into a magnificent condition of ill-humor.
"I am not spreading it right and left," answered Roger, quietly.
"And I am not a pauper, Plum!" exclaimed Dave, with flashing eyes. "I
thought we had settled that difference of opinion long ago. If you are
going to open it up again----"
"Oh, don't mind what he says, Dave," broke in Phil, catching his chum by
the arm. "You know nobody in the school pays attention to him."
"I won't let any of you run me down!" roared Gus Plum. "Now, just you
remember that! If any of you say a word about me or my father, I'll make
it so hot for you that you'll wish you had never been born. My father
has lost a little money, but it ain't a flea-bite to what he is worth,
and I want everybody in this school to know it."
"And I want you to know that you cannot continue to insult me," blazed
out Dave. "I am not as rich as most of the boys here, but----"
"He is just as good as any of us, Plum, remember that," finished Phil.
"It is an outrage for you to refer to Dave as a pauper."
"Well, didn't he come from the poorhouse, and ain't he a nobody?"
sneered the bully.
"He is a better fellow than you will ever be, Plum," said Roger, warmly.
He and Phil were both holding Dave back. "Don't listen to him, Dave."
"Yes, but, fellows----" Dave's face was white, and he trembled all over.
"I know it cuts you," whispered Roger. "But Plum is a--a brute. Don't
waste your breath on him."
"Ho! so I am a brute, am I?" blustered the big bully, clenching his
fists.
"Yes, you are," answered Roger, boldly. "Any fellow with a spark of
goodness and honor in him would not speak to Dave as you have done. It
simply shows up your own low-mindedness, Plum."
"Don't you preach!" shouted the bully. "Say another word, and
I'll--I'll----"
"We are not afraid of you," said Phil, firmly. "We've told you that
before. We intend to leave you alone, and the best thing you can do is
to leave us alone."
"Bah! I know you, and you can't fool me! You say one thing to my face
and another behind my back. But don't you dare to say too much; and you
can tell Shadow Hamilton not to say too much, either. If you do--well,
there will be war, that's all--and all of you will get what you don't
want!" And with this threat, Gus Plum hurried around a corner of the
school building and out of sight.
"What a cad!" murmured Phil.
"He is worked up; no disputing that," was Roger's comment. "He acts as
if he was afraid something was being told that he wished to keep a
secret."
The hot blood had rushed to Dave's face, and he was still trembling.
"I wish I had knocked him down," he said in a low tone.
"What good would it have done?" returned Roger. "It would only get you
into trouble with the doctor, and that is just what Plum would like.
When it comes to a standing in the class, he knows he hasn't as much to
lose as you have. He is almost at the bottom already, while you are
close to the top."
"But, Roger, he said--oh, I can't bear to think about it! I suppose he
blabs it to everybody, too, and they will think----"
"Don't give it another thought, Dave," said Phil, soothingly, and he
turned his chum toward the river again. "Dismiss Plum and all his
meanness from your mind."
"I wish I could," answered Dave, and his voice had a great deal of
seriousness in it.
CHAPTER II
A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST
As the three boys hurried to the river, Dave Porter felt that all his
anticipated sport for that afternoon had been spoiled. He had been
brought face to face once more with the one dark spot in his history,
and his heart was filled with a bitterness which his two loyal chums
could scarcely comprehend.
Dave was indeed a poorhouse boy, and of unknown parentage. When but a
few years of age, he had been found one evening in the summer wandering
close to the railroad tracks just outside of the village of Crumville.
How he was found by some farm hands and taken to a house and fed and
cared for otherwise, has already been related in the first volume of
this series, entitled "Dave Porter at Oak Hall."
At first, every effort to learn his identity was made, but, this
failing, he was turned over to the poorhouse authorities. He said his
name was Dave, or Davy, and sometimes added Porter, and then Dun-Dun,
and from this he was called Dave Porter--a name which suited him very
well.
Dave remained at the poorhouse until he was about nine years old, when
he was taken out of that institution by a broken-down college professor
named Caspar Potts, who had turned farmer. He remained with the old
professor for several years, and a warm friendship sprang up between the
pair. Caspar Potts gave Dave a fair education, and, in return, the boy
did all he could for the old man, who was not in the best of health, and
rather eccentric at times.
Unfortunately for Professor Potts, there was in the neighborhood a
hard-hearted money-lender named Aaron Poole, who had a mortgage on the
old educator's farm. The money-lender had a son named Nat, who was a
flippant youth, and this boy had trouble with Dave. Then the
money-lender would have sold out the old professor, had not aid come
opportunely from a most unexpected quarter.
In this volume it is unnecessary to go into the details of how Dave
became acquainted with Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a rich manufacturer of the
neighborhood, and how the boy saved Jessie Wadsworth from being burned
to death when the gasoline tank of an automobile exploded and enveloped
the young miss in flames. For this service the Wadsworths were all more
than grateful, and when Dave told his story Oliver Wadsworth made the
discovery that Caspar Potts was one of the professors under whom he had
studied in his college days.
"I must meet him and talk this over," said the rich manufacturer, and
the upshot of the matter was that the professor and Dave were invited to
dine at the Wadsworth mansion.
This dinner proved a turning point in the life of the poorhouse youth.
Mr. Wadsworth had lost a son by death, and Dave reminded him strongly of
his boy. It was arranged that Caspar Potts should come to live at the
Wadsworth mansion, and that Dave should be sent to some first-class
boarding school, the manufacturer agreeing to pay all bills, because of
the boy's bravery in behalf of Jessie.
Oak Hall was the school selected, a fine institution, located not far
from the village of Oakdale. The school was surrounded by oaks, which
partly shaded a beautiful campus, and the grounds, which were on a
slight hill, sloped down in the rear to the Leming River.
Dave's heart beat high when he started off for Oak Hall, and he had a
curious experience before he reached that institution. The house of a
Senator Morr was robbed, and the boy met the robber on the train, and,
after a good deal of trouble, managed to recover a valise containing a
large share of the stolen goods. This threw Dave into the company of
Roger Morr, the senator's son, and the two became warm friends. Roger
was on his way to Oak Hall, and it was through him that Dave became
acquainted with Phil Lawrence--reckoned by many the leader of the
academy; Maurice Hamilton, generally called Shadow; Sam Day, Joseph
Beggs,--who always went by the name of Buster, because he was so
fat,--and a number of others. In Crumville Dave had had one boy friend,
Ben Basswood, and Ben also came to Oak Hall, and so did Nat Poole, as
flippant and loud-mouthed as ever.
But Dave soon found out that Nat Poole was not half so hard to get along
with as was Gus Plum, the big bully of the Hall. There was a difference
of opinion almost from the start, and Plum did all he could to annoy
Dave and his friends. Plum wanted to be a leader in baseball and in
athletics generally, and when he found himself outclassed, he was
savagely bitter.
"I'll get square!" he told his toady, Chip Macklin, more than once; but
his plans to injure Dave and his chums fell through, and, in the end,
Macklin became disgusted with the bully and left him. Most of the boys
wanted nothing to do with the boy who had been the bully's toady, but
Dave put in a good word for him, and, in the end, Macklin was voted a
pretty fair fellow, after all.
With the toady gone, Gus Plum and Nat Poole became very thick, and Poole
lost no opportunity of telling how Dave had been raised at the
poorhouse. Gus Plum took the matter up, and for a while poor Dave was
made miserable by those who turned their backs on him. But Doctor Clay,
who presided over the academy, sided with Dave, and so did all of the
better class of students, and soon the affair blew over, at least for
the time being. But now the bully was agitating it again, as we have
just seen.
During the winter term at Oak Hall one thing of importance had occurred,
of which some particulars must be given, for it has much to do with our
present tale. Some of the boys, including Dave, had skated up the river
to what was locally called the old castle--a deserted stone dwelling
standing in a wilderness of trees. They had arrived at this structure
just in time to view a quarrel between two men--one a sleek-looking
fellow and the other an elderly man, dressed in the garb of a sailor.
The sleek-looking individual was the man who had robbed Senator Morr's
house, and just as he knocked the old sailor senseless to the ground,
the boys rushed in and made him a prisoner.
When the old sailor came to his senses, he stared at Dave as if the boy
were a ghost. He said his name was Billy Dill and that he had sailed the
South Seas and many other portions of the briny deep. He insisted that
he knew Dave well, and wanted to know why the youth had shaved off his
mustache. The boys imagined that the tar was out of his head, and he
was removed to a hospital. Later on, as Dave was so interested in the
man, Mr. Wadsworth had him taken to a private sanitarium. Here he
lingered for awhile between life and death, but at last grew better
physically, although his mind was sadly unbalanced, and he could recall
the past only in a hazy way.
Yet he insisted upon it, over and over again, that he had met Dave
before, or, if not the youth, then somebody who looked exactly like him,
although older. Pressed to tell his story, he said he had met this man
on Cavasa Island, in the South Seas. He also mentioned a crazy nurse and
a lost child, but could give no details, going off immediately into a
wild flight about the roaring of the sea in his ears and the dancing of
the lighthouse beacon in his eyes.
"He must know something of my past," Dave said, when he came away from
visiting the old tar. "Oh, if only his mind were perfectly clear!"
"We must wait," answered Oliver Wadsworth, who was along. "I think his
mind will clear after awhile. It is certainly clearer now than it was
some months ago."
"The man he knows may be my father, or some close relative."
"That may be true, Dave. But don't raise any false hopes. I should not
like to see you disappointed for the world."
Dave knew that Phil Lawrence's father was a shipping merchant of
considerable standing, owning an interest in a great number of vessels.
He went to Phil and learned that the boy was going to take a trip to the
South Seas that very summer, and was going to stop at Cavasa Island.
"I am going on business for my father," explained Phil. "It is something
special, of which he wishes the supercargo to know nothing." And then he
told Dave all he knew of Cavasa Island and its two towns and their
inhabitants. After that, Dave sent a letter to both of the towns, asking
if there were any persons there by the name of Porter, or if any
English-speaking person had lost a child years ago, but so far no answer
had been received.
Of course, Phil wanted to know why Dave was so anxious to learn about
his proposed trip, and, in the end, the poorhouse boy told his story, to
which his chum listened with interest.
"Phil, what would you say if I wanted to go with you on that trip to
Cavasa Island?" Dave had said, after his story was finished.
"Do you really mean it, Dave?" had been the return question, and Phil's
face had shown his astonishment.
"I do--if matters turn out as I think they may."
"That is, if that old sailor gets around so that he can tell a pretty
straight story?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'd like your company, first-rate. But--" Phil drew a deep
breath--"I'd hate to see you go on a wild-goose chase. Think of
traveling thousands of miles and then being disappointed at the end of
the trip. That old sailor may simply be crazy."
"I don't think so. Why should he mention a lost child--a boy?"
"Well, that is the only thing that makes it look as if there was
something in the story. But couldn't I do the looking for you?"
"No, I'd prefer to do that myself. Besides, you must remember, that
sailor did not come directly from Cavasa Island to this country. So,
whoever was on the island--I mean the person I may be interested in--may
have gone elsewhere--in which case I should want to follow him."
"I see. Well, Dave, do what you think is best, and may good luck go with
you!" Phil had said; and there the conversation on the subject had come
to a close.
It was not until a week later that Dave had called on Billy Dill
again--to find the old tar sitting on a porch of the sanitarium, smoking
his pipe contentedly.
"On deck again, my hearty!" had been the greeting. "Give us your
flipper," and a warm handshake had followed.
But the visit had been productive of little good. Billy Dill could
remember nothing clearly, excepting that he knew a man who looked very
much like Dave, and that that man had been his friend while he was
stranded on Cavasa Island and looking for a chance to ship. He said he
could recall a bark named the _Mary Sacord_ and a crazy nurse called
Polly, but that was all.
"I had a picter o' that man once--the feller that looks like you," he
said. "But I dunno what's become o' it," and then he had scratched his
head and gone off into a rambling mumble that meant nothing at all. And
Dave had gone back to Oak Hall more mystified than ever.
CHAPTER III
THREE CHUMS ON THE RIVER
Down at the boathouse the three boys procured a round-bottomed rowboat,
and were soon on the river. Roger took one pair of oars and motioned to
Phil to let Dave take the other.
"Let him do the most of the rowing--it will help him to forget his
troubles," he whispered, and Phil understood.
It was a beautiful afternoon in the early summer, with just the faintest
breeze stirring the trees which lined the river bank on either side. The
boys pulled a good stroke, and Roger purposely kept Dave at it, until
both were thoroughly warmed up.
"You're improving in your stroke," remarked Dave, as they came to a bend
in the watercourse and rested on their oars for a minute. "Perhaps you
are training for the boat races."
"Well, I shouldn't mind going into a race," returned the senator's son.
"It would be lots of sport, even if I didn't win."
"I am going into some of the field contests this summer," said Phil.
"That is, if they come off before I go away."
"When do you expect to start?"
"I don't know yet. It depends upon when one of my father's vessels gets
back to San Francisco and ships her cargo."
"I've heard a rumor that the Hall is to be shut up early this summer,"
said Dave. "The doctor is thinking of building an addition before the
fall term begins, and he wants to give the masons and carpenters as much
of a show as possible."
"Do you remember that day we were on the river, and Gus Plum ran into us
with that gasoline launch?" observed Phil. "My, what a mess we were in!"
"I've had trouble with him ever since I clapped eyes on him," answered
Dave.
"Oh, let's talk about something else!" cried Roger. "No matter where we
start from, we always end up with Gus Plum. And, by the way, do you
notice how thick he is with Nat Poole since Macklin has refused to toady
to him?"
"They are almost of a stripe, Roger," answered Dave. "I know Nat Poole
thoroughly. The only difference is that Poole is more of a dandy when it
comes to dress."
"Poole says he is going in for athletics this summer," said Phil. "I
overheard him telling Luke Watson so."
"Is Luke going into training?"
"I don't think so. He loves his banjo and guitar too much."
"Well, I'd love them, too, if I could play as he does," returned Dave.
"Luke told me he had noticed something strange about Shadow," put in
Roger. "He asked me if I knew what made Shadow so worried. He said he
hadn't heard a funny story out of him for a week, and that's unusual,
for Shadow is generally telling about a dozen a day."
"It is possible that he may be fixing for a regular spell of sickness,"
was Dave's comment. "That's the way some things come on, you know."
The boys resumed their rowing, and Roger put on a burst of speed that
made Dave work with a will in order to keep up with him. Then, of a
sudden, there came a sharp click and the senator's son tumbled over
backwards, splashing the water in every direction.
"Whoop! look out!" yelled Phil. "I don't want any shower-bath! Did you
catch a crab, Roger?"
"N--no, I didn't," spluttered the senator's son, when he had regained a
sitting position. "There's the trouble," and he pointed to a broken
oarlock.
"That's too bad," declared Dave. "Boys, we shall have to have that fixed
before we take the boat back to the boathouse--or else we'll have to
tell Mr. Dale." The man he mentioned was the first assistant instructor
at the Hall.
"Let us row down to Ike Rasmer's boathouse and see if he will sell us an
oarlock," suggested Roger. "He ought to have plenty on hand."
"All right," said Phil; "and, as both of you must be tired now, I'll
take my turn," and he motioned to Dave to change seats with him, while
Roger drew in his remaining oar.
The man whom Roger had mentioned was a boatman who rented out craft of
various kinds. His boathouse was about half a mile away, but Phil
covered the distance with ease. They found Rasmer out on his little
dock, painting a tiny sloop a dark green.
"How do you do, boys?" he called out, pleasantly. "Out for an airing?"
"No, we came down to see if you needed any painters," answered Dave.
"Well, I dunno. What do you think of this job of mine? Ain't it pretty
slick?" And Ike Rasmer surveyed his work with evident satisfaction.
"It's all right, Ike," answered Roger. "When you give up boating, take
to house-painting, by all means."
"House-painting?" snorted the man. "Not fer me! I ain't goin' to fall
off no slippery ladder an' break my neck. I'd rather paint signs. What's
that you've got, a broken oarlock?"
"Yes, and I want to know if you'll sell me one to match?"
"Sure I will," answered Ike Rasmer, with a twinkle in his eye. He threw
down his paint brush and walked into his boathouse. "Here you be, my
boy!" And he held up the parts of a broken oarlock.
"Well--I--I didn't want a broken one," stammered the senator's son.
"Didn't ye say you wanted one to match? Ho, ho! I reckon I cotched you
that trip, didn't I?" And the man continued to laugh, and Dave and Phil
joined in.
"Ike must have swallowed a whetstone this morning," observed Dave.
"A whetstone?" queried the old boatman. "Why?"
"You're so awfully sharp."
"Ho, ho! That's one on me, sure enough." The man slapped Dave on the
shoulder. "You Hall boys are the cute ones, ain't ye? Well, if you want
a good oarlock, you shall have it," and he brought forth a number, that
Roger might make his selection. The senator's son did so, and paid for
it out of his pocket-money.
"We ought to pay for part of that," said Dave, always ready to do what
was fair.
"Oh, don't bother, Dave; it's only a trifle," answered his chum.
"Say, some of you boys are out pretty late nights," observed Ike Rasmer,
as he resumed his painting, and while Roger was adjusting the new
oarlock to the gunwale of the Hall boat.
"Out late?" queried Phil.
"Yes, mighty late."
"I haven't been out for a month."
"Nor I," added Dave and Roger.
"I see that young Hamilton not long ago--the fellow that tells stories
whenever he can get the chance. And I saw Gus Plum, too."
"Together?" asked Dave, with sudden interest.
"Oh, no. But they were out the same night."
"Late?"
"I should say so--after twelve o'clock."
"What were they doing, Ike?" asked Phil.
"Rowing along the river. Each had a small boat--I guess one from the
school. It was bright moonlight, and I saw them quite plainly when they
passed Robbin's Point, where I was fishing."
"And each was alone?"
"Yes. Hamilton was right ahead of Plum, and both rowing along at good
speed, too. I thought it was mighty strange, and made up my mind I'd ask
you boys about it. But, say, I don't want you to get them into trouble,"
added the old boatman, suddenly. "They are both customers of mine,
sometimes."
"I shan't say anything," answered Roger. "But this puzzles me," he
continued, turning to his friends.
"Each boy was alone in a boat?" queried Dave.
"Yes."
"And Plum was following Hamilton?"
"He seemed to be. Anyway, his boat was behind the other."
"Was anybody else around?" asked Phil.
"I didn't see a soul, and the river was almost as bright as day."
"Did you see them a second time?" asked Dave.
"No, for I was getting ready to go home when they came along. I don't
know where they went, or when they got back."
Ike Rasmer could tell no more than this, and as it was getting late the
three boys lost no time in shoving off once more and pulling for the
Hall boathouse.
"This stumps me," declared the senator's son. "What do you make of it?
Do you think Shadow and Plum are up to something between them?"
"No, I don't," answered Dave, decidedly. "Shadow is not the fellow to
train with Gus Plum. He doesn't like the bully any more than we do."
"No wonder Shadow feels sleepy, if he spends his nights on the river,"
said Phil. "But I can't make out what he is up to, I must confess. If it
was some fun, he would surely take somebody with him."
The boys pulled with all their strength, yet when they arrived at the
Hall boathouse, they found that they were exactly twelve minutes behind
the supper hour.
"No time to wash up," said Roger. "We'll be lucky if we can slip into
the dining room without being observed."
With all speed they tied up their craft and ran for the school building.
They were just entering the side door when they were brought face to
face with Job Haskers, the second assistant teacher and a man who was
very dictatorial in his manner.
"Stop!" cried Job Haskers, catching Dave by the shoulder. "What do you
mean by coming in at this hour?"
"We were out on the river and broke an oarlock, Mr. Haskers," replied
Dave.
"Humph! an old excuse."
"It is the truth, sir," and Dave's face flushed.
"I broke the oarlock," said Roger. "We got back as soon as we could--as
soon as we got a new lock at Ike Rasmer's boathouse."
