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Phil had perfected all his arrangements for his spread at the hotel, and his guests for that occasion had been duly invited and all had accepted the invitation. It had been arranged with Mr. Dale that the boys should drive to the hotel in the school carryall, and Horsehair was to have his supper in town and, later on, bring them home. No secret was made of the affair, for this was not necessary.

"I am only sorry for one thing," said Phil to Dave. "That is that I can't have the whole school there. But that would go beyond my purse."

"Well, you'll have enough, Phil, to insure a good time," answered our hero.

The night was clear, with numberless stars glittering in the heavens, when the carryall drove around to the Hall door and the boys piled in. All were in the best of humor, and they left the campus in a burst of song.

"I've been saving up for this!" cried Ben. "Haven't eaten a mouthful for two days!"

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "Once a poor street-boy was invited to a Sunday-school picnic. The ladies fed him all he could hold and then some. At last, when he couldn't eat another mouthful, and saw some cake and pie and ice-cream going to waste, what do you suppose he said?"

"Give it up, Shadow."

"He said, 'Say, missus, please save it fer me, won't yer? I won't eat fer a week, honest, an' then I'll come an' finish it all up fer yer!'"

"Good for the street-boy!"

"Say, Phil, you won't have to save anything for me! I'll eat my share right now!"

"I've been in training for this feed!"

"Shove the horses along, Horsehair; we don't want the soup to get cold."

"I'm a-shovin' 'em along," answered the carryall driver. "We'll git there in plenty o' time."

"Say, Phil, as far as I am concerned, you can have this affair pulled off once a month," remarked Buster.

"Make it once a week," piped in Chip Macklin. And then Luke Watson commenced to sing a popular negro ditty and all joined lustily in the chorus.

On and on rattled the carryall until the lights of Oakdale shone in the distance. The boys continued to sing, while one or two blew freely on the tin horns they carried. Here and there somebody would come rushing to a window, or door, to learn what was doing.

"It's them Oak Hall boys!" cried one old farmer. "My, but they do have high times!"

"So they do," returned his wife. "But they are good boys," she added, for some of them had once aided her in capturing a runaway bull.

With a grand flourish the carryall swept around the last corner and came to a halt in front of the hotel. Phil had hoped to see some extra lights lit and was somewhat disappointed to see only the regular lantern burning.

"I told him to light up freely and he said he would," he whispered to Dave.

"Maybe he thought you meant the dining-room, Phil."

The students piled out of the carryall and waited for Phil, as host, to lead the way into the hotel. All marched up the steps and into the broad hallway. There they were confronted by the hotel proprietor, who came to meet them in his shirtsleeves. He looked completely bewildered.

"Well, we are here for that supper, Mr. Sparr!" cried Phil. "I hope you are all ready for us!"

The hotel man looked at the boys in amazement. His jaw dropped. Then he gasped out the words:

"Well, I'll be jiggered!"

CHAPTER XV

AT THE HOTEL

At once Dave and all the other students who had come to the hotel with Phil, expecting a fine spread, saw that something was wrong. They looked questioningly at the shipowner's son and at the hotel proprietor.

"What's the matter?" demanded Phil, quickly.

"Matter?" repeated Jason Sparr. "That's just exactly what I'd like to know."

"You--you are ready for us, aren't you?" went on Phil, with a sudden catch in his voice.

"Why should I be ready, when you called the whole thing off?" growled the hotel man. "Fine way to do, I must say," he continued, with strong anger in his voice.

"Called the whole thing off?" repeated Phil. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" shouted Jason Sparr. "And after we had everything in fine shape, too! Say, don't you think my stuff is too good to send to the Old Ladies' Home?" he demanded.

"There must be some mistake here, Mr. Sparr," put in our hero. "Phil didn't call this spread off. We are here for it, as you can see."

"But he did call it off--this noon," returned the hotel proprietor. "And he wasn't a bit nice about it, either. When I asked him what I should do with the extras I had ordered he told me to do as I pleased--send 'em to the Old Ladies' Home, or throw 'em away! He didn't act a bit nice."

"Say, you chump, you!" shouted Phil, growing suddenly angry. "I didn't send you any word at all about calling it off. I----"

"Don't you call me a chump, you young rascal!" shouted the hotel man, in equal heat. "I got your message over the telephone----"

"I never sent any," interrupted Phil.

"It must be a trick," cried Roger.

"Who played it?" queried another student.

"Maybe this is the work of some of the Military Academy fellows."

"Like as not."

"But how did they learn that Phil was going to give the spread?"

"Give it up."

"Maybe some of our own fellows did it--some who didn't get an invitation to attend," suggested Chip.

"Would any one be so mean?" asked Buster.

"Some of them might be," murmured Gus.

"I didn't send you any word," went on Phil, in greater anger than ever.

"Well, I got word, and so did Professor Smuller. He was mad, too, because he lost another job taking yours."

"Why didn't you make sure the word was sent by Mr. Lawrence?" demanded Ben. "You could have done that easily enough."

"I didn't think that was necessary. This fellow said----"

"I tell you I didn't send word!" shouted Phil, growing more angry every instant. "You might have known it was a trick."

"Of course, he might have known," added Ben. He lowered his voice. "Say, Phil, if he doesn't give us the supper make him give your money back."

"Sure he's got to give me the money back," cried the shipowner's son.

"See here, you can't bulldoze me!" cried the hotel proprietor. "I've had trouble enough as it is. I got ready for this spread and then you called it off, and you were mighty sassy about it, too. I've lost a lot of money."

A wordy war followed, lasting the best part of a half an hour. Through this it was learned that the hotel man had prepared for the spread, and so had the professor of music. Just after noon telephone messages had come in, calling the whole affair off. Some hot words had passed over the wire, and the hotel man was considerably ruffled. The party talking to Jason Sparr had said that when the spread did come off it would be held elsewhere--intimating that a better place than his hotel could be found.

"It's all some trick, to get my business away from me!" stormed the hotel man. "I won't stand for it!"

"I didn't send the messages, and I either want the spread or I want my money back," declared Phil, stubbornly. And then more words followed, until it looked as if there might be a fight. Finally, in a rage, Jason Sparr ordered the students from his place.

"All right, we'll go, but you haven't heard the end of this!" cried Phil.

"You'll catch it, for treating us so meanly," added Ben.

"Don't you threaten me, or I'll have the law on you!" roared Jason Sparr.

"Perhaps I'll call on the law myself," answered Phil, and then, unable to control himself, he shook his fist at the hotel man. Then all the boys filed out of the place, some bystanders looking on in wonder.

"Well, what do you think of this!" cried Gus, when outside.

"Phil, I wouldn't say anything more just now--you are too excited," said Dave, catching his chum by the arm.

"Yes, but that fellow is as mean as--as dirt!" answered the shipowner's son.

"He hasn't any right to keep Phil's money," said one student.

"Then the feast is called off, is it?" said Buster, with something like a groan in his voice.

"And somebody is going to have the laugh on us!" added Shadow. "Say, this puts me in mind of a story," he added, brightening. "Once some boys were going----"

"Oh, stow it, Shadow!"

"This is no time for stories!"

"I'd rather go down to the cemetery and weep."

"Nobody is going to have the laugh on me," cried Phil. "We'll get something somewhere."

"Right you are!" cried Dave. "I've got it!" he added. "Let us drive over to Rockville and get something at the hotel there. I know the proprietor and he's a nice man."

"Better telephone to him first and make sure," suggested Roger.

"I'll do it," said Phil.

The carryall was brought around again and all piled in and drove down to a drug store where there was a telephone booth. Into the booth went Phil, to communicate with the hotel in Rockville. He came out smiling.

"It's all fixed up and I guess we'll have something this time," he said. "But just wait; I'll fix that mean Jason Sparr, see if I don't!"

"It's quite a drive to Rockville," protested Horsehair, when they told the driver what was wanted.

"Never mind, it will do the horses good," cried Roger. "They are getting too fat standing still."

"Say, Phil," whispered Dave. "If you haven't got money enough along, I can let you have some."

"Good," was the whispered return. "I was going to speak of that, as soon as I got a chance."

The affair at the Oakdale hotel had put something of a damper on the crowd, and all the talk was of how Jason Sparr had acted and who had been mean enough to play such a trick.

"Maybe it was Nat Poole," said Chip.

"What makes you think that?" asked Phil.

"Oh, he is mean enough for anything."

"If Nat did this I'll--I'll mash him!" cried Phil, with energy.

"Can't you find out?" asked Roger.

"I'll try--but most likely the fellow who did it took care to cover up his tracks. Sparr didn't know where the messages came from."

On and on rolled the carryall, until the lights of Rockville appeared in the distance. By this time all of the students were decidedly hungry. They rolled up to the little hotel and those with horns gave a couple of shrill blasts.

This time there was a warm welcome by the host. He came out, bowing and smiling.

"Did the best I could for you, on such short notice," he said, as they entered. "Next time, if you'll only give me a little more time----"

"That's all right, let's have what you've got," cried Buster. He was hungry enough to eat anything.

They were ushered into what was usually the private dining-room of the little hostelry. The table had been spread out and was tastefully decorated with paper chrysanthemums, made by the hotel man's daughter. A parlor-lamp and several others shed light on the scene.

"This looks good!" murmured Roger.

"Wait till you see what we get to eat," answered Sam. "It may be slim--on such short notice."

But he was agreeably mistaken, the spread was all that could be desired. There were oysters on the half-shell, tomato soup, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, lettuce salad, olives, and also coffee, pie, and various cookies. It was served in home style, by the hotel man's daughter and a hired girl.

"Say, this is fine!" cried Buster, smacking his lips.

"Better, maybe, than if we had stayed at the other place," added Dave.

"Only we haven't got the music," said Phil. He was glad that matters had taken such a nice turn, but still angry over what had gone before.

As they had already lost so much time, the boys did not dare linger too long over the spread. Horsehair was given something to eat in another room, and then they set out on the return. Songs were sung and jokes cracked, and Shadow was permitted to tell half a dozen of his best stories. Yet, with it all, the edge had been taken off the celebration, and Phil knew this as well as anybody, and was correspondingly chagrined.

"I'll make that man square up with me, see if I don't," he said to Dave, as they arrived at the school. "I'm not going to lose all that money."

