Dave Porter on Cave Island; Or, A Schoolboy's Mysterious Mission

CHAPTER V—A TRAMP THROUGH THE SNOW

“And they have skated off with all our things!” grumbled Buster Beggs. “What are we going to do?”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” came quickly from Shadow. “Once two boys were out skating and——”

“For the sake of the mummies of Egypt, let up on the story-telling, Shadow!” burst out Phil. “Don’t you realize what this loss means to us? It’s bad enough to lose the hamper and clothing, but what are we to do in this snowstorm, with night coming on, and so far from Oak Hall without skates?”

“Humph! I guess we’ll have to walk,” grumbled the story-teller of the school. “But that will take time, and if this storm keeps up——”

“We’ll be snowed under!” finished Chip Macklin.

“Well, no use in staying here,” came from two of the students.

“That is just what I say,” said Dave. “Those skate marks lead down the river and that is the way we want to go. By following them we’ll be getting nearer to the Hall and at the same time closer to the fellows who took our things.”

“We’ll never catch those fellows,” grumbled Ben. “They can skate five times as fast as we can walk.”

“Never mind, we’ll go after ’em anyway,” replied Gus. “And if we catch ’em——” He did not finish in words but brought his right fist down hard into his left palm, which left no doubt as to how he intended to treat the thieves.

“Maybe it’s a trick, of some of the Rockville cadets,” suggested Buster, when the crowd were on their way down the river.

“Say, don’t you remember my saying I thought I saw somebody near the camp, just before we went away?” burst out Ben. “You all thought I was mistaken.”

“Well, I reckon you were not mistaken,” answered Dave. “It’s a great pity we didn’t investigate more before leaving.”

“No use in crying over spilt milk,” said Sam.

“Which puts me in mind of a sto——” commenced Shadow, and then suddenly stopped talking and commenced to whistle to himself.

“Say, boys, if anybody should ask you, you can tell him it is snowing some,” puffed Buster, who was struggling to keep up with those in front. “If it wasn’t that we were on the river, it would be easy to lose our way.”

“That’s true,” replied Dave. “The snow seems to be coming down heavier every minute.”

“Yes, and the wind is coming up,” added Roger. “We’ll have a hard time of it reaching the Hall. We’ll never do it by supper-time.”

“Then where are we going to get something to eat?” demanded Buster. “I’m not going without my supper just because I can’t get back.”

“Perhaps we can get something at some farmhouse,” suggested Phil.

“I’ve got an idea!” cried Dave. “Why can’t we get some farmer to hook up a carriage or a sleigh and take us to the Hall that way?”

“Hurrah, just the cheese!” cried Ben, who did not relish walking such a distance. “The thing is, though, to find the farmer,” he continued soberly.

“Keep your eyes open for lights,” suggested Dave, and this was done.

A quarter of a mile more was covered, the students hugging the north shore of the stream, as that afforded the most shelter from the rising wind. Then Roger gave a cry.

“I think I saw a light through the snow! Just look that way, fellows, and see if I am right.”

All gazed in the direction indicated, and presently three of the boys made out a glimmer, as if it came from a lantern being swung to and fro. Then the light disappeared.

“Perhaps it’s some farmer going out to care for his cattle,” said Dave. “Let us walk over and see,” and this was done.

Dave was correct in his surmise, and soon the boys approached a big cow-shed, through a window of which they saw the faint rays of a lantern. Just as they did this they heard a voice cry out in wonder.

“What be you fellers a-doin’ in my cow-shed?”

“Oh, we just came in to rest out of the storm,” was the answer, in a voice that sounded strangely familiar to Dave. “We are not going to hurt your shed any, or the cattle either.”

“It’s Mallory, of Rockville!” whispered Dave to his fellow students, naming the cadet who was the star hockey player of the military academy team.

“And Bazen and Holt are with him,” added Phil, gazing through a partly-open doorway, and naming two other Rockville cadets.

“Hello, who’s out there?” cried the owner of the cow-shed, and, lantern in hand, he turned to survey the newcomers.

“Why, it’s Mr. Opper!” cried Sam. “Don’t you remember me? I called last summer, to see some of your young lady boarders.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you,” replied Homer Opper. “You hired my dappled mare for a ride.”

“That’s it, Mr. Opper. Say, that mare could go.”

“Go? Ain’t no hossflesh in these parts kin beat her,” cried the farmer proudly. “She won the prize at the last county fair, she did! But wot brung ye here, sech a night as this?” added Homer Opper curiously.

“Hello, Porter, old man!” cried Mallory, rising from a box on which he had been seated and shaking hands. “Caught in the storm, too, eh?”

“Yes,” answered Dave. He gazed curiously at the Rockville cadet and his companions. “Been up the river?”

“Not any further than this.”

“Hunting?”

“No, skating. We would be going back, only Holt broke one of his skates and that delayed us. Been out hunting, eh? Any luck?”

“Some—good and bad. We shot some rabbits, squirrels, and partridges, and we likewise had our hamper, our skates, an overcoat, and some other things stolen.”

“Stolen!” cried Homer Opper. “By gum, thet’s tough luck! Who tuk the things?”

“That is what we want to find out,” and as Dave spoke he looked sharply at Mallory and the other Rockville cadets.

“Not guilty,” came promptly from Bazen. “Honest Injun, Porter, if you think we touched your things, you are on the wrong track; isn’t that so, fellows?”

“It is,” came promptly from Mallory and Holt. Then suddenly the star hockey player of Rockville Academy let out a long, low whistle of surprise.

“You know something?” demanded Dave.

“Maybe I do,” was Mallory’s slow answer. “Yes, I am sure I do,” he added. “You can put the puzzle together yourself if you wish, Porter—because, you see, I hate to accuse anybody.”