"We cannot allow pupils to come in half an hour late," went on Job
Haskers, loftily. "Directly after supper, report to me in classroom 7,"
and he passed on.
"We are in for it now," grumbled Phil. "It's a shame! It wasn't our
fault that the oarlock broke."
"Wonder what he will make us do?" came from the senator's son.
"Something not very pleasant," answered Dave. He had encountered the
second assistant many times before and knew the harsh instructor well.
They were soon in their seats at the table. Some of the other students
looked at them inquiringly, but nothing was said. Not far from Dave sat
Gus Plum and Nat Poole, and both favored the poor boy with a scowl, to
which Dave paid no attention.
The meal finished, Dave, Phil, and the senator's son brushed up a bit,
and then hurried to classroom 7, located in an angle of the building.
They were soon joined by Job Haskers.
"The three of you may remain here and each write the word 'Oarlock' two
hundred times," said the second assistant. "As soon as all of you have
finished, ring the bell, and I will come and inspect the work. It must
be neatly done, or I shall make you do it over again." And then he left
them to themselves, going out and closing the door tightly after him.
CHAPTER IV
A PLOT TO "SQUARE UP"
"Phew! but this is a real picnic!" came softly from Phil. "He's as kind
as they make 'em, isn't he?"
"It's a jolly shame," grumbled the senator's son. "To make us stay in
this stuffy classroom on such a fine evening as this."
"I am glad I finished with my lessons," was Dave's comment. "But I am
sorry for you two. But, as there is no help for it, we might as well get
to work. The sooner begun, the sooner done, you know." And he began to
write away vigorously on one of the pads the teacher had pointed out to
them.
"I wish old Haskers had to write it himself," growled Roger, as he, too,
went at the task. "Oh, but isn't he the mean one! I don't see why the
doctor keeps him."
"He's smart, that's why," answered Phil. "I wish we could get square for
this. I'm sure Doctor Clay would have excused us, had he known the
facts. I've a good mind to go to him about it."
"Don't you do it, Phil," cried Dave. "It's not worth it. Get to
work--and we'll think about squaring up afterwards."
In a minute more all three of the boys were writing as rapidly as their
fingers could travel over the paper. Roger was the best penman of the
three and finished several minutes before the others. He began to walk
up and down the room, whistling softly to himself.
"Yes, I go in for squaring up with old Haskers," he said, rather loudly.
"He's about as mean----" And then he stopped short, as the door swung
open and the second assistant appeared.
"Huh!" he snorted. "Were you alluding to me, Master Morr?" he demanded.
Roger stammered, and his face turned red.
"Her--here are the words," he stammered.
"Two hundred, eh? Well, you may write a hundred more, and after this be
careful of what you say." And then Job Haskers turned to Dave and Phil.
"That is all right, you two can go."
"Can I stay with Roger?" asked Dave.
"No, I shall remain here myself," was the cold answer, and then Dave and
Phil had to leave.
"I'll wager Roger feels like hugging him," was Phil's comment. "He will
want to get square now, sure."
The two boys went out on the campus for awhile and then up to their
dormitory, where they found a small crowd assembled, some talking, and a
few studying. The door to the adjoining dormitory was open, and there
Luke Watson was playing on a banjo, while another student was singing a
negro song in a subdued voice.
"I say, Dave, will you explain something to me?" said a voice from a
corner. The question came from Chip Macklin, Gus Plum's former toady.
The small boy was working over a sheet of algebra sums.
"Certainly," said Dave, readily, and sat down by the other's side. "Now,
what is it? Oh, I see. I got twisted on that myself once. This is the
proper equation, and you can reduce it this way," and he was soon deep
in the problem, with Chip looking on admiringly. When the problem had
been worked out and explained in detail, the small boy was very
grateful.
"And, Dave," he went on, in a low tone, "I--I want to tell you
something. Be on your guard against Plum and Nat Poole."
"Why?"
"Because they are plotting mischief. I heard them talking in the gym. I
don't know what it is about, but they are surely up to something."
"I'll remember, Chip, and much obliged," answered Dave, and then he
turned to the other boys, leaving the small youth to finish his
examples.
"Hello, where have you been?" came from stout and lazy Buster Beggs. He
was sprawled out on the end of a couch. "I noticed you didn't get to
supper till late, and went right off, directly you had finished."
"Had a special session with Haskers," answered Dave. "He wants me to
improve my handwriting."
There was a smile at this, for all the boys knew what it meant.
"Oh, that fellow is a big peach, he is!" came from Sam Day, who sat in
one of the windows. "Yesterday, he made me stay in just because I asked
Tolliver for a lead pencil."
"He was mad because Polly Vane caught him in an error in grammar," added
another youth. "Didn't you, Polly?" he added, addressing a rather
girlish-looking boy who sat near Chip Macklin.
"I did," was the soft answer. "It was rather a complicated sentence, but
perfectly clear to me," explained the boy.
"I don't wonder, for Polly fairly lives on grammar and language," put in
Phil. "I don't believe anybody could trip him up," and this compliment
made Bertram Vane blush like a girl. He was in reality one of the best
scholars in the academy.
"Which puts me in mind of a story," came from one of the cots. "An----"
"Hello, are you awake, Shadow?" cried Sam Day. "I thought you were
snoozing."
"So I was, but I am slept out, and feel better now. As I was saying, an
old farmer and a college professor went out rowing together. Says the
college professor, 'Can you do sums in algebra?' 'No,' answers the
farmer. 'Then you have missed a great opportunity,' says the professor.
Just then the boat struck a rock and went over. 'Save me!' yells the
professor. 'Can't you swim?' asked the farmer. 'No.' 'Then you have lost
the chance of your life!' says the farmer, and strikes out and leaves
the professor to take care of himself."
"Two hundredth time!" came in a solemn voice from the doorway to the
next room.
"Wha--what do you mean? I never told any story two hundred times," cried
Shadow Hamilton. "And that puts me in mind----"
"Shadow, if you tell another as bad as that, I'll heave you out of the
window," came from Sam Day. "That has moss on it three inches th----"
"Oh, I know you, Lazy; you're jealous, that's all. You couldn't tell a
story if you stood on your head."
"Can you, Shadow?" and then a general laugh went up, in the midst of
which the door opened, and Job Haskers entered. On catching sight of the
unpopular teacher, Sam Day lost no time in sliding from the window-sill
to a chair.
"Boys, we cannot permit so much noise up here!" cried Job Haskers. "And
that constant strumming on a banjo must be stopped. Master Day, were
you sitting in the window?"
"I--er--I think I was," stammered Sam.
"You are aware that is against the rules. If you fell out, the Hall
management would be held responsible. After school to-morrow you can
write the words, 'Window-sill,' two hundred times. Hamilton, get up, and
straighten out that cot properly. I am ashamed of you." And then the
hated teacher passed on to the next dormitory.
"I told you to get out of the window," said Macklin, as soon as they
were alone. "I was caught that way myself once, and so was Gus Plum."
"Lazy is going to learn how to write a little better, too," said Dave,
with a grin.
At that moment Roger came in, looking thoroughly disgusted.
"Made me write half of it over again," he explained. "Oh, it's simply
unbearable! Say, I am going to do something to get square, as sure as
eggs is eggs."
"Eggs are eggs," corrected Polly Vane, sweetly.
"Oh, thanks, Polly. What about a tailor's goose?"
"Eh?"
"If one tailor's goose is a goose, what are half a dozen?"
"Tailor's geese, I suppose--but, no, you'd not say that. Let me see,"
and the girlish youth dove into his books. "That's a serious question,
truly!" he murmured.
"Well, I am willing to get square, too," put in Sam Day.
"So am I," grunted Shadow Hamilton. "There was no need to call me down
as he did, simply because the cot was mussed up a bit. The question is,
what's to be done?"
The boys paused and looked at each other. Then a sudden twinkle came
into Dave's clear eyes.
"If we could do it, it would be great," he murmured.
"Do what, Dave?" asked several at once.
"I don't care to say, unless I am certain we are all going to stand
together."
"We are!" came in a chorus from all but Polly Vane, who was still deep
in his books.
"What about you, Polly?" called out Roger.
"Me? Why--er--if a tailor's goose is a real goose, not a flatiron
goose----"
"Oh, drop the goose business. We are talking about getting square with
Haskers. Will you stand with the crowd?"
"You see, we don't want to make gooses of ourselves," said Phil, with a
wink at Polly Vane.
"I'll stand by you," said Polly. "But please don't ask me to do
something ridiculous, as when we dumped that feather bed down from the
third-story landing, and caught those visitors, instead of Pop Swingly."
"I was only thinking of Farmer Cadmore's ram," said Dave, innocently.
"He is now tied up in a field below here. I don't think he likes to be
out over night. He'd rather be under shelter--say in Mr. Haskers' room."
"Whoop!" cried Roger. "Just the thing! We will store him away in old
Haskers' closet."
This plan met with instant approval, and the boys drew straws as to
which of them should endeavor to execute the rather difficult
undertaking. Three were to go, and the choice fell upon Dave, Phil, and
Sam Day. The others promised to remain on guard and issue a warning at
the first intimation of danger.
"I think the coast will be fairly clear," said Sam Day. "I heard Haskers
tell Doctor Clay he was going out to-night and would not be back until
eleven, or after. That ought to give us plenty of time in which to do
the trick."
The three boys could not leave the dormitory until the monitor, Jim
Murphy, had made the rounds and seen to it that all was right for the
night and the lights put out. Then they stole out into the hallway and
down a back stairs. Soon they were out of the building and making for
Farmer Cadmore's place.
As they left the Hall they did not see that they were being watched, yet
such was a fact. Nat Poole had been out on a special errand and had seen
them depart. At once that student hurried to tell his friend, Gus Plum.
"Going out, eh?" said the big bully.
"Yes, and I heard them say something about making it warm when they got
back," returned Nat Poole.
"Humph! Nat, we must put a spoke in their wheel."
"I'm willing. What shall we do?"
"I'll think something up--before they get back," replied the bully of
Oak Hall. "They haven't any right to be out, and I guess we've got 'em
just where we want 'em."
CHAPTER V
WHAT THE PLOT LED TO
It was a clear night, with no moon, but with countless stars bespangling
the heavens. All was quiet around Oak Hall, and the three boys found it
an easy matter to steal across the campus, gain the shade of a row of
oaks, and get out on the side road leading to the Cadmore farm.
"We don't want to get nabbed at this," was Phil's comment. "If Farmer
Cadmore caught us, he would make it mighty warm. He's as irritable as
old Farmer Brown, and you'll remember what a time we had with him and
his calf."
"Does he keep a dog?" asked Dave. "I haven't any use for that sort of an
animal, if he is savage."
"No, he hasn't any dog," answered Phil. "I was asking about it last
week." But Phil was mistaken; Jabez Cadmore did have a dog--one he had
purchased a few days before. He was a good-sized mastiff, and far from
gentle.
Walking rapidly, it did not take the three boys long to reach the first
of Farmer Cadmore's fields. This was of corn, and passing through it
and over a potato patch, they came to an orchard, wherein they knew the
ram was tied to one of the trees.
"Now, be careful!" whispered Dave, as he leaped the rail-fence of the
orchard. "Somebody may be stirring around the farmhouse"--pointing to
the structure some distance away.
"Oh, they must be in bed by this time," said Phil. "Farmers usually
retire early. Cadmore is a close-fisted chap, and he won't want to burn
up his oil or his candles."
With hearts which beat rather rapidly, the boys stole along from one
tree to another. Then they saw a form rise out of the orchard grass, and
all gave a jump. But it was only the ram, and the animal was more
frightened than themselves.
"Look out that he doesn't butt you," warned Dave. "Some of 'em are
pretty _ram_bunctious."
They approached the ram with caution, and untied him. Then Phil started
to lead him out of the orchard, with Dave and Sam following. At first he
would not go, but then began to run, so that Phil kept up with
difficulty.
"Stop!" cried the boy. "Not so fast! Don't you hear?" But the ram paid
no attention, and now turned to the very end of the orchard. Here the
ground was rough, and in a twinkling all three of the boys went down in
a hollow and rolled over and over, while the ram, finding himself free,
plunged on, and was hidden from view in the darkness.
"He got away!" gasped Phil, scrambling up. "We must--Hark!"
He stopped short, and all of the boys listened. From a distance came the
deep baying of the mastiff. The sounds drew closer rapidly.
"A dog--and he is after us!" cried Dave. "Fellows, we have got to get
out of this!"
"If we can!" replied Sam Day. "Which is the way out? I am all turned
around."
So were the others, and they stared into the darkness under the apple
trees in perplexity. The dog was coming closer, and to get away by
running appeared to be out of the question.
"Jump into a tree!" cried Dave, and showed the way. The others followed,
clutching at some low-hanging branches and pulling themselves up as
rapidly as possible. Dave and Sam were soon safe, but the mastiff,
making a bound, caught Phil by the sole of his shoe.
"Hi!" roared Phil. "Let go!" And he kicked out with the other foot. This
made the mastiff make another snap, but his aim was poor, and he dropped
back to the ground, while Phil hauled himself up beside his companions.
"Phew! but that was a narrow escape and no mistake," was the comment of
the big youth, after he could catch his breath. "I thought sure he had
me by the foot!"
"We are in a pickle," groaned Sam. "I suppose that dog will camp right
at the foot of this tree till Farmer Cadmore comes."
"Yes, he is camping now," announced Dave, peering down into the gloom.
The moment the mastiff saw him, the canine set up a loud barking.
For a full minute after that none of the boys spoke, each being busy
with his thoughts.
"We are treed, that is certain," said Phil, soberly. "And I must say I
don't see any way to escape."
"Yes, and don't forget about the ram," added Sam. "Old Jabez Cadmore
will want to know about him, too."
"I've got an idea," said Dave, presently. "Perhaps it won't work, but it
won't do any harm to try it."
"Give it to us, by all means!"
"The trees are pretty thick in this orchard. Let us try to work our way
from one tree to another until we can reach the fence. Then, perhaps, we
can drop outside and get out of the way of that animal."
This was considered a good plan, and they proceeded to put it into
execution at once. It was no easy matter to climb from tree to tree, and
each got a small rent in his clothing, and Sam came near falling to the
ground. The mastiff watched them curiously, barking but little, much to
their satisfaction.
At last, they came to the final row of apple trees. A long limb hung
over a barbed-wire fence, and the boys paused, wondering if it would be
safe to drop to the ground.
"If that mastiff should come through the fence, it would go hard with
us," was Phil's comment. "I'd rather stay up here and take what comes."
"I am going to risk it," answered Dave. "I see a stick down there, and
I'll grab that as soon as I land," and down he dropped, and caught up
the stick with alacrity. The dog pounced forward, struck the sharp barbs
of the fence, and retreated, howling dismally with pain. Then he made
another advance, with like results.
"Hurrah! he can't get through!" ejaculated Dave. "Come on, fellows, it's
perfectly safe." And down his chums dropped, and all hurried away from
the vicinity of the orchard.
"We had better be getting back," said Sam, after the orchard and potato
patch had been left behind. "That farmer may be coming after us before
we know it. He must have heard the dog." But in this he was mistaken,
the distance from the house was too great, and the farmer and his family
slept too soundly to be disturbed.
"It's too bad we must go back without the ram," observed Dave. "The
other fellows will think we got scared and threw up the job."
"Well, it can't be helped," began Phil, when he caught sight of
something moving along the road ahead of them. "Look! Is that the ram?"
"It is!" exclaimed Dave. "Wait! If you are not careful, he'll run away
again. Stay here, and I'll catch him. I was brought up on a farm, and I
know all about sheep."
The others came to a halt, and Dave advanced with caution until he was
within a few feet of the ram. Then he held out his hand and made a
peculiar sound. The ram grew curious and remained quiet, while the youth
picked up the end of the rope which was around the animal's neck.
"I've got him," he said, in a low, even tone. "Now, keep to the rear and
I'll manage him." And on they went. Once in a while the ram showed a
disposition to butt and to stop short, but Dave coaxed him, and the
trouble was not great.
When they came in sight of the school building, they realized that the
most difficult part of the task lay before them. It was decided that
Dave should keep the ram behind the gymnasium building until Sam and
Phil ascertained that the coast was clear.
Left to himself, Dave tied the ram to a post and crawled into the
gymnasium by one of the windows. He procured several broad straps, and
also a small blanket. Just as he came out with the things, Sam and Phil
came hurrying back, each with a look of deep concern on his face.
"The jig is up!" groaned Sam. "Plum and Poole are on to our racket, and
they won't let us in!"
"Plum and Poole!" exclaimed Dave. "Are they at that back door?"
"Yes, and when we came up, they jeered us," said Phil. "Oh, but wasn't I
mad! They said if we tried to force our way in, they'd ring up the
doctor, or Mr. Dale."
"Does our crowd know about this?"
"I don't think they do."
"Plum and Poole intend to keep us out all night, eh?"
"It looks that way. They said we could ask Haskers to let us in when he
came."
"I am not going to Haskers," said Dave, firmly. "Sam, you look after
this ram for a few minutes. I'll make them let us in, and not give us
away, either. Phil, you come along."
"But I don't see how you are going to do it," expostulated the big boy.
"Never mind; just come on, that's all. Plum isn't going to have a
walk-over to-night."
Somewhat mystified, Phil accompanied Dave across the campus and to the
rear door of the Hall. Here the barrier was open only a few inches,
with Plum peering out, and Poole behind him. The face of the bully wore
a look of triumph.
"How do you like staying out?" he whispered, hoarsely. "Fine night for a
ramble, eh? You can tell old Haskers what a fine walk you have had!
He'll be sure to reward you handsomely!"
"See here, Plum, I am not going to waste words with you to-night," said
Dave, in a low, but intense, tone. "You let us in, and at once, or
you'll regret it."
"Will I?"
"You will. And what is more: don't you dare to say a word to anybody
about what is happening now."
"Oh, dear, but you can talk big! Maybe you want me to get down on my
knees as you pass in," added the bully, mockingly.
"If you don't let us in, do you know what I shall do?" continued Dave,
in a whisper. "I shall go to Doctor Clay and tell him that you are in
the habit of going out after midnight to row on the river."
If Dave had expected this statement to have an effect upon the bully,
his anticipations were more than realized. Gus Plum uttered a cry of
dismay and fell back on Nat Poole's shoulder. His face lost its color,
and he shook from head to foot.
"Yo-you----" he began. "Wha-what do you know about my--my rowing on the
river?"
"I know a good deal."
"Yo-you've been--following--me?" For once the bully could scarcely
speak.
"I shan't say any more," said Dave, giving his chum a pinch in the arm
to keep quiet. "Only, are you going to let us in or not?"
"N-no--I mean, yes," stammered Gus Plum. He could scarcely collect
himself, he seemed so upset. "You can come in. Poole, we'll have to let
them in this time."
"And you will keep still about this?" demanded Dave.
"Yes, yes! I won't say a word, Porter, not a word! And--and I'll see you
to-morrow after school. I--that is--I want to talk to you. Until then,
mum's the word on both sides." And then, to the astonishment of both
Dave and Phil, Gus Plum hurried away, dragging Nat Poole with him.
CHAPTER VI
THE FUN OF A NIGHT
"My gracious, Plum acts as if he was scared to death," observed Phil,
after the bully and his companion had departed, leaving the others a
clear field.
"He certainly was worked up," returned Dave. "I wonder what he'll have
to say to-morrow?"
There was no answering that question, and the two boys hurried to where
they had left Sam without attempting to reach a conclusion. They found
their chum watching out anxiously.
"Well?" came from his lips as soon as he saw them.
"It's all right," answered Dave, and told as much as he deemed
necessary. "Come, we must hurry, or Job Haskers will get back before we
can fix things."
"This ram is going to be something to handle," observed Phil. "No 'meek
as a lamb' about him."