"Well, be careful of what you do, Phil," warned our hero. "Don't get into a fight."

The next day the shipowner's son sent out two sharp letters, one to Jason Sparr and the other to Professor Smuller. He stated that he was not responsible for the trip-up that had taken place, and demanded his money be returned to him, otherwise he would put the matter in the hands of the law.

To these letters came speedy replies. The musical professor said he was sorry a mistake had been made, and he returned the amount paid to him, and he further stated that if he could discover who had played the trick he would make that party settle up.

"That's decent of him," said Phil. "I am going to send him back five dollars for his trouble." And this he did, much to Professor Smuller's satisfaction.

The letter from Jason Sparr was entirely different. He berated Phil for the stand taken, and stated that he would pay back nothing. He added that he had learned how the crowd had gone to Rockville to dine, and said he was satisfied that it was all a trick to get patronage away from his hotel. He added that he had had trouble enough with people from Oak Hall school and he wanted no more of it.

"I guess I'll have to sue him," growled Phil, on showing the letter to Dave and Roger.

"I don't think I'd bother," answered Dave. "Put it down to Experience, and let it go at that."

"If you sued him it would cost as much as you'd get, and more," added the senator's son.

"Humph! I don't feel like swallowing it," growled Phil. "I'll get it out of him somehow."

"He must have lost something--if he got ready for the spread," said Dave.

"Oh, I don't think he lost much. He's a close one--to my way of thinking," responded the shipowner's son.

CHAPTER XVI

THE BLOWING UP OF THE BRIDGE

"Say, this is something fierce, Dave!"

"I agree with you, Roger. I don't see how we are going to do such a long lesson."

"Old Haskers is getting worse and worse," growled Phil. "I think we ought to report it to Doctor Clay."

"Just what I think," came from Ben. "He keeps piling it on harder and harder. I think he is trying to break us."

"Break us?" queried our hero, looking up from his book.

"Yes, make us miss entirely, you know."

"Why should he want us to do that?" asked Roger.

"Then we wouldn't be able to graduate this coming June."

"Would he be mean enough to do that?" asked Dave.

"I think he would be mean enough for anything," responded Phil. "Oh, I am not going to stand it!" he cried.

The boys had just come upstairs, after an extra hard session in their Latin class. All were aroused over the treatment received at the hands of Job Haskers. He had been harsh and dictatorial to the last degree, and several times it had looked as if there might be an outbreak.

The next day the outbreak came. Phil sprang up in class and denounced the unreasonable teacher, and Ben followed. Then Dave and Roger took a hand, and so did Buster and several others.

"Sit down! Sit down!" cried Job Haskers, growing white in the face. "Sit down, and keep quiet."

"I won't keep quiet," answered the shipowner's son. "You are treating us unfairly, Mr. Haskers, and I won't stand for it."

"Neither will I," added Ben.

"Sit down, I tell you!" stormed the instructor.

But none of the students obeyed him, and in a minute more the room was in an uproar. One of the under-teachers heard it, and quickly sent for Doctor Clay.

As the master of Oak Hall strode into the classroom there was a pause. He mounted the platform and put up his hand, and soon all became quiet.

"Young gentlemen, be seated," he said, in his strict but kindly fashion, and instantly every student sat down. Then he turned to the teacher. "Mr. Haskers, what is the trouble?" he asked.

"The trouble is that certain students will not learn their lessons," answered Job Haskers, sourly. "I had to take them to task for it."

"Who are those students?"

"Lawrence, Basswood, Porter, Morr, Beggs----"

"That will do for the present. Lawrence, stand up," ordered Doctor Clay.

Phil did as requested, and the eyes of the entire class were fastened on the shipowner's son.

"Now, Lawrence, what have you to say for yourself?" went on the doctor.

In a plain, straightforward manner, Phil told his side of the story. Several times Job Haskers wanted to interrupt him, but Doctor Clay would not permit this. Then Ben was questioned, and after that the master of the school turned to Dave.

"Is your complaint the same, Porter?"

"Yes, sir."

"And yours, Morr?"

"Yes, sir."

"What have you to say, Beggs?"

"The same. The lessons lately have been altogether too hard--we simply can't get through them. We never had such long lessons before."

"I have given them only the regular lessons," put in Job Haskers.

"Ahem! Let us go over them and see what can be done," responded the doctor. "If the students are willing to work we do not want to overburden them, Mr. Haskers."

A discussion lasting over a quarter of an hour followed, and in the end the lessons were cut down, much to the satisfaction of the whole class, who felt like cheering the head of the school. The only person who was not satisfied was Job Haskers. He was invited to go out with the doctor to his private office, and came back some time later, looking anything but happy.

"I'll wager he got a calling down!" whispered Phil to Dave. "I hope he did."

He was right about the "calling down," as he expressed it. The master of Oak Hall had spoken very plainly to the instructor, and given Job Haskers to understand that he must get along better with the boys in the future, and treat them with more consideration, or he would be asked to resign from the staff of the school.

Several days slipped by and during that time Dave paid close attention to his lessons. He had also a theme to write on "The Future of Our Country," and he devoted considerable time to this, hoping it would receive at least honorable mention, even if it did not win the prize offered for the best production.

"Come on down to town!" cried Roger, one afternoon, as he rushed in, "Big excitement on! Going to blow the railroad up!"

"Blow the railroad up?" queried our hero. "What sort of a joke is this, Roger?"

"No joke, at all. You know the old stone bridge over the creek?"

"Sure."

"Well, the railroad wants to get rid of it and do it quickly, so they can build another, so the contractors are going to blow the old bridge up with dynamite at half-past four o'clock."

"Let's go!" burst out Phil. "It will be a great sight--to see that old bridge go up."

"Right you are!" cried Ben.

All the boys were enthusiastic, and in the end fully fifty students got permission to go down to Oakdale to see the old stone bridge destroyed.

"None of you must go very close," warned Doctor Clay, "for dynamite is powerful stuff--eight times more powerful than gunpowder."

"We'll keep away, don't fear about that," answered several.

"Dynamite isn't to be fooled with," added Dave.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" cried Shadow. "A Dutch laborer working on the railroad was much annoyed by the other laborers coming along and knocking his stiff old derby hat over his eyes. At last he got good and mad and when he saw a chance, he stole a stick of dynamite from the shanty where it was kept. He stuck the dynamite in his hat and then went around to the other laborers. 'Now, chust hit dot hat vonce again of you dare!' he said."

"And nobody dared," added Roger, as a general laugh went up.

"I once saw a fellow take a stick of dynamite and burn it like a torch," remarked Ben. "It gave me a cold chill to see him do it."

"And it didn't explode?" queried Roger.

"No. But I heard afterwards that if he had struck it ever so lightly, it might have blown us all as high as a kite."

"It sure is great stuff," remarked Phil. "Say," he went on suddenly, "I wish they were going to blow up old Sparr's hotel instead of the bridge."

"So do I," added Ben. "He's about as mean as they make 'em."

"That man ought certainly to have something done to him," was Roger's comment.

"Well, he won't make a success of his hotel if he treats everybody as he treated Phil," said Dave.

"He doesn't deserve any success," growled the shipowner's son.

When the students arrived in the vicinity of the old bridge they found a large crowd assembled, including many acquaintances from Rockville Military Academy, and people from the town. Red flags had been placed around, and nobody was allowed to get very close to the old structure.

"There is where they have the dynamite stored," said Phil, pointing to a shanty not far away. "See the sign?"

"That's a good spot to steer clear of," returned Dave, with a grin.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of the stuff," answered the shipowner's son.

In the crowd of men and boys the students became more or less separated. There was a great thrill when the word was passed that everything was in readiness for the blowing up of the old bridge.

"She's going!" cried Roger to Dave.

Boom! came the dull, heavy roar, and the boys saw the stones of the old bridge flying upward in all directions. The ground shook all around them, and the water from the creek was splashed on high. A great cloud of smoke and dust filled the air. Then came silence, followed by a wild cheering from the younger element.

"Certainly a great sight," was Dave's comment.

"Too bad it didn't last longer," sighed Buster.

"It wasn't quite as big as I thought it would be," said Luke. "I thought some of the stones would fly about a mile high."

"Good enough for a free exhibition," put in Gus. "Beats fireworks all hollow."

The boys walked down to the ruins of the old bridge and hung around for the best part of a half an hour. Then, in groups of five or six, they walked to town, to look around there before returning to Oak Hall. Dave and his chums passed Jason Sparr's hotel. He was on the veranda and scowled at them, and Phil and some of the others scowled in return.

"Have you done anything about that Sparr matter yet, Phil?" asked one of the lads.

"No; but I will soon, you wait and see," was the growled-out reply.

On the main street of the town some of the boys separated, to do a little shopping, and then some walked to the school, while others got in the carryall that happened to be at hand. As a consequence some of the students did not get back to Oak Hall until some time after the supper hour.

Dave was alone when he entered the dining-hall and he was surprised to see that neither Phil nor Roger was present. Ben was also absent and likewise Shadow.

"Didn't some of them come in with you?" he asked of Buster.

"Gus and Luke did," was the reply. "I don't know where the others are."

The meal was almost at an end when Phil, Ben, and Roger made their appearance. They had but little to say, but Dave could see that something was wrong.

"Had another wrangle with Jason Sparr," explained Phil, after the meal. "He followed me to one of the stores, and I told him just what I thought of him."

"And he threatened to have Phil arrested for defamation of character," added Ben.

"But he didn't dare to do it," declared the shipowner's son.

"Better let him alone," advised Dave. "You'll gain nothing by keeping in hot water over it, Phil."

That night all of the boys had to study hard, and consequently they retired to their dormitories early. The only exception was Polly Vane, who had to go to Oakdale to meet a relative who would stop off but who was going away again on the midnight train.

The boys studied until ten o'clock and then retired. Dave was completely tired out and his head had hardly touched the pillow when he was sound asleep.

He was awakened about two hours later by the sounds of excited talking. He opened his eyes to behold Polly Vane standing in the dormitory fully dressed, while Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Ben and Roger and some others were just rousing up.

"What's going on?" Dave asked, sleepily.

