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DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH

Or

The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

by

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

PREFACE

"Dave Porter in the Far North" is a complete story in itself, but forms the fourth volume in a line issued under the general title of "Dave Porter Series."

In the first volume, entitled "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," I introduced a typical American lad, full of life and vigor, and related the particulars of his doings at an American boarding school of to-day--a place which is a little world in itself. At this school Dave made both friends and enemies, proved that he was a natural leader, and was admired accordingly.

The great cloud over Dave's life was the question of his parentage. His enemies called him "that poorhouse nobody," which hurt him deeply. He made a discovery, and in the second volume of the series, entitled "Dave Porter in the South Seas," we followed him on a most unusual voyage, at the end of which he found an uncle, and learned something of his father and sister, who were at that time traveling in Europe.

Dave was anxious to meet his own family, but could not find out just where they were. While waiting for word from them, he went back to Oak Hall, and in the third volume of the series, called "Dave Porter's Return to School," we learned how he became innocently involved in a mysterious series of robberies, helped to win two great games of football, and brought the bully of the academy to a realization of his better self.

As time went by Dave longed more than ever to meet his father and his sister, and how he went in search of them I leave the pages which follow to relate. As before, Dave is bright, manly, and honest to the core, and in those qualities I trust my young readers will take him as their model throughout life.

Once more I thank the thousands who have taken an interest in what I have written for them. May the present story help them to despise those things which are mean and hold fast to those things which are good.

EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

January 10, 1908.

DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH

CHAPTER I

ON THE TRAIN

"Here we are at the station, Dave!"

"Yes, and there is Phil waiting for us," answered Dave Porter. He threw up the car window hastily. "Hi, there, Phil, this way!" he called out, lustily.

A youth who stood on the railroad platform, dress-suit case in hand, turned hastily, smiled broadly, and then ran for the steps of the railroad car. The two boys already on board arose in their seats to greet him.

"How are you, Dave? How are you, Ben?" he exclaimed cordially, and shook hands. "I see you've saved a seat for me. Thank you. My, but it's a cold morning, isn't it?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't come on account of the weather," answered Dave Porter. "How are you feeling?"

"As fine as ever," answered Phil Lawrence. "Oh, it will take more than one football game to kill me," he went on, with a light laugh.

"I trust you never get knocked out like that again, Phil," said Dave Porter, seriously.

"So do I," added Ben Basswood. "The game isn't worth it."

"Mother thought I ought to stay home until the weather moderated a bit, but I told her you would all be on this train and I wanted to be with the crowd. Had a fine Thanksgiving, I suppose."

"I did," returned Ben Basswood.

"Yes, we had a splendid time," added Dave Porter, "only I should have been better satisfied if I had received some word from my father and sister."

"No word yet, Dave?"

"Not a line, Phil," and Dave Porter's usually bright face took on a serious look. "I don't know what to make of it and neither does my Uncle Dunston."

"It certainly is queer. If they went to Europe your letters and cablegrams ought to catch them somewhere. I trust you get word soon."

"If I don't, I know what I am going to do."

"What?"

"Go on a hunt, just as I did when I found my uncle," was Dave Porter's reply.

While the three boys were talking the train had rolled out of the station. The car was but half filled, so the lads had plenty of room in which to make themselves comfortable. Phil Lawrence stowed away his suit case in a rack overhead and settled down facing the others. He gave a yawn of satisfaction.

"I can tell you, it will feel good to get back to Oak Hall again," he observed. "You can't imagine how much I've missed the boys and the good times, even if I was laid up in bed with a broken head."

"You'll get a royal reception, Phil," said Dave. "Don't forget that when you went down you won the football game for us."

"Maybe I did, Dave, but you had your hand in winning, too, and so did Ben."

"Well, if the fellows---- Say, here comes Nat Poole." Dave lowered his voice. "I don't think he'll want to see me."

As Dave spoke, a tall, fastidiously dressed youth came down the car aisle. He was not bad-looking, but there was an air of dissipation about him that was not pleasant to contemplate. He wore a fur-trimmed overcoat and a cap to match, and heavy fur-lined gloves.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of Phil Lawrence. "Going back to the Hall, eh?"

"I am, and you are going back too, Nat, I suppose."

"Yes," drawled Nat Poole. He turned and caught sight of Dave and Ben. "Humph!" he muttered, and without saying more continued on his way down the aisle and through to the next car of the train.

"He's real sociable, he is," observed Ben Basswood, with a grin.

"I knew he wouldn't want to see me," said Dave.

"What's up--more trouble, Dave?" questioned Phil. "Remember, I've been away from Oak Hall so long I've rather lost track of things."

"This trouble didn't occur at the school," answered Dave. His face grew a trifle red as he spoke.

"It happened back at Crumville," broke in Ben, and winked one eye. "You see, Nat wanted to come to a Thanksgiving party the Wadsworths gave. But Dave told Jessie just what sort Nat was, and she left him out at the last moment. It made Nat furious, and I've heard that he is going to do his best to square up with Dave this winter."

"You're mistaken, Ben; I didn't have to tell Jessie anything," corrected Dave. "A fellow named Bangs wanted Nat invited, but Jessie didn't want him and neither did her folks. Bangs got mad over it, and said he wouldn't come either, and he and Nat went to a show instead."

"Well, I heard that Nat blamed it on you."

"He is apt to blame everything on me--if he can," said Dave, with a short, hard laugh. "It's his style. I suppose he'll even blame me for getting Gus Plum to reform."

"Well, you did get Gus to do that," declared Ben, heartily. "It's the best thing I ever heard of, too."

"If Plum cuts Poole, what's the dude to do?" asked Phil. "The two used to be great cronies."

To these words Dave did not reply. He was wiping the steam from the car window. Now he peered out as the train came to a stop.

"Hurrah! Here we are!" he cried, and leaped from his seat.

"Where are you going?" demanded Ben.

"After Roger. I know he'll be at the station, for I sent him a special message," and away went Dave after Roger Morr, one of his best and dearest schoolmates. The two met on the car platform, and as the train moved off again, both came in to join Ben and Phil.

To those who have read the former volumes in this "Dave Porter Series" the boys already mentioned need no special introduction. They were all pupils of Oak Hall, a first-class boarding school located in the heart of one of our New England States. At the academy Dave Porter seemed to be a natural leader, although that place had been at times disputed by Nat Poole, Gus Plum, and others. It was wonderful what a hold Dave had on his friends, considering his natural modesty. Physically he was well built and his muscles were those of a youth used to hard work and a life in the open air. Yet, though he loved to run, row, swim, and play games, Dave did not neglect his studies, and only a short time before this story opens had won the Oak Hall medal of honor, of which he was justly proud.

In times gone by Dave's enemies had called him "a poorhouse nobody"--something which had caused him a great deal of pain. When a child, he had been picked up alongside of the railroad tracks by strangers and taken to the Crumville poorhouse. At this institution he remained until he was nine years old, when a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who had turned farmer, took him out and gave him a home. At that time Caspar Potts was in the grasp of a hard-hearted money lender, Aaron Poole, the father of Nat Poole, already mentioned, and the outlook soon became very dark for both man and boy.

Then came an unexpected turn of affairs, and from that moment Dave's future seemed assured. As related in my first volume, "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," the boy called upon Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a rich manufacturer of that neighborhood. The gentleman had a daughter Jessie, a bright-eyed miss some years younger than Dave. She was waiting to take an automobile ride when the gasoline tank of the machine caught fire. It was plucky Dave who rushed in and, at the peril of his own life, saved the girl from being fatally burned.

The Wadsworths were more than grateful, and when Mr. Wadsworth discovered that Caspar Potts was one of his former college teachers, he insisted that both the old man and Dave come to live at his mansion. He took a great interest in Dave, more especially as he had had a son about Dave's age who had died.

"The lad must go to some boarding school," said Oliver Wadsworth, and at his own expense he sent Dave to Oak Hall. With Dave went Ben Basswood, a friend of several years' standing.

Dave made friends with great rapidity. First came Roger Morr, the son of a United States senator, then Phil Lawrence, whose father was a wealthy ship-owner, Sam Day, who was usually called "Lazy," because he was so big and fat, "Buster" Beggs, "Shadow" Hamilton, and a number of others, whom we shall meet as our story proceeds.

For a while all went well with Dave, but then came trouble with Nat Poole, who had come to the Hall, and with Gus Plum, the school bully, and Chip Macklin, his toady. The cry of "poorhouse nobody" was again raised, and Dave felt almost like leaving Oak Hall in disgust.

"I must find out who I really am," he told himself, and fortune presently favored him. By a curious turn of circumstances he fell in with an old sailor named Billy Dill. This tar declared he knew Dave or somebody who looked exactly like him. This unknown individual was on an island in the South Seas.

"My father's ships sail to the South Seas," Phil Lawrence told Dave, and the upshot of the matter was that Dave took passage on one of the vessels, in company with the ship-owner's son, Roger Morr, and Billy Dill.

As already related in the second volume of this series, "Dave Porter in the South Seas," the voyage of the _Stormy Petrel_ proved to be anything but an uneventful one. Fearful storms arose, and Dave and some others were cast away on an uninhabited island. But in the end all went well, and, much to the lad's joy, he found an uncle named Dunston Porter.

"Your father is my twin brother," said Dunston Porter. "He is now traveling in Europe, and with him is your sister Laura, about one year younger than yourself. We must return to the United States at once and let them know of this. They mourn you as dead."

There was a good deal of money in the Porter family, a fair share of which would come to Dave when he became of age. The whole party returned to California and then to the East, and word was at once sent to Europe, to David Breslow Porter, as Dave's father was named. To the surprise of all, no answer came back, and then it was learned that Mr. Porter and his daughter Laura had started on some trip, leaving no address behind them.

"This is too bad," said Dave. "I wanted so much to see them."

"We'll get word soon, never fear," replied his uncle, and then advised Dave to finish out his term at Oak Hall, Mr. Porter in the meantime remaining a guest of the Wadsworth family.

How Dave went back to Oak Hall, and what happened to him there has already been related in detail in "Dave Porter's Return to School." His enemies could no longer twit him with being a "poorhouse nobody," yet they did all they could to dim his popularity and get him into trouble.

"He shan't cut a dash over me, even if he has money," said Nat Poole, and to this Gus Plum, the bully, eagerly agreed. There was likewise another pupil, Nick Jasniff, who also hated Dave, and one day this fellow, who was exceedingly hot-tempered, attempted to strike Dave down with a heavy Indian club. It was a most foul attack and justly condemned by nearly all who saw it, and thoroughly scared over what he had attempted to do, Nick Jasniff ran away from school and could not be found.

There had been a number of robberies around Oakdale, where the academy was located, and one day when Dave and his chums were out ice-boating they had come on the track of two of the robbers. Then to his surprise Dave learned that Nick Jasniff was also implicated in the thefts. He knew that Jasniff and Gus Plum were very intimate, and wondered if the bully of the school could be one of the criminals also. At length, one snowy day, he saw Plum leave the Hall and followed the fellow. Plum made for the railroad, where there was a deep cut, and into this cut he fell, just as a train was approaching. At the peril of his life Dave scrambled to the bottom of the opening and drew the bully from the tracks just as the train rolled by.

If ever a boy was conquered, it was Gus Plum at that time. At first he could not realize that Dave had saved him. "To think you would do this for me--you!" he sobbed. "And I thought you hated me!" And then he broke down completely. He confessed how he had tried to injure Dave and his chums, but said he had had nothing to do with the robberies. Nick Jasniff had wanted him to go in with the robbers, but he had declined.

"I am going to cut Jasniff after this," said Gus Plum, "and I am going to cut Nat Poole, too. I want to make a man of myself--if I can."

But it was hard work. A short time after the railroad incident the two robbers were caught and sent to prison, to await trial, and Plum had to appear as a witness for the state and tell how he had been implicated. In the meantime Nick Jasniff ran away to Europe, taking several hundred dollars of the stolen funds with him. Dave thought he had seen the last of the young rascal, but in this he was mistaken, as the events which followed proved.

CHAPTER II

A ROW IN A RESTAURANT

The majority of the boys had been home only for the Thanksgiving holidays. The exception was poor Phil Lawrence, who had been laid up for a number of weeks as the result of a blow on the head while playing a game of football. Phil said he felt as well as ever, but he was somewhat pale and in no humor for anything in the way of roughness.

As the train stopped at one station and another along the line, it began to fill up with passengers, including a goodly number of Oak Hall students. At one place Sam Day and Shadow Hamilton came on board, followed by half a dozen snowballs, sent after them by boys who had come to see them off.

"Hi! stop that!" cried Sam Day, as he tried to dodge, and just then a snowball meant for his head took a somewhat stout man in the ear. The man uttered a cry of surprise, slipped on the platform of the car, and fell flat, crushing his valise under him. At this a shout of laughter rang out from the depot platform, and the lads standing there lost no time in disappearing.

"You--you villains!" roared the stout man when he could catch his breath. "I'll--I'll have you locked up!"

"It wasn't my fault," answered Sam Day, trying hard to suppress the grin on his face. "Shall I help you up?"

"No," grunted the man, and arose slowly. "Do you know I have a dozen fresh eggs in that valise?"

"Sorry, I'm sure."

"A dozen eggs!" cried Shadow Hamilton. "Well, I never! Say, that puts me in mind of a story. Once a man bought some eggs that weren't strictly fresh, and----"

"Pah! who wants to listen to your stories?" interrupted the stout man. "You had better pay for the eggs that are smashed," and he entered the car in anything but a pleasant humor.

Dave had come to the car door to greet Sam and Shadow and conduct them to a seat near his own. The stout man was so upset mentally that he bumped roughly into the youth.

"Get out of my way, will you?" grunted the irate passenger.

"Excuse me, I didn't know you owned the whole aisle," said Dave, coldly. He did not like the manner in which he had been addressed.

"See here, are you another one of them good-for-nothing schoolboys?" bellowed the stout individual. "If you are, I want you to understand you can't run this train--not as far as I am concerned, anyhow."

Dave looked at the man for a moment in silence. "You are very polite, I must say," he observed. "I haven't done anything to you, have I?"

"No, but you young bloods are all in together. I know you! Last spring I was on the train with a lot of college boys, and they tried to run things to suit themselves. But we fixed 'em, we did. And we'll fix you, too, if you try to run matters here," and with a savage shake of his head the stout man passed down the aisle and dropped heavily into the first vacant seat he reached.

"Isn't he a peach?" murmured Sam Day to Dave. "Meekest man I ever saw, and ought to have a monument for politeness."

"I hope all his eggs are smashed," said Shadow Hamilton. "He certainly deserves it."

"Shouldn't wonder if they are--he came down hard enough," answered Dave.

By good luck all the students had seats close to each other, and as the train rolled along they told of their various holiday experiences and discussed school matters.

"Just four weeks and then we'll close down for Christmas," said Roger.

"We ought to have lots of fun," said Ben. "We can go skating and ice-boating, and we can build a fort----"

"And snowball Pop Swingly and Horsehair," interrupted Sam, mentioning the janitor of Oak Hall and the driver for the institution. "Don't forget them or they'll feel slighted."

"What's the matter with snowballing Job Haskers?" asked Phil, mentioning a teacher who was anything but popular with the students.

"Oh, we'll attend to him, never fear," answered Roger Morr.

"Has anybody heard from Plum?" questioned Sam, during a lull in the conversation.

"I got a letter from him," answered Dave, seeing that nobody else replied. "He is afraid he is going to have a hard time of it to reform. I hope you fellows will treat him as well as you can."

"I shall," said the senator's son, and several nodded.

"I think I have always treated him better than he deserved," said Shadow Hamilton. He could not forget what serious trouble the former bully of Oak Hall had once caused him, when Doctor Clay's valuable collection of postage stamps had disappeared.

It had been snowing slightly since morning, and now the flakes began to come down thicker than ever. As a consequence the engineer of the train could not see the signals ahead and had to run slowly, so that when the Junction was gained, where the boys had to change for Oakdale, they were half an hour late.

"We've missed the connection and must remain here for just an hour and a quarter," declared Dave, after questioning the station master. "We can't get to Oak Hall until after dark."