"I'll show you how to do the trick," answered the boy from the country,
and with a dexterous turn of the horns, threw the ram over on one side.
"Now sit on him, until I tie his legs with the straps."
In a few minutes Dave had the animal secured, and the blanket was placed
over the ram's head, that he might not make too much noise. Then they
hoisted their burden up between them and started toward the Hall.
It was no easy matter to get the ram upstairs and into Job Haskers'
room. On the upper landing they were met by Roger and Buster Beggs, who
declared the coast clear. Once in the room of the assistant teacher,
they cleared out the bottom of the closet and then, releasing the animal
from his bonds, thrust him inside and shut and locked the door, leaving
the key in the lock.
"Now, skip!" cried Dave, in a low voice. "He may cut up high-jinks in
another minute."
"Here is an apple he can have--that will keep him quiet for awhile,"
said Roger, and put it in the closet, locking the door as before. The
ram was hungry, and began to munch the fruit with satisfaction.
A few minutes more found the boys safe in their dormitory, where they
waited impatiently for the second assistant teacher to get back to Oak
Hall. At last they heard him unlock the front door and come up the broad
stairs. Then they heard his room door open and shut.
"Now for the main act in the drama," whispered Roger. "Come on, but
don't dare to make any noise."
All of the boys, including little Macklin and Polly Vane, were soon
outside of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12--the two rooms the "crowd"
occupied. They went forth on tiptoe, scarcely daring to breathe.
Arriving at Job Haskers' door, they listened and heard the teacher
preparing to go to bed. One shoe after another dropped to the floor, and
then came a creaking of the bed, which told that he had lain down.
"That ram isn't going to do anything," began Sam, in disgust, when there
came a bang on the closet door that caused everybody to jump.
"Wha-what's that?" cried Job Haskers, sitting up in bed. He fancied
somebody had knocked on the door to the hall.
Another bang resounded on the closet door. The ram had finished the
apple, and wanted his freedom. The teacher leaped to the middle of the
bedroom floor.
"Who is in there?" he demanded, walking toward the closet. "Who is
there, I say?"
Getting no answer, he paused in perplexity. Then a grin overspread his
crafty face, and he slipped on some of his clothing.
"So I've caught you, eh?" he observed. "Going to play some trick on me,
were you? I am half of a mind to make you stay there all night, no
matter who you are. I suppose you thought I wouldn't get back quite so
early. In the morning, I'll----"
Another bang on the door cut his speculations short. He struck a match
and lit the light, and then unlocking the closet door, threw it wide
open.
What happened next came with such suddenness that Job Haskers was taken
completely by surprise. As soon as the door was opened, the ram leaped
out. He caught one glimpse of the teacher, and, lowering his head, he
made a plunge and caught Job Haskers fairly and squarely in the stomach,
doubling up the man like a jack-knife. Haskers went down in a heap, and,
turning, the ram gave him a second prod in the side.
"Hi! stop! murder! help!" came in terror. "Stop it, you beast! Hi! call
him off, somebody! Oh, my!" And then Job Haskers tried to arise and
place a table between himself and the ram. But the animal was now
thoroughly aroused, and went at the table with vigor, upsetting it on
the teacher and hurling both over into a corner.
By this time the noise had aroused nearly the entire school, and pupils
and teachers came hurrying from all directions.
"What is the trouble here?" demanded Andrew Dale, as he came up to where
Dave was standing.
"Sounds like a bombardment in Mr. Haskers' room, sir," was the answer.
"Mr. Haskers is trying some new gymnastic exercises," came from a
student in the rear of the crowd.
"Maybe he has got a fit," suggested another. "He didn't look well at
supper time."
The racket in the room continued, and now Doctor Clay, arrayed in a
dressing-gown and slippers, came upon the scene, followed by Pop
Swingly, the janitor.
"Has Mr. Haskers caught a burglar?" asked the janitor.
"That's it!" shouted Phil, with a wink at his friends. "Look out,
Swingly, that you don't get shot!"
"Shot?" gasped the janitor, who was far from being a brave man. "I don't
want to get shot, not me!" and he edged behind some of the boys.
Doctor Clay hurried to the door of the room, only to find it locked from
the inside.
"Mr. Haskers, what is the trouble?" he demanded.
Another bang and a thump was the only reply, accompanied by several
yells. Then, of a sudden, came a crash of glass and an exclamation of
wonder.
"Something has gone through the window, as sure as you are born!"
whispered Dave to Roger.
"Oh, Dave, you don't suppose it was Haskers? If he fell to the ground,
he'd be killed!"
"Open the door, or I shall break in!" thundered Doctor Clay, and then
the door was thrown open and Job Haskers stood there, a look of misery
on his face and trembling from head to foot.
"What is the trouble?" asked the doctor.
"The ram--he butted me--knocked me down--nearly killed me!" spluttered
the assistant teacher.
"The ram--what ram?"
"He's gone now--hit the window and jumped out."
"Mr. Haskers, have you lost your senses?"
"No, sir. There was a ram in this room--in the closet. I heard him, and
opened the door--I--oh! I can feel the blow yet. He was a--a terror!"
"Do you mean a real, live ram?" questioned Andrew Dale, with a slight
smile on his face--that smile which made all the boys his friends.
"I should say he was alive! Oh, it's no laughing matter!" growled Job
Haskers. "He nearly killed me!"
"An' did he go through the winder?" asked Pop Swingly, as he stepped to
the broken sash.
"He did--went out like a rocket. Look at the wreck of the table! I am
thankful I wasn't killed!"
"How did the ram get here?" asked Doctor Clay.
"How should I know? He was in the closet when I came in. Some of those
villainous boys--"
"Gently, Mr. Haskers. The boys are not villains."
"Well, they put the ram there, I am sure of it."
The doctor turned to the janitor.
"Swingly, go below and see if you can see anything of the ram. He may be
lying on the ground with a broken leg, or something like that. If so,
we'll have to kill him, to put him out of his misery."
The janitor armed himself with a stout cane and went downstairs, and
after him trooped Andrew Dale and fully a score of boys. But not a sign
of the ram was to be seen, only some sharp footprints where he had
landed.
"Must have struck fair an' square, an' run off," observed the janitor.
"Rams is powerful tough critters. I knowed one as fell over a stone
cliff, an' never minded it at all."
"Let us take a look around," said the first assistant. "Boys, get to
bed, you'll take cold in this night air." And then the students trooped
back into the Hall.
Upstairs they found that Job Haskers and Doctor Clay had gotten into a
wrangle. The assistant wanted an examination of the boys at once,
regardless of the hour of the night, but Doctor Clay demurred.
"We'll investigate in the morning," said he. "And, as the window is
broken out, Mr. Haskers, you may take the room next to mine, which is
just now vacant."
"Somebody ought to be punished----"
"We'll investigate, do not fear."
"It's getting worse and worse. By and by there won't be any managing
these rascals at all," grumbled the assistant teacher. "Some of them
ought to have their necks wrung!"
"There, that is enough," returned the doctor, sternly. "I think we can
manage them, even at such a time as this. Now, boys," he continued, "go
to bed, and do not let me hear any more disturbances." And he waved the
students to their various dormitories.
"Say, but isn't old Haskers mad!" exclaimed Roger, when he and his chums
were in their dormitory. "He'd give a good bit to find out who played
the joke on him."
"I hope that ram got away all right," came from Dave. "I didn't want to
see the animal injured."
"I think Pop Swingly is right, animals like that are tough," was Buster
Beggs' comment. "More than likely he is on his way back to Farmer
Cadmore's farm."
"We'll find out later on," put in Sam Day.
"There is another thing to consider," continued Dave. "It wouldn't be
right to let Doctor Clay stand for the expense of that broken window. I
think I'll send him the price of the glass out of my pocket money."
"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Phil. "Let us pass around the hat. We are
all in this as deep as you." And so it was decided that all of the
students of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 should contribute to the fund for
mending the broken sash. Then, as Andrew Dale came around on a tour of
inspection, all hopped into bed and were soon sound asleep.
CHAPTER VII
GUS PLUM'S MYSTERIOUS OFFER
When Doctor Clay came to his desk on the following morning, he found an
envelope lying there, on which was inscribed the following:
"To pay for the broken window. If it costs more, please let the school
know, and we'll settle the bill." Three dollars was inclosed.
This caused the worthy doctor to smile quietly to himself. It took him
back to his college days, when he had aided in several such scrapes.
"Boys will be boys," he murmured. "They are not villains, only real
flesh-and-blood youngsters."
"You are going to punish those boys?" demanded Job Haskers, coming up.
"If we can locate them."
"Humph! I'd catch them, if it took all day."
"You may do as you think best, Mr. Haskers; only remember you have young
gentlemen to deal with. I presume they thought it only a harmless
prank."
"I'll prank them, if I catch them," growled the assistant to himself, as
he walked away.
Word had been passed around among the boys, and when the roll was
called all were ready to "face the music."
"Who knows anything about the proceedings of last night?" began Job
Haskers, gazing around fiercely.
There was a pause, and then a rather dull boy named Carson arose.
"Great Caesar! Is he going to blab on us?" murmured Phil.
"What have you got to say, Carson?" asked the teacher.
"I--I--I kn-know wh-what happened," stuttered Carson.
"Very well, tell me what you know?"
"A ra-ra-ra-ram got into your ro-ro-ro-room, and he kno-kno-kno-knocked
you d-d-d-down!" went on the boy, who was the worst stutterer at Oak
Hall.
"Ahem! I know that. Who put the ram in my room?"
"I d-d-d-d----"
"You did!" thundered the teacher. "How dare you do such a thing!"
"I d-d-d-d----"
"Carson, I am--er--amazed. What made you do it?"
"I d-d-d-didn't say I d-d-d-did it," spluttered poor Carson. "I said I
d-d-d-didn't know."
"Oh!" Job Haskers' face fell, and he looked as sour as he could. "Sit
down. Now, then, whoever knows who put that ram in my room last night,
stand up."
Not a boy arose.
"Will anybody answer?" stormed the teacher.
There was utter silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the
wall. Dave looked at Gus Plum and Nat Poole, but neither budged.
"I shall call the roll, and each boy must answer for himself," went on
Job Haskers. "Ansberry!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," was the reply, and the pupil
dropped back into his seat.
"Humph! Aspinwell!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"Babcock!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"This is--er--outrageous! Beggs!"
"Sorry, but I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," drawled the fat youth.
After that, one name after another was called, and every pupil said
practically the same thing, even Plum and Poole stating that they could
tell nothing. When the roll-call was finished, the teacher was fairly
purple with suppressed rage.
"I shall inquire into this at some future time!" he snapped out. "You
are dismissed to your classes." And he turned away to hide his chagrin.
"Do you think we are safe?" whispered Phil to Dave, as they hurried to
their room.
"I think so," was the country boy's reply. And Dave was right--the truth
concerning the night's escapade did not come out until long after, when
it was too late to do anything in the matter.
Dave was anxious to make a record for himself in his studies, and, with
the end of the term so close at hand, he did his best over his books and
in the classroom. He was close to the top of his class, and he was
already certain of winning a special prize given for mathematics. Roger
was just behind him in the general average, and Phil was but five points
below, with a special prize for language to his credit. The best scholar
of all was Polly Vane, who, so far, had a percentage of ninety-seven,
out of a possible hundred.
Dave had not forgotten what Gus Plum had said, and just before the
session for the day was ended received a note from the bully, asking him
to come down to a point on the lake known as the Three Rocks, and
located at the extreme limit of the academy grounds. Plum asked him
particularly to come alone.
"Aren't you afraid Plum will play some trick on you?" asked Phil, who
saw the note delivered, and read it.
"I'll be on my guard," answered Dave. "I am not afraid of him, if it
should come to an encounter between us."
Having put away his books, Dave sauntered down to the spot mentioned,
which was behind a thick fringe of bushes. Plum was not yet there, but
soon came up at a quick walk.
"I couldn't get away from Poole," explained the bully. "Are you alone?"
and he gazed around anxiously.
"Yes, I am alone," answered Dave, coolly.
There was a silence, and each boy looked at the other. Dave's eyes were
clear, but the bully's had something of the haunted in them.
"You said something about me last night," began Plum, lamely, "something
about my being on the river."
"I did."
"Did you see me on the river?"
"I am not going to answer that question just yet, Plum."
"Huh! Maybe you are only joking?"
"Very well, you can think as you please. If you want to talk to me, very
well; if not, I'll go back to the school," and Dave started to walk
away.
"Hold on!" The bully caught the country boy by the arm. "If you saw me
on the river, what else did you see?"
"You were following Shadow Hamilton in a boat."
"I wasn't--I didn't have anything to do with Hamilton. I--I didn't know
he was out till afterwards," went on the bully, fiercely. "Don't you
say such a thing--don't you dare!" His face was very white. "You are not
going to get me into trouble!"
"Is that all you have to say, Plum?"
"N-no. I want to talk this over, Porter. I--that is--let us come to
terms--that's the best way. It won't do you any good to try to get me
into trouble. I--I haven't done anything wrong. I was out on the river
by--by accident, that's all--got it into my head to have a lark that
night, just as you went out for a lark last night."
"Well, what do you want to see me about, then?" questioned Dave. He
could readily see that the bully had something on his mind which
troubled him greatly.
"I think we might as well come to terms--you keep still and I'll keep
still."
"I haven't said anything, Plum."
"Yes, but you might, later on, you know. I--that is, let us make a sure
thing of this," stammered the bully.
"What are you driving at, Plum? Talk out straight."
"I will." The bully looked around, to make certain that nobody was
within hearing distance. "You're a poor boy, Porter, aren't you?"
"I admit it."
"Just so. And, being poor, some pocket money comes in mighty handy at
times, doesn't it?"
"I have some spending money."
"But not as much as you'd like; ain't that so?"
"Oh, I could spend more--if I had it," answered Dave, trying to find out
what the other was driving at.
"Well, supposing I promised to give you some money to spend, Porter, how
would that strike you?"
Dave was astonished, the suggestion was so entirely unexpected. But he
tried not to show his feelings.
"Would you give me money, Gus?" he asked, calmly.
"Yes, I would--if you'd only promise to keep quiet."
"How much?"
"Well--I--er--I'd do the right thing. Did Phil Lawrence see me on the
river?"
"No."
"Any of the other boys?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then you were alone." Gus Plum drew a sigh of relief. "Now, let us come
to terms, by all means. I'll do the square thing, and you'll have all
the pocket money you want."
"But how much are you willing to give me?" queried Dave, his curiosity
aroused to its highest pitch.
"I'll give you"--the bully paused, to add impressiveness to his
words--"I'll give you fifty dollars."
"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Dave. He was bewildered by the answer. He
had expected Plum to name a dollar or two at the most.
"Ain't that enough?"
"Do you think it is enough?" asked the country boy. He scarcely knew
what to say. He was trying to study the bully's face.
"Well--er--if you'll give me your solemn word not to whisper a word--not
a word, remember--I'll make it a--a hundred dollars."
"You'll give me a hundred dollars? When?"
"Before the end of the week. I haven't the money now, but, if you want
it, I can give you ten dollars on account--just to bind the bargain,"
and the bully drew two five-dollar bills from his vest pocket. "But,
remember, mum's the word--no matter what comes."
He thrust the bills at Dave, who merely looked at them. Then the country
boy drew himself up.
"I don't want a cent of your money, Gus Plum," he said, in a low, but
firm, voice. "You can't bribe me, no matter what you offer."
The bully dropped back and his face fell. He put his money back into his
pocket. Then he glared savagely at Dave.
"Then you won't come to terms!" he fairly hissed between his teeth.
"No."
"You had better. If you dare to tell on me--breathe a word of what you
saw that night--I'll--I'll make it so hot for you that you'll wish you
had never been born! I am not going to let a country jay like you ruin
me! Not much! You think twice before you make a move! I can hurt you in
a way you least expect, and if I have to leave this school, you'll have
to go, too!" And shaking his fist at Dave, Gus Plum strode off, leaving
Dave more mystified than ever before.
CHAPTER VIII
SHADOW HAMILTON'S CONFESSION
"I simply can't understand it, Phil. Gus Plum was frightened very much,
or he would never have offered me a hundred dollars to keep quiet."
Dave and his chum were strolling along the edge of the campus, an hour
after the conversation recorded in the last chapter. The boy from the
poorhouse had told Phil all that had occurred.
"It is certainly the most mysterious thing I ever heard of, outside of
this mystery about Billy Dill," answered Phil. "Plum has been up to
something wrong, but just what, remains to be found out."
"And what about Shadow Hamilton?"
"I can't say anything about Shadow. I never thought he would do anything
that wasn't right."
"Nor I. What would you advise?"
"Keep quiet and await developments. Something is bound to come to the
surface, sooner or later."
"Hello, you fellows, where are you bound?" came in a cry, and looking up
they saw a well-known form approaching.
"Ben!" cried Dave, rushing up to the newcomer and shaking hands warmly.
"When did you come in? And how are all the folks at Crumville? Did you
happen to see Professor Potts and the Wadsworths?"
"One question at a time, please," answered Ben Basswood, as he shook
hands with Phil. "Yes, I saw them all, and everybody wants to be
remembered to you. Jessie sends her very sweetest regards----"
"Oh, come now, no fooling," interrupted Dave, blushing furiously. "Tell
us the plain truth."
"Well, she sent her best regard, anyway. And all the others did the
same. The professor is getting along finely. You'd hardly know him now,
he looks so hale and hearty. It did him a world of good to go to live
with the Wadsworths."
"You must have had a pretty nice vacation," observed Phil.
"Yes, although it was rather short. But, say, have you fellows heard
about Plum's father?" went on Ben Basswood, earnestly.
"We've heard that he lost some money."
"Yes, and he has tied himself up in some sort of underhanded
get-rich-quick concern, and I understand some folks are going to sue him
for all he is worth. That will be rather rough on Gus--if his father
loses all his money."
"True enough," said Dave. "But tell us all the news," he continued, and
then Ben related the particulars of affairs at Crumville, and of a
legal fight between his father and Mr. Aaron Poole, in which Mr.
Basswood had won.
"That will make Nat more sour on you than ever," observed Phil.
"Maybe; but I can't help it. If he leaves me alone I'll leave him
alone."
The following day passed quietly at Oak Hall. Gus Plum and Nat Poole
kept by themselves. Shadow Hamilton appeared to brighten a little, but
Dave observed that the youth was by no means himself. He did not care to
play baseball or "do a turn" at the gym., and kept for the most part by
himself.
Saturday passed, and on Sunday a large number of the students marched
off to three of the town churches. Dave, Roger, and Phil attended the
same church and Ben went with them, and all listened to a strong sermon
on Christian brotherhood, which was destined to do each of them good.
"It makes a fellow feel as if he's got to help somebody else," said
Roger.
"Well, it is our duty to help others," answered Dave. "The fellow who
isn't willing to do that is selfish."
"You've certainly helped Macklin, Dave," said Ben. "I never saw such a
change in a fellow. I'll wager he is more than happy to be out of Gus
Plum's influence."
"I'd help Plum, too, if he'd let me," said Dave, and then gave a long
sigh.
Two days later there was a sensation at the school. Doctor Clay came
into the main classroom in the middle of the forenoon, looking much
worried.
"Young gentlemen, I wish to talk to you for a few minutes," he said. "As
some of you may know, I am the proud possessor of a stamp collection
which I value at not less than three thousand dollars. The stamps are
arranged in three books, and I have spent eight years in collecting
them. These books of stamps are missing, and I wish to know if anybody
here knows anything about them. If they were taken away in a spirit of
fun, let me say that such a joke is a poor one, and I trust the books
will be speedily returned, and without damage to a single stamp."
All of the boys listened with interest, for many of them had inspected
the collection, and they knew that stamp-gathering was one of the kind
doctor's hobbies.
"Doctor, I am sorry to hear of this," said one boy, named Bert Dalgart,
a youth who had a small collection of his own. "I looked at the
collection about ten days ago, as you know. I haven't seen it since."