"A whole lot, if what Polly says is true," answered the shipowner's son.

"But it is true, upon my word!" cried the girlish student. "I heard the explosion myself."

"What explosion?" asked several.

"An explosion in Oakdale, to-night," answered Polly. "Somebody tried to dynamite Jason Sparr's hotel!"

CHAPTER XVII

A SERIOUS ACCUSATION

Instantly there was great excitement in the dormitory, and all of the students crowded around Polly, to learn what he might have to say.

"It was this way, don't you know," said the scholarly youth. "I went to Oakdale to see my uncle, who stopped off on his trip from Portland to St. Louis. He wanted to ask me about some family matters, and he didn't have time to come to the Hall. I went down in the buggy----"

"Oh, never mind that, Polly, tell about the explosion," interrupted Roger.

"Well, I had just seen my uncle to the midnight train and was getting into the buggy to come back when I heard a low boom! coming from the direction of Sparr's hotel. The station-master and I were the only people around, and I asked him what the noise meant, but he said he didn't know. Then he jumped into the buggy with me to find out. We drove to the hotel, and there was excitement enough, I can tell you. The girls and women folks were screaming wildly and Mr. Sparr and some men were running around, not knowing what to do. Soon a crowd began to collect, and then we found out that a wing of the building--where the dining-room is--had been blown up. Some men from the railroad said it had been done by dynamite--the kind used for blowing up that old bridge."

"Was anybody hurt?" asked Dave.

"Nobody but an old man who was sleeping in the house next to the addition. He got so scared he jumped from an upper window and sprained his ankle. Oh, that dining-room is a sight, I can tell you! One end is completely gone--the wall away from the main house--and all the tables and chairs and ornaments smashed! And the roof is full of holes!"

"How was it done?" questioned Gus.

"The dynamite was placed at the side of the dining-room foundation, according to the railroad men, and it was set off by some sort of clockwork," answered Polly.

"And who did it?" asked Shadow.

"They don't know, yet. But Sparr suspects Phil. That is why I woke him up as soon as I came in," continued the girlish student.

"Suspects me!" exclaimed the shipowner's son.

"Yes. He says you are the only one who would do such a thing--you and the crowd who have been backing you up."

"Well, I never!"

"Maybe he means me, too," murmured Ben.

"He does, and all the others in the crowd, too. He thinks it's a plot to get square because he wouldn't give Phil his dinner money back."

"I had nothing to do with it," declared Phil, stoutly.

"Nor I," added Ben.

"Well, I am sure I wasn't in it," said Dave. "I didn't dream of such a thing."

"Nor did I," added Roger and some others.

The news soon spread through several dormitories, and the boys discussed the startling happening in whispers. Phil was greatly disturbed.

"I didn't do it, but I know he'll try to fasten it on me," he told Dave. He did not add that he had written to his father about the affair of the feast and his parent had sent a warning letter back, ordering his son to have nothing more to do with Jason Sparr.

The next morning the news was all over the school. Nat Poole heard of it, and he and some of his cronies declared it as their opinion that Phil and some others were to blame. This brought on a fistic encounter between Ben and the money-lender's son, and the latter got a black eye in consequence.

"You sha'n't say I did it--or had anything to do with it," said Ben, when Nat backed away, having had enough of the battle.

"Humph! just wait till the law has its say!" retorted Nat. "Then maybe you'll get what is coming to you!"

Some of the boys wanted to go to town--to see the damaged hotel--but Doctor Clay would not permit this. In the meantime the wreckage was being cleared away, and the authorities and Jason Sparr were doing their best to locate the author or authors of the crime.

Then came a great surprise, in the shape of a letter delivered in a mysterious way to the hotel-keeper. He was seated in the hotel office in the evening, talking to one of the town constables, when a missive was hurled at him through an open window. He dodged at first, fearing more dynamite, but when he saw it was only a letter, he picked it up and turned it over. It was addressed to him and marked "Private and Personal."

"Wonder what this is?" he mused, and walked over to the light to read the letter. It was written on a single sheet of paper, in lead pencil, and evidently in a disguised hand. It contained but a few lines, as follows:

"If you want to catch the fellows who blew up your hotel have these boys of Oak Hall school arrested at once, Philip Lawrence, Benj. Basswood, David Porter, Roger Morr, and Joseph Beggs. They were together when it was done, and one or more of them surely did it.

"One Who Knows." The hotel-keeper read this letter several times and then stuffed it into his pocket. Then he went into the next room and drew from a drawer several things wrapped up in a newspaper.

"I am going down to see the squire," he said, to the constable. "You can come along, if you want to."

"What was in the letter?"

"The names of the rascals who blew up my hotel."

"What! You don't mean it, Jason!"

"Yes, I do."

"Who sent the letter?"

"That's a secret. But come on, we'll talk it over with Squire Thompson. Ain't no time to waste." And then the hotel man went off to interview the leading legal light of the town.

The conference at the squire's office lasted the best part of two hours. At this Jason Sparr produced the contents of the package, several things picked up near the hotel at the time of the explosion--a tan glove, somewhat worn, two iron rings, an empty paper box marked, "L." in one corner, a whip handle, and a clock-like contrivance which had been used to set off the dynamite. He told of his trouble with Phil and his chums, of the threats made, and produced the letter received so mysteriously.

"Looks kind of plain to me, Squire," he said. "Don't you think so?"

"It isn't for me to say," replied the squire, cautiously. "But if you want to swear out warrants for those boys' arrest----"

"Ain't I justified?"

"Sure you are," put in the constable, who happened to be the squire's brother-in-law. "I wouldn't waste no time on it." He thought he saw in this a job for himself, with some fat fees.

"If you have them arrested, you've got to prove your case," said Squire Thompson, slowly. "It's a serious business, Sparr."

"But this letter says they are guilty."

"Lock 'em up and make 'em confess!" broke in the constable. "Give 'em the third degree!" he added. He had read something of how city criminals were occasionally treated and he wished to air his knowledge.

"I'll do it!" cried Jason Spar. "I'll show 'em they can't insult me and take away my trade and then try to blow up my hotel! I'll have 'em all locked up! Then we can examine 'em one by one, and get 'em tangled up and make 'em confess."

After much trouble, the warrants for the arrest of Phil, Ben, Dave, Roger, and Buster were made out. The constable wanted to serve them at once, but it was decided at the last moment to wait until the next morning, to see if any new evidence regarding the crime might be forthcoming.

The constable went home, sworn to secrecy, but he had to tell his wife and her sister of the affair, and the news got to the ears of a man who boarded with them. This fellow, who was named Andy Prime, chanced to know Dave quite well, our hero having once done him a favor. Early in the morning Prime drove past the school, and seeing Dave on the campus, hailed him.

"Come over here, I want to tell you something, Porter," said Prime, mysteriously.

"What do you want?" asked Dave, good-naturedly.

"Ride a bit with me, will you? I don't want nobody to hear us," went on the man, lowering his voice.

Wondering what was coming, Dave got up on the seat of the man's wagon and they drove to the far end of the Oak Hall grounds. There Andy Prime told of all he had learned.

"Please don't say I told ye!" he pleaded. "It might git me in trouble. But you did me a good turn onct an' I ain't forgot it."

"Thank you, Prime, I won't tell who told me," answered Dave.

"Thet old skinflint o' a Sparr deserved to have his buildin' blown up."

"Perhaps. But we didn't do it, I can assure you of that. If Mr. Sparr has us arrested, he'll get in hot water," answered our hero; and then he got out of the wagon and Andy Prime drove on.

Dave at once carried the news to those immediately concerned. All were very indignant, and some were scared.

"Say, I won't stand for being arrested!" cried Phil, in horror. "It's too much of a disgrace!"

"My folks would never get over it," added Ben.

"It would just about kill my mother, if I was locked up," came from Buster.

"Well, I'll stand it if I have to," said Roger. "But I'll make that fellow suffer for it later!" he added, bitterly.

All thoughts of going to school that morning were abandoned by the five boys. They talked the situation over, and determined to go down the road and await the arrival of the constable, Andy Prime having said that Hickson would come by ten o'clock.

"This is awful!" gasped Phil, shaking his head dolefully. "Say, Dave, I can't stand it!"

"Wait until we hear what the constable has to say."

"He won't say anything--he'll just drag us to the Oakdale lockup!" put in Ben.

"I wonder what my dad will say to that, when he hears of it?" murmured Roger. "The newspapers are bound to make a spread of it. 'Son of a U. S. Senator Jailed for Blowing Up a Hotel!' or something like that. Oh, it makes me sick!"

Plainly the majority of the students were very nervous. The only one who kept calm was Dave, and even he was much disturbed. All walked along the road, keeping a sharp eye out for the appearance of Paul Hickson.

"Here he comes!" cried Phil, as a covered wagon came along the road, driven by the keeper of the Oakdale jail. On the front seat beside the driver were the constable and Jason Sparr.

"Hi, you boys!" shouted the constable, as the wagon came closer. "I want to see you!"

"What do you want?" demanded Dave, stepping to the front.

"We want you, for one!" cried the hotel-keeper. "Be careful, Hickson, that none of 'em get away!" he added.

"I don't know one from tudder," said the constable, doubtfully.

"This is just the bunch we are after, unless I am mistaken," went on the hotel man. "That is Lawrence there, and Basswood, and this is Porter, and I think that is Morr," and he pointed to the various students.

"Good enough. Boys, in the name of the law, I call on you to halt," declared the constable, pompously.

"Mr. Sparr, what does this mean?" demanded Dave.

"It means that I am going to have the whole bunch of you arrested!" shouted the hotel man, harshly. "You blew up my hotel, and I can prove it! I've got the evidence against every one of you! I am going to have you arrested right now and sent to prison!" And he shook his fist at the boys.

"The evidence against us?" faltered Phil.

"Yes, sir, the plain, clear evidence," went on the hotel-keeper, dramatically. "I've got you just where I want you. I am going to send every one of you to prison for five or ten years!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MEETING ON THE ROAD

There was an intense silence, following the announcement of Jason Sparr that he intended to send Dave and his chums to prison for attempting to blow up the hotel. In the meantime the hotel man and the constable got down from the seat of the covered wagon.

"I've got the warrants fer the arrest, boys," said Constable Hickson, somewhat importantly.