"I move we have something to eat," said Roger. "A sandwich, a piece of mince-pie, and a cup of hot chocolate wouldn't go bad."

"Second the commotion!" cried Ben. "All in favor raise their left ear."

"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "Two men went to a restaurant and ordered----"

"Fried snakes' livers on mushrooms," interrupted Dave. "You've told that story before."

"No, I didn't, and it wasn't fried----"

"I know what he means," said Phil. "It was robins' wings salted in sauerkraut."

"It wasn't. This was an order of----"

"Blue pumpkin rinds with mackerel sauce," interrupted Sam Day. "Very fine dish. I ate it once, when I was dining at the White House with the President."

"It wasn't pumpkin rinds, or anything like it. It was a plain order of----"

"Cherry roast, with minced sunflowers?" suggested Roger. "The girls at Vassar dine on 'em regularly, after playing football."

"This was a plain everyday order of pork and beans," shouted Shadow, desperately. "And after the men got 'em, what do you think they did? Oh, this is a good one;" and Shadow's eyes began to sparkle.

"Found fault, I suppose, because the beans weren't from Boston," said Dave.

"No."

"Don't keep us waiting, Shadow. Tell the story to a finish," said Phil.

"Well, they got the pork and beans----"

"Yes."

"And they sat down, facing each other----"

"All right--fire away," said Sam, as the story-teller paused.

"And they began to eat----"

"Glad to know they didn't begin to weep," was Roger's soft comment.

"And they ate the pork and beans all up," continued Shadow, soberly. And then he stopped short and looked around blankly.

"Eh?"

"Well, I never!"

"Is that all there is to the story?" demanded Sam.

"Certainly. You didn't expect they'd buy the beans and throw them away, did you?" asked Shadow, innocently.

"Sold that time!" cried Dave, good-naturedly. "Never mind; we'll let Shadow pay for the lunch we're going to have. Come on."

"Not on your tintype," murmured the story-teller. "Not unless you pass around the hat and make me treasurer."

They found a convenient restaurant and, pushing together two of the tables, sat down in a merry group. The proprietor knew some of them, and nodded pleasantly as he took their orders. Soon they were eating as only happy and healthy schoolboys can eat.

"My, but this mince-pie is good!" declared Roger. "I could eat about a yard of it!"

"A yard of pie is good," said Dave, with a smile.

"Talking about a yard of pie puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow, who was stowing away the last of a hot roast-beef sandwich.

"Hold on, we've had enough!" cried Sam.

"If you pile on another like that last one, we'll roll you out in the snow," was Phil's comment.

"This is a real story, really it is, and it's a good one, too."

"Vintage of 1864, or before Columbus landed?" inquired Ben.

"I've never told this before. Some Yale students went into a butcher shop and one of 'em, to be funny, asked the butcher if he'd sell him a yard of mutton. 'Certainly,' says the butcher. 'Fifty cents a yard.' 'All right,' says Mr. Student. 'I'll take two yards.' 'A dollar, please,' says the butcher. 'Here you are,' says the student, and holds up the money. Then the butcher takes the bill, puts it in his cash drawer, and hands out--six sheep feet."

"Very old and musty," was Dave's comment. "Washington told that to Csar when the two were planning to throw Socrates into Niagara." And then a laugh went up all around.

The boys were just finishing their lunch when the door opened and a stout man walked in. He was covered with snow, and looked anything but happy.

"Our friend of the smashed eggs," whispered Sam to Dave. "Wonder if he has cleaned out his valise yet."

The man sat down at a side table and ordered several things. Then he happened to glance around, noticed the students for the first time, and scowled.

"Humph! what you fellows doing here?" he growled.

"Haven't we a right to come here?" demanded Dave, for the man was looking straight at him.

"Shouldn't think the proprietor would want such gay larks as you here."

"I shouldn't think he'd want such a grunt as you here," retorted Sam Day.

"Hi! now, don't you talk to me that way!" roared the stout man. "I want you to understand I am a gentleman, I am."

"See here, we can't have any quarreling in here," said the restaurant proprietor, coming forward.

"Some of them fellows knocked me down on the train and smashed a valise full of eggs on me, Mr. Denman."

"We did nothing of the sort," answered Sam. "He fell on the icy platform of the car and right on top of his valise."

"And then he got up and bumped into me," added Dave. "He was very impolite, to say the least."

"Look here!" roared the stout man, "I want you to understand----"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Amos Denman, the restaurant keeper. "Isn't your name Isaac Pludding?"

"Yes."

"Then you are the man who caused the trouble at Mr. Brown's restaurant last week. I know you. Some time ago you were in here, and nothing suited you. I don't want to serve you, and you can go elsewhere for your meal."

"Don't want to sell me anything?" snarled Isaac Pludding.

"Not a mouthful. And, let me add, I consider these young men gentlemen, and I won't have them annoyed while they are in my place."

"Oh, all right, have your own way," snarled the stout man. "I'll take my money elsewhere, I will!" He glared at the students. "But I'll get square some day for this--don't forget that!" And shaking his head very savagely, he stormed out of the restaurant, banging the door after him.

CHAPTER III

OFF THE TRACK

"Well, if he isn't the worst yet," was the comment of the senator's son.

"I hope he isn't waiting for that train," said Shadow. "I don't want to see any more of him."

"Pooh! who's afraid?" asked Phil. "I guess we can make him keep his distance."

"I thought I knew him when he came in, but I wasn't sure," said the restaurant keeper. "The man who runs the hotel, Mr. Brown, had a lot of trouble with him because he wouldn't pay his bill--said it was too high. Then he came here once and said the meat wasn't fresh and the bread was stale and sour. I came close to pitching him out. Don't let him walk over you--if he does take your train."

"No danger," answered Dave. He had not yet forgotten the rude manner in which Isaac Pludding had shoved him.

It was soon time for the Oakdale train to arrive, and the students walked back to the depot. The snow was over a foot deep and still coming down steadily. The depot was crowded with folks, and among them they discovered Isaac Pludding, with his valise and a big bundle done up in brown paper.

"He certainly must be waiting for the train," said Dave; and he was right. When the cars came to a stop the stout man was the first person aboard. The students entered another car and secured seats in a bunch as before.

"By the way, where is Nat Poole?" asked Roger, suddenly. "I didn't see him get off the other train."

"He got off and walked towards the hotel," answered Phil. "I suppose he feels rather lonesome."

"That can't be helped," said Sam. "He makes himself so disagreeable that nobody wants him around."

Just as the train was about to start a boy leaped on the platform of the car our friends occupied, opened the door, and came in. It was Nat Poole, and he was all out of breath. He looked for a seat, but could find none.

"They ought to run more cars on this train," he muttered, to Roger. "It's a beastly shame to make a fellow stand up."

"Better write to the president of the railroad company about it, Nat," answered the senator's son, dryly.

"Maybe there is a seat in the next car," suggested Phil.

Nat Poole shuffled off, looking anything but pleased. Hardly had he gone when several came in from the car ahead, also looking for seats. Among them was Isaac Pludding. He had had a seat near a door, but had given it up to look for something better, and now he had nothing. He glanced bitterly at the students as he passed, then came back and leaned heavily against the seat Dave and Roger were occupying. In doing this he almost knocked Dave's hat from his head.

"I'll thank you to be a little more careful," said Dave, as he put his hat into place. He felt certain that Isaac Pludding had shoved against him on purpose.

"Talking to me?" growled the stout man.

"I am. I want you to stop shoving me."

"I've got to stand somewhere."

"Well, you quit shoving me, or you'll get the worst of it," answered Dave, decidedly.

At that moment the car lurched around a curve and Isaac Pludding bumped against Dave harder than ever. Thoroughly angry, the youth arose and faced the stout man.

"If you do that again, I'll have you put off the train," he said.

"That's right, Dave, don't let him walk over you," added Roger.

"If he doesn't know his place, teach it to him," was Phil's comment.

"Have me put off the train?" cried Isaac Pludding. "I'd like to see you do it! I want you to know I am a stockholder of this line."

"Then it's a shame you don't provide seats for all your passengers."

"That's true, too," remarked a gentleman who was standing close by.

"I don't believe he owns more than one share of stock," observed Sam. "And that he most likely inherited from his great-granduncle."

"I own five shares!" howled Isaac Pludding. "And I want you to know----"

What he wanted the boys to know they never found out, for at that moment the train gave another lurch. It came so suddenly that the stout man was taken completely from his feet and sent sprawling in the aisle on his back. A valise from a rack over a seat came tumbling down, and, not to get it on his head, Roger shoved it aside and it struck Isaac Pludding full on the stomach, causing him to gasp.

The boys uttered a shout of laughter, and many other passengers joined in. The floor of the car was wet from snow, and when Isaac Pludding scrambled up he was covered with dirt. Dave caught up the valise and turned it over to Sam, to whom it belonged.

"Who threw that valise on me?" demanded the stout man, eyeing the boys in rage.

To this there was no answer.

"I guess you threw it," went on Isaac Pludding, and caught Dave by the arm.

"Let go of me," said Dave, eyeing the man steadily. "I did not throw it. Let go."

Isaac Pludding wanted to argue the matter, but there was something in Dave's manner that he did not like. He dropped his hold and drew back a little.

"Don't you dare to shove me again--not once," continued the youth. "If you do you'll regret it. I have stood all from you that I am going to stand."

"Oh, you're no good," muttered the stout man, lamely, and passed on to the end of the car.

The train was coming to a halt at a place called Raytown. They were now but eight miles from Oakdale, and the students began to wonder if anybody would be at that station to meet them.

"If Horsehair comes down with the carryall, he'll have all he can do to get through the snow," said Dave.

"Perhaps he'll come down with four horses," suggested Roger.

"One thing is certain, Doctor Clay will see to it that we get to Oak Hall somehow," said Ben.

"What a rickety old railroad this side line is!" declared Phil, as the car gave several lurches. "It's a wonder they don't fix the track."

"Not enough traffic to make it pay, I fancy," answered Dave. "They carry more milk and cattle than they do passengers."

It was growing dark and still snowing briskly. The car was cold, and more than one passenger had to stamp his feet to keep them warm. On they plunged, through the snow, until of a sudden there came a lurch and a jerk and then a series of bumps that caused everybody to jump up in alarm. Then the train came to a stop.

"What's the matter now?"

"I think we must be off the track."

"It's a wonder the train didn't go over."

"It couldn't go over, for we are down in a cut."

As one end of the car was up and the other down, the boys knew something serious was the matter. Taking up their hand baggage, they followed some of the passengers outside and jumped down in the snow.

It did not take long to learn the truth of the situation. A turnout on the track had become clogged with ice, and the locomotive and two cars had jumped the track and bumped along the ties for a distance of two hundred feet. Nobody had been hurt, and even the train was not seriously damaged, although one pair of car-trucks would have to be repaired.

"I don't believe they can get the cars and the locomotive back on the track right away," said Dave. "They'll have to have the wrecking train and crew down here."

When appealed to, the conductor said he did not know how soon they would be able to move again. Probably not in three or four hours, and maybe not until the next morning.

"I'll have to walk back to Raytown and telegraph to headquarters," he explained.

"We are in a pickle, and no mistake," was Roger's comment. "I must say I don't feel like staying on the train all night--it's too cold and uncomfortable."

In the group of passengers was Isaac Pludding, storming angrily at everything and everybody.

"It's an outrage!" he declared, to a bystander. "I must get to Oakdale by seven o'clock. I've got a business deal for some cattle I must close. If I don't get there, somebody else may buy the cattle."

"I hope he gets left," said Phil, softly.

"So do I," returned Dave.

"If we could only hire a big sleigh and some horses, we might drive to Oakdale," suggested Ben.

"Hurrah, that's the talk!" cried Dave. "There must be some farmhouse near here."

"Say, if you can get a sleigh, I'll pay my share, if you'll take me along," put in Nat Poole, eagerly. He hated to think of being left behind.

"All right, Nat, I'm willing," said Dave, generously.

"We've got to find the sleigh first," added the senator's son.

"And see if we can get horses enough to pull it," said Ben. "Some farmers won't let their horses out in such a storm as this--and you can't blame 'em much, either."

"If we can't get a sleigh, perhaps we can stay at some farmhouse all night," suggested Sam.

All of the party climbed through the snow to the top of the railroad cut and then looked around for some buildings.

"I see a light!" cried Phil, and pointed it out, between some bare trees.

"It's a house; come on," replied Dave, and set off without delay, the others following. "Who knows but that somebody else may want to ride, and if so, we want to be first to get a sleigh."

It was rather a toilsome journey to the farmhouse. Between them and the place were a barn and a cow-shed, and just as they passed the former there arose a fierce barking, and three big black dogs came bounding toward the students.

"Look out! The dogs will chew us up!" yelled Nat Poole, in terror, and started to retreat.

"Down!" called out Dave, who was still in advance. "Down, I say! Charge!" But instead of obeying, the big dogs continued to approach until they were within a dozen feet of the students. Then they lined up, growled fiercely, and showed their teeth.

"Let us get into the barn," suggested Roger, and flung open a door that was handy. Into the building they went pell-mell, Dave being the last to enter. One dog made a dart at the youth's leg, but Dave gave him a kick that sent him back. Then the door was slammed shut and latched, and the students found themselves in utter darkness.

"Wonder if they can get in any other way?" asked Phil, after a second of silence, during which they heard the dogs barking outside.

"I doubt if any of the doors are open in this storm," answered Shadow.

"Let us get up in--in the loft!" suggested Nat Poole. He was as white as the snow outside and his teeth were chattering from something else besides the cold.

"That's a good idea," said Dave. "But we must have a light to learn where the loft is. Anybody got a match?"

Nobody had such an article, and a groan went up. Nat Poole was appealed to, for the others knew he had been smoking on the train.

"My matchbox is empty," said he. "I am going to hunt for the loft ladder in the dark."

"Be careful, or you may run into some troublesome horse," cautioned Dave.

The boys moved slowly around in the dark. They could hear the sounds of several horses feeding and the barking of the dogs. Then, quite unexpectedly, came the cracking of a board, a yell of alarm from Nat Poole, and a loud splash.

"Help! I am drowning! Save me!"

CHAPTER IV

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE BARN

"Nat has fallen into the water!"

"Where is he? I can't see a thing."

"He must have gone down in some cistern."

These and other cries rang out, and all of the boys of Oak Hall were filled with consternation. Dave had located the splash fairly well, and as quickly as he could he felt his way in that direction.

"Nat, where are you?" he called out.

"Here, down in a cistern! Help me out, or I'll be frozen to death."

Dave now reached the edge of the cistern. Two of the boards which had covered it had broken, letting Nat down quite unexpectedly. Fortunately there was only three feet of water in the cistern, so there was no fear of drowning. But the water was icy and far from agreeable.

As Dave leaned down to give Poole his hand, the door of the barn was flung open and a farmer strode in, a lantern in one hand and a stout stick in the other. The man held the light over his head and looked around suspiciously.

"Wot yeou fellers doin' here?" he demanded.

"Come here with the light--one of our party has fallen into the cistern!" cried Dave.

"Into the cistern, eh? Mebbe it serves him right. Ain't got no business in my barn," answered the farmer, as he came closer.

"We ran in because your dogs came after us," explained Roger.

"An' where did yeou come from? Ye don't belong around here, I know."

"We came from the train--it's off the track," said Dave. "But help us get this boy out first and then we'll explain."

"Train off the track? Well, I snum!" cried the farmer. Then he set down the lantern and aided in bringing Nat Poole to the flooring of the barn. "Putty cold, I'll bet a quart o' shellbarks," he added, grinning at the lad's wet and shivering figure.

"Can't we get him into the house by the fire?" asked Ben. "We'll pay you for your trouble."

Now if there was one thing Shadrach Mellick loved, it was money, and at the mention of pay he was all attention. He asked a few questions, and then led the way out of the barn and towards his house. The dogs wanted to follow, but he drove them back.

"Their bark is worse nor their bite," he explained. "They wouldn't hurt yeou very much." Then he asked about the train, and the students gave him the particulars of the mishap. In the meantime Mrs. Mellick bustled around and got Nat Poole some dry clothing and allowed him to change his garments in a side room that chanced to be warm.