"Nor have I seen it," said Roger, who also collected stamps.
"Is there any boy here who knows anything at all about my collection?"
demanded the doctor, sharply. "If so, let him stand up."
There was a pause, but nobody arose. The master of Oak Hall drew a long
breath.
"If this is a joke, I want the collection returned by to-morrow
morning," he went on. "If this is not done, and I learn who is guilty, I
shall expel that student from this school."
He then passed on to the next classroom, and so on through the whole
academy. But nothing was learned concerning the missing stamp
collection, and the end of the inquiry left the worthy doctor much
perplexed and worried.
"That is too bad," was Dave's comment, after school was dismissed. "That
was a nice collection. I'd hate to have it mussed up, if it was mine."
"The fellow who played that joke went too far," said the senator's son.
"He ought to put the collection back at once."
The matter was talked over by all the students for several days. In the
meantime Doctor Clay went on a vigorous hunt for the stamp collection,
but without success.
"Do you think it possible that somebody stole that collection?"
questioned Dave of Phil one afternoon, as he and his chum strolled in
the direction of Farmer Cadmore's place, to see if they could learn
anything about the ram.
"Oh, it's possible; but who would be so mean?"
"Maybe some outsider got the stamps."
"I don't think so. An outside thief would have taken some silverware, or
something like that. No, I think those stamps were taken by somebody in
the school."
"Then maybe the chap is afraid to return them--for fear of being found
out."
So the talk ran on until the edge of the Cadmore farm was gained.
Looking into a field, they saw the ram grazing peacefully on the fresh,
green grass.
"He's as right as a button!" cried Phil. "I guess he wasn't hurt at all,
and after jumping from the window he came straight home," and in this
surmise the youth was correct.
As the boys walked back to the school they separated, Phil going to the
gymnasium to practice on the bars and Dave to stroll along the river.
The boy from Crumville wanted to be by himself, to think over the past
and try to reason out what the sailor had told him. Many a time had Dave
tried to reason this out, but always failed, yet he could not bear to
think of giving up.
"Some time or another I've got to find out who I am and where I came
from," he murmured. "I am not going to remain a nobody all my life!"
He came to a halt in a particularly picturesque spot, and was about to
sit down, when he heard a noise close at hand. Looking through the
bushes, he saw Shadow Hamilton on his knees and with his clasped hands
raised to heaven. The boy was praying, and remained on his knees for
several minutes. When he arose, he turned around and discovered Dave,
who had just started to leave the spot.
"Dave Porter!" came in a low cry, and Hamilton's face grew red.
"Hello, Shadow! Taking a walk along the river? If you are, I'll go
along."
"I--I was walking," stammered the other boy. His eyes searched Dave's
face. "You--were you watching me?" he asked, lamely.
"Not exactly."
"But you saw me--er----"
"I saw you, Shadow, I couldn't help it. It was nothing for you to be
ashamed of, though."
"I--I--oh, I can't tell you!" and Hamilton's face took on a look of keen
misery.
"Shadow, you are in some deep trouble, I know it," came bluntly from
Dave. "Don't you want to tell me about it? I'll do what I can for you.
We've been chums ever since I came here and I hate to see you so
downcast."
"It wouldn't do any good--you couldn't help me."
"Are you sure of that? Sometimes an outsider looks at a thing in a
different light than that person himself. Of course, I don't want to
pry into your secrets, if you don't want me to."
Shadow Hamilton bit his lip and hesitated.
"If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?"
"If it is best, yes."
"I don't know if it is best or not, but I don't want you to say
anything."
"Well, what is it?"
"You know all about the doctor losing that collection of stamps?"
"Certainly."
"And you know about the loss of some of the class stick-pins about three
weeks ago?"
"Yes, I know Mr. Dale lost just a dozen of them."
"The stick-pins are worth two dollars each."
"Yes."
"And that stamp collection was worth over three thousand dollars."
"I know that, too."
"Well, I stole the stick-pins, and I stole the stamp collection, too!"
CHAPTER IX
ABOUT ATHLETIC CONTESTS
"You stole those things, you!" gasped Dave. He could scarcely utter the
words. He shrank back a step or two, and his face was filled with
horror.
"Yes, I did it," came from Shadow Hamilton.
"But--but--oh, Shadow, you must be fooling! Surely, you didn't really go
to work and--and----" Try his best, Dave could not finish.
"I stole the things; or, rather, I think I had better say I took them,
although it amounts to the same thing. But I don't think I am quite as
bad as you suppose."
"But, if you took them, why didn't you return them? You have had plenty
of time."
"I would return them, only I don't know where the things are."
"You don't know? What do you mean?"
"I'll have to tell you my whole story, Dave. Will you listen until I
have finished?"
"Certainly."
"Well, to start on, I am a great dreamer and, what is more, I
occasionally walk in my sleep."
"Yes, you told me that before."
"One morning I got up, and I found my clothes all covered with dirt and
cobwebs and my shoes very muddy. I couldn't explain this, and I thought
some of the fellows had been putting up a job on me. But I didn't want
to play the calf, so I said nothing.
"Some days after that I found my clothing in the same condition, and I
likewise found that my hands were blistered, as if from some hard work.
I couldn't understand it, but suddenly it flashed on me that I must have
been sleep-walking. I was ashamed of myself, so I told nobody."
"Well, but this robbery----" began Dave.
"I am coming to that. When Doctor Clay spoke about his stamp collection,
I remembered that I had dreamed of that collection one night. It seemed
to me that I must run away with the collection and put it in a safe
place. Then I remembered that I had dreamed of the stick-pins at another
time, and had dreamed of going to the boathouse to put them in my locker
there. That made me curious, and I went down to the locker, and there I
found--what do you think? One of the stick-pins stuck in the wood."
"A new one?"
"Exactly. That made me hunt around thoroughly, and after a while I
discovered this, under my rowing sweater."
As Shadow finished, he drew from his pocket a doubled-up sheet of paper.
Dave unfolded it, and saw it was a large sheet of rare American postage
stamps.
"Did you find any more than this?"
The other youth shook his head.
"Did you hunt all around the boathouse?"
"Yes, I hunted high and low, in the building and out. I have spent all
my spare time hunting; that is why I have had such poor lessons lately."
"Don't you remember going out to row during the night, Shadow?"
At this question, Shadow Hamilton started.
"What do you know about that?" he demanded.
"Not much--only I know you were out."
"Do you know where I went to?"
"I do not."
"Well, neither do I. I dreamed about rowing, but I can't, for the life
of me, remember where I went. I must have gone a good way, for I
blistered my hands with the oars."
"And yet you can't remember?"
"Oh, I know it sounds like a fairy tale, and I know nobody will believe
it, yet it is true, Dave, I'll give you my word on it."
"I believe you, Shadow. Your being out is what has made you so tired
lately. Now you have told me a secret, I am going to tell you one. Ike
Rasmer saw you out on the river at night, passing Robbin's Point. And
there is something stranger to tell."
"What is that?"
"Are you dead certain you were asleep on the river?"
"I must have been. I remember nothing more than my dream."
"Do you know that you were followed?"
"By Rasmer?"
"No, by Gus Plum."
"Plum!" gasped Shadow Hamilton, and his face turned pale. "Are--are you
certain of this?"
"That is what Ike Rasmer told me," and then Dave related all that the
old boatman had said.
"That makes the mystery deeper," muttered Shadow. "It puts me in mind of
a story I once--but I can't tell stories now!" He gave a sigh. "Oh,
Dave, I am so wretched over this! I don't know what to do."
"I know what I'd do."
"What?"
"Go and tell Doctor Clay everything."
"I--I can't do it. He thought so much of that stamp collection--he'll
surely send me home--and make my father pay for the collection, too."
"I don't think he'll send you home. About pay, that's another question.
In one sense, you didn't really steal the stamps. A fellow isn't
responsible for what he does in his sleep. I'd certainly go to him. If
you wish, I'll go with you."
The two talked the matter over for half an hour, and, on Dave's
continual urging, Shadow Hamilton at last consented to go to Doctor Clay
and make a clean breast of the matter.
They found the master of Oak Hall in his private office, writing a
letter. He greeted them pleasantly and told them to sit down until he
had finished. Then he turned around to them inquiringly.
It was no easy matter for Shadow Hamilton to break the ice, and Dave had
to help him do it. But, once the plunge was taken, the youth given to
sleep-walking told him his story in all of its details, and turned over
to the doctor the stick-pin and the sheet of stamps he had found.
During the recital, Doctor Clay's eyes scarcely once left the face of
the boy who was making the confession. As he proceeded, Shadow Hamilton
grew paler and paler, and his voice grew husky until he could scarcely
speak.
"I know I am to blame, sir," he said, at last. "But I--I--oh, Doctor
Clay, please forgive me!" he burst out.
"My boy, there is nothing to forgive," was the kindly answer, that took
even Dave by surprise. "It would seem that you have been as much of a
victim as I have been. I cannot blame you for doing these things in
your sleep. I take it for granted that you have told me the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I have, sir, I have!"
"Then there is nothing to do but to investigate this as far as we can.
Of course, I realize that it would cut you to have everybody in the
school know of your sleep-walking habit."
"Yes, sir. But I shouldn't care, if only you could get back the stamps
and the pins."
"Is Rasmer sure he saw Plum following Hamilton on the river?" asked the
doctor, turning to Dave.
"That is what he told Morr, Lawrence, and myself the day we stopped at
his boathouse for a new oarlock."
"Then I must see him and have a talk with him," said the master of Oak
Hall; and after a few words more the boys were dismissed.
On the following morning, Doctor Clay drove down to Ike Rasmer's place.
The boatman was pleasant enough, but he remembered that Gus Plum was one
of his customers, and when questioned closely, said he could not testify
absolutely to the fact that it had been Plum who had followed Hamilton
on the river.
"You see, my eyesight ain't of the best, doctor," said Rasmer, lamely.
"I saw Hamilton full in the face, but the other feller had his face
turned away from me. I ain't gittin' nobody into trouble, 'less I am
sure of what I am doin'--that's nateral, ain't it?"
"Very," answered Doctor Clay, coldly, and returned to the academy in
deep thought. He realized that Ike Rasmer was now on his guard, and
would tell no more than was absolutely required of him.
The next movement of the worthy doctor was to call Gus Plum into his
office. The bully was anxious, but had evidently nerved himself for the
ordeal.
"No, sir, I have not been out on the river at night this season," said
he, blandly, in reply to the doctor's question. "I have not dared to go
out so late, for I take cold too easily." And he coughed slightly.
This was all Doctor Clay could get from Plum, and he dismissed the bully
without mentioning Hamilton or the missing pins and stamps. Then the
doctor called in Andrew Dale, and the two consulted together for the
best part of an hour; but what the outcome of that discussion was the
boys were not told. A day later, however, Shadow Hamilton was told to
change his sleeping quarters to a small room next to that occupied by
Andrew Dale.
"Hello! Shadow is going to get high-toned and have a sleeping-room all
to himself!" cried Roger, and would have asked some questions, only
Dave cut him short.
"There is a good reason, Roger," whispered the country boy. "But don't
ask me to explain now. If you question Shadow, you'll only hurt his
feelings." This "tip" spread, and none of the boys after that said a
word before Hamilton about the change. But later all came to Dave and
asked what it meant.
"I wish I could tell you, but I can't, fellows. Some day, perhaps,
you'll know; until then, you'll have to forget it." And that is all Dave
would say.
The boys were too busy to give the mystery much attention. A series of
athletic contests had been arranged, and all of the students who were to
take part had gone into training in the gymnasium, and on the
cinder-track which was laid out in the field beyond the last-named
building. The contests were to come off on the following Saturday, and,
to make matters more interesting, Doctor Clay had put up several prizes
of books and silver medals, to be presented to the winners.
Dave had entered for a hurdle race, and Roger, Phil, and Ben were in
various other contests. Dave felt that he would stand a good chance at
the hurdles, for on Caspar Potts' farm he had frequently practiced at
leaping over the rail fences while on the run. He did not know surely
who would be pitted against him until Ben Basswood brought him the
news.
"Gus Plum, Fanning, and Saultz are in the hurdle race," said Ben. "Plum
says he feels certain he will win."
"Plum," repeated the country boy. "I knew the others were in it, but I
didn't think Gus would take part."
"He went in right after he heard that you had entered. He says he is
going to beat you out of your boots. He wanted to bet with me, but I
told him I didn't bet."
"Is Nat Poole in the race?"
"No, he is in the quarter-mile dash, against me and six others. He
thinks he will win, too."
"I don't think he will, Ben. You can outrun him."
"Anyway, I am going to try," answered Ben Basswood.
CHAPTER X
HOW A RACE WAS WON
It was a bright, clear day in early summer when the athletic contests of
Oak Hall came off. All the academy boys assembled for the affair, and
with them were a number of folks from the town, and also some students
from the Rockville Military Academy, a rival institution of learning, as
my old readers already know.
The contests began with pole vaulting and putting the shot, and, much to
the surprise of all, Chip Macklin won out over half a dozen boys
slightly larger than himself. Luke Watson also won one of the contests,
and the banjo player and Macklin were roundly applauded by their
friends.
"Dave Porter coached Macklin," said one small boy to another. "I saw him
doing it. I can tell you, Chip is picking up."
"Yes," was the answer. "And he doesn't seem to be afraid of that bully
of a Plum any more, either."
After the shot-putting and vaulting came the quarter-mile dash, for
which Ben had entered.
"Go in and win, Ben!" cried Dave, to his old chum. "I know you can do
it if you'll only try."
"Nat Poole will win that race!" came roughly from Gus Plum, who stood
near.
"Hi, catch the ball, Gus!" sang out Nat Poole, from across the field,
and threw a ball in Ben's direction. Plum leaped for the sphere, bumped
up against Ben, and both went down, with the bully on top.
"Plum, you did that on purpose!" cried Roger, who was close by. "Shame
on you!"
"Shut up! I didn't do it on purpose!" howled the bully, arising. "Say
that again and I'll knock you down!"
"You certainly did do it on purpose," said Phil, stepping up quickly.
"You ought to be reported for it."
"Aw, dry up!" muttered Plum, and walked away.
When Ben arose he could scarcely get his breath. He was not hurt, but
the wind had been knocked completely out of him.
"I--I don't know if I can ru-run or not!" he gasped. "He came--came down
on me like a ton of bricks!"
"Wait, I'll speak to Mr. Dale about this," said Dave, and ran off. As a
result of the interview the contest was delayed ten minutes--another
taking its place--much to the disgust of Gus Plum and Nat Poole, both
of whom had reckoned on putting Ben out of the contest.
At the start of the quarter-mile dash Nat Poole and two others forged
ahead, but Ben was on his mettle, and, setting his teeth, soon began to
close up the gap.
"Go it, Ben!" yelled Dave. "You can win, I know it!"
"Sail right past 'em!" came from the senator's son. "Hump yourself, old
man!"
"Make 'em take the dust!" added Phil.
Ben hardly heard the words, for he was now running with all his
strength. He passed first one boy and then another, and then came
abreast of Nat Poole. So they moved on to within a dozen paces of the
finish. Then Ben made a leap ahead, and so did one of the other
contestants, and Ben came in the winner, with the other boy second, and
Nat Poole third. A roar went right across the field.
"Ben Basswood wins!"
"Jake Tatmon is second!"
"Nat Poole came in only third, and he boasted he was going to win,
sure!"
As soon as the race was over, Nat Poole sneaked out of sight, behind
some friends. He was bitterly disappointed, and could scarcely keep from
running away altogether.
"You didn't fix him at all," he whispered to Gus Plum, when he got the
chance. "He was in prime condition."
"I did the best I could--you saw him go down, with me on top of him,"
retorted the bully. "Now, don't you forget what you promised," he added,
sharply.
"Oh, I'll keep my word, don't fear," growled Nat Poole. "I hate Dave
Porter too much to let him win!"
There were some standing and running jumps, in which Roger and Phil won
second and third places, and then came the hurdle race, in which Dave
was to participate. In the meantime Nat Poole had shed his track outfit
and donned his regular clothes and a rather heavy pair of walking shoes.
"Please let me pass," said he to the crowd in which Dave was standing,
and, without warning, brought one of his heavy shoes down smartly on
Dave's light, canvas foot-covering.
"Ouch!" cried the country boy, and gave Poole a quick shove. "What do
you mean by stepping on my foot in that fashion, Nat Poole?"
"Oh, excuse me," said the Crumville aristocrat, coolly. "Didn't know it
was your foot, Porter, or I shouldn't have stepped on it for anything."
"You've just about lamed me!" gasped Dave. The pain was still intense.
"Dave, I believe this is a put-up job!" said Ben, quickly. "Plum agreed
to lame me so that Poole could win, and now Poole is trying the same
trick on you for Plum's benefit."
"No such thing!" roared Nat Poole, but his face grew fiery red. "It was
a pure accident. I don't have to lame Porter. Plum will win, anyhow."
"It certainly looks suspicious," said Shadow Hamilton. "He hadn't any
business to force his way through our crowd."
"Oh, don't you put in your oar, you old sleep-walker!" growled Nat
Poole, and then hurried off and out of sight behind the gymnasium. At
the parting shot Shadow became pale, but nobody seemed to notice the
remark.
"Can you go ahead?" asked Phil, of Dave.
"I think so," was the answer. "But that was a mean thing to do. He came
near crushing my little toe."
Fortunately, several of the hurdles had not been properly placed, and it
took some little time to arrange them properly. During that interval
Roger dressed the injured foot for his chum, which made it feel much
better.
"Are you all ready?" was the question put to the contestants, as they
lined up. Then came a pause, followed by the crack of a revolver, and
they were off.
The encounter with Nat Poole had nerved Dave as he had seldom been
nerved before. Ben had won, and he made up his mind to do the same,
regardless of the fact that Gus Plum and one of the other boys in the
race were bigger than himself. He took the first and second hurdles with
ease, and then found himself in a bunch, with Plum on one side and a lad
named Cashod on the other.
"Whoop her up, Cashod!" he yelled out. "Come on, and show the others
what we can do!"
"Right you are, Porter!" was the answering cry.
"Not much!" puffed out Gus Plum. "I'm the winner here!"
"Rats!" answered Dave. "You'll come in fifth, Plum. You're winded
already!" And then, with a mighty effort, he leaped to the front, with
Cashod on his heels. "Poole didn't do your dirty work well enough," he
flung back over his shoulder as he took his fourth hurdle.
The taunts angered Gus Plum, and this made him lose ground, until,
almost before he knew it, the third pupil in the race dashed past him.
Then he found himself neck-and-neck with the fifth contestant.
"Here they come!"
"Dave Porter is ahead, with Cashod second!"
"Collins has taken third place!"
"Plum and Higgins are tied for fourth place!"
"Not much! Higgins is ahead!"
"And there goes Sanderson ahead of Plum, too! Phew! Wonder if that is
what Plum calls winning? He had better study his dictionary!"
[Illustration: Dave cleared the last hurdle and came in a winner.--_Page
87._]
With a mighty leap Dave cleared the last hurdle, and came in a winner.
Then the others finished in the order named, excepting that Gus Plum was
so disgusted that he refused to take the last hurdle, for which some of
the boys hissed him, considering it unsportsmanlike, which it was.
"My shoe got loose," said the bully, lamely. "If it hadn't been for
that, I should have won." But nobody believed him.
"Dave, the way you went ahead was simply great," cried Phil. "It was as
fine a hurdle race as I ever saw."
"Yes, and he helped me, too," said Cashod. "I was thinking Plum would go
ahead, until Porter laughed at him. It was all right," and Cashod bobbed
his head to show how satisfied he was.
If Nat Poole had been disgusted Gus Plum was more so, and he lost no
time in disappearing from public gaze. The two cronies met back of the
gymnasium.