"Mr. Sparr, I'd like a word with you," said Dave, as calmly as he could speak under the circumstances.

"I ain't got no more to say than I've said," returned Jason Sparr, stubbornly. "You done it, and I can prove it! The constable is going to do his duty and arrest you!"

"Dave, I--I won't stand for it!" whispered Phil, hoarsely. "It's terrible! I--I can't stand it!" And he began to back away.

"Hi, there! stop!" yelled the hotel man. "Stop him, Hickson! Don't let him get away!"

"You sha'n't arrest me for nothing!" cried the shipowner's son, and like a flash he turned around and started off on a run.

"Come back here, Phil!" called out Dave. "Come back! You are making a mistake by running away!"

But Phil did not hear, nor did Ben and Buster, who had also taken to their heels. Roger ran a few steps, then halted, and came back to our hero's side.

"You are right, Dave," he said. "It's best to face the music."

Phil, Ben, and Buster had turned towards Oak Hall. Phil was in the lead, but the others soon caught up to him.

"Wha--what are you go--going to d--do?" panted Ben.

"I'm not going to let them arrest me!" answered Phil. "I didn't do it, and I'm not going to jail."

"Let us hide until we can get our folks to help us," suggested Buster. The thought of going to a lockup filled him with dread.

"I'm going to notify my folks, too," said Ben.

"The trouble is, I don't know where my folks are just now," came from the shipowner's son. "My father went on a trip on one of his vessels and mother is visiting relatives."

The boys had kept on running on the road. But now, as they saw the constable after them, they turned and dashed into a side-path leading to the river.

"A motor-boat!" cried Ben, a few seconds later.

"It's the Kingsley boat," added Buster. "I know Tom will let us use it--he said I could do it once. Let us go across in it."

All leaped on board, and Ben started up the engine while Buster took the wheel. There came a put! put! as the fly-wheel was turned over, and the little craft, which belonged to a boy living on the river-bank, headed out into the Leming River.

In the meantime, while Constable Hickson was running after the fugitives, Jason Sparr and the driver of the covered wagon confronted Dave and Roger.

"Don't you try to run!" bawled the hotel-keeper.

"I'm armed," added the keeper of the town lockup, suggestively.

"I don't intend to run, Mr. Sparr," answered Dave.

"Why should we run, since we have done nothing wrong?" added the senator's son. He tried to follow Dave's example and remain calm, but he was tremendously disturbed.

"Did those three fellows do it alone?" queried the hotel man, eagerly. "If they did, you had better confess to it, and clear yourselves."

"None of us are guilty," answered Dave.

"I know better."

"You do not. Since we didn't do it, Mr. Sparr, I don't see how you can prove that we did,--unless you have manufactured some evidence against us," went on our hero, pointedly, a new idea coming into his head.

"I ain't manufactured no evidence!" bawled Jason Sparr. "Didn't that young rascal of a Lawrence say he'd get square with me, and didn't all of you say the same? Wasn't you down to the blowing up of the bridge, right where they had all that dynamite stored? Wasn't some of the dynamite sticks stolen? Didn't you fellows come right by the hotel afterwards? Wasn't the blowing up done by clockwork, made to go off hours after it was set? You can't tell me! You are guilty. Besides, I got other evidence--I got a letter," added the hotel-keeper, shrewdly.

"A letter? About us?"

Jason Sparr nodded.

"Saying we were guilty?"

"Yes."

"Who wrote it?"

"Never mind that. You're guilty, and you know it. Just wait till Hickson comes back with them others and I'll show you a thing or two," continued the hotel man, harshly.

"Mr. Sparr, I said I wanted to talk to you, and I do want to," said Dave, after a pause. "You will find it to your advantage to listen to me. You have got this whole thing settled in your own mind, but you are dead wrong. You intend to have us locked up for something we didn't do. To have us locked up will blacken our characters and blacken the reputation of Oak Hall. My folks are respectable people, and so are the folks of the other boys. Do you think they will stand for this sort of thing? And do you think Doctor Clay will stand for it? If you do, you are greatly mistaken. If you have us arrested on this charge, which is absolutely false, I'll get my folks to sue you for false imprisonment and defamation of character, and I know the other fellows will do the same. And you can rest assured that the charges against you will be pushed to the limits of the law."

At this plain talk Jason Sparr's jaw dropped. Several times he was on the point of interrupting, but thought better of it.

"Well, now--er----" he stammered when Dave had finished.

"My father is a United States senator," said Roger. "You don't suppose he will let a matter like this pass unnoticed? If you do anything to besmirch our family name, you'll take the consequences."

"Your father is a United States senator?" faltered Jason Sparr.

"He is, and Dave's father is a rich man, and so is Phil Lawrence's father. Of course, our money has nothing to do with it, excepting that it will enable us to stand up for our rights in the courts, and get able lawyers to defend us. We are innocent of all wrongdoing. If anybody is in the wrong it is you, for you cheated Phil Lawrence out of the money he advanced to you for that spread we were to have at your hotel."

"Cheated him!" cried the hotel-keeper.

"That is what it amounted to, for you took his money and gave him nothing in return."

"He called the spread off----"

"He did not, and we can prove it," said Dave, following up what he thought looked like an advantage. "Why, if he wanted to do it, Phil could have you locked up for swindling."

"What, me? Locked up?" cried the hotel man.

"Certainly. Why not? It's as reasonable as your charge against us--more reasonable, in fact, for you kept his money and gave him nothing in return," went on our hero, warmly.

"Well, now what do you know about that?" grumbled Jason Sparr, turning to the driver of the covered wagon. But the lockup man merely shrugged his shoulders. Privately he was of the opinion that the boys were not such rascals as had been pictured.

"If those fellows wasn't guilty, why did they run away?" continued Jason Sparr, after an awkward pause.

"Because you scared them," responded Roger. "I would have run away myself if it hadn't been for Dave."

"Humph!"

All looked along the road. Constable Hickson had disappeared, having followed the runaways down to the river. Presently he came back, out of breath from his exertions.

"Did you get 'em?" queried the hotel-keeper, eagerly.

"No, they got away in a motor-boat."

"A motor-boat!" repeated Dave and Roger, and looked at each other in astonishment.

"Yes, went up the river out of sight," said Paul Hickson. "Too bad! But we've got two of 'em, anyway," he added, looking at our hero and the senator's son.

"I wanted Lawrence more than I did the others," grumbled Jason Sparr. He was doing some deep thinking and his face showed that he was much disturbed.

"Mr. Sparr, just remember what I said," remarked Dave, pointedly. "If you go ahead, take my word for it, it will cost you dear."

"Say, Hickson, we'll drop this matter for the present," said the hotel-keeper, in a low tone.

"Drop it?" ejaculated the constable. "Ain't you goin' to have these two took up?"

"Not just now. I--er--I want to get more evidence first, if I can. We can get them any time we want them."

"But who is going to pay me for my trouble? I've got them warrants to serve right in my pocket, and----"

"I'll fix that up with you," answered the hotel man, in a whisper. "Come on. We can come back later." And then the hotel man said something to the driver of the wagon. The latter merely nodded and got back to his seat. Jason Sparr climbed up beside him, and the constable slowly followed.

"I don't understand----" went on the constable; but Jason Sparr merely pinched his arm, and he stopped short.

"Just remember, this ain't settled yet!" cried the hotel-keeper, to Dave and Roger. "I'm going to look into it a bit deeper before I make a move, that's all. I know some of you done it, and I'll have you in prison for it yet, see if I don't!" And he shook his head grimly; and then the covered wagon was turned around, and the three men drove off in the direction of Oakdale.

"Oh, Dave, do you think they'll come back?" cried Roger, when the men were out of hearing.

"There is no telling what they will do, Roger. But you can make up your mind to one thing--Sparr won't come back until he has more evidence than he has at present."

"But how can he get evidence? Surely you don't think Phil and the others guilty, even if they did run away."

"No, I think Phil and the others are as innocent as we are. But I can't understand some things. Somebody used that dynamite and somebody wrote a letter to Sparr about us. The question is, Who was it?"

"Could it be Nat Poole?"

"I don't think Nat would be bad enough to try to blow up a hotel."

"It certainly was an awful thing to do." Roger drew a long breath. "What shall we do now, go back to school?"

"We might as well. If we don't, old Haskers will be after us again."

"Do you think Phil and the others will come back?"

"Why not? As soon as they have time to think it over they'll realize it is best to face the music," answered Dave.

He and Roger returned to Oak Hall. They had missed one class, but fortunately that was one presided over by Mr. Dale, and he readily excused them when they said they had had some personal matters of importance to attend to, and would explain later.

"It is bound to come out, sooner or later," said Dave to his chum. "So we might as well take Doctor Clay and Mr. Dale into our confidence."

"I suppose you are right," answered the senator's son. Nevertheless, he heaved a deep sigh, as he thought of what might be the outcome of the trouble. What if, after all, Jason Sparr should concoct some sort of evidence against them and send them all to prison?

CHAPTER XIX

LOOKING FOR THE RUNAWAYS

When Dave and Roger went to the midday meal in the dining-room they looked all over for Phil, Ben, and Buster, but the three were not in sight.

"Dave, they haven't come back yet."

"So I see," returned our hero, and he was much disturbed. He ate sparingly, and the senator's son also had but little appetite for the meal.

"Say, what's become of those chaps?" questioned Shadow.

"I'll tell you later," answered Dave. "Don't say anything now--and tell the others to keep quiet, too."

But such a happening could not be kept quiet, and soon it was whispered around that Phil, Ben, and Buster were missing. This presently got to the ears of Andrew Dale, and the head assistant teacher sought out Dave for an explanation.

"I understand you went out with Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs this morning, Porter," said the teacher. "They are not yet back. Do you know where they went?"

"They went off in a motor-boat, that is all I know about that part of it, Mr. Dale. Roger Morr and I would like to speak to you and Doctor Clay in private. It is very important," went on our hero.

"Very well. Come at once to the office and I will call the doctor."

A little later found the two youths in the office with Doctor Clay and his head assistant. There, as briefly as he could, Dave told his story, and Roger corroborated what was said. The head of the school was deeply interested and not a little alarmed.