“What do you know?”

“I know this: Less than an hour ago we met two fellows on the river, one with a hamper and the other with a bundle that looked as if it was done up in an overcoat turned inside out. We came on the fellows rather suddenly, at a turn where there were some bushes.”

“Our stuff, as sure as you’re a foot high!” cried Phil.

“Who were the fellows, do you know?” demanded the senator’s son.

At this question Mallory looked at Holt and Bazen.

“I wasn’t exactly sure, but——” He hesitated to go on.

“I was sure enough,” chimed in Holt. “They were those chaps who came to our school from Oak Hall and then ran away—Jasniff and Merwell. How about it, Tom?”

“I think they were Jasniff and Merwell,” answered Tom Bazen. “To be sure, as soon as they saw us, they skated away as fast as they could, and kept their faces hidden. But if they weren’t Jasniff and Merwell they were pretty good doubles.”

“Jasniff and Merwell,” murmured Dave, and his heart sank a little. Here was more underhanded work of his old enemies.

The farmer and the Rockville cadets were anxious to hear the particulars of the happening, and the Oak Hall lads told of what had occurred.

“I know those chaps,” said Homer Opper. “They stayed here one night last summer. But they cut up so the boarders didn’t like it, so my wife told ’em she didn’t have no room for ’em, an’ they left. They ought to be locked up.”

“They will be locked up, if we can lay hands on them,” replied Phil.

“They must have followed us to Squirrel Island, and spied on us,” said Shadow. “Ben, you were right about seeing somebody. It must have been either Merwell or Jasniff.”

“Have you any idea where they went?” asked the shipowner’s son.

“No, they skated away behind an island and that’s the last we saw of them,” answered Mallory.

“Yes, and I reckon it’s the last we’ll hear of our things,” returned Buster, mournfully. “But come on, let us see about getting back,” he continued. “It’s ‘most time for supper now.”

“Mr. Opper, can you take us back to Oak Hall?” asked Dave. “We’ll pay you for your trouble.”

The farmer looked at the students and rubbed his chin reflectively. Then he gazed out at the storm and the snow-covered ground.

“Might hook up my big sleigh and do it,” he said. “But it would be quite a job.”

“What would it be worth?” asked Ben.

“Oh, I dunno—three or four dollars, at least. It’s a tough night to be out in—an’ I’d have to drive back, or put up at the town all night.”

“Supposing we gave you fifty cents apiece,” suggested Roger.

“And we’ll go along—as far as Rockville, at the same price—if you’ll have us,” added Mallory, quickly.

“Why, yes, Mallory, and welcome,” answered Dave cordially. “That is, if the turnout will hold us all.”

“Sure it will,” answered Homer Opper. “An’ if ye all go an’ pay fifty cents each,”—he counted them mentally as he spoke—“I’ll hook up my four hosses an’ git ye there in jig time.”

“Then it’s a go,” answered Dave, after his chums and the Rockville cadets had nodded their approval.

“And do hurry,” called out Buster, as the farmer moved away to prepare for the journey. “We don’t want to miss our suppers.”

“Ye ain’t goin’ to miss nuthin’,” called the farmer.

Inside of fifteen minutes he came around to the cow-shed with a big, low sleigh, to which were attached four fine-looking horses. The sleigh contained two lanterns and a quantity of wraps and robes.

“Don’t want ye to catch cold, when we’re a-drivin’ fast,” chuckled Homer Opper. “Now pile right in, an’ we’ll be movin’.”

The boys needed no second invitation, and soon all were aboard—Dave and Roger on the front seat with the driver and the others behind, including the Rockville cadets. Then came a crack of the whip, and away through the swirling snow moved the big sleigh, bound for the two schools.

CHAPTER VI—GOOD-BY TO OAK HALL

“We have been robbed—that is what delayed us,” declared Phil. “I guess we had better report to Doctor Clay, or Mr. Dale,” he went on, significantly.

“You can report to me,” answered Job Haskers, with increased severity. “There is no need to bother the doctor, and Mr. Dale has gone away for over Sunday.”

“Well, boys, back again!” cried a cheery voice from an upper landing, and then Doctor Clay came down, wearing his gown and slippers. “A wild storm to be out in. I am glad you got back safely.”

“They are late—and you said you gave them no permission to be out after hours,” said Job Haskers, tartly.

“Hum! Did I?” mused the kindly head of the school. “Well, when it storms like this it, of course, makes some difference.”

“We would have been back in time only we were robbed of our skates and some other things,” answered Dave. “We had to walk a long distance through the storm, and we’d not be here yet if we hadn’t managed to hire a farmer to bring us in his sleigh.”

“Robbed!” echoed Doctor Clay, catching at the word. “How was that?” And he listened with keen interest to what the boys had to tell. Even Job Haskers became curious, and said no more about penalizing them for being late.

“And you are sure the fellows were Merwell and Jasniff?” asked the assistant teacher.

“All I know on that point is what Mallory and his chums had to say,” answered Dave.

“I think it would be like that pair to follow you up,” said Doctor Clay, with a grave shake of his head. “They are two very bad boys,—worse, Porter, than you can imagine,” and he looked knowingly at Job Haskers as he spoke. “Now go in to supper, and after that, you, Porter, Morr, and Lawrence, may come to my study and talk the matter over further.”

Wondering what else had happened to upset the head of the school, Dave followed his chums to the dining-hall. Here a late supper awaited the crowd, to which, it is perhaps needless to state, all did full justice.

“Do you think we can track Jasniff and Merwell?” asked the senator’s son, during the course of the repast.