"You hurt Porter about as much as I hurt Basswood," Plum grumbled. "If
you can't do better than that next time, you had better give up trying."
"Oh, 'the pot needn't call the kettle black,'" retorted Poole. "You made
just as much of a mess of it as I did. We'll be the laughing stock of
the Porter crowd now."
"If they laugh at me, I'll punch somebody's nose. As it is, I've got an
account to settle with Porter, and I am going to settle it pretty quick,
too."
"What do you mean?"
"He jeered me while we were in the race. He has got to take it back, or
there is going to be trouble," muttered the bully, clenching his fists.
In his usual bragging way Gus Plum let several students know that he
"had it in" for Dave, and this reached the country boy's ears the next
day directly after school.
"I am not afraid of him," said Dave, coolly. "If he wants to find me, he
knows where to look for me."
Shortly after this Dave and some of his chums took a walk down to the
boathouse dock. There they ran into Plum, Poole, and several of their
admirers.
"Here is Porter now!" said one boy, in a low voice. "Now is your chance,
Gus."
"Yes, let us see you do what you said," came from another.
Plum had not expected an encounter so soon, but there seemed to be no
way of backing out, so he advanced quickly upon Dave, and clenched his
fists.
"You can fight, or apologize," he said, loudly.
"Apologize, to _you_?" queried Dave, coolly.
"Yes, to me, and at once," blustered the bully.
"I am not apologizing to you, Plum."
"Then you'll fight."
"If you hit me, I shall defend myself."
"Hit you? If I sail into you, you'll think a cyclone struck you. If you
know where you are wise, you'll apologize."
"On the contrary, Plum, I want to let you and all here know what I think
of you. You are a bully, a braggart--and a coward!"
Dave's eyes were flashing dangerously, and as he gazed steadily at Plum,
the latter backed away a step.
"You--you dare to talk to me like that?"
"Why not? Nobody ought to be afraid to tell the truth."
"Oh, don't stand gassing!" burst out Nat Poole. "Give it to him,
Gus--give it to him good and hard."
"I will!" cried the bully, and making a quick leap, he delivered a blow
straight for Dave's face.
Had the blow landed as intended, the country boy would undoubtedly have
sustained a black eye. But Dave ducked slightly, and the bully's fist
shot past his ear. Then Dave drew off and hit Plum a stinging blow on
the chin.
"A fight! A fight!" was the rallying cry from all sides, and in a
twinkling a crowd assembled to see the impromptu contest.
CHAPTER XI
A FIGHT AND ITS RESULT
"Dave, if you fight, and Doctor Clay hears of it, you'll get into
trouble," whispered Roger. "You know what his rules are."
"I am not going to fight, but I'll defend myself," was the calm answer.
"Maybe you're afraid to fight," sneered Nat Poole, who stood close by.
Before the country youth could answer, Gus Plum sprang forward and aimed
another blow at Dave's face. Dave ducked, but was not quite quick
enough, and the fist of his enemy landed on his ear.
This aroused the boy from Crumville as never before. The look on the
bully's face was such as to nerve him to do his best, and, casting
prudence to the winds, he "sailed in" with a vigor that astonished all
who beheld it. One fist landed on Plum's nose and the other on the
bully's chin, and down he went in a heap against the boathouse.
"Have you had enough?" demanded Dave, his eyes fairly flashing.
"No!" roared the bully, and scrambling up, he rushed at Dave, and the
pair clenched. Around and around the little dock they wrestled, first
one getting a slight advantage and then the other.
"Break away!" cried some of the students. "Break away!"
"I'll break, if he'll break!" panted Dave. Plum said nothing, for he was
doing his best to get the country boy's head in chancery, as it is
termed; that is, under his arm, where he might pummel it to his
satisfaction.
But Dave was on his guard, and was not to be easily caught. He knew a
trick or two, and, watching his opportunity, led Plum to believe that he
was getting the better of the contest. Then, with remarkable swiftness,
he made a half-turn, ducked and came up, and sent the bully flying clean
and clear over his shoulder. When this happened both were close to the
edge of the dock, and, with a cry and a splash, Gus Plum went over into
the river.
"Gracious! did you see that fling!"
"Threw him right over his head into the river!"
"The fellow who tackles Dave Porter has his hands full every time!"
So the comments ran on. In the meantime Dave stood quietly on the edge
of the dock, watching for the bully, and trying to regain his breath.
Plum had disappeared close to the edge of the dock, and all the
bystanders expected him to reappear almost immediately. But, to their
surprise, he did not show himself.
"Where is he? Why doesn't he come up?"
"He must be playing a trick on Porter. Maybe he is under the dock."
"No, he can't get under the dock. It is all boarded up."
"He must have struck his head on something, or got a cramp, being so
heated up."
Dave continued to wait, and as his enemy did not come to light, a cold
chill ran over him. What if Plum was really hurt, or in trouble under
water? He knew that the bully was not the best of swimmers.
"There he is!" came in a shout from one of the boys, and he pointed out
into the stream, to where Gus Plum's body was floating along, face
downward.
Dave gave one look and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. By the
side of the dock was a rowboat, with the oars across the seats. He made
a bound for it.
"Come," he said, motioning to Roger, and the senator's son followed him
into the craft. They shoved off with vigor, and Dave took up the oars.
Then another boat put off, containing Poole and two other students.
A few strokes sufficed to bring the first rowboat up alongside of the
form of the bully. Plum had turned partly over and was on the point of
sinking again, when Roger reached out and caught him by the foot. Then
Dave swung the rowboat around, and after a little trouble the two got
the soaked one aboard.
Gus Plum was partly unconscious, and a bruise on his left temple showed
where his head had struck some portion of the dock in falling. As they
placed him across the seats of the rowboat, he gasped, spluttered, and
attempted to sit up.
"Better keep still," said Dave, kindly. "We don't want the boat to go
over."
"Where am I? Oh, I know now! You knocked me over."
"Don't talk, Plum; wait till we get back to shore," warned Roger.
A few strokes took the boat back to the dock, and Dave and Roger
assisted the dripping youth to land. Gus Plum was so weak he had to sit
down on a bench to recover.
"You played me a mean trick," he spluttered, at last. "A mean trick!"
"That's what he did," put in Nat Poole, who had also returned to the
dock. "I guess he was afraid to fight fair."
"I suppose you wanted to drown me," went on the bully of Oak Hall.
"I didn't want to drown you, Plum--I didn't even want to push you
overboard. I didn't think we were so close to the dock's edge."
"Humph! It's easy enough to talk!" Gus Plum gazed ruefully at his
somewhat loud summer suit. "Look at my clothes. They are just about
ruined!"
"Nonsense," came from Roger. "They need drying, cleaning, and pressing,
that's all. You can get the job done down in Oakdale for a dollar and a
half."
"And who is going to pay the bill?"
"Well, if you are too poor to do it, I'll do so," answered Roger.
This reply made the bully grow very red, and he shook his fist at the
senator's son.
"None of your insinuations!" he roared. "I am not poor, and I want you
to know it. My father may have lost some money, but he can still buy and
sell your father. And as for such a poorhouse nobody as your intimate
friend there, Porter----"
"For shame, Plum!" cried several.
"Oh, go ahead and toady to him, if you want to. I shan't stop you. But
I'd rather pick my company."
"And so would I," added Nat Poole. "I once heard of a poorhouse boy who
was the son of a thief. I'd not want to train with a fellow of that
sort."
Dave listened to the words, and they seemed to burn into his very heart.
He came forward with a face as white as death itself.
"Nat Poole, do you mean to insinuate that I am the son of a thief?" he
demanded.
"Oh, a fellow don't know what to think," replied the Crumville
aristocrat, with a sneer.
"Then take that for your opinion."
It was a telling blow, delivered with a passion that Dave could not
control. It took Nat Poole squarely in the mouth, and the aristocrat
went down with a thud, flat on his back. His lip was cut and two of his
teeth were loosened, while the country's boy's fist showed a skinned
knuckle.
"Whoop! did you see that!"
"My! what a sledge-hammer blow!"
"Poole is knocked out clean!"
Such were some of the comments, in the midst of which Nat Poole sat up,
dazed and bewildered. Then he gasped, and ejected some blood from his
mouth.
"You--you----" he began.
"Stay where you are, Nat Poole," said Dave, in a voice that was as cold
as ice. "Don't you dare to budge!"
"Wha-what?"
"Don't you dare to budge until you have begged my pardon."
"Me? Beg your pardon! I'd like to see myself!"
"Well, that is just what you are going to do! If you don't, do you know
what I'll do? I'll throw you into the river and keep you there until
you do as I say."
"Here, you let him alone!" blustered Plum, starting to rise.
"Keep out of this, Plum, or, as sure as I'm standing here, I'll throw
you in again, too!" said Dave.
"Dave----" whispered Roger. He could see that his friend was almost
beside himself with passion.
"No, Roger, don't try to interfere. This is my battle. They have been
talking behind my back long enough. Poole has got to apologize, or take
the consequences, and so has Plum. I'll make them do it, if I have to
fight them both!" And the eyes of the country boy blazed with a fire
that the senator's son had never before seen in them. "I don't deny that
I came from the poorhouse, and I don't deny that I know nothing of my
past," went on Dave, speaking to the crowd. "But I am trying to do the
fair thing, every boy here knows it, and--and----"
"We are with you, Dave!" came from the rear of the crowd, and Luke
Watson pushed his way to the front, followed by Phil, Shadow, and Buster
Beggs.
"Dave Porter is one of the best fellows in this school," cried Phil.
"And Plum and Poole are a couple of codfish," added Buster.
"I--I--am a codfish, am I?" roared Plum.
"You are, Gus Plum. You say things behind folks' backs and try to bully
the little boys, and in reality you are no better than anybody else, if
as good. You make me sick."
"I'll--I'll hammer you good for that!"
"All right, send me word when you are ready," retorted Buster.
In the meantime Dave was still standing over Nat Poole. Suddenly he
caught the aristocratic youth by the ear and gave that member a twist.
"Ouch! Let go!" yelled Nat Poole. "Let go! Don't wring my ear off!"
"Will you apologize?" demanded Dave, and gave the ear a jerk that
brought tears to Poole's eyes.
"I--I--oh, you'll have my ear off next! Oh, you wait--oh! oh! If I ever
get--_ouch_!"
"Say you are sorry you said what you did to me," went on Dave, "or into
the river you go!" And despite Poole's efforts, he dragged the
aristocrat toward the edge of the dock.
"No! no! Oh, I say, Porter! Oh, my ear! I don't want to go into the
river! I--I--I take it back--I guess I made a mistake. Oh, let me go!"
"You apologize, then?"
"Yes."
"Then get out, and after this behave yourself," said Dave, and gave Nat
Poole a fling that sent him up against the boathouse with a bang. In
another instant he was by Gus Plum's side. "Now it's your turn, you
overgrown bully," he continued.
"Wha-what do you mean?" stammered Plum, who had looked on the scene just
enacted with a sinking heart.
"I mean you must apologize, just as Poole has done."
"And if I won't?"
"I'll thrash you till you do--no matter what the consequences are," and
Dave hauled off his jacket and threw off his cap.
"Would you hit a fellow when he is--er--half drowned?" whined the bully.
"You're not half drowned--you're only scared, Plum. Now, then, will you
apologize or not?" And Dave doubled up his fists.
"I--I don't have to. I--I--_oh_!"
The words on Plum's lips came to a sudden end, for at that instant the
country boy caught him by the throat and banged his head up against the
boathouse side.
"Now apologize, and be quick about it," said Dave, determinedly.
"Oh, my head! You have cracked my skull! I'll--I'll have the law on
you!"
"Very well, I'm willing. But you must apologize first!" And Plum's head
came into contact with the boathouse side again, and he saw stars.
"Oh! Let up--stop, Porter! Don't kill me! I--I--take it back! I--I
apologize! I--I didn't mean anything! Let up, please do!" shrieked Gus
Plum, and then Dave let go his hold and stepped back.
"Now, Gus Plum, listen to me," said the country boy. "Let this end it
between us. If you don't, let me tell you right now that you will get
the worst of it. After this, keep your distance and don't open your
mouth about me. I shan't say anything to Doctor Clay about this, but if
you say anything, I'll tell him all, and I know, from what he has
already said, that he will stand by me."
"Maybe he doesn't know----"
"He knows everything about my past, and he has asked me to stay here,
regardless of what some mean fellows like you might say about it. But I
am not going to take anything from you and Poole in the future; remember
that!" added Dave, and then he picked up his cap and jacket, put them
on, and, followed by Phil, Roger, and a number of his other friends,
walked slowly away.
CHAPTER XII
SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST
The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was
the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon
the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.
"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have
been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think
they'll do about it?"
"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son.
"They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.
But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a
small class, made up of those who were wealthy, who passed him by and
snubbed him, not wishing to associate with anybody who had come from a
poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave
greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk
and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of his
many friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his
teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end,
no matter what the cost.
If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the
school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the multitude
of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority.
But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.
"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when
they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."
"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off
his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"
On the following Saturday evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side.
The young student was evidently excited over something.
"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want
to join the fellows in the gym."
"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think
I've discovered something, but I am not sure."
"Well, out with it."
"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my
bicycle, to get some shirts at the furnishing store there. Well, when I
came out of the store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the post-office on
the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he
turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and
began to read them."
"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is
supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.
"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd
have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces
and scatter the bits in the grass. When he went away, I walked over to
the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course,
you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."
"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."
"Yes, but this is not his private affair--to my way of thinking. It
concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.
Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One
piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta-- w York,"
and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem-- --nett Street,
Sa----"
"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.
"That is what I thought."
"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"
"No."
"Were the letters addressed to him?"
"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the
written-on portions of the envelopes."
"Did Plum see you?"
"Not until later--when I was on my way back to the Hall."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."
After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but
could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.
"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to
Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."
"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made
to return them?"
"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor
won't dare to say anything to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing.
Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue
the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."
A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy
was rather scared, but told a fairly straight story, and turned over
the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all
attention.
"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you
would keep it to yourself."
"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."
"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would
do as asked, and later on did so.
The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his
studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of
the class as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts,
Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered
them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and
read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his
few valued possessions.
On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was
served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a
consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He
drank one glass of water, and an hour later got up to drink another,
only to find the water pitcher empty.
"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he told himself. "And if I
catch the fellow who salted my hash----"
He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher,
made his way through the hallway to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here
he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher,
started to return to dormitory No. 12.
As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pass along the other end of
the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his
head.
"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy passed close to a dimly
burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"
He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind
Shadow. Then, of a sudden, he beheld the boy swing around and put out
his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was
fast asleep.
"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what
had I best do?"
There was no time to think long, for the sleep-walker was already
descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the
dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to
him.
"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any
noise."
"Oh, I'm too sleepy for fun!" murmured Roger.
"This isn't fun, it's important. Come, I say!"
Thus aroused, the senator's son rolled from his couch and hurried into
his clothing. In a few minutes both boys had their shoes and caps on,
and along the hallway they sped, and down the back stairs. The door
below was unlocked, but closed. Soon they were out in the rear yard of
the Hall, and there they beheld Shadow Hamilton walking slowly in the
direction of the boathouse.
"Who is it?" whispered Roger.
"It is Shadow. He is walking in his sleep. I want to find out where he
is going and what he'll do."
"Humph! This certainly is interesting," answered the senator's son.
"Whatever you do, Roger, don't arouse him, or there may be an accident,"
cautioned Dave. "Let him go his own way."
"But he may hurt himself, anyway."
"No, he won't. A sleep-walker can walk a slack wire, if he tries it, and
never tumble. Haven't you heard of them walking on the ridge pole of a
house? I have."
"I've read about such things. And I know they say you mustn't arouse
them. He is going into the boathouse!"
The chums ran forward and reached the doorway of the boathouse just as
Shadow Hamilton was coming out. The somnambulist had a pair of oars,
and he stepped to the edge of the dock and untied one of the boats and
leaped in.
"I must find them!" they heard the youth mutter to himself. "I must find
them and bring them back!"
"Did you hear that?" asked Roger. "What is he talking about?"
"That remains to be found out. Come, let us follow him," returned Dave.
They procured two pairs of oars, and were soon in another boat and
pulling behind Shadow Hamilton. The boy who was asleep seemed to possess
supernatural strength, and they had no easy time of it keeping up with
him. His course was up the Leming River, past Robbin's Point, and then
into a side stream that was rather narrow, but almost straight for a
distance of two miles.
"Do you know where this stream leads to?" questioned Roger.
"I do not."
"Almost to the old castle that we visited last winter on our skates, the
day we caught that robber and saved Billy Dill. The river makes half a
dozen twists and turns before the castle is reached, but this is a
direct route and much shorter."
"Can it be possible that Shadow is going to the old castle?" queried the
country boy.
"I'm sure I don't know. We'll learn pretty soon."
As my old readers know, the place referred to was a dilapidated
structure of brick and stone which had been erected about the time of
the Revolutionary War. It set back in a wilderness of trees, and was
given over largely to the owls and to tramps. It belonged to an
unsettled estate that had gone into litigation, and there was no telling
if it would ever be rebuilt and occupied in a regular way.
It was dark under the trees, but by pulling close to the boat ahead,
Dave and Roger managed to keep Shadow Hamilton in sight. As soon as the
somnambulist came near to the castle he ran his boat up the bank, leaped
ashore, and stalked toward the building.
"He has disappeared!" cried Roger, softly.
"I see him," answered Dave. "Come!" and he led the way into the old
structure and to the very rooms where the encounter with the robber and
with Billy Dill had occurred.
Scarcely daring to breathe, they watched Shadow move around in an
uncertain way, touching this object and that, and opening and shutting
several closet doors, and even poking into the chimney-place.
"Gone! gone! gone!" they heard him mutter. "What shall I do? What shall
I do?" And he gave a groan.
Five minutes passed and the sleep-walker left the castle and hurried to
his boat. His course was now down the stream toward the Hall, and Dave
and Roger followed, as before. At the dock the boats were tied up, the
oars put away, and Shadow Hamilton went back to the room from which he
had come. Peering in, Dave and Roger saw him undress and go to bed, just
as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
CHAPTER XIII
A PHOTOGRAPH OF IMPORTANCE
"I should not believe it, had I not seen it with my own eyes."
It was in this fashion that Roger expressed himself on the following
day, when discussing the affair of the night previous with Dave. Shadow
was around, as usual. He looked sleepy, but otherwise acted as if
nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"It certainly is remarkable," was Dave's comment. "The question is, what
made him go to the castle? I think I know, but I cannot speak about it.
But I'll tell you what I should like to do, Roger: go up to the castle
while it is daylight and take a thorough look around."
Roger was willing to do this, and the upshot of the talk was that Dave
and the senator's son paid the old brick-and-stone structure a visit on
the following Saturday half-holiday, taking Phil and Ben with them. They
went up in a boat by the short route, arriving there about half-past
three o'clock.
There was not a soul about the deserted mansion, and the few birds flew
away at their approach. It was a clear, sunny day, and they lost no
time in throwing every door and window wide open, so that they might
have the full benefit of the light and fresh air.
"Here is the room in which he moved around the most," remarked Roger,
gazing around earnestly. "But I can't say that I see anything unusual,
do you?"
They were all searching around, and after a few minutes had passed Ben
uttered a low cry and held up a small object, almost covered with dust
and dirt.
"A class pin!" cried Dave. "We must see if we can find any more of
them."
It was not long before Phil came upon two pins sticking on a board of a
closet. Then Roger ran into the next room and, after a short hunt,
uncovered a flat pasteboard box with several more of the class pins,
each a bit tarnished by the dampness, but otherwise uninjured.
"He must have come for the pins," said Ben. "That solves the mystery of
how they disappeared from Mr. Dale's possession."
"Here is a postage stamp!" ejaculated Phil, and held it up. "It's an old
German issue," he added. "And here are half a dozen others, all
evidently torn from a sheet. Boys, Shadow must have taken the doctor's
collection!"