"This is certainly serious," he declared, with a grave shake of his head. "It reflects not only on you but on this school. I must look into this at once." And then he asked many questions, and Andrew Dale did the same.

"Running away makes it look bad for Lawrence, Beggs, and Basswood," remarked Mr. Dale. "They should have stood their ground, as Morr and Porter did."

"That hotel man and the constable probably scared them so they did not know what they were doing," returned Doctor Clay. He turned to the boys. "You have no idea where they went?"

"No, sir, excepting that they went up the river in the Kingsley motor-boat. They know Tom Kingsley quite well and he lets them use the boat once in a while."

"Do you think you could find them, if I let you off to do so?"

"We could try, sir."

"Then you may go at once. Tell them it was very foolish to run away, and urge them to come back at once," added Doctor Clay.

A little more conversation followed, and then Dave and Roger left the office and started on the search for the runaways.

"We ought to have a motor-boat ourselves, to follow them up the river--that is, if they went any distance," said the senator's son.

"We might try to borrow one, Roger."

"Not Nat Poole's--he wouldn't lend it to us."

"I know that."

The two students walked to the river and looked up and down the stream. A rowboat and a sailboat were in sight, but that was all.

"There is Jack Laplow in his sloop," cried Dave, mentioning a riverman they knew. "The wind is blowing up the stream. Maybe he'll take us along."

They hailed the riverman, who made a living by doing all sorts of jobs on the stream. He did not have much to do just then and readily agreed, for a small amount, to take them up the river and bring them back.

"We want to find some fellows who are in the Kingsley motor-boat," explained Dave. "Have you seen anything of them?"

The riverman had not, but said he would help to watch out for the lads. Dave and Roger hopped aboard the sloop, and soon the little craft was standing up the Leming River, with Jack Laplow at the tiller.

It was a warm, clear day, and had the boys not been distressed in mind, they would have enjoyed the sail immensely. But as it was, they were very sober, so much so in fact that the old riverman at length remarked:

"What's wrong--somebody hurt, or are ye going to a funeral?"

"No funeral," answered Dave, with a forced laugh. "But we are in a hurry to find those three fellows."

"Well, I don't see no motor-boat yet," answered Jack Laplow.

"One thing is certain: if it went up the river it's got to come down," said Roger.

"They may get out and send it back," answered our hero.

"But, Dave, surely you don't think----" But Dave put up his hand for silence and nodded in the direction of the boatman; and the senator's son said no more.

A mile and a half were covered, and they were just passing one of the many islands in the river, when Jack Laplow gave a shout.

"There is the motor-boat now!"

"Boat ahoy!" shouted Dave, and then, as they drew closer, he saw that it was really the Kingsley craft. He was chagrined to see that only a man was on board, a fellow who was running the boat very slowly.

"Where are those boys who were aboard?" demanded our hero, as the motor-boat came closer.

"Is this your boat?" asked the man on board, in return.

"No, but my friends were on that boat. Where are they?"

"Left the boat at Snog's Point, and hired me to bring her back. I don't know much about motor-boats, so I'm running kind o' slow," explained the man.

"Snog's Point?" repeated Roger. "Where were they going?"

"Don't ask me, for I don't know. They was in a tremenjous hurry, I know that. It's all right, ain't it?" went on the man, quickly.

"Oh, yes, it was all right," answered Dave. And then they allowed the man to go on his way.

"Want to go up to Snog's Point?" asked the man of the sloop.

"Yes,--and as quickly as you can get there," replied Dave.

As the wind was in the right direction, it did not take long. The Point was a rocky cliff with a stretch of sand at its base. Here the boys jumped ashore.

"Want me to wait for you?" asked the riverman.

"Wait for half an hour," said Dave. "Then, if we are not back, you can go back;" and so it was arranged.

In the sand our hero and Roger could plainly see the marks of the motor-boat and many footprints. They followed the footprints to a road leading through a stretch of woods, and then came out on a highway leading to Barrelton.

"The town is about half a mile from here. Wonder if they went there?" mused Roger.

"Maybe we can learn something at the nearest farmhouse," suggested Dave.

They hurried on, and presently reached a farmhouse set close to the road, with a barn on the other side. At a grindstone a tall, thin boy was sharpening a sickle.

"Yes, I saw them fellers," he drawled, when asked about the runaways. "They was walking to town to beat the cars. I thought they must be in one o' them cross-country races, or something like that."

"Come on!" cried Dave to his chum. Then he turned back suddenly. "Do you know anything about the trains from Barrelton?"

"Ain't many trains from there," answered the youth at the grindstone.

"But do you know what there are?"

"There's a train north jest about due now."

"And what is next?"

"A train south a leetle after four o'clock. An' the freight goes through at seven."

"Hurry, Roger!" cried Dave.

"Do you think they'd take a train, Dave?"

"I don't know--I hope not."

The two boys set off on a run, taking it easy at first, so as not to get winded. They passed a number of farms and presently came in sight of Barrelton, so called because of the barrel factory located there. From a distance they had heard the whistle of a locomotive, and knew that the north-bound train had stopped at the station and gone on.

"There is the station!" cried Dave, pointing up the railroad tracks. They continued to run and did not stop until they gained the platform. Here they met the ticket agent.

"The train just went, didn't it?" asked Dave, and as the agent nodded, he went on: "Did three young fellows like ourselves get on?"

"If they did, I didn't see 'em," answered the man.

"Oh!" cried Roger, "maybe they didn't take the train, after all."

"Let us hope so."

Somewhat out of breath, the two boys tramped around Barrelton, looking for Phil and the others, and asking about them. But nobody appeared to have seen the runaways, and not a trace of them was to be found anywhere.

"All we can do is to get something to eat and take the other train for Oakdale," said Roger, after they had satisfied themselves that the runaways were nowhere in that vicinity. The walking around had made him hungry.

They procured some pie and milk at a little stand near the station, and shortly after four o'clock took the way train for Oakdale and walked to the school. They went directly to the doctor's office. The master of Oak Hall listened patiently to what they had to tell.

"I am sorry you did not find them," he said, gravely. "It was very foolish of them to run away, very. I trust they will come back of their own accord soon."

"Will you see Mr. Sparr about the matter?" asked Dave.

"Yes, Porter. And I wish you and Morr to go with me."

The interview took place that evening, the boys and the doctor driving down to the hotel after supper. Jason Sparr treated the master of the Hall politely but said very little.

"When I make my next move I'll have a lawyer," he said. "I know somebody tried to blow up my hotel, and I think it was some of your boys--that Lawrence boy especially. But I ain't going to have 'em arrested until I can prove it."

"Very well," answered Doctor Clay. "And in the meantime, you had better keep quiet, or you may have a suit for damages on hand."

On the day following there was something of a sensation. The weekly newspaper issued in a nearby town came out with a thrilling account of the dynamiting of the dining-room of the hotel. In the account appeared the following:

"There is strong evidence pointing to the fact that the outrageous deed was perpetrated by some schoolboys who held a grudge against Mr. Sparr. They are known to have been present at the blowing up of the old stone bridge, and were seen near the shanty where the sticks of dynamite were kept, and one boy of the town says he saw a young man coming from the shanty with something in his hand. Mr. Sparr has the authorities at work and is piling up his evidence, and the arrest of the rascally schoolboys may be hourly expected. It is said that some of the boys have run away, but the authorities have an idea where they can be located. The town committee is thinking of offering a reward for the capture and conviction of the rascals. For the safety of our citizens, the Weekly Globe-Leader hopes the evil-doers will soon be apprehended."

No names were mentioned in this account, but everybody in Oakdale and vicinity knew that the boys of Oak Hall were alluded to, and there was much talk over what might be done. Doctor Clay felt the disgrace keenly, and Dave and Roger were equally affected.

"What are we going to do, Dave?" asked the senator's son.

"I don't know," returned our hero. "But we've got to do something, that's certain."

CHAPTER XX

THE WILD MAN AGAIN

"Roger, I have an idea!"

"What is it, Dave?"

"I may be mistaken, but I've been thinking that perhaps that wild man did the blowing up at the hotel."

"What makes you think that?" questioned the senator's son, putting down the book he had been trying to study.

A day had passed after the events recorded in the last chapter, and so far no word had come in concerning Phil and the other runaways. Doctor Clay had sent for a private detective to assist in locating them and also to try, if possible, to clear up the mystery concerning the hotel affair.

"Well, in the first place, it would be just like a crazy man to do such a thing, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps."

"In the second place, I have heard that the wild man was seen around when the bridge was blown up."

"Is that so? Who saw him?"

"Mr. Tyson, the farmer who lives near the bridge."

"Why didn't he try to capture the fellow?"

"He did, but in the excitement of the blowing up the wild man slipped him. And that isn't all. Mr. Tyson saw him coming from the vicinity of that shanty where the dynamite was kept."

"Say, that is certainly interesting!" cried the senator's son. "When did you learn all this?"

"Less than an hour ago. Mr. Tyson brought some vegetables to the school and I had a talk with him."

"Did he think the wild man blew up the hotel?"

"No, he didn't connect the two."

"Hum! What do you think of doing about it?"

"I hardly know. I wish we could round up the wild man."

"Plenty of folks wish that."

"I think he hangs out somewhere along the river, or on one of the islands."

"Maybe Nat Poole knows."

"I hardly think so--although I am sure Nat wants to find the fellow--why, I can't imagine."

During those trying days, Job Haskers was as harsh and dictatorial to Dave and Roger as ever, and several times he passed sneering remarks about those who were missing.

"You may think as you please, Doctor Clay," said he to the master of the Hall. "I feel sure in my mind that Lawrence and those other boys are guilty. I do not think Mr. Sparr would accuse them if he was not pretty sure of his ground."

"Well, he has not dared to have those warrants served," replied the doctor, dryly.

"Because he is afraid there will be a great deal of money used in the case to fight him."

"Mr. Haskers, do you stand up for Mr. Sparr? I thought you had had some difficulty yourself with him once?"

"That was but a small affair. I think he is perfectly honest and that he wants to do what is right."

"Possibly. But he did not treat Lawrence very fairly in the matter of that dinner that was ordered."