“I don’t,” answered Dave frankly. “For they will do their best to keep out of our way.”

A little later found Dave, Phil, and Roger in the doctor’s private study, a sort of library connected with his regular office. The head of Oak Hall was reading a German historical work, but laid the volume down as they filed in.

“Sit down, boys,” said Doctor Clay, pleasantly, and when they were seated, he added: “Now kindly tell me all you know about Merwell and Jasniff.”

“Do you want to know everything, Doctor?” asked Dave, in some surprise.

“Yes,—and later on, I’ll tell you why.”

“All right,” answered the youth from Crumville, and he told of the many things that had happened, both at the school and at home—not forgetting about the auto ride in which Laura and Jessie were supposed to have participated.

“It all fits in!” cried Doctor Clay, drawing a deep sigh. He tapped the table with the tips of his fingers. “I wonder where it will end?” he mused, half to himself.

“You said that Merwell and Jasniff were worse than we imagined,” suggested Dave, to draw the doctor out.

“So I did, Porter. I will tell you boys something, but please do not let it go any further. Since Jasniff and Merwell became pupils at Rockville Military Academy and since they ran away from that institution they have been doing everything they could think of to annoy me. They have sent farmers here with produce that I never ordered, and have had publishers send me schoolbooks that I did not want. Worse than that, they have circulated reports to my scholars’ parents that this school was running down, that it was in debt, and that some pupils were getting sick because the sewerage system was out of order. Some of the parents have written to me, and two were on the point of taking their boys away, thinking the reports were true. Fortunately I was able to prove the reports false, and the boys remained here. But I do not know how far these slanders are being circulated and what the effect will be in the future.”

“And you are sure they come from Merwell and Jasniff?” questioned Phil.

“I am sure at least one letter was written by Merwell, and one farmer who brought a load of cabbages here said they were ordered by two young men who looked like Merwell and Jasniff.”

“Oh, nobody else would do it!” cried Roger. “Merwell and Jasniff are guilty, not the least doubt of it! The question is: How can we catch them?”

“Yes, that is the question,” said Doctor Clay. “I have notified the local authorities to be on the watch for them, and now I think I shall hire a private detective.”

“Do it, Doctor,” said Dave eagerly. “I will pay half the expense. I know that my father will approve of such a course.” And so the matter rested. The private detective came to Oak Hall two days later, and after interviewing the doctor and the boys, said he would do his best to run down Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff.

It snowed hard for a day and a night and when it cleared off the boys had considerable fun snowballing each other and in coasting down a long hill leading to the river. Pop Swingly, the janitor, came in for his full share of the snow-balling and so did Jackson Lemond, usually called Horsehair, the Hall carryall driver. Horsehair was caught coming from the barn, and half a dozen snowballs hit him at the same time.

“Hi, you, stop!” he spluttered, as one snowball took him in the chin and another in the ear. “Want to smother me? Let up, I say!” And he tried to run away.

“These are early Christmas presents, Horsehair!” sang out Ben, merrily, and let the driver have another, this time in the cap.

“And something to remember us by, when we are gone,” added Gus, hitting him in the arm. Then the driver escaped. He felt sore, and vowed he would square up.

“Maybe he’ll report us,” said Ben, after the excitement was over.

“Not he,” declared Gus. “He’s not that kind. But he’ll lay for us,—just you wait and see.” And Gus was right. About half an hour later he and Ben were told that somebody wanted to see them at the boathouse. They started for the building, walking past the gymnasium, and as they did so, down on their heads came a perfect avalanche of snow, sent from the sloping roof above. When they clawed their way out of the mass and looked up they saw Horsehair standing on the roof, snow-shovel in hand, grinning at them.

“Thought I’d give ye some more snow fer snowballs,” he chuckled. “Here ye are!” And down came another avalanche, sending the boys flat a second time. When they scrambled up they ran off with all speed, the merry laughter of the carryall driver ringing in their ears.

At last came the final session of the school, with the usual exercises, in which Dave and his chums participated. Nearly all of the boys were going home for the holidays, including Dave, Phil, Roger, and Ben. Dave and Ben were, of course, going direct to Crumville, and it was arranged that Phil and the senator’s son should come there later, to visit our hero and his family and the Wadsworths. Nat Poole was also going home, and would be on the same train with Dave and Ben.

“I wish he wasn’t going with us,” said Ben. “I’m getting so I can’t bear Nat at all.”

“Well, he isn’t quite as bad as he was when he chummed with Merwell and Jasniff,” answered our hero. “I think their badness rather scared Nat. He is mean and all that, but he isn’t a criminal.”

“Well, I think some meanness is a crime,” retorted Ben.

The boys had purchased gifts for Doctor Clay, Mr. Dale, and some of the others, and even Job Haskers had been remembered. Some of the students had wanted to ignore the tyrannical teacher, but Dave and his chums had voted down this proposition.

“Let us treat them all alike,” said Dave. “Perhaps Mr. Haskers thinks he is doing right.”

“Yes, and if we leave him out in the cold he may be more hard-hearted than ever,” added Gus, with a certain amount of worldly wisdom.

Dave carried a suit-case and also a big bundle, the latter filled with Christmas presents for the folks at home. Ben was similarly loaded down, and so were the others.

“Good-by, everybody!” cried our hero, as he entered the carryall sleigh. “Take good care of the school until we come back!”

“Good-by!” was the answer. “Don’t eat too much turkey while you are gone!” And then, as the sleigh rolled away from the school grounds, the lads to leave commenced to sing the favorite school song, sung to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne”:

    “Oak  Hall  we  never  shall  forget,
        No  matter  where  we  roam;
    It  is  the  very  best  of  schools,
        To  us  it’s  just  like  home!
    Then  give  three  cheers,  and  let  them  ring
        Throughout  this  world  so  wide,
    To  let  the  people  know  that  we
        Elect  to  here  abide!”