The boys soon learned that Shadrach Mellick owned a sleigh large enough to accommodate the entire party, and also four good, strong horses. For ten dollars he agreed to take them to Oak Hall, stopping at Oakdale on the way, to see if the school sleigh was waiting for them.

"The sooner we start the better," said Dave. And then he added in a whisper to Roger and Phil: "If we don't, some other passengers from the train may come up here and offer him more money for his turnout."

"Let us pay him part and bind the bargain," suggested the senator's son.

"I'll do it," answered Dave, and gave Shadrach Mellick two dollars.

"Good enough--thet binds the bargain," said the close-fisted farmer.

Nat Poole was a sight to behold in a well-worn suit several sizes too big for him, and the boys could not help but laugh when he made his appearance.

"That's a real swagger suit, Nat!" cried Sam Day. "Won't you give me the address of your tailor?"

"Nat can't do that," added Ben. "He wants the artist all to himself."

"Which puts me in mind of a story," broke in Shadow Hamilton. "A countryman went into a clothing store to buy a suit and----"

"Wow!" came from several of the students in a chorus.

"That story is a hundred and fifty years old."

"It's full of moth-holes, Shadow."

"It isn't--I've only told it about----"

"Two hundred and eleven times," finished Dave. "Shadow, you really must get a new joke-book to read."

"Never mind my clothing," grumbled Nat Poole. "I couldn't help it that I fell in the cistern. The farmer had no right to cover it with rotten boards."

"Yeou had no right to be in the barn," answered Shadrach Mellick, with a grin. "Howsomever, we'll let it pass. I'm satisfied ef yeou air."

The sleigh was soon ready, and the students bundled in, making themselves as comfortable as possible. Nat Poole's wet clothing was placed in a sack and tied on behind. Then the farmer mounted to the front seat.

"All ready?" he queried.

"All ready--let her go!" sang out several of the lads.

At that moment the dogs began to set up another bark, and then came a call from the darkness.

"Hi, there, wait a minute!"

"Who is that?" questioned Dave. "Hullo, if it isn't the stout man!"

It was Isaac Pludding, true enough. He had been walking rapidly and was nearly out of wind.

"Whe--where are you going?" he panted, to the farmer.

"Goin' to take these chaps to Oakdale."

"That is where I want to go." Isaac Pludding glared at the students. "I don't like to ride with those boys, but I suppose I can stand it. Got room for another passenger? I suppose they told you how the train broke down."

"They did," answered Shadrach Mellick. "Reckon I can carry one more," he added. "But yeou'll have to pay me. These boys are paying me ten dollars for the trip."

"How much do you want?" demanded Isaac Pludding.

"About a dollar, I guess."

"It's enough, but I'll go you," answered the stout man, and prepared to climb into the big sleigh.

As soon as Isaac Pludding appeared, Dave held a whispered conversation with Roger and some of the others. Now he turned to Shadrach Mellick.

"Excuse me, Mr. Mellick, but we don't propose to take another passenger," he said, decidedly. "At least, not this man."

"No?"

"No, sir. We hired this sleigh for ourselves alone."

"And paid part of the money to bind the bargain," added Phil.

"What! do you mean to say I can't ride if I want to?" cried the stout man, as unreasonable as he had been on the train.

"You can't ride with us," said Roger.

"What do you say?" asked Isaac Pludding of the farmer.

Shadrach Mellick scratched his head.

"A bargain is a bargain, Mr. Mellick," said Dave, hastily. "We hired this sleigh, and that is all there is to it."

"That is true, but--er----"

"Wouldn't you rather earn ten dollars than one or two?" asked Ben. "If that man is to ride we won't."

"So say we all of us!" came from a number of the others.

"Then I can't take yeou," said the farmer to Isaac Pludding. "These young fellers come fust."

"It's an outrage!" cried the stout man. "I'll--I'll have the law on you for it."

"Guess yeou air a fool," muttered Shadrach Mellick, in disgust. "Git alang there, ye lazy critters!" And with a crack of his whip he sent the double team on their way, leaving Isaac Pludding standing by the gateway, shaking his fist at the vanishing students.

"He is mad now, if he never was before," observed Phil.

"I wonder if we'll see any more of him," said Ben.

"I don't want to see him again," answered Dave.

The wagon-road to Oakdale did not run near the railroad, so they saw nothing of the train passengers as they moved along. Luckily the snowstorm was letting up, so the ride was not as disagreeable as they had anticipated. In spite of the delay the boys were in excellent spirits, the single exception being Nat Poole, who sat huddled in a seat corner, saying nothing. The boys sang songs, told funny stories, and "cut up" generally, and thus, almost before they knew it, they drew up alongside of the railroad station at Oakdale.

There was no turnout there to meet them, and from the station master they learned that Jackson Lamond, the Hall driver, had been down with the carryall, but had gone back when he had learned that the train had broken down and would not arrive until morning.

"Well, it doesn't matter," said Dave. "We've hired our driver to take us to the Hall, anyway."

"All hands off for a hot soda!" cried Phil, as they rounded the drug-store corner, and the sleigh was stopped and they rushed in to get the refreshment. They treated Shadrach Mellick to two glasses, which put the old farmer in fairly good humor.

"I don't blame ye for not wanting thet man," said he, after he had heard their story about Isaac Pludding. "Guess he's about as mean as they make 'em."

"He said he had some cattle deal on in Oakdale," said Dave. "Perhaps you know something about that?"

"Oh, mebbe I do. There's a city consarn buying cattle up here, now--started last fall. They're tryin' to do old Joe Parker out o' his bus'ness. Mebbe this fat feller is the city company's agent. If he is, old Joe Parker won't want him up here."

"Where does Joe Parker live?" asked Dave, with interest.

"We'll pass his house in a minit. There it is--over yonder, by the willer trees."

"Let me off a minute at that place," went on Dave.

"That's the talk!" cried Roger, catching Dave's idea. "We'll put a spoke in Pludding's wheel--if he is the rival cattle dealer."

Arriving at the Parker cottage, Dave and Roger leaped down in the snow and knocked on the door. A heavy-set and rather pleasant-looking man answered their summons.

"Is this Mr. Joseph Parker?" asked Dave.

"That's my handle, lad. What can I do for you? Will you come in?"

"No, Mr. Parker--I haven't time. I wanted to ask you, do you know a Mr. Isaac Pludding?"

At this question the brow of Joe Parker darkened.

"I certainly do."

"He is working for some opposition in the cattle line, isn't he?"

"Yes, and trying his best to do me out of my little income," was the grumbled-out answer.

"Well, I thought I might do you a favor," went on Dave, and then told of his meeting with the cattle agent, and of how Pludding was trying to reach Oakdale without delay.

"Is that possible!" cried Joseph Parker. "If it is, I'll have to get a hustle on me, I'm thinking. I told Farrington I'd let him know about those cattle to-day or to-morrow. I'll go right over and close the deal now--before Pludding gets here. It's Farrington's cattle he is after. I am very much obliged to you."

"You are welcome," said Dave.

"I only hope you get the better of the fat man," added the senator's son; and then he and Dave went back to the sleigh, and the journey to Oak Hall was resumed.

CHAPTER V

BACK TO OAK HALL

As my old readers know, Oak Hall was an up-to-date structure built of brick and stone. Its shape was that of a broad cross, with its front facing the south. On that side, and to the east and west, were the classrooms, while the dining-hall and kitchen and laundry were on the north. Around the school was a broad campus, running down to the Leming River in the rear. Great clumps of oaks were scattered around, giving to the institution its name.

"Hurrah! I see the school!" cried Sam Day, who sat in front with the sleigh driver.

"So do I!" cried Roger.

"Boys, let's give them a song when we drive up!" suggested Dave. "It will prove that we are not quite frozen to death."

"Right you are," responded Shadow Hamilton. "Now then, all together!" And he started up the 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!"

This was sung with great gusto and immediately following came the well-known Hall rally:

"Baseball! Football! Oak Hall! Has the call! Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"

"That's the way to do it!" sang out Dave, and then, as the sleigh drew up to the front door of the academy, he started some doggerel also sung to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" and just then becoming popular:

"We're here because we're here because We're here because we're here! We're here because we're here because We're here because we're here! We're here because we're here because We're here because we're here! We're here because we're here because-- _We're nowhere else just now!_"

The boys sang as loudly as they could, and kept it up until the front door of the Hall opened and Job Haskers appeared, attired in a dressing-gown and wearing slippers.

"Here! here! stop that racket!" cried the teacher who could never see any fun in anything. "Do you want to awaken the entire Hall?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Haskers; we only thought we'd let you know that we had arrived," answered Dave, sweetly.

"Well, there's no need to act like a lot of hoodlums," growled Job Haskers. "I thought you were all storm-bound at Raytown," he went on. "Lamond brought in word that the train had broken down."

"It did break down, but we hired this sleigh to bring us over," answered Roger. "We said the man could put up here over-night and go back in the morning."

"Ahem! I don't know about that. We are not in the habit----" began the teacher, when somebody caught him by the arm and came to the front. It was Doctor Clay, also in a dressing-gown, and smiling broadly.

"How do you do, boys?" he said, cheerily. "Glad to see you! So you thought you couldn't stay away, even if the train did break down? I rather suspected some of you would try to get a sleigh over. Come right in. You must be rather cold--or did the singing keep you warm?"

"How do you do, Doctor Clay?" was the answering cry, and all of the boys bounced out of the turnout, ran up the steps, and shook hands. Job Haskers was "left in the cold," so to speak, and stood in the background in disgust. He thought it was "bad discipline" to treat the scholars too good-naturedly. "Hold them down with a rod of iron," was his motto, and the boys knew it only too well.

Matters were speedily explained to the master of the school, and he directed Job Haskers to call Lamond and have the horses and the sleigh taken care of, and then told Shadrach Mellick to come in and he would be given a room for the night and his breakfast in the morning. The farmer was paid off and was well pleased over the treatment received.

"You appear to be the only one who has suffered," said Doctor Clay to Nat Poole. "But a good night's sleep will probably fix you up, and the housekeeper can look after your clothing."

"I have plenty of other clothing in my trunk," answered Poole, and then went off to the dormitory he occupied with Gus Plum and a number of others.

Dave and his chums occupied Dormitories Nos. 11 and 12, and there they found several of the other students awaiting them, including Luke Watson, who was noted as a singer and banjo-player, Bertram Vane, always called "Polly," because his manner was so girlish, and little Chip Macklin, who had been the school sneak but who had now turned over a new leaf.

"It does my heart good to set eyes on you fellows again!" cried Luke Watson. "If it wasn't so late I'd get out my banjo and sing a song in your honor."

"Yes, and have old Haskers up here, giving us extra work for to-morrow," answered Ben. "No, thank you, Luke, not so early in the season, please."

"Delighted to see you all," lisped Polly Vane. "I trust you all had a real nice time."

"I certainly did," answered Dave. "How about you, Polly? Did they invite you to any molasses-pulls or pink teas?"

"Oh, I had a glorious time, Dave. My two cousins visited us--splendid girls--and they had some other girls come in, and we----"

"All played blindman's-buff and hunt-the-slipper," finished Sam. "Wasn't that too delicious for anything!" and he said this in such a feminine tone that everybody but Polly laughed. The girlish student looked a bit doubtful, but was not offended.

The cold ride had made the boys sleepy, and all were glad to undress and go to bed. Dave was tired out, having put in an extra-long day, and the moment his head touched the pillow he sailed off into the land of dreams and did not awaken until the morning bell was clanging in his ears.

The storm had passed away, and outside it was as clear as crystal. The sun shone brightly, and this helped to put all the boys in good humor, for a gray day at Oak Hall was not to their liking. All were soon dressed, and Dave, Roger, and Phil started to go below together.

In the upper corridor they came face to face with Gus Plum, the former bully. Plum looked rather pale and thin and his eyes were somewhat sunken. That the exposure of his wrongdoings had caused him much worry there could be no doubt.

"How do you do, Gus?" said Dave kindly, and stepping closer he shook a hand that was almost as cold as ice. Phil and Roger merely nodded.

"Oh, I'm pretty well," answered Gus Plum. "How are you?"

"First-rate--that is, I would be if I could only get some word from my father and sister."

"It's too bad that you don't get some kind of message." Plum lowered his voice. "I'd like to see you alone this noon or to-night. I--er--want to talk something over with you," he whispered.

"All right, Gus--I'll try to see you this noon," replied Dave, in a low tone; and then all the students passed down to the dining-hall.

"Plum has certainly got something on his mind," was Roger's comment.

"Well, that exposure was a terrible thing for him," returned Phil. "Of course what he did wasn't as bad as what was done by Nick Jasniff and those two robbers, but it was bad enough. I'd hate to have such a black mark against my name."

The Thanksgiving holidays had been rather short, and those pupils who lived a long distance from Oak Hall had remained at that institution; consequently the routine of studies was taken up that day without much trouble. Fortunately Dave was now placed under Andrew Dale, the first assistant, a teacher loved by all the scholars.

"I know I shall learn faster than ever," said Dave to Roger. "Mr. Dale knows just how to bring out all there is in a fellow."

"I wish the doctor would get rid of old Haskers," returned the senator's son. "I simply can't bear him."

"Haskers is under contract, so I've been told, Roger. Maybe he'll be dropped when the contract runs out."

Just before the bell rang for the morning session Shadrach Mellick drove off in his big sleigh. The schoolboys gave him a parting salute of snowballs which the farmer tried in vain to duck.

"Hi, yeou!" he roared. "Want to knock the top of my head off? Stop it!" And then, to escape his tormentors, he whipped up his horses and dashed out of the Hall grounds at top speed. It was the last the boys saw of him for a long time.

It was not until after the day's sessions were over that Dave got a chance to see Gus Plum alone. The two met in the upper hallway and walked to the dormitory the former bully occupied, and Plum locked the door.

"Sit down, Dave, I want to talk to you," said Plum, and motioned Dave to the easiest chair the dormitory contained. Then he sank on the edge of a bed close by.

"All right, Gus, fire away," answered Dave, and he wondered what was coming next.

"I--er--I don't know how to say it--how to begin," stammered the former bully, and his face showed a trace of red in it. "But I've made up my mind to speak to you, and ask your advice. You saved me from a terrible disgrace, Dave, and I know you'll tell me the best thing to do."

"What about?"

"Well--about everything. First of all, about staying here. At first I thought I could do it--that I could face the crowd and live it down. But now--the way some of the boys treat me--and look at me--and the remarks made behind my back! Oh, Dave, it's terrible,--you can't imagine how hard it is!" And there was a quiver in Gus Plum's voice that meant a great deal.

"I am sorry to hear of this, Gus. But you must live it down, there is nothing else to do."

"I can go away--my folks are ready to send me to another school."

"Don't do it--stay here and fight it out. I know how you feel--I felt that way when they called me 'a poorhouse nobody.'"

"Oh, Dave, I did that! I am so sorry now!"

"You are bound to win in the end--if you do what is fair and honest. So long as Doctor Clay is willing to keep you, you'd better stay by all means."

"Yes, yes, I know, but--but--there is something else." Plum dropped his hands in his face. "I don't know how I am going to tell you, but I want to tell somebody. It's been on my mind ever since it happened." And then, to Dave's amazement, Gus Plum threw himself across the bed and began to sob violently.

CHAPTER VI

GUS PLUM'S CONFESSION

That the former bully of Oak Hall was thoroughly broken-down there could be no doubt, and Dave pitied him from the bottom of his heart. He wondered what Gus Plum would have to say next, and resolved to aid the lad as much as lay in his power.

"Come, Gus, you had better tell me your whole story," he said, kindly, and sitting on the bed he took one of the lad's hands in his own.

"Well, you know how I promised Doctor Clay I'd turn over a new leaf, and all that," began Plum. "I haven't done it."

"Oh, Gus!"