"That was a mistake, and Mr. Sparr lost as much as he got. Yes, I think those boys guilty, and in the end you will find out that I am right," added Job Haskers as he went off, smiling grimly to himself, as if it was a pleasure to him to have the boys thus accused.

The next morning came another surprise. On getting up Dave noticed that something was missing from the dormitory. Phil's suit-case was gone, likewise a portion of his clothing, and also the valises of Ben and Buster, and part of their outfits.

"Well, this beats the Dutch!" exclaimed Roger, on learning the news. "Who took them, do you suppose?"

"Don't ask me, Roger."

"Maybe they came themselves and got them," suggested Sam.

"If they did, wouldn't we hear them?" asked Gus.

"Talk about a mysterious disappearance," cried Shadow. "Say, this puts me in mind of a story. Once some fellows----"

"Oh, stow it, Shadow!" cried the senator's son. "Let's get busy and try to find out what this means. Maybe they are back at the school."

All of the boys dressed hastily and took a look around. But they could find no trace of the runaways. Yet the traveling-bags and the clothing were certainly gone.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the place was haunted!" cried Luke.

"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Polly Vane, looking scared. "I don't wish to see any ghosts."

Doctor Clay was informed of what had occurred, and he had another search conducted. But it was all to no purpose--the things were missing, and that was all there was to it.

It may well be imagined that with so much going on it was next to impossible for Dave and Roger to study. Yet they did their best, not wishing to drop behind again as they had during the trip to Cave Island. Job Haskers did not let up on them, and many a time they wished he would leave Oak Hall and that they might never see him again.

One afternoon Roger came to Dave in great haste and beckoned for him to come outside.

"I think we had better follow Nat Poole," said the senator's son. "I think there is something in the wind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Nat has been packing a valise and he has put in the strangest things--some clothing, some bottles of medicine, some rope, and a thing that looks like a crown made of brass."

"A crown made of brass? Oh, Roger, maybe that wild man--who calls himself the King of Sumatra----"

"That's the idea, Dave, I see you've caught on. Come on, before Nat gets away from us."

Our hero needed no further urging, and soon he and Roger were on their way to the gymnasium, where the senator's son had, by pure accident, seen Nat Poole packing the things mentioned in his handbag.

As they approached, they saw the money-lender's son trundle out a bicycle he owned and mount it, swinging his valise over his shoulder by a strap. He looked back to see if he was being observed, but Dave and Roger were on guard and quickly dove out of sight behind some bushes.

"We'll have to follow on our own wheels," said Dave.

Their old bicycles were still in the gymnasium. They were not in very good condition, but the tires were air-tight and that was enough. Without delay, they trundled the machines out, and leaping into the saddles, pedaled after Nat.

The course of the money-lender's son was along the river road, and he followed this for the best part of a mile. Then he branched off on a side-road leading to what were known as the Chester Hills. It was hard work pushing the machine up the hills, but Nat kept at it steadily, and Dave and Roger followed. Strange to say, the money-lender's son did not once look back after leaving the school. Evidently he was of the opinion that nobody had observed his departure, or, if so, had taken no particular notice of it.

From the top of one of the hills, Nat struck off on another side-road, leading to a little valley. Here was a brook, and at a point where it widened out, a small and really beautiful island. In the center of the island a cabin had been built by some sportsman, and a rustic bridge connected the resort with the shore.

Reaching the rustic bridge, Nat dismounted, and with his valise still over his shoulder, walked towards the cabin. As he did this Dave and Roger came quite close and they, too, dismounted, keeping in the shelter of some trees near by.

"Stop! I command you, in the name of the King of Sumatra, to stop!"

The call came from the cabin, and a second later the wild man appeared. He was clad in a blue pair of trousers and over his shoulder was thrown a big red blanket. On his head rested a crown made of a tin pail cut into sharp points.

"I salute you, King of Sumatra!" called out Nat, making a low bow.

"Ha! it is my servant that speaks," said the wild man. "Bow low, bow, I tell you!" and he flourished a wooden sword that he held in one hand.

"It is the wild man, sure enough!" whispered Roger, in great excitement.

"And evidently he has been expecting Nat," returned Dave. "Let us get closer and see what is up."

They advanced with care until they were behind a tree at the very foot of the rustic bridge. In the meantime Nat had gone forward, bowing low at every step.

"I have brought you something, my king!" cried the money-lender's son. "Something of great importance to you."

"What is it?" demanded the wild man, his curiosity excited.

"A new crown. It is of gold, a beautiful crown."

"Ha! ha! that is well! The King of Sumatra needs a new crown!" cried the wild man, strutting up and down in front of the cabin. "Give it to me, that I may see if it fits." And he held out his empty hand.

"Let us go into the cabin, and you can sit in your chair of state while I place it on your head," said Nat, in a soothing, persuasive voice. "You will like it, I know."

"Did you bring your army with you?" demanded the wild man, suspiciously.

"No, I am all alone--the army is at Oakdale," answered Nat.

"Again 'tis well. Come in, and I will sit on the throne," and with a sweeping gesture of welcome, the wild man stepped back into the cabin, and Nat Poole followed.

"Now, what do you make of this?" whispered Roger, looking at Dave in wonder.

"I have an idea, Roger," answered our hero. "Nat knows that man; in fact, he is well acquainted with him. I think he is going to try to make him a prisoner."

"A prisoner? Oh, I see; for the glory of it, eh?"

"No, to get him back to some sanitarium as quietly as possible. I think Nat would like to do it without anybody around here being the wiser."

"Oh! Then maybe the fellow is some relative of the Pooles."

"Possibly, or a close friend. But come on, let us see what happens. We ought to try to capture the man ourselves."

"To be sure. But I don't see how we are going to do it. We are unarmed, and they say crazy folks are fearfully strong."

"We'll have to watch our chances."

The cabin had a window as well as a door, and to the former the two boys crawled. Peering through a vine that grew over the opening, they saw that the wild man had seated himself on a rude bench which he called his throne. It was covered with a tattered carpet and some cabalistic signs in blue chalk. Nat had placed his valise on the ground and was opening it. He brought out the crown and also the rope, but took care to conceal the latter under his coat.

"Now you must close your eyes and sit perfectly still while I place the crown on your head," said the money-lender's son. "I will have to do it from behind, for that is the way they do it in England and Germany."

"Do they do it in Russia that way, too?" demanded the wild man, and his eyes took on a glowing look as he gazed at the brass crown.

"Of course."

"Then let it be so." And the wild man sat back on the bench and closed his eyes, and stroked his straggly beard.

Quickly Nat stepped behind the man, and while he fumbled with the crown with one hand, he brought out the rope with the other. He was greatly excited and his hands trembled.

"Now sit perfectly still while I count fifty," said the money-lender's son. "Then when I----"

He did not finish, for at that instant the wild man let out a sudden yell and leaped to his feet. He ran to the doorway; and the next moment came face to face with Dave and Roger.

CHAPTER XXI

SOMETHING OF A CLEW

"Ha! ha! you are the army sent to capture me, are you? But I am not to be captured! Take the cannons away! Bring up the artillery! Forward the light brigade! Victory for the King of Sumatra! Oh, if only I had a company of trained monkeys I would show you how to fight!"

Thus speaking, the wild man danced around before Dave and Roger, swinging his wooden sword close to their heads. Indeed, our hero had to dodge back, to keep from being hit.

"Hello, you here?" cried Nat, coming from the cabin. "You followed me, did you?" He scowled deeply. "It's just like you, Dave Porter!"

"Nobody shall follow the King of Sumatra!" went on the wild man, with a cunning look at the three students. "Away! Out of my sight!" he yelled.

He dashed past Dave and Roger, moving towards the rustic bridge. Our hero caught him by the arm, but received a blow in the face that staggered him. Roger also tried to catch the man, but he was too quick, and a second later was on the bridge.

"Come back!" bawled Nat. "Come back, Uncle Wilbur! Don't you know me? Come back, please! We won't hurt you!" And then he set off after the wild man, who was running along the road beyond the bridge.

"Dave, did you hear that?" gasped the senator's son. "He called the wild man Uncle Wilbur!"

"Yes, I heard him," returned our hero. "No wonder he has been after him, Roger. Come on, let us see if we can't catch him."

The chums started after the wild man and the money-lender's son. The way was along the road, but presently the wild man turned into a stretch of woods. He could run like a trained athlete, and easily outdistanced Nat, who kept calling after him.

When Dave and Roger came up they found the money-lender's son leaning against a tree, out of breath and much disgusted.

"Couldn't get him, eh?" queried Roger.

"No, you fellows scared him off," growled the money-lender's son.

"I am sorry if we did that," said Dave.

"You had no right to butt in," grumbled Nat. "What did you follow me for, anyway?"

"Because we thought you were after the wild man, that's why," answered Roger.

"Humph!"

"So he is your Uncle Wilbur," went on our hero, after a pause, and he turned a look of sympathy at Nat as he spoke.

"Who told you that?"

"You called him Uncle Wilbur."

"I--I guess you are mistaken," stammered Nat, growing red in the face.

"No, we heard you as plain as day," put in the senator's son.

"You haven't any right to pry into my affairs, Roger Morr! You nor Dave Porter either!"

"Perhaps not," answered Roger.

"Look here, Nat, if we can help you we'll do it," came from Dave. "I suppose, if that man is your uncle, you wish to get him back to the--er--the sanitarium as quickly and as quietly as possible; is that so?"

"Wouldn't you want to do that, if he was your uncle?" asked the money-lender's son, flushing deeply.

"Certainly. But it looks, now, as if you couldn't do it alone."

"I might have done it, if you hadn't come up and queered my game."

"He didn't see us until he ran out of the cabin," said Roger. "He just got a wild streak on, that's all. I don't think you could have managed him alone. He wouldn't let you tie him up with that rope."

"Well, he's gone, that's sure," grumbled Nat. "I'm going back to the cabin for my valise."

"He may come back," suggested Dave.

"I don't think so. But I'll wait and see. I hung around once for him--on that island--but he never came back. It isn't often he visits the same spot twice. That's the reason the authorities around here haven't caught him."

"What is his name, Nat?"

"Wilbur Poole, if you must know. He is my father's half-brother."

"Where did he come from?"