Dave said nothing to this, for he had discovered a cupboard in a
corner, tightly closed and with the wooden button of the door missing.
He now opened the door of the cupboard with a knife.
"Hello, what's in there?" asked Roger, who was behind him.
"Seems to be some clothing," answered Dave, and hauled forth some loose
garments and also an old satchel. The garments formed part of a sailor's
garb, and the satchel was marked on the bottom with the name, "William
Dill."
"It's Billy Dill's missing outfit!" cried Dave, eagerly. "Oh, Roger, how
glad I am that I have found this! It's the best yet!"
All the boys were interested, for they knew Dave's story and the tale of
the strange sailor. As Dave ran to the light with the satchel, they
crowded around him.
"I think I am fully justified in opening this grip," said the country
boy. He was so agitated he could scarcely speak.
"Why, certainly," cried Phil. "Open it, by all means. It may throw light
on some things which Billy Dill has been unable to explain."
The satchel was not locked and came open with ease. Inside was a bag
containing some loose silver and a roll of forty-six dollars in
bankbills. There was also a locket, containing the picture of a motherly
old lady, probably the sailor's parent. Under the locket were a small
Bible and a work on ocean navigation, and at the bottom a thick, brown
envelope containing a photograph.
"Let us see whose picture that is," said Phil, and Dave opened the
envelope and drew the photograph forth. As he held it up there was a
general cry, in which he was forced to join.
"That's the man who looks like you, Dave!" cried Roger.
"What a striking resemblance!" exclaimed Phil.
"And he has the mustache, just as the sailor said," added Ben. "Dave,
that man looks enough like you to be your older brother, or your
father!"
Dave said nothing, for he was too much overcome to speak. As he gazed at
the picture, he began to tremble from head to foot. Taking away the
mustache, the face was exactly like his own, only older and more
careworn. He did not wonder that Billy Dill had become confused because
of the resemblance. He turned the picture over. There was not a scrap of
printing or writing on it anywhere.
What was the meaning of this mystery? What was this man to him? Was he
the man who had once lost a child through a crazy nurse? In his
perplexed state of mind, the questions were maddening ones to the boy.
"What do you think of it, Dave?" asked Phil, after a pause, and the eyes
of all the others were turned on the poorhouse boy.
"What do I think of it?" he repeated, slowly. "I think this: I am going
to find this man, if he is alive, even if I have to go around the world
to do it. He must know something of my past--most likely he is a
relative of mine. I am going to be a poorhouse nobody no longer. I am
going to establish my identity--and I am going to do that before I do
anything else."
Dave spoke deliberately, weighing every word. It was almost as if he was
registering a vow. The others saw a look of determination settle on his
face, and knew that he would do as he said.
The boy from the country had suddenly lost interest in clearing up the
mystery surrounding Shadow Hamilton, and allowed the others to finish
the search for class pins and postage stamps. One more pin was found and
three rare stamps from Brazil, and then the search was abandoned, and
they returned to Oak Hall, Dave carrying the sailor's possessions.
That evening there was an interesting interview in Doctor Clay's office,
in which Dave and his friends took an active part. The worthy master of
Oak Hall listened to all the boys had to tell with keen attention, and
smiled quietly when told how Dave and Roger had first followed Shadow in
his somnambulistic feat. He took possession of the class pins and the
stamps, and said the latter were undoubtedly from his collection.
"We now have nearly all of the class pins," he said. "But fully
nine-tenths of the postage stamps are still missing and they represent a
value of at least twenty-five hundred dollars. I am tolerably sure that
Maurice Hamilton took them in his sleep, but the question is, did he
destroy the others, or did somebody else come along and take them?"
"I believe Chip Macklin came to see you, sir," said Dave, significantly.
"He did, Porter, and I am going to follow that clew up--if it is a
clew," answered Doctor Clay, gravely.
After the others had departed, Dave showed the things he had found
belonging to Billy Dill. The master of the Hall was as much astonished
as anybody over the resemblance between his pupil and the photograph,
and examined the picture with care.
"I do not wonder that you wish to investigate this," said he. "I should
wish to do so, were I in your position."
"I have simply got to do it, Doctor!" cried Dave. "I shall not be able
to settle my mind on a thing until it's done. Would you go home and see
Mr. Wadsworth and Professor Potts first, or go direct to that sailor?"
"Why not send a long letter to your friends, telling them what you have
told me? You can add that I agree that the photograph resembles you
closely, and that you wish to talk the matter over once again with this
William Dill."
As impatient as he was, Dave concluded to follow this advice, and a
letter of ten pages was sent to Mr. Wadsworth and to Caspar Potts the
next morning. In the meantime, it may be added here, Doctor Clay had a
closer watch than ever set on Shadow Hamilton's movements, and he also
began a quiet investigation of Gus Plum's doings.
The letter that Dave sent to Crumville created a sensation in the
Wadsworth household, and was read and re-read several times by the
members of the manufacturer's family and by Professor Potts.
"There is undoubtedly something in this," said the professor. "It
certainly is entitled to a strict investigation. If you will permit me,
I will run up to Oak Hall to see Dave, and then take him to see this
Billy Dill."
"I will go with you," answered the rich manufacturer. "The outing will
do us both good, and I am greatly interested in Dave's welfare. I only
trust that there is a happy future in store for him."
"And I say the same, sir, for no boy deserves it more," answered
Professor Potts.
A telegram was sent to Dave, and on the following day Oliver Wadsworth
and Caspar Potts journeyed to Oakdale. Dave met them at the depot with
the Hall carriage.
"There he is!" exclaimed old Caspar Potts, rushing up and shaking
hands. "My boy! my boy! I am glad to see you again!" And he fairly
quivered with emotion.
"And I am glad to see you," cried Dave, in return. He shook hands with
both men. "Mr. Wadsworth, it was kind of you to answer my letter so
quickly," he added.
"I knew you would be anxious, Dave. My, how well and strong you look!
The air up here must do you good."
"It is a very healthful spot," answered the youth, "and I like it better
than I can tell."
"A fine school--a fine school!" murmured Professor Potts. "You could not
go to a better."
On the way to the Hall, Dave told his story in detail, and exhibited the
photograph, which he had brought with him, scarcely daring to leave it
out of his sight.
"It is just as you have said," remarked Oliver Wadsworth. "A most
remarkable resemblance, truly!"
"That man must be some relative to Dave," added Caspar Potts. "There
could not be such a resemblance otherwise. It is undoubtedly the same
strain of blood. He may be a father, uncle, cousin, elder brother--there
is no telling what; but he is a relative, I will stake my reputation on
it."
The visitors were cordially greeted at Oak Hall by Doctor Clay and made
to feel perfectly at home. They were given rooms for the night, and in
the morning the doctor and his visitors and Dave had breakfast together.
It had been decided that a visit should be paid to Billy Dill that very
afternoon, and by nine o'clock Mr. Wadsworth, Professor Potts, and Dave
were on the way to the town where was located the sanitarium to which
the sailor had been taken. Dave had the tar's satchel and clothing with
him, and the precious photograph was stowed away in his pocket. Just
then he would not have parted with that picture for all the money in the
world.
CHAPTER XIV
A GLEAM OF LIGHT
"I would advise that you keep that satchel and the picture out of sight
at first," said Professor Potts, as he rang the bell of the sanitarium.
"Talk to the old sailor and try to draw him out. Then show him his
belongings when you think the time ripe."
Mr. Wadsworth and Dave thought this good advice, and when they were
ushered into the old sailor's presence, the boy kept the satchel behind
him.
"Well, douse my toplights, but I'm glad to see ye all!" cried Billy
Dill, as he shook hands. "It's kind o' you to pay a visit to such an old
wreck as I am."
"Oh, you're no wreck, Mr. Dill," answered Oliver Wadsworth. "We'll soon
have you as right and tight as any craft afloat," he added, falling into
the tar's manner of speaking.
"Bless the day when I can float once more, sir. Do you know, I've been
thinkin' that a whiff o' salt air would do me a sight o' good. Might fix
my steerin' apparatus," and the tar tapped his forehead.
"Then you must have a trip to the ocean, by all means," said Caspar
Potts. He turned to the rich manufacturer. "It might be easily
arranged."
"Dill, I want to talk to you about the time you were out in the South
Seas," said Dave, who could bear the suspense no longer. "Now, please
follow me closely, will you?"
"Will if I can, my hearty." The sailor's forehead began to wrinkle. "You
know my memory box has got its cargo badly shifted."
"Don't you remember when you were down there--at Cavasa Island, and
elsewhere--how hard times were, and how somebody helped you."
"Seems to me I do."
"Don't you remember traveling around with your bundle and your satchel?
You had some money in bankbills and some loose silver, and a work on
navigation, and a Bible----"
"Yes! yes! I remember the Bible--it was the one my aunt gave me--God
bless her! She, Aunt Lizzie--took care o' me when my mother died, an'
she told me to read it every day--an' I did, most o' the time."
"Well, you had the Bible and your satchel and your bundle of clothes,"
went on Dave, impressively. "And at that time you fell in with a man who
afterwards gave you his photograph."
"So I did--the man who looks like you. But I----"
"Wait a minute. Don't you remember his telling you a story about a crazy
nurse and a lost child?"
"I certainly do, but----"
Dave drew the photograph from his pocket and thrust it forward, directly
before the tar's eyes.
"There is the man!" he cried. "Now, what is his name? Tell me his name,
at once!"
[Illustration: "Tell me his name, at once!"--_Page 121._]
"Dunston Porter!" fairly shouted the sailor. "Dunston Porter! That's it!
I knew I would remember it sometime! Dunston Porter, of course it was!
Funny how I forgot it. Better write it down, afore it slips my cable
again."
"Dunston Porter!" murmured Dave, and the others likewise repeated the
name.
"Ha! this is remarkable!" ejaculated Caspar Potts. "Dave, do you
remember what you called yourself when you were first found and taken to
the poorhouse."
"I do, sir. I called myself Davy, and Porter, and Dun-Dun."
"Exactly, and Dun-Dun meant Dunston. You were trying to repeat the name,
'Dunston Porter'!"
"That would seem to be the fact," came from Oliver Wadsworth. "And if
so----" He paused significantly.
"You think my real name is Dunston Porter?"
"Either that, or else that is the name of some relative of yours."
Dave's heart beat fast. He felt that he was getting at least a faint
glimpse of his past. He turned again to Billy Dill.
"Then this Dunston Porter was your friend?" he observed.
"He was, and he helped me when I was stranded," was the answer. "I can't
give ye all the particulars, cos some o' 'em is more like a dream than
anything to me. When I try to think, my head begins to swim," and the
sailor wrinkled his forehead as before and twitched his eyes.
"Tell me one thing," said the rich manufacturer, "Do you think this
Dunston Porter is still at Cavasa Island, or in that locality?"
"I suppose so--I don't know."
"When did you come away from there?" asked Professor Potts.
"It must be nigh on to a year ago. I came straight to 'Frisco, went up
the coast on a lumber boat to Puget Sound, and then took passage to New
York. Next, I drifted up here to look up some friends, and you know what
happened after that."
"Was Dunston Porter alone out there?" questioned Oliver Wadsworth.
"Why--er--I can't say as to that. He didn't say much about himself, that
I can remember. Once he told me about that child, but--but it's hazy--I
can't think! Oh, it drives me crazy when I try to think! The roar of the
sea gets in my ears, and the light from the lighthouse fires my brain!"
And the old tar began to pace the floor in a rolling gait.
"He is growing excited!" whispered Caspar Potts. "It is too bad! Were he
in his right mind, he might be able to tell us a great deal."
"Supposing we go out and have lunch together," suggested Oliver
Wadsworth. "And then we can go for a ride on the lake."
He spoke to the sanitarium manager, and the upshot of the matter was
that the whole party went out to a hotel for dinner. Previous to going,
Dave gave Billy Dill the satchel and money and the bundle, which seemed
to tickle the tar immensely.
"Douse my toplight, but I feel like old times again!" he cried, when
they had had a good dinner and were seated on the forward deck of one of
the lake boats, used to take out pleasure parties. "Oh, but I love the
water!"
"I suppose this doesn't look anything like around Cavasa Island,"
remarked Dave, trying to draw the sailor out.
"Not much, my boy. Cavasa Island has a volcano in the middle of it, and
once in a while that volcano gets busy, and folks run for their lives.
An' they have earthquakes, too. Once I was out with Dunston Porter, and
along came an earthquake, and the other fellow, Mr. Lemington, almost
had his leg broken."
"Who was Mr. Lemington?" asked Caspar Potts, quickly.
"Why, he was Dunston Porter's partner in the treasure-hunting scheme.
Oh, I didn't tell you about that, did I? Funny, how it slipped my mind,
eh? They went to the volcano for the treasure. I guess that was when the
baby disappeared--and that other man--I don't remember much of him, he
was wild. It was misty, misty. But they didn't get any treasure, I know
that. And then Mr. Lemington got disgusted and sailed for Australia."
"Did you ever see the baby?" asked Dave.
"Did I? Why--I think so. I don't remember."
This was all they could get out of the sailor, try their best, and, upon
Oliver Wadsworth's advice, they did not bother him any further. Before
returning to the sanitarium, the rich manufacturer called Dave to one
side.
"Dave, do you want to go to Cavasa Island?" he asked, with a quiet
smile.
"I do," was the prompt answer. "I was going to speak to you about it.
You know I told you that Phil Lawrence is going--on one of his father's
ships this summer. I'd like very much to go with Phil."
"Then you shall go, if we can make the necessary arrangements. Now, what
I want to know is: Do you not think it would be an excellent thing to
take this Billy Dill along? The trip might cure him entirely, and he
might aid you greatly in clearing up this mystery."
"Why, Mr. Wadsworth, you must have been reading my thoughts!" exclaimed
the country boy. "I was going to suggest that very thing."
"Then we will speak to Dill about it before we leave him. Do you know
when your friend Lawrence is to join his father's ship?"
"No, sir; but I can soon find out. And here is Mr. Lawrence's address,
if you want it," added Dave, and wrote it on a card.
When the idea of sailing on the Pacific once more was broached to Billy
Dill, his eyes lit up with pleasure.
"I'd like nothing better!" he cried. "I've been a-thinkin' I might ship
again. I can't stay an' be spongin' on you folks any longer, it wouldn't
be proper. I want to pay up, now Dave has found my money for me."
"Keep your money, Dill," returned Oliver Wadsworth. "You may need it
later." And then he explained what Dave wished to do, and how the tar
might accompany the youth on his long trip.
"I'll go--an' glad o' the chance," said Billy Dill, readily. "Just draw
up your articles, an' I'll sign 'em any time ye want." And so the matter
was settled.
Dave returned to Oak Hall late that night in a very thoughtful mood. So
much had been done and said that he wanted time in which to think it
over. It was not until the next day that he got a chance to talk matters
over with Phil and Roger, both of whom listened attentively to his tale.
"It seems to me you are learning something, Dave," said Roger. "I hope
the whole matter is cleared up before long. Then Plum and Poole will
have to stop casting slurs on you."
"And now, Phil, I want to go out to the South Seas with you," continued
Dave. "And, what is more, I am going to ask your father to find a place
on the vessel for Billy Dill."
"I fancy he'll do that, if I ask him," answered Phil. "I'll write and
tell the whole story, and I know he will be as much interested as I am."
"I wish I was going on that trip with you," said Roger. "Such an outing
would suit me to a T."
"I guess there will be room enough for another passenger," answered
Phil. "Why don't you ask your folks about it?"
"I will!" burst out the senator's son. "They are going to Europe, you
know. I was to go along, but I'll see if I can't go with you two
instead."
After that there was a good deal of letter-writing, and the boys waited
anxiously for replies. In the meanwhile, the final examinations for the
term began. Dave did his best to keep his mind on his lessons, and
succeeded so well that he came out second from the top, studious Polly
Vane heading the list. Roger came next to Dave, with Ben Basswood
fourth, Phil sixth, and Sam Day seventh. Gus Plum was almost at the end
of the list, and Nat Poole was but little better. In a lower class, Luke
Watson stood second, Buster Beggs fourth, and Chip Macklin fifth. Shadow
Hamilton, although generally a good student, dropped to tenth place in
his class.
"I am more than gratified at this showing," said Doctor Clay, when the
examinations were over. "The general average is higher than usual. You
have done well, and I shall award the prizes with much pleasure."
After that there was an entertainment lasting the best part of the
afternoon, and in the evening the students celebrated by a bonfire on
the campus and a general merrymaking. They sang the school song over and
over again, and gave the Hall cry:
"Baseball!
Football!
Oak Hall
Has the call!
Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"To-night's the night!" whispered Phil, as he entered the school with
his chums. "Just wait and see!"
CHAPTER XV
WINDING UP THE SCHOOL TERM
"I must say, I don't feel much like fun to-night," observed Dave, as he
hurried up the stairs to dormitory No. 12. "I am anxious to get started
on that trip to the Pacific."
"Oh, that will hold for one day longer," said Ben. "I wish I was going,
too. Roger, have you got word yet?"
"No, but I expect a letter to-morrow. If it doesn't come, I'll have to
wait till I get home."
Dave was in advance and was the first to throw open the dormitory door.
As he did so, a powerful smell of onions greeted him.
"Great Caesar!" he ejaculated. "Smells like an onion factory up here.
Somebody must have been eating a dozen or two. Open the window, Phil,
while I make a light."
"Hello, what's this!" spluttered Ben, and fell headlong over something.
"A decayed cabbage! Who put that on the floor?"
"Look out, everybody!" shouted Roger. "I just stepped on something soft.
Phew! Some decayed sweet potatoes!"
By this time Dave made a light, and all of the boys who had come up
gazed around the dormitory. Then a cry of amazement and anger arose.
"This is a rough-house, and no mistake!"
"Somebody has been heaving decayed vegetables all over the room!"
"Yes, and ancient eggs, too! This is an outrage!"
"Here is a rotten cabbage in my trunk!" called out Roger. He held the
object at arm's length. "I'd like to soak the fellow who did it!" he
added, savagely.
With caution, all made an investigation. They found their clothing and
other belongings disarranged, and decayed vegetables, stale eggs, and
sour milk were everywhere in evidence. It was a mess bad enough to make
them weep.
"We ought to report this," was Phil's comment. "I don't mind real fun,
but this is going too far."
"This stuff must have come from the cellar," put in Buster Beggs. "I
heard the head cook telling Pop Swingly that the place must be cleaned
out, or he would report it to the doctor. Swingly said he didn't know
the bad stuff was there."
"Well, Swingly didn't put the stuff here," put in Dave. "It's the work
of some of the other fellows."
"I know where the janitor is!" cried Ben. "Shall I go down and question
him? Maybe he can give us a pointer."
"Yes, go ahead," said Dave.
"And I'll go along," added the senator's son, and a moment later the two
boys were off.
While the pair were gone, the others surveyed the damage done. The most
of the decayed vegetables were swept into a corner, and then the boys
did what they could toward straightening out their things.
"Here's a stale egg in my hat-box!" groaned Sam. "I'd like to throw it
at some fellow's head!"
Dave had found his trunk open, and was searching the box with care.
Suddenly he gave a loud cry:
"It's gone! It's gone!"
"What's gone?" queried Phil.
"The photograph! I had it among my books and papers, and the whole bunch
is missing!"
"You mean the photo of the man who looks like you?" asked Sam, quickly.
"Yes." Dave gave a groan that came straight from his heart. "Oh, boys, I
must get that back! I can't afford to lose it! I must get it back! It is
worth more to me than anything in the world!" He was so agitated that he
could scarcely control himself.
"Let us hunt for the picture," came from Buster Beggs, who knew about
the photograph, and all started a search, which lasted until Ben and
Roger returned.
"We've discovered the chaps who are responsible," said Ben, in triumph.