"I wanted to--but the force of circumstances, and my own weakness, wouldn't let me. Do you remember how I told you about my financial affairs--losing money on that football game and all that? Well, I learned that I was deeper in debt than I thought I was. I paid what debts I could and then found out that I still owed two men in Oakdale forty dollars. I didn't dare to write home for money, for after that exposure my father said he would only allow me five dollars a month spending money and not a cent more, for the next year. I met one of the men in Oakdale the day before Thanksgiving--after you were away--and he--oh, how can I tell it!--he got me to go to that tavern with him and gamble again, in the hope of winning the money I needed."

"And you gambled, Gus? That was too bad."

"At first I played cards for small amounts, but then the men treated--they insisted upon my drinking--and then we made the stakes larger, and when I came away, instead of winning back the forty dollars, I found myself owing them eighty-five dollars. And now they say if I do not pay up at once they'll expose me to the doctor and my folks." Gus Plum heaved a deep sigh. "Oh, I wish I was dead!" he sobbed.

"Gus, I thought you were going to give up gambling and drinking?"

"I was, but those men persuaded me before I was aware. If I ever get out of this you'll never catch me doing it again--never, as long as I live!"

"You say you owe them eighty-five dollars?"

"Yes."

"Do you owe any more than that?"

"They say I owe the tavern keeper two dollars. But I don't think so. I didn't order anything."

"Have you any money at all?"

"Three dollars and a half."

"Come to my room."

"What for?"

"Never mind, come along--before any of the others come up."

Wondering what Dave had in mind to do, the former bully of Oak Hall followed Dave to Dormitory No. 12. Here Dave went straight to his trunk, brought out a long flat pocketbook, and began to open it.

"Why, Dave, you don't mean to----" began Gus Plum, his eyes opening widely.

"Gus, I am going to lend you the money, but only under one condition," said Dave.

"Do you mean to say you have that much on hand?" demanded Plum.

"Yes, I have exactly a hundred dollars in this pocketbook. It is a special sum that my uncle advised me to keep for emergencies. He says he may go away some time and I may need money before he can send it to me. It has nothing to do with my regular allowance. I will loan you the eighty-five dollars on one condition--no, on two conditions."

"What are they?"

"The first is, that you give me your word to cut out all drinking and all gambling from now on."

"I'll do that readily, Dave."

"And the second is, that you remain at Oak Hall and fight your way through in spite of what some of the fellows say. Show one and all that you want to make a man of yourself, and sooner or later they will respect you."

"It will be a terribly hard thing to do."

"Never mind, Gus, I will help you all I can, and I am sure some of the others will help you, too."

For a full minute Gus Plum was silent, looking out of the long window at the gathering darkness of the short winter day. Then he turned again to Dave.

"All right, I'll take you up and stay, and I'll do my level best to deserve your kindness, Dave," he said, in a husky voice.

"Good! Now here is the money, in five-dollar bills. If you don't mind, I'll go along when you pay those fellows. I want to see that you get a receipt in full from them. As you say you owe them the money, we'll let it go at that, although it's more than likely they cheated you."

"Maybe they did, but I can't prove it."

With added thanks, Gus Plum took the eighty-five dollars and placed it carefully away in an inner pocket.

"I'll write the men a note to meet me Saturday afternoon," said he. "Will that suit you?"

"Yes, but don't meet them at the tavern. The depot will be better."

"Very well, I'll make it the depot," answered the former bully. He was very humble, and once more Dave had great hopes of his keeping his promises.

Some of the other students were now coming up, and Dave brought out some books he had brought along from home, including a fine illustrated work on polar exploration which Jessie Wadsworth had presented to him. She had written his name and her own on the flyleaf, and of this inscription Dave thought a great deal.

"I've read a part of it already," he said to Gus Plum. "It's very interesting. Some day I'll let you read it, if you wish."

"Thanks, perhaps I will, Dave," said the former bully, and then with a meaning look at Dave he retired. He knew Dave had brought out the book merely in order that the other lads would not ask embarrassing questions.

"That is a great book," said Roger, looking it over. "Say, it must be fine to travel in the land of perpetual snow."

"Providing you can keep warm," added Phil.

"Talking about keeping warm, puts me in mind of a story," began Shadow Hamilton. "Now, if you'll listen I'll tell it, otherwise I won't."

"How much to listen?" asked Luke Watson, meekly.

"Nothing--this is free, gratis, for nothing."

"I mean, what are you going to pay us for listening, Shadow?"

"Oh, you go to Jericho!" growled the story-teller of the school. "Well, this is about two men who hired a room in a hotel. It was in the summer-time and the room was very hot. They opened the window on the court, but it didn't let in enough air. In the middle of the night one of the men got up in the dark. 'What you doing?' asked the other man. 'Looking for another window to open,' says the man who was up. Pretty soon he touched a glass and found what he thought was a window opening sideways. 'There, that's fine!' he said. 'It's pretty breezy--guess I'll pull up the cover a little,' said the other man, and then both slept well until morning. When they got up they found that the one fellow had opened the door to an old bookcase in a corner."

"Very breezy story," was Roger's comment.

"Quite a refined air about it," remarked Ben.

"How did opening the bookcase make the room cooler?" demanded Dave, innocently.

"Why, it didn't. The man thought----"

"But you said he was cooler. He even pulled up the cover on the bed!"

"Certainly. He got the impression----"

"Who?"

"The man. He thought----"

"How could he think if he was asleep, Shadow?"

"I didn't say he thought in his sleep. I said----"

"Well, he went to bed anyhow, didn't he?"

"Of course. But when he opened the bookcase door----"

"Oh, I see, it was a refrigerator in disguise. Why didn't you tell us that before,--how the block of ice fell out on the man's left front toe and injured his spine so he couldn't sing any more?" finished Dave, and then a laugh arose, in the midst of which Shadow made a playful pass as if to box Dave's ear.

"The next time I have a good story like that to tell I'll keep it to myself," he grumbled.

To change the subject, some of the boys asked Luke Watson to give them a song. Luke was willing, and getting out his banjo, tuned up, and soon started a ditty about "A Coon Who Lived in the Moon," or something of that sort. Then he began a breakdown, and, unable to resist, Sam Day got up and began to dance a step he had learned from his father's coachman at home.

"Good for you, Sam!" cried Dave. "That's fine!"

"Sam, you ought to join the minstrels," added Roger, and began to keep time with his hands, "patting juba" as it is termed down South.

Not to be outdone by Sam, Ben joined in the dance, and several lads began to "pat juba" as loudly as possible. Growing very enthusiastic, Ben leaped over a bed and back. Then Shadow Hamilton caught up a chair and began to gallop around, horseback fashion. The chair caught in a stand, and over it went, carrying a lot of books and poor Polly Vane with it.

"Gracious, this won't do," murmured Dave, as he set to work to pick up the books. "Hi, stop that racket, Shadow!" he called out. "Do you want to get us all into trouble?"

"Can't stop, I'm on the race-track!" yelled Shadow. "This is the last quarter. Bet I win!" and around the dormitory he spun again. This time he knocked over little Chip Macklin, sending him sprawling.

"Say, let up!" called out Roger, and catching up one of the books he took aim at Shadow. "If you don't stop I'll throw this at your head."

"Can't stop--let her go--if you dare!" called back Shadow.

Hardly had he spoken when the senator's son let the volume drive. As he did so the dormitory door opened and Job Haskers appeared. The book missed Shadow, who dodged, and struck the door, sending that barrier up against the teacher's nose so sharply that Job Haskers uttered a shrill cry of mingled pain and alarm.

CHAPTER VII

HOW JOB HASKERS WENT SLEIGH-RIDING

On the instant the noise in Dormitory No. 12 came to an end. Shadow Hamilton dropped the chair and sat upon it and Luke Watson swung his banjo out of sight under a bedspread. Dave remained on one knee, picking up the books that had been scattered.

"You--you young rascals!" spluttered Job Haskers, when he could speak. "How dare you throw books at me?"

He glared around at the students, then strode into the dormitory and caught Dave by the shoulder.

"I say how dare you throw books at me?" he went on.

"I haven't thrown any books, Mr. Haskers," answered Dave, calmly.

"What!"

"I threw that book, Mr. Haskers," said Roger, promptly. "But I didn't throw it at you."

"Ahem! So it was you, Master Morr! Nice proceedings, I must say. Instead of going to bed you all cut up like wild Indians. This must be stopped. Every student in this room will report to me to-morrow after school. I will take down your names." The teacher drew out a notebook and began to write rapidly. "Who knocked over that stand?"

"I did," answered Shadow. "It was an--er--an accident."

"Who was making that awful noise dancing?"

"I was dancing," answered Sam. "But I don't think I made much noise."

"It is outrageous, this noise up here, and it must be stopped once and for all. Now go to bed, all of you, and not another sound, remember!" And with this warning, Job Haskers withdrew from the room, closing the door sharply after him.

"Now we are in a mess!" muttered Roger.

"Isn't it--er--dreadful!" lisped Polly Vane, who had taken no part in the proceedings, but had been looking over Dave's book on polar explorations.

"He'll give us extra lessons for this," grumbled Roger. "Just wait and see."

The next day the weather remained fine, and a number of the students went out coasting on a hill running down to the river. Dave and his friends wished they could go along, as both Sam and Ben had big bobs capable of carrying six boys each. But after the school session they had to report to Job Haskers, and he kept them in until supper-time, doing examples in arithmetic.

"Say, Dave, we ought to square up for this," said Phil. "See what a lot of fun coasting we've missed."

"Just what I say," added the senator's son. "We must get even with old Haskers somehow."

"Remember the time we put the ram in his room?" said Sam, with a grin.

"Yes, and the time we put the bats in," added Phil. "My, but didn't that cause a racket!"

"Let us put something else in his room this time," said Ben.

"Oh, that's old," answered Dave. "We ought to hit on something new."

"If we could only play some joke on him outside of the academy," said the senator's son.

"He is going to Oakdale to-night; I heard him mention it to Mr. Dale."

"Did he say when he would be back?"

"Yes--not later than eleven o'clock."

"Maybe we can have some fun with him on his return," said Dave. "I'll try to think up something."

They watched and saw Job Haskers leave the Hall dressed in his best. He drove off in a cutter belonging to Doctor Clay. But he had hardly reached the gateway of the grounds when he turned around and came back again.

"Forgotten something, I suppose," said Dave, who had been watching.

Job Haskers ran up the steps of the Hall and disappeared.

"Come, Roger, quick!" cried Dave. "We'll unhook the horse!"

The senator's son understood, and in a trice he followed Dave outside. It was rather dark, so they were unobserved. With great rapidity they unhooked the traces and unbuckled the straps around the shafts. Fortunately the horse did not move.

"Wait, we'll fix up the seat for him," said Dave, and lifting the cushion he placed some snow and ice beneath. "That will make things warm for him."

"I'll put a cake of ice in the bottom, too, for his feet," said the senator's son, with a grin, and did so, covering it partly with the lap-robe. Then the lads hurried into the school.

Soon Job Haskers came from the Hall with a small packet in his hand. The boys watched from some side windows and saw him leap into the cutter. He took up the reins.

"Get ap!" he chirped to the horse, and gave a quick jerk on the lines.

The steed did as bidden and began to move out of the shafts of the cutter. At first Job Haskers could not believe the evidence of his eyesight.

"Hi! hold up!" he yelled. "What the mischief! Who did----" And then his remarks came to a sudden end. He tried to hold the horse back, but could not, and in a twinkling he was dragged over the dashboard and landed head first in the snow of the road. Then the horse, no doubt startled at the unusual proceedings, started off on a trot, dragging the teacher after him.

"Whoa, I say! Whoa there!" spluttered Job Haskers. "Whoa!" and he tried to regain his feet, only to plunge down once more, this time on his face. Then he let go the reins and the horse trotted off, coming to a halt near the campus gateway.

If ever there was an angry man that individual was Job Haskers. He had intended to make an evening call on some ladies, and had spent considerable time over his toilet. Now his beautiful expanse of white shirt front was wet and mussed up and he had a goodly quantity of snow down his back.

"Who did this? Who did this?" he cried, dancing around in his rage. "Oh, if I only catch the boy who did this, I will punish him well for it."

He looked around sharply, and at that moment a student chanced to come around the corner of the Hall, on the way to the gymnasium building. Job Haskers leaped towards him and caught him roughly by the shoulder.

"Ha! I have you, you young imp!" he cried. "How dare you do such a thing to me! How dare you!" And he shook the boy as a dog shakes a rat.

"St--top!" spluttered the pupil, in consternation and alarm. "Stop, I say! I--I---- Oh, Mr. Haskers, let up, please! Don't shake me to pieces!"

"Well, I never!" whispered Dave to Phil and Roger.

"Who is it?"

"Nat Poole."

"Oh my! but he's catching it right enough," chuckled the senator's son.

"Will unharness my horse!" went on Job Haskers. "Will throw me on my head in the snow! Oh, you imp!" And he continued to shake poor Nat until the latter's teeth rattled.

"I--I won't stand this!" cried Nat at last, and struck out blindly, landing a blow on the teacher's ear.

"Ha! so you dare to strike me!" spluttered Job Haskers. "I--I----"

"Let go! I haven't done anything!" roared Nat. "Let go, or I'll kick!"

Now, the assistant teacher did not fancy being kicked, so he dropped his hold and Nat Poole speedily retreated to a safe distance.

"You unharnessed my horse----" began Job Haskers.

"I never touched your horse--I don't know anything about your horse," exploded Nat.

"Didn't I catch you?"

"I just came from the library. I left a pair of skates in the gym., and I was going to get them. I've been in the library for half an hour," went on the dude of the school. "It's an outrage the way you've treated me. I am going to report it to Doctor Clay." And he started for the front door of the school.

"Wait! Stop!" called Job Haskers, in sudden alarm. "Do you mean to say you know absolutely nothing about this?"

"No, I don't."

"Somebody came out here while I was in the Hall and unharnessed the horse."

"Well, it wasn't me, and you had no right to pounce on me as you did," grumbled Nat Poole. "I am going to report it to Doctor Clay."

"Stop! I--er--if I made a mistake, Poole, I am sorry for it," said the teacher, in a more subdued tone. "Have you any idea who could have played this trick on me?"

"No, and I don't care," snorted the dudish pupil. "I am going to report to the doctor and see if he will allow an innocent pupil to be handled like a tramp." And off marched Nat Poole, just as angry as Job Haskers.

"Good for Nat," whispered Phil. "I hope he does report old Haskers."

"We must look out that we are not caught," answered Dave. "How funny it did look when Haskers went over the dashboard!" And he laughed merrily.

The boys took themselves to a safe place in the lower hallway. They saw Nat Poole come in and march straight for Doctor Clay's office. The master of the Hall was in, and an animated discussion lasting several minutes took place. Then the doctor came out to interview Job Haskers, who in the meantime had caught the horse and was hooking him up once more.

"Mr. Haskers, what does this mean?" asked the doctor, in rather a cold tone. "Master Poole says you attacked him and shook him without provocation."

"Somebody has been playing a trick on me--I thought it was Poole," was the reply, and the teacher told what had happened. "Just look at that shirt, and my back is full of snow!"

The doctor looked and was inclined to smile. But he kept a straight face.

"Certainly nobody had a right to play such a trick," said he. "But you shouldn't punish Poole for what he didn't do. You are altogether too hasty at times, Mr. Haskers."

"Am I? Well, perhaps; but some of the boys here need a club, and need it badly, too!"

"I do not agree with you. They like a little fun, but that is only natural. Occasionally they go a little too far, but I do not look to a clubbing as a remedy."

"I wish I could find out who played this trick on me."

"Don't you think you owe Poole an apology?"

"An apology?" gasped Job Haskers. Such a thing had never occurred to him.

"Yes. You are certainly in the wrong."

"I'll apologize to nobody," snapped the teacher.

"Well, after this you be more careful as to how you attack my students," said Doctor Clay, severely. "Otherwise, I shall have to ask you to resign your position."

Some sharp words followed, and in the end Job Haskers drove off feeling decidedly humble. He could not afford to throw up his contract with the doctor, and he was afraid that the latter might demand his resignation. But he was very angry, and the discovery of the ice and snow in the cutter, later on, did not tend to make his temper any sweeter.