"From the Blossmore Sanitarium, in New York state. It's a private place, near Lake Erie. He lost a lot of money several years ago in a speculation in Sumatra tobacco and that made him crazy, and that is why, I suppose, he calls himself the King of Sumatra."

"Did you know he was missing when you heard of the wild man?" questioned Dave, with interest.

"No, I did not, for the sanitarium people did not notify us that he had gotten away. I suppose they thought he would stay near the institution and that they would be able to get him again. I can't imagine what brought him away out here, excepting that I went to see him once, when he was somewhat better, and I told him about Oakdale and our school. I knew he called himself the King of Sumatra, and that is why I got interested in the wild man as soon as I heard you mention that name. Then, when the handkerchief was found, I was sure the man was my uncle."

"And you put the hole in the handkerchief," said our hero.

"Yes, because--well, I didn't want folks to find out from the Blossmore authorities that the man was my uncle," answered Nat, casting down his eyes. "I thought I might be able to catch him and send him back on the quiet. I didn't want the whole school talking about it."

"I can understand your feelings, Nat," said our hero, kindly. "And if I can help you in the matter, I'll do it."

"I suppose you'll tell everybody he's my uncle," came bitterly from the money-lender's son.

"No, I won't. But I think Doctor Clay ought to know it."

"And what of your folks?" asked Roger. "Do they know?"

"I sent my dad a letter about it last week. But he is away on business, so I don't know when he'll get it or what he'll do. I didn't let the Blossmore folks know because I don't think my uncle ought to go back to that place. He ought to be put in an institution where they are more strict, so he can't get away again."

"You are right there," said Dave.

"Nat, don't you know it is highly dangerous to allow that man at large?" asked the senator's son, after a pause, during which the three boys turned their footsteps towards the island cabin.

"Oh, I don't think he is as dangerous as some folks imagine," was the reply. "He has never actually harmed anybody yet. But he scares 'em."

"He may have committed some deeds of which you know nothing."

At these suggestive words from the senator's son Nat turned pale.

"What do you mean? Have you heard anything, Roger?"

"I hate to hurt your feelings any further, Nat, but I must be honest with you. Dave and I have an idea that he was the one who blew up the dining-room of Sparr's hotel."

"Oh, impossible!"

"What Roger says is true," said Dave, gravely. "I am sorry for you, Nat, but that is the way it looks to us. He was seen around the old stone bridge when it was blown up, and around the shanty where the dynamite was kept, and he has been in Oakdale several times, so we have heard."

"Oh, he wouldn't do such a thing! He couldn't!" cried the money-lender's son, in genuine distress.

"An insane man is liable to do anything, Nat," said Roger. "Why, he might have set off that dynamite without realizing the consequences. The best thing we can do is to organize a regular search for him, and round him up as quickly as possible."

"I suppose that is so," groaned Nat. "But, oh, how I do hate the exposure!"

"You mustn't take it too hard, Nat," said Dave. "Remember, neither you nor your family are responsible for his condition of mind."

It did not take the three students long to reach the little cabin. While Nat was packing up the things he had brought along, Dave and Roger looked over the place. The wild man had had but few things, none of them worth mentioning. There was a newspaper and an old magazine, showing that Wilbur Poole occasionally indulged in reading.

"Hello, look here!" cried Roger, as he turned the magazine over. "Well, I declare!"

"What is it?" asked Dave and Nat, in a breath.

"Here's a picture, drawn in blue pencil. It is marked Fort, but it looks like Sparr's hotel."

"And look what it says!" cried Dave, eying the crude drawing. "'Powder House to be blown up'! That's the dining-room, as plain as day!"

"And down here it says, 'Dynamite will do it easily,' and signed, 'King of Sumatra.' Dave, he did it, and this proves it."

"It certainly looks that way, Roger."

"Let me see that drawing!" burst out Nat, and would have snatched it from Roger's hand had not Dave stopped him.

"You can look at it, Nat, but you must give it back," said our hero.

"What for? My uncle drew that and I have a right to it."

"No, I am going to hand this over to Doctor Clay and then to the Oakdale authorities. It may be needed to clear Phil, Ben, and Buster."

"Hurrah, Dave, that's the talk!" cried Roger, with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn't think of it, but that is just what is needed to clear 'em! We'll knock Jason Sparr's accusations into a cocked hat!"

"You let me see that drawing!" shouted Nat, making another grab for it. "I've got a right to it--if my uncle made it."

"You can look at it, but you can't handle it," said Dave, and he gave Roger a look that the senator's son well understood. Both knew that the money-lender's son could not be trusted with such an important bit of evidence.

The drawing was held up, but Nat was not permitted to get too close to it. He looked it over carelessly and then his lip curled.

"Huh! I don't think my uncle drew it," he said.

"And we think he did," returned Dave.

There was a sudden silence after this. Each boy was busy with his thoughts. Dave felt particularly light-hearted.

"This ought to clear Phil and the others," he reasoned. "And they can come back to school without delay and finish the term and graduate."

Having packed up his things, Nat got out his bicycle and prepared to ride back to Oak Hall, and the others did the same.

"Going to give me that drawing?" asked the money-lender's son, just as he was ready to start off.

"No, we are going to turn it over to Doctor Clay," said Roger.

"All right, have your own way," growled Nat.

As in coming to the cabin, the money-lender's son took the lead in the return to Oak Hall. Dave and Roger kept close behind and occasionally spoke of the happenings in guarded tones. When the school was reached all left their bicycles in the gymnasium.

"Going to Doctor Clay now?" demanded Nat.

"We might as well," said Dave. "The sooner he knows of this, the better for everybody."

"All right."

Doctor Clay was somewhat surprised to see the three boys, dusty and tired-looking, enter his private office. He listened with close attention to their tale of visiting the cabin and encountering the wild man, and looked completely astonished on learning that the man was Nat's uncle.

"I am sorry for you, Poole," said he, kindly. "But such things will happen and you must make the best of it. It is not your fault."

Then Dave and Roger told of the finding of the old magazine with the drawing and writing, and Doctor Clay shook his head sorrowfully.

"Too bad! Too bad!" he murmured.

"But this clears Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs," cried Dave. "And it clears Roger and myself."

"Yes! yes! so it does, Porter!"

"Don't you believe it, Doctor Clay!" cried Nat, leaping to his feet. "It does nothing of the sort! That paper is no kind of evidence at all!" And thus speaking, the money-lender's son glared defiantly at Dave and Roger.

CHAPTER XXII

AFTER THE RUNAWAYS

"Why, Nat, what do you mean?" demanded Dave.

"I mean just what I say!" declared the money-lender's son. "This is a frame-up, nothing more! I understand it all now, although I didn't at first."

"What do you mean by 'a frame-up,' Poole?" demanded Doctor Clay.

"I mean that they took this magazine and the drawing to the cabin, that is what I mean, Doctor Clay. They found out somehow that my--er--that the wild man was there, and they got up this scheme to make it look as if he had blown up the hotel,--and they did it just to clear their cronies and themselves."

"Nat, you know that is not true!" exclaimed Roger. "I found the magazine with the drawing on a shelf in the cabin."

"Yes, that is what you said, but I don't believe it, Roger Morr. I think you put the magazine there yourself--you or Dave Porter."

"We did nothing of the kind," cried our hero.

"I think you did--and I think Jason Sparr will think so, too, when he hears the story. It's a frame-up, just to clear yourselves and your cronies," added Nat, with a sneer.

"Nat, you ought to be----" began Roger, in high anger, when Dave stopped him. Our hero looked at Doctor Clay.

"What Roger says is the absolute truth, Doctor Clay," said our hero. "He found that magazine on a shelf in the cabin where the wild man was staying, and that drawing and the wording were on it, just as you see. More than that, we can prove that the wild man was around the old shanty where the dynamite was kept, and that he was seen in Oakdale several times."

Dave was interrupted here by Nat, and a wordy war lasting several minutes followed. Finally Doctor Clay said he would take the magazine and keep it, and that he would notify the authorities in what locality the wild man might be found, provided he had not gone away further than expected.

"I am inclined to believe the story told by Morr and Porter," said he somewhat sternly to Nat Poole. "But this matter cannot be cleared up until we find your uncle. When captured, the unfortunate man will most likely speak of the blowing up in some way or another, if he is guilty."

"I don't think so," answered Nat; but his manner showed that he was much disturbed. Then Dave and Roger were dismissed, and the master of the school took Nat with him to Oakdale, to see what could be done towards rounding up Wilbur Poole in the near future.

"Well, Dave, what is the next move?" asked the senator's son, as the two were alone in the lavatory, washing up after the long bicycle ride.

"I wish I could find Phil and the others and get them to come back here," responded our hero. "It is a great mistake for them to stay away."

"I believe you--it looks just as if they were guilty. I wonder that they don't come back on their own account, now they have had a chance to think it over."

"I think they saw that article in the newspaper, Roger, and it scared them worse than ever. Maybe they imagine the officers of the law are waiting to gobble them up."

"If we only had some trace of them!"

"I've got an idea I am going to follow up."

"What sort of an idea?"

"I was thinking of that baggage that left here. Maybe it was shipped to some point."

"You'll have a job tracing it up."

"I can try it, anyway," answered our hero.

A day slipped by and nothing more was said about the affair by Doctor Clay or Nat Poole. Then Nat left the school, telling some friends he was going home for a week's rest.

"Most likely he is after his uncle," was Roger's comment, and Dave agreed with him.

As soon as he could get the time Dave went to Oakdale to see if he could find any trace of the baggage belonging to Phil and the others who had run away. He made many inquiries but without success, and was on the point of returning to the school when he happened to think of an old man named Dowling, who did some trucking and who knew Buster Beggs very well.

"We'll go around to Dowling's place," said he to his chum.

They found the old man in a little shanty behind his house which he called his office. It had an old easy-chair and a desk, and on the wall was a telephone.

"How do you do, boys," he said, politely. "What can I do for you? Want some baggage shipped?"

"No, I came for some information, Mr. Dowling," said Dave. "Have you shipped any baggage for Buster Beggs lately?"

At the mention of the fat student's name the old expressman started.

"What do you want to know that for?" he demanded.

"I've a very good reason, Mr. Dowling. I want to do Beggs a favor."