“That’s the stuff!” cried Roger, and then commenced to toot loudly on a tin horn he carried, and many others made a din.

At the depot the boys had to wait a little while. But presently the train came along and they got aboard. Dave and Ben found a seat near the middle of the car and Nat Poole sat close by them. He acted as if he wanted to talk, but the others gave him little encouragement.

“Nat has something on his mind, I’ll wager a cookie,” whispered Ben to Dave.

“Well, if he has, he need not bother us with it,” was Dave’s reply. “I am done with him—I told him that some time ago.”

The train rolled on and when near the Junction, where the boys had to change to the main line, a couple in front of Ben and Dave got up, leaving the seat vacant. At once Nat Poole took the seat, at first, however, turning it over, so that he might face the other Oak Hall students.

“I want to talk to you, Dave Porter,” he said, in a low and somewhat ugly voice. “I want you to give an account of yourself.”

“Give an account of myself?” queried Dave, in some astonishment, for he had not expected such an opening from Nat. “What do you mean?”

“You know well enough what I mean,” cried the other boy, and now it was plainly to be seen that his anger was rising. “You can blacken your own character all you please but I won’t have you blackening mine! If you don’t confess to what you’ve done, and straighten matters out, as soon as we get to Crumville, I am going to ask my father to have you arrested!”

CHAPTER VII—NAT POOLE’S REVELATION

“Say, Nat, don’t make a public exhibition of yourself,” he said, in a low tone. “If you’ve got anything against Dave, why don’t you wait until we are alone?”

“I don’t have to wait,” answered Nat, as loudly as ever. “I am going to settle this thing right now.”

Fortunately the train rolled up to the Junction depot at this moment and everybody, including the boys, left the car. Several gazed curiously at Dave and Nat, and, seeing this, Ben led the others to the end of the platform. Here there was a freight room, just then deserted.

“Come on in here, and then, Nat, you can spout all you please,” said Ben.

“You ain’t going to catch me in a corner!” cried the bully, in some alarm.

“It isn’t that, Nat. I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself in front of the whole crowd. See how everybody is staring at you.”

“Humph! Let them stare,” muttered the bully; yet he followed Ben and Dave into the freight room, and Ben stood at the doorway, so that no outsiders might come in. One boy tried to get in, thinking possibly to see a fight, but Ben told him to “fly on, son,” and the lad promptly disappeared.

“Now then, Nat, tell me what you are driving at,” said Dave, as calmly as he could, for he saw that the money-lender’s son was growing more enraged every minute.

“I don’t have to tell you, Dave Porter; you know all about it.”

“I tell you I don’t—I haven’t the least idea what you are driving at.”

“Maybe you’ll deny that you were at Leesburgh last week.”

“Leesburgh?”

“Yes, Leesburgh, at Sampson’s Hotel, and at the Arcade moving-picture and vaudeville show,” and as he uttered the words Nat fairly glared into the face of our hero.

“I haven’t been near Leesburgh for several months—not since a crowd of us went there to a football game.”

“Humph! You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe it or not, it is true.”

“You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, Dave Porter! I know you were at Leesburgh last week Wednesday, you and Roger Morr. And I know you went to Sampson’s Hotel and registered in my name and then cut up like a rowdy there, in the pool-room, and got thrown out, and I know you and Roger Morr went to the Arcade and made a fuss there, and got thrown out again, but not until you had given my name and the name of Gus Plum. Gus may forgive you for it, and think it only a joke. But I’ll not do it, I can tell you that! You have got to write a letter to the owner of that hotel and to the theater manager and explain things, and you and Roger Morr have got to beg my pardon. And if you don’t, as I said before, I’ll tell my father and get him to have you arrested.” And now Nat was so excited he moved from one foot to the other and shook his fist in the air.

To the bully’s surprise Dave did not get excited. On the contrary, our hero’s face showed something that was akin to a faint smile. Ben saw it and wondered at it.

“Say, you needn’t laugh at me!” howled Nat, noting the look. “Before I get through with you, you’ll find it no laughing matter.”

“I am not laughing at you, Nat.”

“Well, do you admit that what I’ve said is true?”

“No; on the contrary, I say it is false, every word of it. Did you say this happened last Wednesday?”

“I did.”

“Both Roger Morr and I were at the school all day Wednesday. During the day I attended all my classes, and after school I went to my room, along with Polly Vane, Luke Watson, and Sam Day, and the three of us wrote on the essays we had to hand in Thursday. After supper we went down to the gym for about half an hour, and then went back to our dormitory. And, come to think of it, you saw us there,” added Dave suddenly.

“I saw you?”

“You certainly did. You came to the door and asked Luke Watson for a Latin book; don’t you remember? Luke got it out of his bureau. We were all at the big table. Sam Day flipped a button at you and it hit you in the chin.”

At these unexpected words the face of the money-lender’s son fell.

“Was that—er—was that Wednesday?” he faltered.

“It certainly was, for we had to hand the essays in Thursday and we were all working like beavers on them.”

“Nat, what Dave says is absolutely true—I know he wasn’t near Leesburgh last week, for I was with him every day and every evening,” said Ben.

“But I got the word from some fellows in Leesburgh. They followed you from the hotel to the show and talked to you afterwards, and they said you told them your name was Porter, and the other chap said his name was Morr. They said you gave the names of Poole and Plum just to keep your real identity hidden.”

“Well, I am not guilty, Nat; I give you my word of honor on it.”

“But—but—if you aren’t guilty how is it those fellows got your name and that of Morr?” asked the money-lender’s son, not knowing what else to say.