"I'll find out who did this!" he muttered to himself. "And when I do, I'll fix him, as sure as my name is Job Haskers." But he never did find out; and there the incident came to an end. The boys thought they had had fun enough for one night, and so did not watch for the teacher's return to Oak Hall.

CHAPTER VIII

A MYSTERIOUS LETTER

In the morning mail Gus Plum received a letter postmarked London which he read with much interest. Then he called on Dave.

"I've just received a letter I want you to read," he said. "It is from Nick Jasniff, and he mentions you." And he handed over the communication.

It was a long rambling epistle, upbraiding Plum roundly for "having gone back on him," as Jasniff put it. The writer said he was now "doing Europe" and having a good time generally. One portion of the letter read as follows:

"The authorities needn't look for me, for they will never find me. I struck a soft thing over here and am about seventy pounds to the good. Tell Dave Porter I could tell him something he would like to hear--about his folks--but I am not going to do it. I don't think he'll meet that father of his just yet, or that pretty sister of his either. She'd be all right if she didn't have such a lunkhead of a brother. Tell him that some day I'll square up with him and put him in a bigger hole than he got me into. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't have to stay away as I'm doing--not but what I'm having a good time--better than grinding away at Oak Hall."

As may be imagined, Dave read this letter with even greater interest than had Gus Plum. What was said about his father and sister mystified him.

"Can it be possible that Nick Jasniff has met them?" he said.

"To me the letter reads that way, Dave," answered Plum. "He mentions your sister as being pretty and all right, and how could he do that if he hadn't seen her? Yes, I think they must have met."

"Then perhaps my folks have been in London all this time--and I didn't know it. Gus, I'd like to copy part of that letter and send it to my uncle."

"Very well--and I am going to show the letter to Doctor Clay," answered the former bully of Oak Hall.

Dave copied that portion of the letter which interested him and forwarded it to Dunston Porter, along with a communication in which he asked his uncle about taking a trip to London. He said he was tired of waiting and would like to start on a hunt for his father and sister without further delay. After sending the letter he talked the matter over with Roger.

"You can't imagine how impatient I am to meet my father and sister," he said. "Why, some days I get so I can hardly fasten my mind on my studies, and I go in for fun just to help me forget what is on my mind."

"I can appreciate your feelings, Dave," answered his chum, kindly. "I'd feel the same way if my folks were missing. If you go to London, do you know I'd like first-rate to go with you."

"I'd like very much to have you, Roger. But how could you get away?"

"Oh, I think I could manage that. My mother thinks I am pushing ahead almost too fast in my studies--the doctor said I was growing too fast and studying too much at the same time. I think she'd be willing for me to take the trip,--and what she says, father always agrees to."

"Where are your folks--in Washington?"

"Yes, they stay at a hotel there during the time Congress is in session."

"Well, I will have to see what my uncle says before I make any move," said Dave; and there the talk came to an end.

Gus Plum had written to the men to whom he owed his gambling debt, and they agreed to meet him at the Oakdale depot on Saturday afternoon at four o'clock. They wrote that if he did not pay up at that time in full they would expose him.

"I believe they are bluffing," said Dave, after he heard of this. "They will not expose you so long as they think there is any chance of getting more money from you. I wish you could prove that you had been swindled,--then you wouldn't have to pay them a cent."

"Well, I can't prove that--although I think it," answered the former bully, with a long sigh.

Saturday noon it began to snow, so that the majority of the students remained indoors or spent the time over at the gymnasium. Dave excused himself to his chums and met Gus Plum at a spot agreed upon, and both set off for Oakdale on foot.

"I suppose I might have asked the doctor for a cutter," said Plum. "But I was afraid he might ask embarrassing questions."

"We can walk it easily enough," answered Dave. "The road is well-broken."

"Dave, you are putting yourself out a good deal for me," answered Plum, gratefully. "Somehow, I'd hate to meet those men alone."

"They must be scamps, or they wouldn't try to lead a student like you astray."

On and on the two boys went, past several places which were familiar to them. The snow did not bother them much, and before long they reached the outskirts of the village.

"There are the two men now!" cried Gus Plum, and pointed across the way.

"They are not going to the depot," answered Dave. "They are turning down Main Street. Supposing we follow them, Gus?"

"I'm willing, but I don't see what good it will do."

"Well, it won't do any harm."

The two men were burly individuals who had evidently seen better days. Each was shabbily dressed and each had a nose that was suspiciously red. Plum said that one was named Blodgett and the other Volney.

"I believe they came here from Hartford," the big youth added. "I wish I had their record from that city."

The men turned into a resort that was half tavern and half restaurant. At the doorway they met another burly fellow who had evidently been drinking pretty freely.

"Hello, Blodgett!" cried this man. "Glad to see you again. Hello, Volney!"

"How are you, Crandall," answered Blodgett, while Volney nodded pleasantly. "What brought you to town?"

"Was looking for you two chaps."

"Why?" questioned Volney, quickly.

"Oh, I've got news that will interest you."

"About Sadler?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about it," demanded Blodgett, hoarsely. "What has he found out?"

"A whole lot."

"Does he suspect us?"

"I don't know as to that. He suspects somebody."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" asked Volney, catching Crandall by the arm.

"No, but he is satisfied that he was swindled. He was going to the Hartford police about it."

"Hang the luck!" muttered Blodgett. "Tell us the particulars."

"Come inside and I will--it's too cold out here," was the answer; and then the three men entered the tavern.

Dave and Gus Plum had not heard all of the talk, but they had heard enough, and each looked at the other inquiringly.

"I believe they are thorough rascals," said Dave. "I wish we could hear the rest of what that Crandall has to say."

"Come with me--I've been in this building before," answered the former bully of Oak Hall.

He led the way to an alley halfway down the block. This ran to the rear of the tavern, where there was a door communicating with a hallway and a back stairs. Under the stairs was a closet filled with discarded cooking utensils. The closet had two doors, one opening into a drinking-room behind the main bar-room of the tavern.

Looking through a crack of the door, they saw that the three men had seated themselves, the proprietor of the resort spending his time with some men in front.

"Now give us the straight of the story," Blodgett was saying.

Thereupon Crandall launched into a tale that took him the best part of ten minutes to relate. From his talk it was clear that a man named Dodsworth Sadler, of Hartford, had met the three men at Albany and gambled with them on three different occasions. Sadler had lost several hundred dollars one night and nearly a thousand the next, and then Blodgett and Volney had come away. Now Sadler had discovered that marked cards were in use at the place he had visited, and he was satisfied that he had been swindled, if not in all the games at least in some of them.

"Well, we did him up, that's certain," said Blodgett, with a coarse laugh. "But I don't want him to learn the truth if it can be helped."

"No, we want to keep him in the dark--hold him down like that boarding-school chap here," chuckled Volney.

"Never mind about that," said Blodgett, sharply.

"Got somebody else on the string here, eh?" observed Crandall. "You always were the boys to keep things moving."

"Oh, this is only a small affair--mere pocket money," answered Blodgett.

At this point the conversation changed, and it came out that Crandall was out of money and wanted a loan of fifty dollars.

"We can't give it to you now," said Volney. "But wait till to-night and I'll let you have ten dollars."

"And I'll let you have the same," said Blodgett. "We've got to collect a trifle first."

"All right. Twenty is little enough, but it will tide me over until I hit my streak again," answered Crandall. And after a little more talk the men arose and prepared to separate.

"We've heard enough," whispered Dave to Gus Plum. "Come on," and he led the way out of the building and down the alley.

"What do you think?" demanded the former bully, when they were on the street again.

"Just as I suspected, Blodgett and Volney are nothing but sharpers. They undoubtedly swindled you. I shouldn't pay them a cent."

"But they may expose me to the doctor, Dave."

"I don't think they will--not after you talk to them."

"I hardly know what to say."

"Then suppose you let me do the talking, Gus?"

"You?"

"Yes, I fancy I know how to handle them," answered Dave, confidently.

"Well, I don't want to get into any hole," said the big boy, doubtfully.

"You won't get into any hole. When I get through with them, I'm sure they will be only too glad to leave you alone."

The two boys talked the matter over, and at last Gus Plum agreed to let Dave conduct the affair as he thought best. Then both walked to the Oakdale depot, there to await the arrival of the two swindlers.

CHAPTER IX

DAVE TALKS TO THE POINT

It was not long before Blodgett and Volney put in an appearance. They had had several glasses of liquor at the tavern, and walked along as if very well satisfied with themselves.

"So you are here," said Blodgett, striding up to Gus Plum and holding out his hand. "Shake, my boy!"

"I don't care to shake hands with you," replied the former bully of Oak Hall.

"Oh, so that's your lay, is it?" sneered the man. "Very well--but I thought you were a better loser."

"Let us have this meeting over as soon as possible," put in Volney. "Have you got the money?"

Instead of replying, Plum looked at Dave, and then for the first time the two sharpers noticed that the lad they had come to meet was not alone.

"Who's your friend? Thought you'd come alone," said Blodgett, somewhat roughly.

"I believe your name is Blodgett," remarked Dave, drawing himself up and looking as businesslike as possible.

"That's my name, yes. What of it?"

"And your name, I believe, is Volney," went on Dave, turning to the second rascal.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Never mind that just now. Both of you come from Hartford; isn't that so?"

"What if we do?" asked Blodgett.

"Some time ago you got this young man to gamble with you, and he lost considerable money. Now you want him to pay up."

"Hadn't he ought to pay up?" asked Volney. He was growing uneasy.

"He isn't going to pay you a cent."

"What's that?" came quickly from Blodgett.

"I say he isn't going to pay you a cent, Mr. Blodgett. Is that plain enough for you to understand?" answered Dave, sharply.

"Who are you, I'd like to know, to interfere with our dealings!" cried Jack Blodgett.

"Perhaps I'll tell you who I am later on. I found out about this just in time, it seems. You came from Hartford, but you have been in Albany lately. While you were in Albany you swindled a man named Dodsworth Sadler out of a large sum of money--at least twelve or fifteen hundred dollars."

"Say, look here----" began Blodgett, and his tone became nervous.

"You used marked cards, just as you did when you played with this young man. I think when you find yourselves in the hands of the police---- Hi! stop, don't be going in such a hurry!"

For, turning swiftly, Blodgett had rushed from the depot. Volney followed him.

"They are running away!" cried Gus Plum. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.

"Let us give them a good scare while we are at it," answered Dave, and he ran outside and after the swindlers, who cut across the tracks and made for the freight-house. Here a freight-train was just starting out, and the men hopped aboard and were soon out of sight.

"There, I guess you have seen the last of them, Gus," said Dave, when he and the big youth had given up the chase.

"Do you really think so?"

"I feel sure of it."

"Maybe they took you for some officer of the law."

"I don't know as to that, but they were thoroughly scared. I don't believe they will ever show their faces near Oakdale again."

"But they may write to Doctor Clay."

"I shouldn't worry about that, Gus. They will make themselves as scarce as possible, for they will now know that Dodsworth Sadler is on the lookout for them."

"Don't you think we ought to let Dodsworth Sadler know about this? I might write him an anonymous letter."

"You won't have to, Gus. I'll write him a letter, telling of what I heard. That won't bring you into it at all, and as I had nothing to do with Blodgett and Volney, those fellows can't hurt me."

"Oh, Dave, what a head you've got for things!" cried the former bully, admiringly. "I suppose you'll say you simply overheard the talk while you were in Oakdale."

"Yes, and I'll add that when the swindlers found out I knew the truth, they jumped on a freight-train and ran away."

When the two boys returned to Oak Hall, Gus Plum felt in better spirits than he had for a long time. He returned the money to Dave and thanked him over and over for all he had done. Dave penned the letter to Dodsworth Sadler without delay, and it was posted early Monday morning.

"I hope I get a letter from my uncle to-day," said Dave to Roger. But no communication came, for Dunston Porter had gone to Boston on business, and did not return to Crumville for several days.

The weather was now clear and bright and the wind had swept a good portion of the river clear of snow. As a consequence many of the boys went out skating, while a few brought out the ice-boats they had constructed.

Among the latter affairs was the _Snowbird_, built by two students named Messmer and Henshaw. It was not a handsome craft, but it could make good speed, and that was what the boys wanted.

"Come on for a sail, Dave!" called Henshaw, after school-hours on Tuesday. "It's just grand on the river."

"I was going skating with Roger and Phil," was the reply. "Otherwise I'd like to go first-rate."

"Tell them to come too," said Messmer, a lad who always liked to have company on his rides.

The matter was quickly arranged, and Shadow Hamilton was also included in the party. The ice-boat was rather crowded, but that only added to the sport.

"Hold tight, everybody!" cried Henshaw, as he raised the sail. There was a good, stiff breeze, and in a minute the _Snowbird_ was bowling along in grand style, the students shrieking their delight as they passed their numerous friends on skates.

"Come along and race!" cried Roger, to Sam Day.

"Give me a tow and I will," was the merry reply.

"Be sure to return when you get back!" called out Ben Basswood, and this remark caused a general laugh.

"Do you remember the ice-boat race we had with the Rockville cadets?" said Messmer.

"Yes, and the accident," replied Dave. "We don't want to run into anything again."

"I say, fellows, let us visit that cabin on the island!" cried Roger. "Maybe we'll find out something more about Pud Frodel and that other fellow."

The senator's son referred to a cabin located on a lonely island some distance from Oak Hall. Here it was that the lads had discovered the two robbers with whom Nick Jasniff had been associated, and had given to the authorities the information which had led to the rascals' capture.

"I'm willing to go," said Henshaw. "Only we can't stay on the island too long, for we'll have to get back before it gets too dark."

As the ice-boat swept along they passed quite a number of boys on skates. Presently they came to a crowd of six, all attired in neat semi-military uniforms.

"Hello, Oak Hall!" was the cry.

"Hello, Rockville!"

"Where are you going with that tub?"

"Looking for another Rockville boat to beat!" sang out Henshaw. How he had once won an ice-boat race against the military academy lads is already known to my old readers.

"Go along, we're going to build a boat that will leave you away behind," retorted one of the Rockville cadets.

"Brag is a good hoss, but Get-there takes the oats!" cried Dave, and then the _Snowbird_ swept out of hearing of the military academy lads.

"They didn't like it at all, that we beat them," was Roger's comment. "Wonder if they will try to build a swifter boat?"

"Let them come on," answered Dave. "We can build another boat, too, if it's necessary."

"Say, their blowing puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow Hamilton. "Two little boys----"

"Oh, Shadow, another?" groaned Messmer, reproachfully.

"Let him tell it, it will help to pass the time," remarked Henshaw. "I know it's all about two poor lads who were caught in a snowstorm and had to shovel their way out with nothing but toothpicks."

"No, it's about two boys who sold suspension bridges for a living," cried Dave, merrily. "They sold as high as eighteen a day, and----"

"Say, if you want to hear this story, say so," demanded Shadow. "These little boys got to bragging what each could do. Says one, 'I kin climb our apple tree clear to the top.' Says the other, 'Huh! I can climb to the roof of our house.' 'Hum,' says the first boy, 'I can climb to the roof of our house, an' it's higher'n yours.' 'No, 'taint.' 'It is so--it's got a cupola on top.' 'I don't care,' cried the other boy. 'Our's is higher. It's got a mortgage on it--I heard dad say so!'" And a smile went the rounds.

Not having any other name, the boys had christened the place for which they were bound, Robber Island. It was a lonely spot, rocky in some places and covered with woods and underbrush in others. The shore was fringed with bushes, through which the driven snow had sifted to a depth of two feet and more.

"Here we are!" cried Dave, as they came in sight of one end of the island. "Lower the sail, or we'll be sliding into the trees and rocks."

They made a safe landing, and then prepared to walk to the cabin, which was some distance away. Henshaw looked doubtfully at the ice-boat.

"Think she'll be all right?" he asked, of Messmer.

"I think so."

"Oh, sure she'll be all right, with the sail down," added Roger.

"Wonder if there are any wild animals on this island?" questioned Shadow.

"Might be an elephant or two," answered Dave, "or half a dozen royal Bengal tigers."

"Quit your fooling, Dave. I reckon you wouldn't want to meet a bear or a wildcat any more than myself."