"They are Gus Plum and Nat Poole," asserted the senator's son. "Pop
Swingly was throwing this stuff away in a hole back of the campus, when
Plum and Poole came up. He heard them talking about playing a trick, but
he didn't think they'd lower themselves by touching the mess. I suppose
they thought that they were doing something quite smart."
"Dave's photo is gone," said Phil. "We have been hunting for it
everywhere."
"You don't say! Dave, that is too bad."
"We ought to make Plum and Poole clean up this mess," came from Buster.
"Let us try to capture them."
The suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys started to locate
the bully and his crony. Plum and Poole were still below, but Shadow
Hamilton announced that they were preparing to come up by a side stairs.
"We must get them, sure!" cried Dave. "I want that picture back, if
nothing else."
Soon one boy, who was acting as a spy, announced the coming of Plum and
Poole. The pair were allowed to reach the door of their dormitory, when
they were pounced on from behind and made prisoners. They tried to
escape, but the crowd was too many for them, and towels pulled down over
their mouths kept them from raising an outcry.
"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered Nat Poole, when he found
himself and his crony in dormitory No. 12, and with the door closed and
locked.
"It means, in the first place, that I want my things back," said Dave,
"and especially a photograph that was between my books."
"Humph! that photo is burned up," growled Gus Plum.
"Gus Plum!" gasped Dave. He could say no more.
"Plum, do you mean to say you burned that picture up?" demanded Roger.
"If you did, you ought to be tarred and feathered for it!"
"He wouldn't dare to do it!" came boldly from Phil. "If he did, I know
what Dave will do--have him sent to jail for it."
"Bah! You can't send me to jail for a little fun," blustered the bully.
"That is no fun, Plum," put in Ben. "That photo was of great importance.
If you burned it up, you will surely suffer."
"Is it really burned or not?" muttered Dave, hoarsely. "Answer me,
you--you cur!" and he caught the bully by the throat.
"Le-let go--don't strangle me! N-no--it's all right. I was only
fooling."
"Then, where is it?"
"In the--the closet--on the top shelf."
Dave dropped his hold and ran to the closet pointed out. True enough, on
the top shelf, in a back corner, were the books, with the precious
photograph between them. Dave lost no time in placing the picture in an
inside pocket.
"You're a fine fellow, not to take a bit of fun without getting mad,"
grumbled Gus Plum. He did not dare to say too much in such a crowd.
"So you call this fun?" remarked Phil, sarcastically. "Fun! to play the
scavenger and bring this stuff up here? Well, I must say, I don't like
your preference for a calling."
"Look here, you needn't call us scavengers!" howled Nat Poole. "I am a
gentleman, I am!"
"Well, you brought this up here, you and Plum."
"It was only a--re--a joke. Everybody has got to put up with jokes
to-night."
"Well, you are going to put up with a little hard work," came from
Roger.
"Work?"
"Yes. You and Plum are going to clean up the muss and put this room in
apple-pie order."
"Huh! I see myself doing it!" stormed the aristocratic youth.
"You will do it," observed Ben. "Isn't that so, fellows?"
There was a chorus of approvals.
"So take off your coats and get to work," said Dave, who felt easier,
now that he had the picture back. "I guess you both need a little
exercise."
"I'll be hanged if I do a stroke!" roared Gus Plum.
Hardly had he spoken, when Ben caught up a pitcher of ice-water and held
it over the bully's head.
"Take your choice, Plum!" he cried, and allowed a little of the
ice-water to trickle down the bully's backbone. There was a roar of
fright and a shiver.
"Oh! Don't do that! Do you want to freeze me to death!"
"Now, Poole, maybe you want some," added Ben, advancing. Poole tried to
retreat, stumbled, and sat down heavily on a decayed cabbage, which
squashed beneath him. He set up a roar.
"Now see what you've done, Ben Basswood! My best gray suit, too! I'll
fix you for this!"
"Both of you must get to work!" declared Dave. "We'll give you two
minutes in which to get started. If you don't start----"
"We'll roll you in the decayed vegetables and kick you out," finished
Buster Beggs. With the term so nearly ended, he was growing reckless.
"I'll play timekeeper," and he drew out his watch.
Plum and Poole begged and protested, but all to no purpose, and, badly
scared, took off their coats and cuffs, rolled up their sleeves, and
began to clean up the muss they had made. While this was under way, the
other boys of the dormitory came up and viewed the scene with amazement
and satisfaction.
At last the dirty job was at an end, at least so far as Plum and Poole
could go. They had worked hard and were bathed in perspiration, and
their hands were in anything but a clean condition. Both were "boiling
mad," but neither dared to say a word, for fear the others would make
them do more.
"Now you have learned your trade," said Phil, finally, "you can graduate
as full-fledged scavengers. When you go out, don't fail to place that
bag of nasty stuff in a corner of your own room. The smell will give you
both pleasant dreams."
"Phil Lawrence----" began the bully.
"Just wait till I----" came from Nat Poole.
"Silence!" cried Dave. "Not a word, or you'll be sorry. Take up the bag.
Now, march!"
The door was flung open, and with the bag of messy stuff between them,
Plum and Poole marched forth into the corridor and to the stairs leading
to the back yard. The boys of dormitory No. 12 watched them out of
sight, then returned to their room.
"I'll wager they are the maddest boys in the Hall," said Dave, when the
door had been locked once more.
"Will they come back, do you think?" questioned Roger.
"I don't think so. But we can be on our guard."
They remained on guard for half an hour, but Plum and Poole did not
reappear. They had had enough of their so-called fun, and they sneaked
out of sight at the first opportunity.
But, without this, there was fun galore that night in the various
dormitories. Two crowds of boys held feasts, to which even the monitors
were invited, and dormitories Nos. 3 and 4 got into a pillow fight, in
the midst of which Job Haskers appeared. The teacher was knocked over by
a pillow, and then some other pillows were piled on top of him. After
that he was hustled out of the room, and, completely bewildered, he
rolled down the broad stairs, bumping on every step. Then Pop Swingly
came up, followed by "Horsehair," the carriage driver, to quell the
disturbance, and each received a pitcher of ice-water over his head,
which made both beat a hasty retreat. But by one o'clock the school
quieted down, and all of the pupils went to sleep as if nothing out of
the ordinary had occurred.
CHAPTER XVI
PREPARING FOR A LONG TRIP
[Illustration: "Good-by to Oak Hall!"--_Page 137._]
"Whoop! hurrah! Off we go! Good-by to Oak Hall!"
The carryall belonging to the school was moving away from the campus. It
was loaded with students and behind it came two wagons, full of trunks
and dress-suit cases. Back on the campus a crowd was assembled to bid
the departing ones good-by.
"Write to me often!"
"Don't forget, Tom! Atlantic City, middle of August!"
"Be sure and ask him to join the team!"
"Yes, we are going to Casco Bay. Come up, if you can."
"Tell Jack----Say, get off my toes, will you? Tell Jack to come up to
Lake Titus, back of Malone. We'll give him a dandy----"
"_Toot! toot! toot!_ Now then, Horsehair, start 'em up, and be lively,
or I'll miss that connection for Albany!"
"I'll start 'em up, all right, if you young gents will give me a show,"
responded the driver. "Say, Buster, don't use the whip. Give me the
reins, Master Porter."
"Don't you want me to drive, Horsehair?"
"No, I want----Say, you in the back, give me my hat, will you?" shouted
the driver, turning around. "I ain't a-going a step till I git that
hat!"
"All right, Horsehair, darling!" replied Sam Day. "I thought I'd keep it
to remember you by, but if you want----"
"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow Hamilton. He had caught
the humor of the occasion. "A lady once----"
"No stories allowed," broke in Phil.
"I can't tell a story unless I speak it aloud," answered Shadow, tartly.
"Phew, what a pun!" came from Roger. "Somebody please dump him off for
that."
"Hold tight, all of you!" called out the anxious driver, and with a
lurch the carryall made a turn and started out of the academy grounds
and along the broad highway leading to Oakdale. All of the boys shouted
themselves hoarse, and horns and rattles added to the din. Such a thing
as holding the students in was out of the question, and Doctor Clay and
his assistants did not attempt it. The doctor and Andrew Dale smiled
broadly and waved their hands, and only Job Haskers looked bored. The
other teachers were busy in the building and did not show themselves.
This was the first load to leave, and another was ready to depart
directly after dinner. Nearly all of the boys were in high spirits, and
sang and "cut up" all the way to the town, much to the terror of Jackson
Lemond, known only to the lads as Horsehair, because he carried the
signs of his calling continually.
If there was one boy in the crowd particularly sober at times, it was
Shadow Hamilton. Doctor Clay had communicated with his parents, and Mr.
Hamilton and the master of the school had had a long conference
regarding the pins and stamps that had been taken. Shadow's father had
agreed to pay for the missing articles, if they could not be recovered
inside of the next few months. In the meantime, a private detective was
to be called in to watch the movements of Gus Plum.
At Oakdale the party split into three parts, one to go up the railroad
line, another to go down, and the third to take the connection for
Albany. Phil, Roger, Ben, and Dave took the same train, and managed to
get seats together.
"I wish I had heard from my folks," remarked Roger. "But I think it is
all right," he added, hopefully.
"Don't be too sure, Roger," said Dave. "I don't want you to be
disappointed."
"I shall write to you as soon as I get home and can talk to my father,"
said Phil to Dave. "We'll be able to arrange everything without much
trouble, I am sure."
Near the end of their journey Dave and Ben found themselves alone, Roger
and Phil having said good-by at places further up the road. As they
neared Crumville, the heart of the country boy beat quicker. How many
things had happened since he had left that town to go to Oak Hall!
"I see the old white church steeple!" cried Ben, as they came out of a
patch of timber. "Looks natural, doesn't it?"
"I feel as if I had been away a year, instead of a few months," answered
Dave. He was peering anxiously out of the window. "Here we come to the
station, and, yes, there is Mr. Wadsworth's automobile, and Mr.
Wadsworth himself and Jessie!"
Soon the train came to a halt, and they piled out, dress-suit cases in
hand, and walked over to the automobile.
"How do you do?" cried Jessie Wadsworth, a beautiful miss of thirteen,
with soft eyes and golden curls. "I told papa you would be on this
train."
"How do you do?" returned Dave, dropping his suit case to lift his cap
and shake hands. "I hope you are well."
"Oh, I am," replied the miss, shaking back her curls. "How do you do,
Ben?" And then there was more handshaking.
Both of the boys were invited to enter the automobile, and did so, and
in a few minutes Ben found himself at his own door. Then the machine was
turned toward the Wadsworth mansion.
"I like to go riding with papa," explained Jessie. "I never go out with
our man, though. Not since--you know!" and she turned a pair of grateful
eyes upon Dave that made the boy color up.
"The machine appears to be perfectly safe, since we have had it
repaired," put in Mr. Wadsworth. "But our man is better with the
horses."
At the mansion Mrs. Wadsworth, an aristocratic but motherly lady, came
out to greet Dave, followed by Caspar Potts, whose face was wreathed in
smiles. All told, it was a homecoming that would have warmed the heart
of any lad, and it made Dave forget completely that he was a "poorhouse
nobody."
"You must tell me all about everything," said Jessie, after a somewhat
elaborate supper had been served. "I don't want to miss a single thing!"
"Seems to me you are cutting out a big job for Dave," laughed her
father.
"Well, I guess I can tell all she'll wish to hear," answered the youth,
and seated at one end of a couch, with Jessie at the other, he told much
of his life at Oak Hall, with its studies, its pranks, and its athletic
sports. Dave could see the humorous side of a thing as well as anybody,
and some stories he told made Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth laugh as well as
Jessie. On his trials he touched but lightly, for he could not dream of
giving his little lady friend pain.
On the following day Nat Poole came home, and Dave met the aristocratic
youth in one of the stores of Crumville. Poole gave him a glassy stare
and did not speak. A few minutes later Dave met Ben.
"Just ran into Poole," said the latter, "and what do you think, he made
out that he didn't see me."
"He was in Parsons' store, but he wouldn't speak to me, either,"
answered Dave. "He must feel awfully sore. But I shan't mind."
"Nor I, Dave. I never did like that fellow, and I don't like his father,
either. By the way, have you heard anything more about the farm that
belongs to Professor Potts?"
"Yes, and I am glad, and so is he, that we didn't let Nat's father get
hold of it. The new trolley company is going to put a line past it, and
Mr. Wadsworth says it will be quite valuable in time."
Two days passed, and then Dave got long letters from Phil and Roger.
Senator Morr had been to see Mr. Lawrence and had arranged to have his
son go on the long trip to the South Seas. Roger was almost wild with
joy, and said he was going to prepare for the trip immediately.
The letter from Phil told Dave that the start for San Francisco was to
be made on the following Monday morning. All the boys were to meet at
the Grand Central Depot, in New York City, and take the limited express
which left for Chicago at noon.
"I will go with you as far as New York," announced Mr. Wadsworth. "I
wish to see that your journey is safely begun."
The last days of the week were busy ones for Dave. A steamer trunk was
procured for him, and into this was packed his outfit, including a
semi-nautical suit that fitted him to perfection and gave him quite a
sailor look.
"I suppose you'll be a regular sailor by the time you come back," said
Jessie.
"I don't know about that," answered Dave. "I am not going for that
purpose," and his tone grew serious.
"Oh, I know that, Dave. I hope you find what you are going for.
But--but----"
"But what, Jessie?"
"Oh, I--I don't want you to leave us, Dave. If you find a father, or an
uncle, or brother, or somebody like that, I suppose you won't stay with
us any more." And the young miss pouted engagingly.
"I'll certainly not care to leave you, Jessie," he answered, gently.
"But you cannot blame me for wanting to find out who I am, I am sure."
"Oh, no, Dave!"
"I don't want to remain a nobody and have folks shun me on that
account."
"Who would do such a thing?" she asked, her eyes opening widely.
"Oh, a good many folks."
"It is very mean of them," came from the little miss, firmly. "But,
never mind, Dave, I'll not shun you," she went on, catching his hand and
squeezing it as hard as she could. "We're going to be just like a
brother and sister always, aren't we?"
"If you say so."
"Don't you say so, Dave?"
"Yes, Jessie."
"Then that is settled, and we won't talk about it any more. Shun you! I
just want to see them do it! I won't speak to anybody that does such a
thing!" And Jessie looked as tragic as a miss of thirteen can look.
Among the things provided by thoughtful Mr. Wadsworth for Dave was a
money belt, and in this was placed a fair amount of bankbills, and also
a letter of credit.
"Mr. Wadsworth, you are more than kind!" cried the country boy, and
something like tears stood in his honest eyes. "How can I ever repay
you?"
"In one way only, Dave. By making a real man of yourself."
"I shall do my best, sir."
"Then that is all I ask."
Billy Dill had been communicated with, and Caspar Potts went after the
tar and brought him to Crumville, where Oliver Wadsworth procured the
sailor a new outfit. Billy Dill's health was now restored completely,
and the only thing he suffered from was a slight loss of memory, and
even that defect seemed to be gradually wearing away.
"I'll be the happiest tar afloat when I have the rolling ocean under me
once more," said he to Dave. "Cables an' capstans! but I do love the
salt breeze!"
"Well, you'll soon get enough of it," answered the boy. "We have a long
trip before us."
CHAPTER XVII
THE TRIP TO THE FAR WEST
"My stars! what a very busy place!"
This was Dave's exclamation as he and Oliver Wadsworth hurried along one
of the streets of New York City, on the way to buy some small thing
which had been forgotten. They had arrived in the metropolis an hour
ahead of time, and the country boy had stared at the many sights in
wonder.
"It is one of the busiest cities in the world," answered the
manufacturer, with a smile. "A fortune can be made or lost here in no
time."
"I believe you. And the people! Why, there is a regular crowd, no matter
where you turn."
"Don't you think you'd like the city, Dave?"
"I don't know--perhaps I should, after I got used to it."
Roger and Phil had not yet come in, and they had left Billy Dill at the
depot to watch out for them. On returning to the station, Dave and Mr.
Wadsworth met the three at the doors.
"Here we are again!" cried Roger, shaking hands. "And not very much time
to spare, either."
"Is the train in?" asked the manufacturer.
"Will be in a few minutes, so the gateman said," answered Phil.
They saw to it that their trunks were properly cared for, and a short
while after the cars came in and they climbed aboard. Seats had been
engaged beforehand, so there was no trouble on that score.
"Now remember to write whenever you get the chance," said Oliver
Wadsworth to Dave. "And if you run short of funds, don't hesitate to let
me know."
"I'll remember, and thank you very much," replied Dave, and then the
long train moved off, slowly at first, and then at a good rate of speed.
Dave's long journey to solve the mystery of his identity had begun.
"Say, what mountain is this we're goin' under, anyway?" came presently
from the sailor. "I noticed it when I came to New York."
"This isn't a mountain," laughed Roger. "It is New York City itself. We
are under the streets."
"Great whales! Wonder they don't knock down the wall o' somebuddy's
cellar!"
It was not long before they came out into the open, and then both Dave
and the sailor looked out of the windows with interest. Phil and Roger
were more used to traveling, and spent the time in pointing out objects
of interest and in answering questions.
The fine coach was a revelation to Billy Dill, who, in the past, had
traveled exclusively in the ordinary day cars.
"These here seats are better nor them in a barber shop," he observed.
"An' thet little smoking-room is the handiest I ever see. But, boys, we
made one big mistake," he added, suddenly.
"What's that?" asked Phil.
"Unless we tie up to an eatin' house on the way, we'll be starved.
Nobody brung any grub along."
"Don't worry about that," said Roger, with a wink at the others. "I
think I can scrape up some crackers and cheese somewhere."
"Well, that's better--although I allow as how we could have brought some
ham sandwiches as well as not."
They had all had dinner, so nobody was hungry until about six o'clock,
when a waiter from the dining-car came through in his white apron.
"First call to supper!"
"Wot's thet?" queried Billy Dill.
"Come and see," answered Dave, and led the way to the dining-car. When
the old sailor saw the tables, and saw some folks eating as if at home,
he stared in amazement.
"Well, keelhaul me, if this don't beat the Dutch!" he ejaculated,
dropping into a chair pointed out to him. "Reg'lar hotel dinin'-room on
wheels, ain't it? Never heard o' such a thing in my life, never! Say,
Roger, better keep that crackers an' cheese out o' sight, or they'll
laugh at ye!" he added, with a chuckle.
"You never saw anything like this, then?" asked Dave.
"Never. I allers traveled in one o' them, plain, every-day kind o'
trains, an' took my grub along in a pasteboard box."
Though amazed, Billy Dill was not slow about eating what was set before
him, and he declared the repast the finest he had ever tasted. After the
meal he went into the smoking compartment for a smoke, and then came
back to the boys.
"Feelin' a bit sleepy," he announced. "I suppose there ain't no
objections to my going to sleep."
"Not at all," said Phil. "Do you want your berth made up right away?"
"Humph! that's a good one!" laughed the tar. "They may have an eatin'
room, but they ain't got no bedrooms, an' I know it. I'll do my best in
the seat, though I allow a reg'lar long sofy would be better."
"Just you wait until I call the porter," said Roger, and touched the
push-button. "This gentleman will have his berth made up," he went on,
as the porter appeared.
"Yes, sah."
"Make it up with real sheets, messmate," put in Billy Dill, thinking it
was a joke. "An' you might add a real feather piller, while ye are at
it."
"Yes, sah," answered the porter, with a grin. "Please step to another
seat, sah."
"Come," said Dave, and arose and took Billy Dill to the opposite side of
the sleeping-coach.
The old tar dropped into a vacant seat and watched the porter as he
began to make up the berths. From a smile his face changed to a look of
wonder, and when he saw the clean sheets, blankets, and pillows brought
forth he could scarcely control himself.
"Cables, capstans, an' codfish!" he murmured. "Thet beats the
dinin'-room, don't it? Say, maybe they hev got a ballroom on board, an'
a church, an' a--a--farm, an' a few more things."