“I think I can explain it, Nat. The same fellows who did that are annoying me in other ways. But I’ll not explain unless you will give me your word of honor to keep it a secret, at least for the present.”

“A secret, why?”

“Because I don’t want the thing talked about in public. The more you talk about such things the worse off you are. Let me tell you that I have suffered more than you have, and other folks have suffered too.”

“Do you mean to say that some other fellows did this and gave my name and Plum’s first and yours and Morr’s afterwards?” asked Nat, curiously.

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“For a twofold reason; first to blacken your character and that of Plum, and, secondly, to cause trouble between all of us.”

“What fellows would be mean enough to do that?”

“Two fellows who used to be your friends, but who have had to run away, to keep from being arrested.”

“Say, you don’t mean Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff!” burst out the money-lender’s son.

“Those are the chaps I do mean, Nat.”

“But I thought they had left these parts. They were in Crumville, I know,” and now the bully looked knowingly at our hero.

“You have heard the reports from home then?” asked Dave, and he felt his face burn.

“Sure.”

“Nat, those reports are all false—as false as this report of your doings at Leesburgh. They are gotten up by Jasniff and Merwell solely to injure my friends and my family and me. My sister and Jessie Wadsworth would refuse to even recognize those fellows, much less go auto-riding with them. Let me tell you something.” And in as few words as possible our hero related how things had been sent to him and his friends without being ordered by them, and of the other trouble Jasniff and Merwell were causing. The money-lender’s son was incredulous at first, but gradually his face relaxed.

“And is all that really so?” he asked, at last.

“Every word is absolutely true,” answered Dave.

“Then Nick and Link ought to be in jail!” burst out Nat. “It’s an outrage to let them do such things. Why don’t you have ’em locked up—that is what I’d do!”

“We’ve got to catch them first.”

“Do you mean to say you are trying to do that?”

“We are.”

“Well, you catch ’em, and if you want me to appear against ’em, I’ll do it—and I’ll catch ’em myself if I can.”

There was a pause, and Nat started for the doorway of the freight room. But Ben still barred the way.

“Nat, don’t you think you were rather hasty in accusing Dave?” he asked, bluntly.

“Well—er—maybe I was,” answered the money-lender’s son, growing a bit red.

“Oh, let it pass,” said Dave. “I might have been worked up myself, if I had been in Nat’s place.”

“Here comes the train—we don’t want to miss it,” cried the money-lender’s son, and he showed that he was glad to close the interview. “Remember, if you catch those fellows, I’ll testify against ’em!” he called over his shoulder as he pushed through the doorway.

“The same old Nat, never willing to acknowledge himself in the wrong,” was Ben’s comment, as he and Dave ran for the car steps. The other boy had lost himself in the waiting crowd and got into another car, and they did not see him again until Crumville was reached, and even then he did not speak to them.

The snow was coming down lightly when Dave and Ben alighted, baggage and bundles in hand, for they had not risked checking anything in such a crowd. Ben’s father was on hand to greet him, and close at hand stood the Wadsworth family sleigh, with Laura and Jessie on the rear seat. The driver came to take the suit-case and Dave’s bundle, grinning a welcome as he did so.

“There’s Dave!” cried Jessie, as soon as he appeared. “Isn’t he growing tall!” she added.

“Yes,” answered the sister. “Dave!” she called.

“Here we are again!” he cried with a bright smile, and shook hands. “I brought you a snowstorm for a change.”

“I like snow for Christmas,” answered Jessie. She was blushing, for Dave had given her hand an extra tight squeeze.

“How are the folks?”

“All very well,” answered Laura. “What have you in that big bundle?”

“Oh, that’s a secret, sis,” he returned.

“Christmas presents!” cried the sister. “Jessie, let us open the bundle right away.” And she made a playful reach for it.

“Not to-day—that belongs to Santa Claus!” cried the brother, holding the bundle out of reach. “My, but this town looks good to me!” he added, as he looked around and waved his hand to Mr. Basswood. Then Ben took a moment to run up and greet the girls.

“You must come over, Ben,” said Laura.

“Why, yes, by all means,” added Jessie, and Ben said he would. Then he rejoined his father, and Dave got into the sleigh, being careful to keep his big bundle on his lap, where the girls could not “poke a hole into it to peek,” as he put it. There was a flourish of the whip, and the elegant turnout, with its well-matched black horses, started in the direction of the Wadsworth mansion.

CHAPTER VIII—A MERRY CHRISTMAS

“Hello, Dad!” cried the son, joyously, and made a flying leap from the sleigh. “How are you?” And then he shook hands with his parent and with his uncle—that same uncle whom he so strongly resembled,—a resemblance that had been the means of bringing the pair together.

“Dave, my son!” said Mr. Porter, as he smiled a welcome.

“Getting bigger every day, Davy!” was Uncle Dunston’s comment. “Before you know it, you’ll be taller than I am!” And he gave his nephew a hand-clasp that made Dave wince.

“Oh, he’s getting awfully tall, I said so as soon as I saw him,” remarked Jessie, as she, too, alighted, followed by Laura. By this time Dave was in the hallway, giving Mrs. Wadsworth a big hug and a kiss. When he had first known her, Dave had been a little afraid of Mrs. Wadsworth, she was such a lady, but now this was past and he treated her as she loved to be treated, just as if he were her son.

“Aren’t you glad I’ve returned to torment you?” he said, as he gave her another squeeze.

“Very glad, Dave, very glad indeed!” she answered, beaming on him. “I don’t mind the way you torment me in the least,” and then she hurried off, to make sure that the dinner ordered in honor of Dave’s home-coming should be properly served.