"No bears around here," said the senator's son. "Might be a wildcat though, or a fox. I'm going to get a good stick."

Each student provided himself with a stout stick, and then the whole crowd moved forward in the direction of the cabin in the center of the island, never dreaming of the astonishing adventure in store for them.

CHAPTER X

AN ADVENTURE ON ROBBER ISLAND

The way to the lonely cabin was not an easy one. There was no path, and they had to scramble over rough rocks and across fallen trees and through thick masses of brushwood. They forgot about the gully, and only remembered it when they found themselves floundering in snow up to their waists.

"For gracious' sake!" cried the senator's son, as he crawled out the best way he could. "I fancied the bottom had dropped out of everything!"

"I remember this hollow now," answered Dave. "We haven't got much further to go."

It was a clear December day and quite light under the leafless trees. There were a few evergreens scattered about, but not many, and these hung low with their weight of snow. All was intensely silent.

"This ought to be lonely enough to suit anybody," observed Henshaw. He turned to Roger. "How would you like to come out here some dark night all alone?"

"None of that for me," was the quick answer.

"Might meet a ghost," said Dave, with a smile.

"Talking of ghosts puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "A boy once had to go through a dark woods all alone----"

"Shadow wants to get us scared," interrupted Dave. "Oh, Shadow, I didn't think it of you! It's bad enough as it is," he went on, in seeming reproach. "Don't you know this island is haunted by the man who committed suicide here?"

"A suicide, Dave?" cried the school story-teller, forgetting all about the tale he had been on the point of relating.

"Sure. That man tried to kill his wife and seven children, and then hung himself from a tree not far from here. They say that twice a month his ghost appears."

"It's about time for the ghost now," added Roger, scenting fun. "Listen! Didn't I hear a groan!"

"Must have been that," went on Dave. "There it is again!"

"I--I didn't hear anything," faltered Shadow. He was not an excessively brave lad at the best.

"It's getting pretty dark," continued Dave. "That is when the ghost shows itself, so I've been informed. If we---- Look! look!" he yelled, pointing over Shadow's left shoulder.

The story-teller gave a leap forward and glanced around hastily. Dave was pointing to a clump of bushes.

"Wha--what did you see?" asked Shadow, in a shaking voice.

"I don't know. It was tall and white----"

"The ghost! The ghost!" yelled Roger. "It's coming for us!" And he began to run back.

Shadow gave a scream of terror and started to run also. As if by accident, Dave allowed his foot to trip the boy up, and down went the story-teller of the Hall on his face in the snow.

"Hi! hi! Don't leave me behind!" he bawled, as the others all ran. "Don't leave me!" and he scrambled up and tore along through the brushwood as if possessed. The others speedily halted and set up a shout of laughter, at which Shadow looked very sheepish.

"I--I only ran for the fun of the thing," he explained, lamely. "I knew all along there wasn't a ghost."

"Shadow shall lead the way," said Dave. "Go ahead, old fellow."

"I--er--I don't know the path," was the quick excuse. "You go on." And Shadow dropped behind once more and stuck there during the remainder of the trip.

The cabin was built of rough logs. It had been put up by some hunters years before, but the sportsmen, owing to the scarcity of game, did not come to the place any more. It was in a dilapidated condition, and the snow had driven in through the broken-out window and open doorway.

"Not a very cheerful place," observed Dave, as he led the way inside. "Let us light a torch, so we can see things."

They procured several pine sticks and soon had them lit, and holding these aloft surveyed the scene. All was very much as it had been during their former visit.

"Nothing new, so far as I can see," was Roger's comment.

"Here are some footprints in the snow," came from Messmer. "We didn't make those."

"Those are the footprints of some animal!" cried Dave. "Maybe there's a bear here after all." He smiled as he made the remark.

"Looks to me more like the tracks of a horse," answered Henshaw. "Maybe somebody came over here from the shore on horseback."

"You want to be careful--it may be a wild beast after all," observed Shadow, nervously.

At that moment came a queer sound from outside of the cabin, which caused all of the lads to start. Messmer, who had the best of the torches, dropped it, leaving them almost in darkness.

"Why, I declare----" began Dave, when a form darkened the doorway and the next instant a big, bony mule entered the old cabin and stood among them. Some of the boys were frightened and started to retreat.

"It's only a mule!" cried Dave. "I don't think he'll hurt anybody. But how in the world did he get here?"

"His halter is broken," declared Roger. "He must have run away from somewhere."

"I know that mule," declared Shadow. "He belongs to Mike Marcy."

The man he mentioned was a farmer, living in the Oakdale district. Marcy was a close-fisted fellow who never wanted the schoolboys to have any of his fruit, and Dave, through no fault of his own, had once had considerable trouble with the fellow.

"I think Shadow is right," said Dave. "I saw that mule around Marcy's place. If he ran away we ought to take him back to where he belongs."

"Perhaps you'd have some fun trying to ride him," suggested Henshaw.

"Oh, pshaw! anybody could ride that mule," declared Roger. "Why, riding a mule is as easy as riding a horse. All mules don't love to kick."

"Roger shall have the honor of riding him home," said Messmer. "Think of what a reward Mike Marcy will give you," he added, with a grin.

"Catch Marcy giving a reward," said Dave, laughing. "Why, he wouldn't fork over so much as a sour apple."

"He'd want to charge Roger for the ride."

"We can take the mule to the Hall and let Marcy come and get him," suggested Messmer.

In a spirit of mischief Shadow had taken his stick and rubbed it over the mule's hind legs. There was a sudden snort and up came the beast's feet. Bang! crack! bang! they sounded on the wall of the dilapidated cabin, and Shadow leaped for his life.

"Look out, he's in action!"

"Clear the deck for his muleship!"

"He'll have the cabin down next!" called out Dave. "Take care!"

The mule continued to kick, and, standing at his head, Dave and Roger tried in vain to quiet him. Then of a sudden came a crack of another kind and the wall of the rotted cabin fell outward and the roof began to sag.

"Out of this, all hands!" yelled Dave, and let go the mule. Roger did the same, and both ran out through the open doorway. Shadow was already outside, and Messmer and Henshaw started to follow. Then the mule turned, knocking Messmer down, and made a dash for liberty.

The cabin swayed and groaned and began to settle rapidly. Henshaw leaped out in the nick of time, one heavy log scraping his shoulder. Messmer was half dazed by the sudden turn of affairs, and before he could arise some of the roof beams began to settle across his back.

"Help! help!" he wailed. "The roof is coming down on me!"

His cry of assistance struck terror to the hearts of some of his friends, and for the moment they did not know what to do. Dave was the only one of the party who remained cool, and he rushed in and caught hold of one of the falling timbers.

"Prop them up!" he called. "Put your sticks under them--anything! If we don't, Messmer may be crushed to death!"

Roger came forward first and the others quickly followed, the mule being, for the time, forgotten. They took their heavy sticks and set them up under the falling timbers, and Henshaw rolled in a stone that chanced to be handy. These things kept the roof from coming down further, but poor Messmer was held as if in a vise and could not be extricated.

"We've got to pry the logs up a little," said Dave. "Here is a log to work with," and he pointed to one which had fallen out of the side wall.

Only one torch remained lighted, and this had to be swung into a livelier blaze, so that they could see. Then they had to start operations with care, for fear they might do more harm than good.

"If th--the logs co--come down on me they will ki--kill me!" gasped the unfortunate lad under the ruins.

"We'll not let them come down," answered Dave. "Keep perfectly still till I tell you to move."

Messmer did as directed, and Dave and the others inserted the loose log under one end of the ruins. A flat stone was used for the fulcrum, and they bore down slowly but steadily until the larger portion of the ruins was raised several inches.

"It's coming!" cried Dave. "Don't go too fast. Can you loosen yourself now, Messmer?"

"A little. Go a bit higher," was the reply.

They went up two inches more, but now the log began to crack, for the strain upon it was tremendous. Messmer heard the ominous sound, and, with a twist, loosened himself and began to crawl forth. Dave caught him by the arms.

"Out you come," he said, and gave a strong pull. And out Messmer did come, and a moment later the lever snapped in two and the ruins settled back into their former position.

"I--I think I've had a narrow escape," faltered the lucky youth, when he could speak. "Much obliged to you, Dave, for hauling me out."

"Talk about a mule kicking!" declared Henshaw. "He brought this cabin down quick enough."

"The old place was about ready to fall down," answered the senator's son. "I think I could have shoved it down myself, had I tried. But I wonder what made the mule start kicking so suddenly. He acted as if a hornet had stung him."

"I guess I was to blame," replied Shadow, sheepishly. "I rubbed him in the rear with my stick. He didn't appreciate the handling."

"By the way, where is his muleship?" cried Dave, looking around in the semi-darkness.

"Guess he's taken time by the forelock and run away," answered the senator's son.

They looked around, but could see nothing of the animal. Some marks were in the snow, losing themselves on the rocks, and that was all.

"It's time to get back to the Hall," observed Henshaw. "I am not going to lose time looking for a mule. Come on."

"We can send Mike Marcy word that his mule is on the island," suggested Dave. "That wouldn't be any more than fair. If left here alone the animal may starve to death."

"Mules don't starve so easily," answered Shadow. "I am not going to look for him any more," he added.

They were soon on their way back to the shore where they had left the _Snowbird_. The short winter day was drawing to a close, and it was getting colder. They walked briskly, for they feared the wind would be against them on the return to Oak Hall, and they did not wish to be late for supper, for that, at the very least, would mean a lecture from Job Haskers.

Henshaw was in the lead, and presently he came out on the shore, looked around in dazed fashion, and uttered a cry of dismay. And not without good reason.

The ice-boat had disappeared.

CHAPTER XI

A HUNT FOR AN ICE-BOAT

"It's gone!"

"Where in the world could it have gone to?"

"It was too far on the shore to be blown away."

"Can anybody have stolen the craft?"

Such were some of the words uttered as the students stood on the shore of the lonely island, gazing first in one direction and then in another. Darkness had now settled down, and they could see but little at a distance.

"I really believe somebody took the ice-boat," remarked Dave. "As the sail was down I don't see how she could budge of herself."

"Exactly my way of thinking," answered Roger. "And I've got an idea who took the craft, too."

"Those Rockville cadets?" queried Henshaw.

"Yes."

"They wouldn't be above such a piece of mischief," said Messmer. "They feel mighty sore over the way we outsailed them that time we raced."

"They'll be likely to sail the boat to our dock and leave her there," said Shadow. "Puts me in mind of a story I once heard about----"

"I don't want to listen to any stories just now," grumbled Henshaw. "I want to find that ice-boat. If we can't find her we'll have to walk home."

"What a pity we didn't bring our skates!" cried Dave. "The wind is very light, and if we had them we might catch up with whoever took the craft. I am by no means certain the Rockville cadets are guilty. When we met them they were going home, and they didn't know we were coming here."

"Nobody knew that," said Messmer.

"Who was the last person we met on the river before landing?" questioned the senator's son.

All of the boys thought for a minute.

"I saw Link Merwell," said Shadow.

"Yes, and Nat Poole was with him," answered Henshaw. "Merwell has become quite a crony of Nat Poole's since Gus Plum dropped out."

Link Merwell was a new student, who had come to Oak Hall from another boarding school some miles away. He was a tall, slim fellow with a tremendously good opinion of himself, and showed a disposition to "lord it over everybody," as Sam Day had expressed it. He was something of a dude, and it was their mutual regard for dress that caused him and Nat Poole to become intimate.

"Then I believe Poole and Merwell are the guilty parties," declared Dave. "They must have seen us land, and Poole, I know, is itching to pay us back for the way we have cut him."

"All of which doesn't bring back the ice-boat," observed Messmer. "The question is, What are we to do?"

"Hoof it back to Oak Hall--there is nothing else," answered the senator's son, sadly.

Hardly had Roger spoken when Dave heard a peculiar sound on the rocks behind the crowd. He looked back and saw Mike Marcy's mule, nibbling at some bushes.

"The mule--I'm going to catch him!" he ejaculated, and made a leap for the animal. Just as the mule turned he caught hold of the halter.

"Whoa there! Whoa, you rascal!" he cried, and then, watching his chance, he flung himself across the mule's back. The animal pranced around in a lively fashion.

"Look out, Dave, he'll throw you!"

"He'll kick you to death if he gets a chance!"

"Remember, he's a vicious beast!"

The mule continued to dance about and kicked high in the air, throwing Dave well forward. But the boy who had been brought up on a farm clung on, grasping the mule's ears to steady himself. Then of a sudden the mule turned and dashed away through the bushes.

"He's running away with Dave!"

"Look out for the tree branches!"

Dave paid no attention to the cries. He had all he could do to keep from falling under the animal. Away went boy and mule, over the rough rocks in a fashion which nearly jounced the breath from the rider's body. Then, just as they came close to some low-hanging trees where Dave felt certain he would be hurt, the mule turned again, leaped for the shore, and sped out on the ice of the river.

"So that's your game!" cried Dave, between his set teeth. "All right; if you want to run you can carry me all the way to Oak Hall!"

Away went the mule, as if accustomed to run over the ice all his life. He was a sure-footed creature and took only one or two slides, which amounted to nothing. The boys on the shore saw Dave and mule disappear in the darkness and set up a cry of wonder.

"Hi! come back here, Dave!" sang out Roger.

"If you are going to ride to the Hall take us with you!" yelled Shadow.

"He won't stop till he's tired out," said Henshaw. "And goodness only knows where he'll carry Dave."

"Trust Dave to take care of himself," answered the senator's son. "I never saw him get into a hole but that he managed to get out again."

"I hope the mule doesn't land him in some crack in the ice," said Messmer.

On and on through the gathering darkness sped the mule, with Dave clinging to his back with a deathlike grip. The animal was young and full of go and seemed thoroughly to enjoy the run.

"Talk about mules being slow," panted the boy. "The chap who thinks that ought to be on this steed. Why, he'd win on a race-track sure!"

A half-mile was quickly covered, and then the mule neared the bank of the river, where the latter made a long curve. Here there was a fair-sized creek, and up this the animal dashed, in spite of Dave's efforts to stop him or get him to keep to the river proper.

"Whoa, you rascal!" sang out the youth for at least the fiftieth time, and then he caught sight of a white sail just ahead of him. The next moment the mule bumped into the edge of the sail, shied to one side, and sent Dave sprawling on the ice. Then the animal steadied himself and made tracks for the road which led to Mike Marcy's farm. Evidently he was tired of roaming around and of being ridden, and was now going home.

Somewhat dazed, Dave picked himself up and gazed at the ice-boat. It was the _Snowbird_, and on it were Nat Poole and Link Merwell.

"Hullo, if it isn't Dave Porter!" muttered Poole, in amazement.

"Where did he get that mule?" questioned Merwell.

"I'm sure I don't know. But this makes a mess of things. I didn't want that crowd to know we had taken the ice-boat," went on the dudish youth.

Dave picked up the cap which had fallen on the ice and ran up to the ice-boat. Those on board had run into the creek by mistake and were trying to turn the _Snowbird_ around.

"What are you doing with that craft?" asked Dave.

"That's our business," retorted Nat Poole.

"I think it is my business. That boat belongs to Messmer and Henshaw."

"We found it, and we are going to have a sail back to Oak Hall," said Link Merwell.

"I don't think so," answered Dave, decidedly.

"What's that?" cried Merwell, sharply. He was a fellow used to having his own way.

"I want that boat. I was with Messmer and Henshaw, and we left the craft on the shore of an island. It's my opinion you two chaps ran off with her."

"See here, do you take me for a thief?" cried Link Merwell. And in his aggressive fashion he swaggered up to Dave.

"Not that, Merwell, but I think you took the ice-boat. I am going to take her back, so I can get our crowd aboard."

"And what do you expect me to do?" asked Nat Poole.

"You can skate back to the Hall."

"I lost one of my skates."

"Then let Merwell tow you on one foot."

"Oh, you needn't boss us around, Porter," growled Link Merwell. "I'm not used to it, and I won't stand for it. Poole and I are going to the Hall on the ice-boat, and that is all there is about it."