"Not quite," answered Roger, with a laugh. "But there is a library, if
you want any books to read."
"Beats all! Why, this here train is equipped like a regular ship, ain't
she?"
"Almost," said Dave. "Here are two berths; you can take one and I'll
take the other."
"Good enough, Dave. Which will ye have?"
The boy said he preferred the lower berth, and Billy Dill swung himself
up in true sailor fashion to that above.
"Makes me think o' a ship!" he declared. "I know I'll sleep like a
rock!" And half an hour later he was in the land of dreams, and then
the boys also retired.
Morning found them well on their way to Chicago, and just before noon
they rolled into the great city by the lakes. Here they had two hours to
wait, and spent the time in getting dinner and taking a short ride
around to see the sights.
"This is as far west as I have been," said Roger. "The rest of the
journey will be new to me."
"I once took a journey to Los Angeles," said Phil. "But I went and
returned by the southern route, so this is new to me also."
"I have never traveled anywhere--that is, since I can remember," put in
Dave. "But I am sure I am going to like it--that is, if I don't get
seasick when I am on the ocean."
"Oh, I suppose we'll all get our dose of that," responded the senator's
son.
"Maybe not," said Billy Dill. "Some gits it, an' some don't."
Nightfall found them well on the second portion of their journey to San
Francisco. There was an observation car on the train, and the whole
party spent hours seated on camp-chairs, viewing scenery as it rushed
past them. Now and then, for a change, they would read, and Billy Dill
would smoke, and the boys often talked over what was before them.
"My father said I might tell you the object of my trip," said Phil to
his chums. "But he does not want anybody else to know of it, unless it
becomes necessary for me to say something to the captain. The supercargo
of the ship is a man named Jasper Van Blott. He has worked for my father
for some years, and my father always thought him honest. But lately
things have happened which have caused my father to suspect this
supercargo. He sometimes disposes of certain portions of a cargo, and
his returns are not what they should be."
"Then you are to act as a sort of spy," said Roger.
"I am to watch everything he does without letting him know exactly what
I am doing. And when he makes a deal of any kind, I am to do my best to
ascertain if his returns are correct. If I find he is honest, my father
is going to retain him and increase his salary; if he is dishonest, my
father will discharge him, and possibly prosecute him."
"Have you ever met this Van Blott?" asked Dave.
"Once, when he called on my father two years ago. He is a smooth talker,
but I did not fancy his general style. He is supposed to be a
first-class business man, and that is why my father has retained him. I
do not believe Captain Marshall likes him much, by the way he writes to
father."
"Have you ever met Captain Marshall?"
"Oh, yes, twice. You'll like him, I know, he is so bluff and hearty. My
father has known him for many years, and he thinks the captain one of
the best skippers afloat. He has sailed the Pacific for ten years and
never suffered a serious accident."
"In that case, we'll be pretty safe in sailing under him," observed
Roger. "It will certainly be a long trip--four thousand miles, or more!"
"Do you know anybody else on the ship?" asked Dave.
"I do not, and I don't know much about the ship herself, excepting that
she is named the _Stormy Petrel_. Father bought her about a year ago.
She is said to be a very swift bark, and yet she has great carrying
capacity."
"Will you please explain to me just what a bark is?" said Roger. "I must
confess I am rather dumb on nautical matters."
"A bark is a vessel with three masts. The front mast, or foremast, as
sailors call it, and the main, or middle, mast are rigged as a ship,
that is, with regular yardarms and sails. The back mast, called the
mizzen mast, is rigged schooner fashion, that is, with a swinging boom."
"That's plain enough. Hurrah for the _Stormy Petrel_! Dave, we'll be
full-fledged sailors before we know it."
"We must get Billy Dill to teach us a thing or two before we go aboard,"
said the country boy. "Then we won't appear so green."
This all thought good advice, and for the remainder of the journey they
frequently talked nautical matters over with the old tar. Billy Dill had
his book on navigation with him, and also a general work on seamanship,
and he explained to them how a ship, and especially a bark, was
constructed, and taught them the names of the ropes and sails, and many
other things.
"You'll soon get the swing on it," he declared. "It ain't so much to
learn fer a feller as is bright an' willin' to learn. It's only the
blockheads as can't master it. But I allow as how none o' you expect to
work afore the mast, do ye?"
"Not exactly," answered Phil. "But there is no harm in learning to do a
sailor's work, in case we are ever called on to take hold. Somebody
might get sick, you know."
"Thet's true, lad--an' I can tell ye one thing: A ship in a storm on the
Pacific, an' short-handed, ain't no plaything to deal with," concluded
the old tar.
CHAPTER XVIII
SAILING OF THE "STORMY PETREL"
As soon as the party arrived at San Francisco, Phil set out to learn if
the _Stormy Petrel_ was in port. This was easy, for the firm of which
Mr. Lawrence was the head had a regular shipping office near the docks.
"Yes, she is in and almost loaded," said the clerk at the office, as
soon as he learned Phil's identity. "I'll take you down to her, if you
wish."
"Very well," answered the youth, and soon he and his chums and Billy
Dill were on board of the bark. A gang of stevedores were on hand,
bringing aboard boxes, crates, and barrels, and in the midst of the
crowd were Captain Frank Marshall and Van Blott, the supercargo, both
directing operations.
"Well! well!" ejaculated the captain, on catching sight of Phil. "Got
here at last, eh? Glad to see you. So these are the young gentlemen to
go along? Well, I reckon you'll find the trip long enough. Glad to know
you, Porter, and the same to you, Morr. Yes, we are mighty busy just
now. Got a little of the cargo in the wrong way--tell you about it
later"--the last words to Phil. "I shall be glad of your company. Go
down into the cabin and make yourselves at home, and I'll be with you
presently."
"Thank you," answered Phil. "But is that Mr. Van Blott over yonder?"
"It is. Want to see him? Trot along, if you do." And the captain turned
to his work once more.
By his general manner Captain Marshall showed that he did not wish to
come into contact with the supercargo just then, and Phil walked over to
that personage alone. The supercargo was a tall, thin individual with a
sallow face and a thin, yellowish mustache.
"This is Mr. Van Blott, I believe," said Phil.
"Yes," was the short and crusty answer, and the supercargo gave the boy
a sharp look.
"I am Phil Lawrence. I guess you do not remember me?"
"Oh!" cried the supercargo, and his manner changed instantly. "How do
you do? I didn't think you'd be here quite so soon. I hope your father
is well?"
"Yes, sir. Then you got his letter, Mr. Van Blott?"
"Yes, this morning. I haven't read it very carefully yet. He said
something about you helping me, if I needed help. Well, I won't bother
you much. I have done the work alone in the past, and I can do it now."
"I am willing to do all I can to assist you," said Phil, politely.
"I don't doubt it. But I won't trouble you--so you and your friends can
just lie back and enjoy yourselves," returned Jasper Van Blott,
smoothly. "No use in working, when you are on a vacation."
"Oh, I shan't call it work. I want to learn a little about the business.
Some day, you know, I am to go into my father's office."
At this a slight frown crossed the supercargo's face, but he quickly
smiled it off. "As you please," he said. "But excuse me now, I'm very
busy. We are trying to get ready to sail to-morrow by noon, and there is
still a great deal to do."
In some way Phil felt himself dismissed, and he rejoined Dave and Roger,
who were standing by the companionway. All went below, to find the cabin
of the _Stormy Petrel_ deserted.
"This is a fine cabin," remarked Dave, gazing around. "It's as cozy as
can be."
"Where is Billy Dill?" asked Phil.
"He said he'd go forward and await orders."
"Did he say anything about the vessel?"
"Said she looked to be a first-class sailer and in prime condition,"
answered the senator's son. "He was delighted with her."
"What do you think of the captain?"
"I think I shall like him," returned Dave. "Roger thinks the same."
"I don't like that supercargo," went on Phil, lowering his voice. "I am
afraid I shall have trouble with him before the trip is over. He doesn't
want me to know a thing about what he is doing."
A little later Captain Marshall came in and showed them the staterooms
they were to occupy--one fair-sized one for Dave and Roger and a smaller
one adjoining for Phil. Then he introduced the boys to his first mate,
Paul Shepley, and to several others. When he got Phil by himself he
asked the youth if the supercargo had said anything about the loading of
the bark.
"Not a word," answered Phil. "Why do you ask that question?"
"We had some trouble just before you came on board. Mr. Van Blott wanted
some things done one way and I wanted them another. He thinks he can run
things, but I am going to let him understand that I am master here. I
tell you this, because I want you to understand how matters are going."
"From what you say, I don't think you like Mr. Van Blott," said Phil.
"If so, let me say, I don't think I shall like him myself."
"Oh, I can get along with him, if he will mind his own business and do
what is right," answered the captain of the _Stormy Petrel_. "But he
must not attempt to dictate to me, even if he is the supercargo."
"Well, I trust we have no trouble," answered Phil, with a sigh. But the
trouble, he felt, was already in the air.
Late that afternoon their baggage came on board, and the boys set to
work to establish themselves on the ship which was to be their home for
so many weeks to come. In the meantime Billy Dill reported to the
captain, and was assigned to his place in the forecastle as an extra
hand at full pay. The old tar was pleased mightily, and the smell of
oakum and bilge water appeared to act on him like a tonic. He was one to
make friends readily, and soon established himself as a favorite among
the foremast hands.
In the morning the boys took a final run ashore, purchasing a few things
they thought they needed and mailing some long letters home. Coming back
to the bark, they caught sight of the supercargo coming, with another
man, from a drinking place on a corner.
"Humph! that shows he drinks," muttered Phil.
"I think most seafaring men do," answered Roger.
"Captain Marshall does not."
They had to pass the supercargo, who stood on the corner with his back
to them, talking to the other man. Just as they went by, they heard Van
Blott remark:
"Don't worry; this trip is going to pay me big, Bangor, and when I come
back you shall have all that is coming to you." This was all the three
boys heard, but it set Phil to thinking.
"I'd like to know how this trip is going to pay him big," said the
shipowner's son. "Father says he gets his regular salary and a small
commission."
"Perhaps he has some private deal he wishes to put through," suggested
Dave.
"No; by his agreement he has no right to do any outside work. His time
belongs exclusively to the _Stormy Petrel_ and her cargo."
They returned to the bark, and quarter of an hour later the supercargo
followed, with a flushed face that showed he had been imbibing more
liquor than was good for him.
"Are you ready to sail?" demanded Captain Marshall, striding up.
"All ready," was the surly response, and the supercargo walked down to
his stateroom and disappeared.
Orders were given to cast off, and in a very few minutes the bark was on
her way from San Francisco Bay toward the Golden Gate. It was a perfect
day, and by nightfall the harbor was left behind and land became a mere
speck in the distance.
The first night on the bark passed pleasantly enough for the three
chums. At first the quarters on the vessel appeared small to them, but
they soon grew accustomed to the change. All slept soundly and they were
out on deck very shortly after sunrise.
"Well, how do you like life on _Mother Carey's Chicken_?" asked Phil,
when they were gazing at the rolling ocean.
"_Mother Carey's Chicken_?" repeated Dave, with a puzzled look.
"Oh, I know what he means!" cried Roger, with a laugh. "A stormy petrel
is a bird that the sailors call a Mother Carey's chicken."
"What a name! I think I like _Stormy Petrel_ better," observed Dave.
"But, I say, isn't this just grand! A fellow can open his lungs and
drink in ozone by the barrel!"
"And hardly a cloud in the sky," added Roger. "If this is any criterion,
we'll have the finest kind of a trip."
"Well, boys, I see you are up on time," came from a little behind them,
and now Captain Marshall strode up. "Fine sea this, and a fine breeze,
too."
"How long will this nice weather last?" asked Roger.
"Humph!" The captain humped his shoulders. "No man alive can tell that.
A few days, at least, maybe a week or more. But, sooner or later, we'll
pay up for it. The finer the weather, the bigger the storm to follow."
"I shouldn't mind an ordinary storm," observed Dave. "But I don't want
to be wrecked."
"No danger of that, lad. The _Stormy Petrel_ can outride any storm
likely to blow in these parts. She is one of the best vessels I ever
sailed in--a man couldn't ask for a better."
"How much of a crew have you, Captain Marshall?" asked Phil.
"I have sixteen men, all told, besides the tar you brought along." The
brow of the shipmaster wrinkled slightly. "They are all pretty fair men,
too, excepting four, and those four Mr. Van Blott brought in."
"What's the trouble with the four?"
"They drink, and they don't mind as they should." Captain Marshall
turned to Phil. "After breakfast, I'd like to talk to you on business in
the cabin," he added.
This was a hint that Dave and Roger were not desired, and, accordingly,
after the meal they left Phil and the captain alone.
"I've been studying your father's instructions to me," said Captain
Marshall to Phil. "As I view it, you are to be a sort of assistant to
Mr. Van Blott."
"If he will allow it."
"And if he won't?" The captain gazed at Phil sharply.
"Then, perhaps, I'll do something on my own account."
"Are you going to keep your eye on him?"
"Yes, but you need not tell him so."
"Don't worry--I shan't open my mouth, Philip. I am glad to hear of this,
for, I tell you privately, Van Blott needs watching. He is a sly dog,
and I am satisfied in my own mind that he has something up his sleeve."
"Do you know a man named Bangor in San Francisco? He was with Mr. Van
Blott just before we sailed."
"Ah! I thought so! Yes, I know him, and his reputation among shippers is
none of the best. He used to be a supercargo for the Donaldson-Munroe
Company, but they discharged him for some crooked work. What were he and
Van Blott doing?"
Phil told of what he had overheard.
"That confirms my idea exactly!" cried the captain of the _Stormy
Petrel_. "There is something in the wind. You must watch out, by all
means, and I'll do the same. This man must not be allowed to do anything
wrong, if we can possibly prevent it."
CHAPTER XIX
DAYS ON THE OCEAN
The weather remained fine for a full week, and with favoring winds the
_Stormy Petrel_ bowled along merrily on her course. The ocean rolled
lazily in the warm sunshine, a few birds circled about the ship, and
once they passed a steamer coming from the Hawaiian Islands, and a
schooner from Manila, and that was all.
"Shall we stop at Honolulu?" asked Roger, of the captain.
"No. I thought of doing so at first, but now I shall make no stops until
we get to Christmas Island, and from there we will go direct to Cavasa
and then to Sobago. What we do after that will depend largely on what is
done about a cargo."
So far none of the boys had experienced any seasickness, and they
congratulated themselves on their escape, but Billy Dill put a little
damper on their ardor.
"This ain't no weather to judge by," was his comment. "Wait till we get
some cross-winds and the ships starts to roll. Maybe then ye won't be so
settled in the stomach."
The few days on the ocean had done the old tar a world of good. His eyes
were brighter and he was physically in the best of health once more. His
mind, too, was clearer, and one day he announced to Dave that he had
something to tell.
"I ain't quite sure as I have the exact straight on 't," he began. "A
little on 't is still like a dream. But I know enough to make a putty
straight story," and then he told his tale.
A good portion of it was not unlike the story of many sailors. When very
young, he had had a strong desire to go to sea, and at his first
opportunity had shipped as a cabin boy. From cabin boy he had become a
foremast hand, and had been in such service more years than he could
count. He had visited nearly every portion of the globe, and had been
wrecked twice, once off the coast of Africa and once while trying to
round Cape Horn.
Three years before had found him at Sydney, Australia, looking for a
chance to ship. While down among the wharves, he had discovered a tramp
vessel, the _Mary Sacord_, bound for Cavasa and other islands in the
South Seas, and had signed articles for a year's cruise. The captain
proved to be a brute, and there was fighting on the vessel from the time
she left Sydney until Cavasa was reached. There, at the main seaport,
Billy Dill went ashore and refused to go aboard again.
The captain of the _Mary Sacord_ was very angry over the refusal of the
seaman to continue on the trip, and threatened Dill with imprisonment,
and even had the old tar arrested. But, at this juncture, two men came
forward and aided the sailor in his trouble, and, as a consequence,
Billy Dill was set free and the vessel went on her way without him.
One of the men who had helped Billy Dill was Dunston Porter and the
other was Samuel Lemington. They were both Americans and fairly
well-to-do. At first, they did not tell the old sailor much about their
business, but they asked him if he wished to work for them, and he said
he was willing, and they offered him thirty dollars a month and all his
expenses.
The two Americans, so the tar discovered later, were after a treasure of
precious stones, said upon good authority to have been hidden years
before in the mountains by a former cannibal king of Cavasa and some
other South Sea islands. The three journeyed into the interior of the
island and spent months in looking for the treasure, but without
success. Then came an earthquake and the volcano in the center of the
island began to grow active, and all three had to flee to the coast in
order to escape destruction.
It was on this treasure hunt that Billy Dill heard, through Dunston
Porter, about the lost child that had been carried off by a nurse who
was not mentally sound, although usually good-hearted. Dunston Porter
had not said very much about the matter, for it seemed to hurt him a
great deal--so much, in fact, that the old sailor did not think it best
to ask for the particulars. But he knew one thing, that, try his best,
Dunston Porter could not learn what had become of the woman and the
little one, and he was half inclined to believe that both were dead.
"Well, did he say that the child was his son?" asked Dave, with deep
interest.
"No, it was some relative of his, I think. I don't believe Dunston
Porter was married."
"When you came back to the coast, what did this Mr. Porter do?"
"He and Mr. Lemington stayed in the town, trying to make up their minds
as to what they'd do next. I got a chance to ship, and, as they didn't
seem to want me any more, I sailed away, and then I did as I've told you
before."
This was practically all the information Billy Dill could give
concerning Dunston Porter and the missing child, although he told much
more concerning the treasure hunt, and of several fights with the
natives of the interior. He said the natives were a bad lot, and he
wanted no more to do with them than was absolutely necessary.
"How old should you judge this Dunston Porter to be?" asked Dave.
"Forty to forty-five years old, my lad."
"Did he ever tell you where he came from?"
"Not exactly. But he was an American, and he knew a good bit about San
Francisco, Chicago, and New York, and I remember he once told about
hunting in the Maine woods and in the Adirondacks."
"He didn't say a word about coming back to the United States?"
"Not that I can remember."
With this information Dave had to be content. The story had been a
strain on Billy Dill, and afterward he complained of a headache and of
feeling dizzy. But a good night's rest restored him completely.
The sailor was at all times delighted to instruct the boys in the art of
seamanship, and under his tutelage they learned rapidly, so that any of
them could go aloft and make or take in sail whenever required. He also
taught them how to make knots of various kinds, and many other things
useful on board a ship. In the meantime Captain Marshall allowed them to
read his works on navigation, and gave them a few lessons in steering,
and in the use of the compass, sextant, and other nautical instruments.
"We'll be full-fledged sailors before this voyage is over," remarked
Roger to his chums. "I declare, I almost feel as if I could handle a
small ship already."
"Maybe you could, on the Leming River," rejoined Phil. "But when it came
to a big storm on the Pacific, I rather believe you'd find it a
different story."
So far, Phil had had but little to do with the supercargo, but now he
asked the man if he could look over the books. Jasper Van Blott agreed,
but the scowl on his face showed plainly that the move was not to his
liking. Phil went over the accounts at his leisure, but could find
nothing wrong in them. There were a few entries that looked odd, but the
supercargo was ready with explanations concerning them.
"Well, have you found anything wrong?" questioned Dave, after Phil had
spent three days over the books.
"Nothing much, Dave," was the answer from the shipowner's son.
"The supercargo isn't very friendly, I notice."
"Oh, he hates it, that I am going on this trip," answered Phil.
There seemed to be but one man on the ship with whom the supercargo was
thoroughly friendly, and that was Paul Shepley, the first mate. The pair
were together a large part of the time, and their conversation was
frequently an animated one.
"I can't get it out of my head that those two are working together over
something," said Dave. "Why
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