In the library doorway stood Caspar Potts, his hair now as white as snow. He came forward and laid two trembling white hands in those of Dave.

“Dave, my boy Dave!” he murmured, and his watery eyes fairly glistened.

“Yes, Professor, your boy, always your boy!” answered Dave, readily, for he loved the old instructor from the bottom of his heart. “And how is the history getting on?”

“Fairly well, Dave. I have nine chapters finished.”

“Good! Some day, when it is finished, I’ll find a publisher for you; and then you’ll be famous.”

“I don’t know about that, Dave. But I like to write on the book—and the research work is very pleasant, especially in such pleasant surroundings,” murmured the old gentleman.

Mr. Wadsworth was away at his office, but presently he came back, and greeted Dave warmly, and asked about the school and his chums. Then, as the girls went off to get ready for dinner, the men folks and Dave went into the library.

“Have you heard anything more of those two young rascals, Merwell and Jasniff?” questioned Mr. Porter.

“Yes, but not in the way I’d like,” answered Dave, and told of what Nat Poole had had to say and of what had occurred at Squirrel Island. “Have you heard anything here?” he added.

“Did the girls tell you anything?” asked his father.

“Not a word—they didn’t have a chance, for we didn’t want to talk before Peter.” Peter was the driver of the sleigh.

“I see.” Mr. Porter mused for a moment and looked at Mr. Wadsworth.

“Those good-for-nothing boys have done a number of mean things,” said the jewelry manufacturer. “They have circulated many reports, about you and your family, and about me and my family. They must be very bitter, to act in such a fashion. If I could catch them, I’d like to wring their necks!” And Oliver Wadsworth showed his excitement by pacing up and down the library.

“Did you get your affairs with the department stores fixed up?”

“Yes, but not without considerable trouble.”

“Have Jasniff and Merwell shown themselves in Crumville lately?”

“Yes, three days ago they followed your sister Laura and Jessie to a church fair the girls attended. They acted in such a rude fashion that both of the girls ran all the way home. All of us went out to look for them, but we didn’t find them.”

“Oh, if I had only been at that fair!” murmured Dave.

“What could you have done against two of them?” asked his uncle.

“I don’t know, but I would have made it warm for them—and maybe handed them over to the police.”

“I have cautioned the girls to be on their guard,” said David Porter. “And you must be on your guard, Dave. It is not wise to take chances with such fellows as Jasniff and Merwell.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for them,” answered the son.

Dave ran up to his room, and put his big bundle away in a corner of the clothing closet. Then he dressed for dinner. As he came out he met Jessie, who stood on the landing with a white carnation in her hand.

“It’s for your buttonhole,” she said. “It’s the largest in the conservatory.” And she adjusted it skillfully. He watched her in silence, and when she had finished he caught her by both hands.

“Jessie, I’m so glad to be back—so glad to be with you again!” he half whispered.

“Are you really, Dave?” she returned, and her eyes were shining like stars.

“You know I am; don’t you?” he pleaded.

“Yes,” she answered, in a low voice. And then, as Laura appeared, she added hastily, but tenderly, “I’m glad, too!”

It was a large and happy gathering around the dining-room table, with Mr. Wadsworth at the head, and Jessie on one side of Dave and Laura on the other. Professor Potts asked the blessing, and then followed an hour of good cheer. In honor of Dave’s home-coming the meal was an elaborate one, and everybody enjoyed it thoroughly. As nobody wished to put a damper on the occasion, nothing was said about their enemies. Dave told some funny stories about Oak Hall happenings, and had the girls shrieking with laughter, and Dunston Porter related a tale or two about his travels, for he still loved to roam as of yore.

The next day—the day before Christmas—it snowed heavily. But the young folks did not mind this and went out several times, to do the last of their shopping. Late in the afternoon, Peter brought in some holly wreaths and a little Christmas tree. The wreaths were placed in the windows, each with a big bow of red ribbon attached, and the tree was decorated with candies and candles and placed on the table in the living-room.

All the young folks had surprises for their parents and for Professor Potts. There was a set of South American maps for the old professor, a new rifle for Dunston Porter, a set of cyclopedias for Mr. Wadsworth, a cane for Dave’s father, and a beautiful chocolate urn for the lady of the house.

“Merry Christmas!” was the cry that went the rounds the next morning, and then such a handshaking and such a gift-giving and receiving! Dave had a new pocketbook for Laura, with her monogram in silver, and a cardcase for Mrs. Wadsworth. For Jessie he had a string of pearls, and numerous gifts for the others in the mansion. From Laura he received a fine book on hunting and camping out, something he had long desired, while Mrs. Wadsworth gave him some silk handkerchiefs. From his father came a new suit-case, one with a traveler’s outfit included, and from his uncle he received some pictures, to hang in his den. Mr. Wadsworth gave him a beautiful stickpin, one he said had been made at his own works.

But the gift Dave prized most of all was a little locket that Jessie gave him for his watchchain. It was of gold, set with tiny diamonds, and his monogram was on the back. The locket opened and had a place in it for two pictures.

“You must put Laura’s picture in there,” said Jessie, “Laura’s and your father’s.”

“No, I have them already—in my watch case,” he answered, and then, as nobody was near, he went on in a whisper, “I want your picture in this, Jessie.”

“Oh!” she murmured.

“Your picture on one side, and a lock of your hair on the other. Without those I won’t consider the gift complete.”

“Oh, Dave, don’t be silly!”

“I’m not silly—I mean it, Jessie. You’ll give them to me, won’t you, before I go back to Oak Hall?”

“Maybe. I’ll see how you behave!” was the answer, and then just as Dave started to catch her by the arm, she ran away to join Laura. But she threw him a smile from over her shoulder that meant a great deal to him.