He drew himself up to his full height--he was four inches taller than Dave--and glared down defiantly. This gave Nat Poole a little courage, and he ranged beside Merwell, and both doubled up their fists.

They fancied they could make Dave back down, but they were mistaken. The lad who had been brought up on a farm faced them fearlessly.

"There is no use of fighting about it," he said, as calmly as he could. "You have no right to this ice-boat, and you know it. If you don't give it up perhaps I'll report you."

"Oh, you're a squealer, are you?" sneered Link Merwell. "It's about what I would expect from a boy brought up in a poorhouse."

At this uncalled-for and cutting remark Dave's face flamed. He took one step forward and caught the tall youth by the arm, in a grip that seemed to be of steel and made Merwell wince.

"Are you going to bring that up?" he asked, in a low voice. "I should have thought your friend Poole would have cautioned you that it wasn't healthy to do so."

"Let go of my arm, Porter," and Merwell tried to pull himself free, but in vain. Dave's eyes were blazing like two stars and seemed to look the tall youth through and through.

"I am not letting go just yet, Merwell. I want you to answer my question."

"If you don't let go I'll knock you down!" cried Link Merwell, in a rage.

"If you do, you'll get well punished for it. I allow nobody to talk to me as you have done."

"Want to fight?"

"No; but I can defend myself--I guess Nat Poole knows that."

"Don't soil your hands on him, Link," said Poole. Even though they were two to one, he knew Dave's power and was afraid of him.

"He can't come it over me," answered Merwell. "Let go!" and then he hauled off and tried to hit Dave in the face.

The boy from the country was on guard, and ducked with a quickness that surprised his antagonist. Then he gave Merwell's arm a twist that sent the tall youth sprawling on the ice.

The new pupil was amazed, and it took him several seconds to recover himself. He had not dreamed that Dave was so powerful, yet he threw prudence to the winds and rushed in, trying again to reach Dave's face with his fist. But Dave skipped to one side, put out his foot, and again Merwell went down, on his hands and knees.

"I'll fix you!" he roared, scrambling up, his face red with rage. "I'll show you what I can do! How do you like that, you poorhouse rat!"

This time he hit Dave in the breast. The blow was a heavy one, but it did not hurt nearly as much as did the words which accompanied it. They made Dave shiver as if with ague, and, all in a blaze he could not curb, he sprang towards Link Merwell. Out shot first one fist and then the other, the blows landing on the eye and chin of the tall youth. They made him stagger back against the ice-boat. Then came a third blow, and Merwell gave a gasp, swayed from side to side, and would have fallen had not Nat Poole caught him as he was going down.

"Stop, Porter; don't hit him again!"

"Merwell, do you take back what you just said?" demanded Dave, paying no attention to Nat Poole's remark.

There was an instant of silence. Link Merwell wanted to answer, but was too dazed to do so. Slowly and painfully he stood erect. His head was in a whirl and one eye was rather rapidly closing.

"Merwell, are you going to take back what you said?" demanded Dave, again. And he held his fist ready to strike another blow.

"Ye--yes," stuttered Link Merwell. "Do--don't hit me again!" And then he collapsed in a heap at Dave's feet.

CHAPTER XII

THE MEETING OF THE GEE EYES

When Link Merwell went down again Dave looked at Nat Poole, thinking that lad might possibly attack him. But the dudish fellow was too scared to do anything but back away to a safe distance.

"Don--don't you dare to hit me, Porter!" he cried, in a trembling voice. "Don't you dare! If you do I'll tell Doctor Clay!"

"If you behave yourself I'll not lay my fingers on you, Nat Poole," was the reply. "Merwell brought this on himself--you know that as well as I do."

"He's pretty badly hurt, I fear."

"Oh, he'll come around all right," answered Dave. "You had better see to it that he gets to the Hall safely."

"Are you going to leave me?"

"Yes, I want to find Henshaw and the others."

Nat Poole wanted to argue, but he did not dare. Dave waited until Link Merwell sat up and opened his eyes. Then he leaped on the ice-boat and flung off the three skates he found there.

"Going away?" mumbled Merwell, when he could speak.

"Yes, and after this, Link Merwell, see that you keep a civil tongue in your head," answered Dave, and then he trimmed the sail of the ice-boat, shoved the craft around, and started for the river.

Dave was a good deal "worked up," but he had not deemed it wise to let his enemies see it. To be called a "poorhouse rat" had stung him to the quick, and once again when touched on that subject he had found his temper as ungovernable as ever.

"It's no use, I can't stand it," he told himself. "If they want me to let them alone they have got to cut that out."

It was now so dark that but little could be seen on the broad river. Dave turned the craft towards Robber Island and made a long tack. He was just coming around on the other tack when there came a shout out of the darkness.

"Don't run us down! Why, it's Dave!"

"Right you are," was the reply. Then he saw Roger and the others, who had started to walk to Oak Hall. They were soon beside the _Snowbird_, and the craft was headed for the school.

"So Poole and Merwell had her," observed Messmer, on the way. "Did you have any trouble making them give her up?"

"Just a little," answered Dave, modestly.

"Tell us about it, Dave!" cried the senator's son. "Somebody told me Merwell was of the scrappy kind."

"I really don't like to talk about it," said Dave, his face clouding. "I had some words with Merwell and I knocked him down. Then he and Poole were willing enough to let me take the ice-boat."

"You knocked Merwell down!" exclaimed Henshaw. "He's a big fellow."

"Dave isn't afraid of anybody," said Roger, in a tone of pride.

In the end Dave was compelled to tell his story, to which the others listened with deep interest. They understood the boy from the country perfectly, and said the treatment received had served Link Merwell right.

When they reached Oak Hall they were nearly an hour late. They expected Job Haskers would lecture them and give them extra lessons to do, but fortunately they found Andrew Dale, the head teacher, in charge. He listened to their explanations with a smile.

"After this you mustn't go so far, or else start earlier," said the instructor, and let them go in to supper.

"Gracious! what a difference between Mr. Dale and old Haskers," was Dave's comment.

"I wish all the teachers were like Mr. Dale--and Doctor Clay," returned Roger.

The party were just finishing their evening meal when Nat Poole and Link Merwell slunk in. The tall youth had one eye nearly closed by the blow Dave had delivered. He glared savagely at Dave, but said nothing.

"He'll chew you up--if he gets the chance," whispered Roger to Dave.

"Then I won't give him the chance," answered the other, with a quiet smile.

The story soon circulated among the students that Merwell and Dave had had a fight and the tall boy had gotten the worse of it. To this Dave said nothing, but Merwell explained to his friends that Porter had hit him foul, taking him completely off his guard.

"The next time we meet you'll see him go down and out," added the tall boy. "He won't be in it a minute after I once get at him."

Word was sent to Mike Marcy about his mule, and the farmer sent an answer back that the mule was now at home again, safe and sound. The mean fellow did not add one word of thanks for the information given to him.

"That's like Marcy," said Dave. "If he thanked me for anything I think I'd drop dead."

"Some men hardly know how to be civil," answered Phil.

During the next few days word also came from Dodsworth Sadler that he was on the trail of Blodgett and Volney and hoped to catch them before many days. He added that he had evidence to convict the swindlers if he could only lay his hands on them.

"That lets you and me out," said Dave to Gus Plum. "I don't think you'll ever hear another word from the two rascals."

"If it hadn't been for you I should have paid them that money," said the former bully, gratefully. "And they would have kept me in their power if they could."

Dave was anxiously awaiting a letter from his uncle, and when it came he could scarcely take time to tear open the communication, so eager was he to know its contents. The letter was very brief and simply asked the boy to come home on the following Saturday, and added that if he really wanted to go to London he could do so. Dave was to show the letter to Doctor Clay, in order to get the necessary permission to leave the Hall.

"I shall be sorry to have you go, Master Porter," said the principal of the academy. "But I can understand how you feel about your father and sister, and it will perhaps be better for you to go in search of them than to sit down here and be on pins and needles over it;" and Doctor Clay smiled kindly.

"Then you are really going to London!" cried Phil, when he heard the news. "Wish I was going, too!"

"So do I, Phil," answered Dave. "We'd have as good a time as we did on your father's ship in the South Seas."

"I am going to write to my folks about this at once," said Roger. His heart was set on going to England with his chum.

As soon as Dave's friends heard that he was going away once more, several began to plan a celebration for him.

"Let us hold a special meeting of the Gee Eyes, for Dave's benefit," said Sam Day; and so it was voted.

The Gee Eyes, as my old readers know, was a secret organization that had existed at Oak Hall for a long time. The words stood for the two letters G and I, which in turn stood for the name of the club, Guess It. The club was organized largely for fun, and this fun consisted mainly in the initiation of new members.

At one time Gus Plum had been at the head of a rival organization called the Dare Do Anything Club, but this had been broken up by Doctor Clay because of the unduly severe initiation of a small boy, named Frank Bond, who had almost lost his reason thereby. Now Gus had applied for membership in the Gee Eyes and had said that he would stand for any initiation they offered.

"I have half a mind to take Plum up," said Phil Lawrence, who was the Honorable Muck-a-Muck, otherwise president, of the club. "He deserves to be put through a strong course of sprouts for what he did to Frank Bond."

"All right, I am willing for one," said Buster Beggs, who was the secretary, under the high-sounding title of Lord of the Penwiper. "But we will have to ask the others first."

A canvass was made and it was decided to initiate Gus Plum on Friday night, after which the club was to celebrate the departure of Dave in as fitting a style as the exchequer of the organization permitted. Plum was duly notified, and said he would be on hand as required. "And you can do anything short of killing me," he added, with a grin.

"It will make Plum feel better if he suffers," said Dave. "He hasn't got Frank Bond off his mind yet." Which statement was true. Plum and Bond had made up, and the former bully now did all in his power to aid the small, timid fellow in his studies and otherwise.

The club met in an old boathouse down the river. It was a bright moonlight night and about twenty members were present, all attired in their red robes and black hoods with yellow tassels. As before, some of the members had wooden swords and others stuffed clubs. Around the boathouse were hung a number of pumpkin lanterns, cut out in imitation of skulls.

For the initiation of Gus Plum one of the club members had composed a new chant, which was sung slowly and impressively as the former bully of Oak Hall was led in by Buster Beggs and Sam Day.

"Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dall! Here's the victim, see him fall! Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dees! Down upon his bended knees! Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly deet! Bind his hands and bind his feet! Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dive! Let us cut him up alive!

"Punch him, crunch him, smash him up! Let him drink the poison cup! Let him groan and let him rave As we put him in his grave!"

As this strange doggerel was sung the masked students danced fantastically around Gus Plum, slapping him with their swords and clubs. Then of a sudden he was tripped up, bound hands and feet, and marched out of the boathouse. Here a bag was tied over his head, so that he could not see a thing, although the bag had holes in the rear, so that he would not be suffocated.

"To the river with him!" came the loud command. "An icy bath will do him a world of good."

Now if there was one thing Gus Plum hated, it was ice-cold water for bathing purposes, and the suggestion of such a bath, in the open air, with the thermometer below the freezing point, caused him to shiver.

"Now, see here----" he began, and then shut his lips tightly. Come what might he resolved to utter no complaint.

"What sayest thou?" demanded a voice by his side.

"Wouldst thou beg off?" demanded another.

"No, I'll take my medicine, no matter what it is," answered the former bully, doggedly.

CHAPTER XIII

AN INTERRUPTED INITIATION

"He's full of grit this time," whispered Phil to Dave.

"Oh, Plum isn't the boy he used to be, I am certain of that," was the low answer.

Before long the students reached a point on the river front where there was a heavy clump of bushes. In a hollow between the bushes a fire had been built, and on the bushes had been hung some horse blankets, to keep off the wind.

As the members of the Gee Eyes reached the hollow they saw two boys wrapped up in overcoats stealing away into the woods close by.

"Hello, who are those chaps?" cried Roger.

"One of them looked like Nat Poole to me," answered Dave.

"Wonder what they are doing here?"

"Came to see what was going on, I suppose."

"I don't like fellows like Nat Poole to be hanging around," remarked Buster Beggs.

The fire had been burning low, but now it was stirred up and more dry branches were piled on top, creating a roaring blaze. By the flickering glare the masked figures looked decidedly fantastic.

Up to that moment the club members had been undecided what to do with Gus Plum. Some were in favor of taking off his shoes and socks and letting him down into the river through a hole in the ice, wetting him up to his knees. Others wanted him to crawl on his hands and knees to another spot on the river, quarter of a mile away. Still others wanted to make a snow house and shut him inside for awhile, letting him breathe through a piece of gaspipe which had been brought along. Others wanted him to make a ten minutes' speech on "What Mackerels Have Done for Astronomy," or some subject equally "deep."

"Let us have the speech, at least first," suggested Dave.

"All right, give us the subject," answered Phil, after a consultation with the other officers.

"All right, I will," answered Dave, after a moment's thought. "Better take the bag off his head first."

This was quickly removed, and Gus Plum was made to stand up on a rock close to the fire.

"Wretch, listen!" came from one of the masked figures. "It is decreed that thou must speak for ten minutes by the second-splitting watch on a subject that shall be given to thee. Shouldst thou fail, it will be a whacking with staves for thine. Dost thou agree?"

"Speak on what?"

"Here is the subject," said Dave, in a disguised voice that was thin and piping: "If a Pail Lets Out Water When it Leaks, Why Doesn't a Boat Do the Same Thing?" And a snicker went round at this question.

"Thou hast heard the subject. Art prepared to discourse?" asked one of the Gee Eyes.

"Sure thing," answered Gus Plum, after a moment of thought. He struck an attitude. "My subject is a most profound one, first broached by Cicero to Henry Clay, during the first trip of the beloved pair to Coney Island."

"Hurrah! Hooroo!" came from one of the club members.

"Cicero had been speaking to just such a crowd of convicts as I am now addressing--thieves, murderers, and those who had failed to shovel the snow from their sidewalks during the months of July and August," continued Gus Plum.

"Convicts is good," murmured Roger.

"The boat running to Coney Island had slowed up to a walk, which caused Cicero to grow impatient, as he wanted a ride on the shoot-the-chutes. Henry Clay, along with Napoleon and a Roman sausage-maker named Hannibal, were in the bow of the craft trying to solve the fifteen puzzle by the aid of a compass and a book on etiquette. Suddenly a great commotion arose to a height of a mile or more. The boat sank to the bottom of the sea, turned over three times, and came to the surface again. A shriek arose from one of the ladies, Cleopatra's waiting-maid: 'I have lost my knitting overboard.' 'Man the pumps!' cried Cicero, and then tied his sandals around his neck for a life-preserver. Henry Clay drew a Henry Clay from his pocket and began to smoke vigorously. Hannibal said he would turn cannibal if the boat went down again. Cleopatra said she would die happy if only they would start up the phonograph, and Homer did so, with that beautiful ode entitled, 'Why Eat Turkey When Corned Beef Is So Cheap?'"

"Where's the pail that leaked?" came from the crowd.

"Stick to the subject."

"Is the boat leaking yet?"

"Be not afraid," answered Gus Plum, solemnly. "By the chronometer I have still seven minutes before the boat and pail sink out of sight forever. However, the pail was there, sitting, like a hen, on the larboard mast, filled with gooseberries, which Pocahontas had picked at dawn, in company with General Grant and King Henry the Sixty-second. Looking at this pail, John Paul Jones slapped his sailor thigh and asked, 'Why is a gooseberry?' a question which has come resounding down the ages---- Oh, thunder! Do you want to blow me to pieces!"

Crack! bang! crack! boom! came four loud reports, and the fire was scattered in all directions. _Bang!_ came another report, and Dave received some burning fagots in the face. Gus Plum was hurled from the rock upon which he had been standing. _Boom!_ came a report louder than any of the rest, and what was left of the camp-fire flew up in the air as if a volcano were under it.

All of the club members were dumbfounded, for nobody had expected anything of this sort. Half a dozen of the boys had gone down and in a twinkling the robes Roger and Ben wore were in flames. The fire lay in all directions, and now came two smaller reports and Dave saw a fair-sized fire-cracker fly apart.