In the afternoon, Ben came over, with his young lady cousin, and all the young folks went sleigh-riding. The evening was spent at the Wadsworth mansion in playing games and in singing favorite songs. Altogether it was a Christmas to be long remembered.

During the fall Mr. Wadsworth had been busy, building an addition to his jewelry works, and on the day after Christmas Dave went over to the place with his uncle, to look around. The addition covered a plot nearly a hundred feet square and was two stories high.

“It will give us a new office and several new departments,” said the rich manufacturer, as he showed them around. “When everything is finished I shall have one of the most up-to-date jewelry works in this part of the country.”

“Are you going to move the old office furniture into this new place?” asked Dave, noticing some old chairs and desks.

“For the present we’ll have to. The new furniture won’t be here until early in January.”

“What about your safes?” asked Dave. He remembered the big but old-fashioned safes that had adorned the old office.

“We are to have new ones in about sixty days. I wanted them at once, but the safe company was too busy to rush the order. I wish now that I had those safes,” went on the manufacturer, in a lower voice, so that even the clerks near by might not hear.

“Why, anything unusual?” questioned Dunston Porter, curiously.

“I took that order to reset the Carwith diamonds, that’s all.”

“Oh, then you got it, didn’t you?” went on Dave’s uncle. “Were they willing to pay the price?”

“I told them they would have to or I wouldn’t touch the job.”

“What do you suppose the diamonds are worth?”

“They were bought for sixty thousand dollars. At the present value of such gems, I should say at least seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“Phew! And the settings are to cost eight thousand dollars. That makes a pretty valuable lot of jewelry, I’m thinking,” was Dunston Porter’s comment.

“You are right, and that is why I wish I had those new safes,” added Oliver Wadsworth.

“Can’t you keep the diamonds in some safe deposit vault?”

“There is no very good safe deposit place in Crumville. Besides, I must have the gems here, if my workmen are to set them properly. Of course, I’ll keep them in the old safes when they are not in the workshop.”

“I should think you’d want a watchman around with such diamonds in the place,” remarked Dave.

“I have a watchman—old Tony Wells, who is as honest as they make ’em. But, Dave, I don’t want you to mention the diamonds to anybody. The fact that I have this order is being kept a secret,” went on Mr. Wadsworth, anxiously.

“I’ll not say a word to anybody,” answered our hero.

“Don’t do it—for I am anxious enough about the jewels as it is. I shall be glad when the order is finished and the gems are out of my keeping. I don’t want any outsider to know I have them.”

CHAPTER IX—NAT POOLE GETS CAUGHT

“Is that so? Evidently they must know we are on their track,” said Dave, shaking his head gravely.

“I wish we could have collared ’em,” went on the shipowner’s son. “I’d like to punch their heads.”

“Don’t do it, Phil. If you ever catch them, call an officer and have them locked up. A thrashing is wasted on such rascals.”

“Do you know some more about them?” questioned Roger, quickly.

“I do.” And then Dave related what Nat Poole had had to say, and also told about how Laura and Jessie had been scared when attending the church fair.

“You are right, they ought to be locked up,” was Roger’s comment.

“By the way, did you hear the news from Oak Hall?” went on Phil, as they drove off towards the Wadsworth mansion.

“What news?”

“Somehow or other, the storm lifted off two of the skylights from the roof of the main building and the snow got in the garret and there the heat from the chimney must have melted it, for it ran down—the water did—through the floor and loosened the plaster in several of the dormitories, including ours. I understand all of the plaster has got to come down.”

“What a muss!”

“Yes, and it is going to take several weeks to fix it up—they couldn’t get any masons right away.”

“Then where will we sleep when we go back?”

“I don’t know. I understand from Shadow that the doctor was thinking of keeping the school closed until about the first of February.”

“Say, that will give us quite a holiday!” exclaimed Dave.

“For which all of us will be profoundly sorry,” responded Phil, making a sober face and winking one eye.

The girls greeted the newcomers with sincere pleasure.

“What a pity Belle Endicott isn’t here,” sighed Laura.

“So it is,” answered Jessie. “We’ll have to do what we can to make up for her absence.”

Two days later it cleared off, and the young folks enjoyed a long sleigh-ride. Then they went skating, and on New Year’s Eve attended a party given at Ben Basswood’s house. Besides our friends, Ben had invited Sam Day and Buster Beggs, and also a number of girls; and all enjoyed themselves hugely until after midnight. When the clock struck twelve, the boys and girls went outside and tooted horns and rang a big dinner-bell, and wished each other and everybody else “A Happy New Year!”

The celebration on the front piazza was at its height when suddenly came a shower of snowballs from a near street corner. One snowball hit Dave in the shoulder and another landed directly on Jessie’s neck, causing the girl to cry out in mingled pain and alarm.

“Hi! who’s throwing snowballs!” exclaimed Roger, and then came another volley, and he was hit, and also Laura and one of the other girls. At once the girls fled into the house.

“Some rowdies, I suppose,” said Phil. “I’ve half a mind to go after them.”

“We can’t without our hats and coats,” answered Dave.

Just then came another shower of snowballs and Dave was hit again. This was too much for him, and despite the fact that he was bare-headed and wore a fine party suit, he leaped down on the sidewalk and started for the corner. Phil and Roger came after him. Ben rushed into the hallway, to catch up two of his father’s canes and his chums’ hats, and then he followed.

Those who had thrown the snowballs had not dreamed of being attacked, and it was not until Dave was almost on them that they started to run. There were three boys—two rather rough-looking characters. The third was well dressed, in a fur cap and overcoat lined with fur.