"Somebody put fire-crackers under the fire," he cried. "Big ones and little ones." And then, seeing Ben in flames, he rushed to the assistance of his chum.

It was no easy matter to put out the fire, and before Ben was out of danger Dave got a blister on one hand. In the meantime Gus Plum had leaped towards Roger.

"Roll over!" he cried, and tripped the senator's son up. Then he began to beat the flames out with his hands and with the bag that had been over his head. Roger had gotten some hot ashes in his face, and he was confused and half blinded thereby.

The excitement lasted nearly five minutes, and when it was over the boys stood there with their hoods and robes off, gazing at each other nervously.

"Who did this?" demanded Phil.

"That was too much of a good thing," said Shadow. "Why, some of us might have been burned to death."

"Kind of rough initiation," remarked Gus Plum, dryly. "But I didn't catch it as much as Roger and Ben."

"That wasn't down on the programme," returned Dave. "At least, it wasn't so far as I am concerned."

"I didn't know of it!" cried Buster Beggs.

"Nor I!" "Nor I!" came from one after another of the other members of the Gee Eyes.

"Who started the fire?" asked Phil.

"I did," answered Sam Day. "I just got some wood together and lit it, that's all."

"Was there anything on the ground?"

"Not a thing, so far as I noticed."

"Here is part of a big cannon cracker," said Dave, holding up the still burning paper. "That was big enough to blow off a fellow's hand or foot."

"Say, don't you remember those fellows we saw running away!" exclaimed Roger.

"To be sure!" was the quick answer. "Nat Poole was one."

"Who was the other?"

"He looked like Link Merwell to me," said Buster Beggs.

"Then we've got an account to settle with Poole and Merwell," said Roger. "Just look at how my hands and my neck are blistered!"

"And my hand," said Ben. "Oh, how it smarts! I'll have to put some oil and flour on it."

"Let us declare Plum's initiation finished," said Phil. "Then we can hunt up those fellows who played this dirty trick on us."

Phil's suggestion was at once adopted, and the club members scattered through the woods, to look for those who had hidden themselves. In a very few minutes Sam Day set up a shout:

"Here is one of them!"

"And here is the other!" called out Gus Plum and Ben, simultaneously.

"You let go of me, Sam Day!" came in the voice of Nat Poole. "I didn't do anything! Let me go!"

"You come along with me, Nat Poole," answered Sam, sternly. "Just look how that hand is burnt!" And in his anger Sam gave the other boy a smart box on the ear.

"Oh! Don't, please don't."

"You'll yell worse than that when we are through with you," answered Sam.

"You bet he will," said Buster Beggs. "I got a hot cinder in my right eye."

"Don't, please don't!" shrieked Nat Poole. He was a coward at heart, and the attitude of those around filled him with sudden terror. "I didn't do it, I tell you."

"Then who did?" demanded Dave.

"Oh, I--I can't tell you. I--I----"

"Yes, you can tell," said Shadow, and gave Poole's ear a twist. The story-teller of the school had gotten some hot ashes in his mouth, which had put him in anything but a gentle humor.

"It was Link Merwell. He put the crackers under the fire and let the fuses stick up," said Poole.

"You're a fine sort to blab!" sneered Merwell. "Since you're willing to tell so much, I'll tell something too. He bought the fire-crackers."

"Is that true, Poole?" questioned Roger.

"Ye--yes, but I--I didn't know----"

"He knew what I was going to do with them," broke in Link Merwell. "It was only a joke."

"So is that a joke, Merwell," answered Roger, and hauling off he boxed the tall youth's right ear. "If you want to make anything out of it, do so. Look at my hands and neck. You went too far."

Merwell's face blazed and he looked as if he wished to annihilate the senator's son.

"Humph! I suppose you think you can do as you please, with your own crowd around you," he muttered. "You don't know how to take a joke."

"I can take a joke as well as anybody, but not such a perilous trick as that."

"It's on a par with the joke of the fellow who put gunpowder in a poor Irishman's pipe," broke in Shadow. "It put the Irishman's eyes out. I don't see any fun in that."

"I think we ought to give them both a good licking!" cried a boy named Jason, and without more ado he took his wooden sword and gave Poole a whack across the back. Then he turned and whacked Merwell.

It was a signal for a general use of the wooden swords and stuffed clubs, and in a moment the two unlucky students were surrounded, and blows fell thick and fast. Poole yelled like a wild Indian, but Merwell set his teeth and said nothing, only striking back with his fists when he got the chance. Dave took no part in the onslaught, nor did Ben and Phil. As soon as he saw a chance Nat Poole ran for his life. Link Merwell stood his ground a little longer, then he too retreated, shaking his fist at the members of the Gee Eyes.

"Just wait!" he fairly hissed. "I'll get square for this, if it takes me a lifetime!"

CHAPTER XIV

GOOD-BYE TO OAK HALL

"I'll wager Merwell is the maddest boy Oak Hall ever saw!" said Shadow, when the excitement had subsided.

"Poole is a sneak, and no mistake," said Sam. "I wonder if he'll go and tell old Haskers or Doctor Clay?"

"He won't dare--for he is afraid we will tell about the fire-crackers," answered Dave. "Yes, he is a sneak."

"I don't see, now, how I could ever make a friend of him," declared Gus Plum. "Now, in one way, I like Merwell--he's a fighter and he doesn't care who knows it."

"Yes, but he's got a wicked temper," observed Roger. "He reminds me of Nick Jasniff. They would make a team."

"Where did he come from, anyway?" questioned Messmer.

"From some ranch out West. His father is a big cattle-owner. He is used to life in the open air, and one of the fellows says he can ride like the wind."

"We must watch him," declared Phil.

"I can't do that--since I am going away," answered Dave. "I'll have to leave you chaps to fight it out."

"Do you think they'll come back or send Haskers?" asked Buster Beggs.

"It might be wise to leave this spot," answered Phil. "There are plenty of places we can go to."

It was decided to move, and several baskets which had been stored away in the bushes were brought forth.

"I've got an idea!" cried Henshaw. "Let us go to that old barn on the Baggot place. Nobody will disturb us there."

"I want to fix up my burns first," said Roger.

"So do I," said Ben. "Come on to the Hall--we can join the crowd later."

So it was arranged, and while the senator's son and Ben went off in one direction the remaining members of the Gee Eyes took another, which led them over a small hill and through an old apple orchard.

The Baggot place had not been used for several years. The house was nailed up, but the big barn stood wide open and had often been the resort of tramps. But during the hunt for the robber, Pud Frodel, and his tool, all the tramps had been rounded up and driven away.

Several of the students had brought their pumpkin lanterns with them, and these were hung up on convenient nails.

"Say, a small stove wouldn't go bad," suggested Messmer. "It's mighty cold in here."

"Let us settle down in some hay," suggested Phil. "That will keep us warm, especially if we shut the doors and windows tight."

The baskets which had been brought along were filled with good things, and these were speedily passed around. The boys fell to eating with avidity, for the adventures of the evening had made them hungry. Then Dave was called upon for a speech.

"I hardly know what to say, fellow-students," he began, after a cheering and hand-clapping. "You have treated me royally to-night, and I do not intend to forget your kindness. I am sorry that I am going to leave you, but you all know what is taking me away----"

"We do, and we hope you'll find your folks," put in Phil.

"So say we all of us!" sang out Henshaw.

"If I am successful in my search perhaps I'll return to Oak Hall before a great while," continued Dave. "In the meantime I trust you all have good times, and that you may have no more trouble with our enemies. More than this, as I expect to be away during the holidays, I wish each one a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

As Dave concluded there was a round of applause, and the club members drank his health in lemon soda and sarsaparilla. Then some nuts and raisins were passed around, and all prepared to return to Oak Hall.

"We've got to go in quietly, or else there may be trouble," said Phil. "Remember, we don't know what Merwell and Poole will do."

There was no trouble, however, for which Dave was thankful, since he wished to leave the Hall with a clean record. As soon as he reached his dormitory he went to bed, and so did the other occupants of the apartment. And thus his schooldays, for the time being, came to an end.

He was up bright and early and by nine o'clock was ready to enter the sleigh that was to take him to Oakdale station. The boys gathered around to see him off.

"I wish I was going with you," said Phil. "You must write me regularly."

"I'll do that, Phil. And you must tell me all about what happens here."

"Remember, Dave, I'll join you if I possibly can," said Roger. "Let me know where I can telegraph or telephone you."

"Sure, Roger, and if you can join me I'll like it first-rate."

An hour later Dave was on the train and speeding towards Crumville. He had sent word ahead when he would arrive, and at the station he found the Wadsworth sleigh, with Caspar Potts and Jessie Wadsworth awaiting him. The old professor looked hale and hearty, although his form was slightly bent and his hair was gray and white. Jessie, round-cheeked and rosy, was the picture of health and beauty.

"There he is! There's Dave!" cried the miss, and leaped to the sidewalk to shake hands.

"Why, how tall you are getting, Jessie," said the boy, and then blushed, for the handshake she gave him was a very cordial one. "How do you do, Professor?" And he shook hands with the man who had done so much for him in his younger years.

"I am very well indeed, Dave," answered Professor Potts. "Will you sit up here by me, or with Miss Jessie?"

"Dave must come in with me," said Jessie, promptly.

"Did my Uncle Dunston come?" questioned the boy, looking around, for he had fully expected to see his relative.

"No, he has a touch of rheumatism in his left knee," answered Caspar Potts.

"That's too bad."

Dave assisted Jessie to a seat and then got in beside her, and tucked in the handsome fur robe. Off went the team at a spanking gait, past the stores of the town and then in the direction of the Wadsworth mansion. Many looked at Dave as he rode by and thought him a lucky boy--and he certainly was lucky, and thankful for it.

The mansion reached, Dave was warmly greeted by Mrs. Wadsworth, and, later on, by Mr. Wadsworth, who had been to his large jewelry works on business. The lad found his Uncle Dunston in his room, in an easy-chair, with his rheumatic leg resting on a low stool.

"It's not so very bad, Dave," said Dunston Porter, after their greeting was over. "I hope to be around again before long. But it is too bad it should come on at this time, when I had hoped to go to London with you."

Dave sat down, and a conversation lasting the best part of an hour ensued. The boy told all he knew about Nick Jasniff, and showed the letter which Gus Plum had received. Dunston Porter said he had sent several cablegrams to London, but so far had heard nothing of satisfaction.

"I even sent a money order to this Nick Jasniff, thinking he might try to get it cashed, but the order has not been called for. The money was cabled to London and then put in a letter for the General Delivery department. Evidently this Jasniff is keeping shady, or otherwise he has left the city or is living under an assumed name."

"I know pretty much the sort of a chap he is," said Dave. "He likes to go to the theater, and he was a great chap to bowl. If I go over there I am going to hunt up the bowling places, if there are any, and take a look in at the different theaters. If he is in London I ought to run across him some day. And I'll try finding him by letter and by a notice in the newspapers, too."

Dave was a very busy boy for the next few days, perfecting his plans to visit England. Yet he managed to spend several happy hours with the others and especially with Jessie, who now acted more like a young lady than a girl. Truth to tell, Dave thought a great deal of the rich manufacturer's daughter, and Jessie seemed always to want him around, that they might sing together, or play games, or go out for a sleigh-ride.

"You mustn't forget us when you are in London," said Jessie. "I want you to send me some postal cards--the picture kind."

"I'll send you one every day," replied Dave. "The very nicest I can find."

"With pictures of the places you visit?"

"Yes."

"Then you must tell me about the places in your letters."

"Do you want me to write?"

"Of course, and I'll write too," said Jessie, and gave him one of her sunniest smile. Dave thought of that smile long afterwards--when he was in London and in the far northland--and it always brightened him in spirits.

On the day before his departure Dave received a telegram from Roger. It was short and characteristic:

"Hurrah! Engage stateroom for two. What steamer?"

"Good for Roger!" cried Dave, as he showed the message to his uncle. "He has permission to go with me. Now I won't be lonely."

"I am glad to know he is going along," said Dunston Porter. "Not but that I know you can take care of yourself, Dave."

Dave at once sent word to New York, to the steamship office, and by night the matter of a stateroom for two was arranged. Then he sent word to Roger where his chum could meet him.

He spent a quiet evening at the Wadsworth mansion. Jessie and the others did what they could to cheer him, but they realized what was on his mind.

"Oh, Dave, I do so hope you will find your father and your sister!" said Jessie, on bidding him good-night. "I want to know Laura; I know I shall love her--for your sake!" And then she ran off. Dave watched her mount the stairs and disappear in her room, and then he retired to his own apartment, more thoughtful than ever, yet with a warm feeling in his heart that was peculiar to itself, for it only came when he saw Jessie or was thinking of her.

CHAPTER XV

DAVE AND ROGER IN LONDON

"Off at last!"

"Yes, Roger, and I am not sorry for it."

"And just to think, Dave, inside of a week we'll be in England! It doesn't seem possible."

The two boys were standing on the deck of the great steamer, watching the last sight of New York City as it faded from view. Mr. Wadsworth and Caspar Potts had come down to see them off, and all had had a fine meal together at the old Astor House.

It was a clear, cold day, and the boys were glad enough to button their overcoats as they remained on deck watching the last bit of land disappear from view. Then they swept by the Sandy Hook lightship and out into the broad Atlantic, rolling majestically in the bright sunlight.

By good luck Dave had managed to obtain a first-class stateroom, and the chums felt very comfortable when they settled down in the apartment. But they did not know a soul on board, and it was not until the second day out that they made a few acquaintances.

"I think we are going to have a fine trip over," said the senator's son, on the evening of the second day. "Don't you think so, Dave?"

"I'll tell you better when we reach the other side," answered the boy from the country, with a laugh. "I don't know much about the Atlantic. When we were traveling on the Pacific I know the weather changed very quickly sometimes."

That very night came a heavy blow and by morning the seas were running high. The air was piercing cold, and everybody was glad enough to remain in the cabins. Dave, returning from the ship's library with a volume on travels in England, found Roger had gone to their stateroom.

"Seasick, I'll wager a new hat," he said to himself, and hurried to the apartment. Sure enough, the senator's son was on his berth and as pale as death.

"Can I do anything?" asked Dave, kindly.

"Nothing," groaned Roger. "Only make the boat stop for a minute--just one minute, Dave!"

"I would if I could, Roger. But maybe you'll get over it soon," he added, sympathetically.

"Perhaps--after my insides have had their merry-go-round ride," was the mournful reply.

Fortunately the heavy blow did not last long, and by the morning of the fourth day the Atlantic was comparatively calm. Dave had not been seasick in the least, and he was glad to see his chum come around once more. Roger greeted him with a faint smile.

"I was going to fight against it," said the senator's son. "But when it caught me I had to give in first clip. O dear! I don't see what seasickness was invented for!" And he said this so seriously that Dave was forced to laugh outright.

As soon as it had been decided that he was to go to London, Dave had begun to study up about the place, so that he might not be "too green" when he arrived there. He had two guide-books, and on the steamship he met several people who were only too willing to give him all the information at their command.

"London isn't New York, my boy," said one old gentleman to whom he spoke. "It's larger and it's different. But if you're used to big cities you'll soon find yourself at home there."

Soon the two boys were watching for a sight of land, and when it came they learned that they were in the English Channel and nearing the Isle of Wight. Here there was plenty of shipping, from all parts of the world, and they passed several other big liners, bound for Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Southern ports.

"This is certainly the age of travel," was Dave's comment, as they watched the boats pass. "Everybody seems to be going somewhere."

By the time they reached Southampton there was great bustle on board. Custom House regulations had to be met, after which Dave and Roger took their first ride in an English railway coach and soon reached the greatest city of the world. They had brought with them only their largest dress-suit cases, and these they carried.

They had already decided to go to a small but comfortable hotel called the Todham. A cabman was handy, who had their dress-suit cases almost before they knew it.

"What's the fare to the hotel?" demanded Dave.

The Jehu said several shillings, but when Dave shook his head the fellow cut the price in half and they sprang in and were off. The brief ride was an interesting one, and they could not help but contrast the sights to be seen with those of New York and Chicago.

"It's certainly different," said Roger. "But I guess we can make ourselves at home."