“Nat Poole!” cried Dave, when he got close to the well-dressed youth. “So this is your game, eh? Because Ben didn’t see fit to invite you to his party, you think it smart to throw snowballs at the girls!”

As he spoke Dave ran closer and suddenly gave the money-lender’s son a shove that sent him backwards in the snow.

“Hi, you let me alone!” burst out Nat, in alarm. “It ain’t fair to knock me down!”

By this time Dave’s chums had reached the scene, and seeing Nat down they gave their attention to the two others. They saw that they were roughs who hung around the railroad station and the saloons of Crumville. Without waiting, Ben threw a cane to Roger and sailed in, and the senator’s son followed. Both of the roughs received several severe blows and were then glad enough to slink away in the darkness.

When Nat got up he was thoroughly angry. He had hired the roughs to help him and now they had deserted the cause. He glared at Dave.

“You let me alone, Dave Porter!” he cried.

“Not just yet, Nat,” replied our hero, and catching up a handful of loose snow, he forced it down inside of the other’s collar. Then the other lads pitched in, too, and soon Nat found himself down once more and all but covered with snow, which got down his neck, in his ears and nose, and even into his mouth.

“Now then, don’t you dare to throw snowballs at the girls again!” said Dave sternly. “It was a cowardly thing to do, and you know it.”

“If you do it again, we’ll land on you ten times harder than we did just now,” added Ben.

“And don’t you get any more of those roughs to take a hand,” continued Dave. “If you do, they’ll find themselves in the lock-up, and you’ll be there to keep them company.”

“You just wait!” muttered Nat, wrathfully. “I’ll fix you yet—you see if I don’t!” And then he turned and hurried away, but not in the direction his companions had taken. He wanted to escape them if possible, for he had promised each a dollar for aiding him and he was now in no humor to hand over the money. But at another corner the roughs caught up to him and made him pay up, and this added to his disgust.

When Dave and the others got back to the house they were considerably “roughed up,” as Roger expressed it. But they had vanquished the enemy and were correspondingly happy. They found that the girls had not been much hurt, for which everybody was thankful.

“Maybe they’ll lay for you when you go home,” whispered Ben to Dave, when he got the chance.

“I don’t think they will,” answered Dave. “But we’ll be on our guard.”

“Why not take a cane or two with you?”

“We can do that.”

When it came time to go home the girls were somewhat timid, and Jessie said she could telephone for the sleigh. But, as it was a bright, starry night, the boys said they would rather walk, and Laura said the same.

In spite of their watchfulness, the boys were full of fun, and soon had the girls laughing. And if, under those bright stars, Dave said some rather sentimental things to Jessie, for whom he had such a tender regard, who can blame him?

On the day following New Year’s came word from Oak Hall that the school would not open for its next term until the first Monday in February.

“Say, that suits me down to the ground!” cried Phil.

“Well, I’m not shedding any tears,” answered Roger. “I know what I’d like to do—take a trip somewhere.”

“I don’t know where you’d go in this winter weather,” said Dave.

“Oh, some warm climate—Bermuda, or some place like that.”

Another day slipped by, and Dave was asked by his father to go to one of the near-by cities on an errand of importance. He had to go to a lawyer’s office and to several banks, and the errand took all day. For company he took Roger with him, and the boys did not get back to Crumville until about eleven o’clock at night.

“Guess they thought we weren’t coming at all,” said Dave, when he found no sleigh awaiting him. “Well, we can walk.”

“Of course we can walk,” answered the senator’s son. “I’ll be glad to stretch my legs after such a long ride.”

“Let us take a short cut,” went on Dave, as they left the depot. “I know a path that leads almost directly to our place.”

“All right, if the snow isn’t too deep, Dave.”

“It can’t be deep on the path, for many of the men who work at the Wadsworth jewelry place use it. It runs right past the Wadsworth works.”

“Go ahead then.”

They took to the path, which led past the freight depot and then along a high board fence. They turned a corner of the fence, and crossed a vacant lot, and then came up to one corner of the jewelry works, at a point where the new addition was located.

“Now, here we are at the works,” said Dave. “It’s not very much further to the house.”

“Pretty quiet around here, this time of night,” remarked Roger, as he paused to catch his breath, for they had been walking fast. “There doesn’t seem to be a soul in sight.”

“There is usually a watchman around, old Tony Wells, an army veteran. I suppose he is inside somewhere.”

“There’s his lantern!” cried the senator’s son, as a flash of light shone from one of the windows. Hardly had he spoken when the light disappeared, leaving the building as black as before.

“It must be a lonely job, guarding such a place,” said our hero, as he and his chum resumed their walk. “But I suppose it suits Tony Wells, and he is glad to get the money it brings in.”

“They must have a lot of valuable jewelry there, Dave.”

“Oh, yes, they have. But it is all locked up in the safes at night.” Dave thought of the Carwith diamonds, but remembered his promise not to mention them to anybody.

As the boys turned another corner they came face to face with a fat man, who was struggling along through the snow carrying two heavy bundles.

“Hello!” cried Dave. “How are you, Mr. Rowell?”

“Bless me if it isn’t Dave Porter!” cried Amos Rowell, who was a local druggist. “Out rather late, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So am I. Had to visit some sick folks and I’m carrying home some of their washing. Goodnight!” and the druggist turned down one road and Dave and Roger took the other.

Inside of five minutes more our hero and his chum were at the entrance to the Wadsworth mansion. Just as they were mounting the steps, and Dave was feeling in his pocket for his key, a strange rumble reached their ears.

“What was that?” asked the senator’s son.

“I don’t know,” returned Dave, in some alarm. “It sounded to me as if it came from the direction of the jewelry works!”