"Reckon you want to find him, eh?"

"Yes."

"So do some other folks;" and the old man chuckled.

"Well, we are his friends, and we want to find him for his own good."

"Who be you, if I may ask?"

"I am Dave Porter, and this is Roger Morr. Buster Beggs is our friend, and so are Phil Lawrence and Ben Basswood. They ran away and it was foolish for them to do it. Now we want to find them and get them to come back here."

"It was foolish for 'em to run away--I said thet all along," murmured the old expressman.

"Then you know where they are?" put in Roger quickly.

"No, I don't."

"But you took their baggage away, didn't you?" questioned Dave, for he could see that the old man was holding something back.

"I allow as how I moved some things for 'em, yes," was the cautious reply.

"When they ran away?" pursued Dave.

The old expressman nodded.

"Who got those bags from Oak Hall?" asked Roger.

"Thet's a secret," and now the old man really chuckled, as if he thought it was a good joke.

"You did!" declared Dave, bound to get at the truth.

"No, I didn't. Buster did--carried 'em down on his back, one at a time, in the middle o' the night, an' nobuddy knew it! Say, they could walk off with yer hull school if they wanted to!" And the old expressman chuckled again.

"You were waiting for him?" continued Dave.

"Might be as I was."

"And you took the baggage to the depot?"

"Maybe I did."

"And had them checked on railroad tickets?"

"No, Buster went one way, and the bags went tudder--leas'wise so I was given to understand. Maybe he done it to put me off the track," continued Isaac Dowling.

"But where did the bags go to?" demanded Dave. "Come, out with it, Mr. Dowling. I give you my word that I am acting for Buster's good. I wouldn't get him into trouble for the world. He is my chum, and so are those other boys my friends."

"Well, you look honest, boy, so I'll tell ye. The baggage was sent by express to a place called Camptown Falls, in Maine."

"Camptown Falls!" cried Roger. Then he looked at Dave, who nodded, to show that he understood.

"Did Buster say he was going elsewhere?" queried Dave.

"He didn't say so, exactly. But he mentioned Boston, an' I thought he was goin' there."

"He left on the train?"

"No, he didn't! He went off in the darkness, an' that's the last I see o' him," concluded Isaac Dowling, as a hail came for him to come into the house.

"Camptown Falls," said Dave, when he and Roger were alone. "Can they have gone to that out-of-the-way spot?"

"It would be the place Buster would pick out, Dave. He has often spoken of going camping up there."

"He must have mentioned Boston just to throw old Dowling off the track."

"More than likely. And to think he took those bags away while we slept!"

"I wonder where Phil and Ben were at the time?"

"I don't know. Maybe they were at that camp."

Much excited over what they had learned, Dave and the senator's son returned to Oak Hall. They had expected to interview Doctor Clay and were chagrined to learn that he had gone to New York on important business and would not return for two days. Mr. Dale had been left in charge of the school.

"Roger, do you know what I think of doing?" said our hero. "I've a good notion to get permission to leave the Hall and go after Phil and the others. I think I can get them to come back."

"Want me to go along?"

"That will hardly be necessary. Besides, I'd like somebody to stay here and watch Nat Poole, if he comes back. Do you know, I've a notion that Nat knows more about this affair than he would like to tell."

"He certainly acts that way."

"I am going to see Mr. Dale."

Our hero had a long talk with the head assistant, and the upshot of this was that he got permission to go to Maine, to look for the runaways. He was to be gone no longer than was absolutely necessary.

It did not take our hero long to prepare for the trip. He packed a few things in a suit-case and then he was ready. He consulted a map and some timetables, and found he could leave Oakdale on the first train in the morning, and by making two changes, reach Camptown Falls about two o'clock in the afternoon. Nobody but Roger and Mr. Dale knew that he was going away.

"Got money enough, have you, Dave?" questioned the senator's son.

"Yes, Roger."

"It's a wild kind of a spot, so Buster told me."

"I am not afraid of that--if only I can locate the boys," answered our hero.

"How are you going to look for them?"

"I don't know yet--I'll find out after I get there."

It must be confessed that Dave slept but little that night. His mind was filled with what was before him. He felt that he had quite a mission to perform, first in locating the runaways and then in persuading them to return to Oak Hall to face the music.

He had an early breakfast, Roger eating with him, and then the buggy, driven by Horsehair, was brought around and he got in, and a minute later he was off, the senator's son waving him an adieu from the porch of the school.

Dave found the first train he rode on but half filled with passengers, and he had a double seat to himself. He changed at the Junction, and about noon reached Lumberport, where he was to take the train on the little side-line for Camptown Falls. At Lumberport he got dinner, at a hotel frequented by lumbermen. He sat at a long table with half a dozen men and listened to their talk with interest when he heard Camptown Falls mentioned.

"Yes, they tell me there is great danger of the dam giving way just above Camptown Falls," one of the men said. "Doxey reported it hasn't been safe for a week."

"Say, if that dam gave way it would do a lot of damage below the Falls," said another.

"It certainly would," replied a tall lumberman. "It would wipe out some of those camps on Moosetail Island. I rather guess the water would cover the whole island."

"Somebody ought to warn the campers," said another.

"Oh, I guess they know it already," was the answer.

Dave arose from the table feeling very uneasy. He remembered the name, Moosetail Island, now. Buster had once mentioned it, stating he had camped there and would like to go again. Were the runaways there now, and in danger of the dam, should it break?

CHAPTER XXIII

AT THE CAMP

At last the train came that was to take our hero to the railroad station of Camptown Falls. It was merely a flag station, but the conductor said he would stop there for any passenger who might wish to get off. The railroad was a single-track affair, running through the woods and across the country stretches, and the train consisted of one passenger car and several freights.

Dave looked at the passengers and counted them. There were just an even dozen, and of these, ten were men, farmers and those in the lumber business. One, a bright young fellow, sat near our hero, and Dave resolved to ask him if he knew anything about Camptown Falls and the summer camps in that vicinity.

"Yes, I know all about the Falls," said the young lumberman. "I work not over three miles from there--at Cropley's--the station this side of Camptown. There ain't any town, not since the Jewell Lumber Company busted up. Some folks camp out there, down along the river and on Moosetail Island, but there aren't near as many as there used to be."

"Somebody said the dam above Camptown Falls was dangerous?" said Dave.

"I think it is myself, and I can't understand how they allow folks to camp along the river and on that island. If that dam ever broke it would be good-by to anybody on the island, I'm thinking."

"Have you been up to the island lately?"

"I was there about a week ago."

"Who were there then, do you know?"

"A couple of men from Portland and half a dozen young fellers from Springfield. There was another camp, with some women in it, but I didn't get around to that, I only heard of it. There are half a dozen camps along the right bank of the river, but they are on high ground, and if the dam broke it isn't likely the water would reach 'em," continued the young lumberman.

The train rolled along at a rate of twenty miles an hour, making stops at stations and crossroads. Here and there a person got on or off, and by the time Camptown Falls was reached Dave had the passenger car almost to himself.

The train halted for but a minute and our hero alighted, suit-case in hand. Much to his surprise, not a soul was about the little depot, which looked old and dilapidated. There was a stretch of fields beyond the track, and farther on he made out the glistening waters of the river, and in the center the woodland stretch known as Moosetail Island.

"Well, this surely is Lonesome Land!" Dave murmured to himself, as the train rumbled out of sight and he was left utterly alone. "And not another train until eight o'clock to-morrow morning! I'll have a fine time of it to-night if I don't meet those fellows, or run across some camp where they will take me in."

Dave looked at the sky and this did not tend to increase his good spirits. When he had left Oakdale it had been warm and clear; now dark clouds were forming overhead and it looked as if it might rain before long.

"Well, I've got my raincoat and a waterproof cap, and that is one comfort," he told himself. "But I had better hurry up and see if I can't find Phil and the others before it gets too dark. I wish there was somebody here who could tell me where to go."

He looked around for a sign of some habitation. Far across the river he saw a column of smoke, coming up from among the trees, but that was all. The only building in sight was the deserted depot.

There was something of a path leading from the depot to the river, and Dave followed this. But soon the path seemed to divide, and the various branches became more indistinct at every step, especially as it was rapidly growing darker and darker.

"I'll strike a straight course for Moosetail Island," Dave said to himself. "I'll surely find some people camping out there, and they may be able to tell me about the boys, if they are here."

As he approached the river, going down a small hill, the way became stony, and he had to walk with care, for fear of going into some hole, or twisting an ankle. It was hard work, especially with the suit-case, and he half wished he had hidden the baggage somewhere near the depot.

"I was a big chump that I didn't bring some lunch along," he reasoned. And then he had to smile at himself, as he remembered how he had imagined that he might put up at some hotel in Camptown Falls! He had not dreamed that the place would prove such a lonely one. It was certainly an ideal spot for runaways who wished to remain undiscovered.

Presently Dave found himself at the bank of the river, a wide but shallow stream, filled with sandbars, rocks, and piles of driftwood. Not a great distance off was the end of Moosetail Island.

It was now so dark that our hero could see but little. As he stood at the edge of the river, he heard a patter on the leaves of the trees and knew it had begun to rain.

"Wonder how they get to the island?" he mused. "They must either use canoes, or else wade across, or ford along the stones."

He moved along the river-bank, and soon came to a point where the stones in the river seemed to stretch in a line from the bank to the island.

"I guess I'll try it here," he told himself. "But I think I had better leave the suit-case behind."

He placed the case in a tree, sheltering it as much as possible from the rain, which was now coming down at a lively rate. Then, donning his raincoat and waterproof cap, he set out over the rocks in the river, leaping from one to the next and heading for the island.

It was no easy journey, and when but half-way to Moosetail Island Dave slipped and went into the stream up to his knees. He floundered around for a moment, splashing the water into his face and over his coat and cap.

"Phew! this is lots of fun!" was his grim comment, as he at length found himself on a flat rock, catching his breath. "Well, I am half-way over, anyway."

The remainder of the distance proved easier traveling, and ten minutes later our hero stood on the island. It was now raining steadily, and the darkness of the storm had settled everywhere.

"I guess the best thing I can do is to move right around the shore of this island," he reasoned. "By doing that I am bound to strike one of the camps, sooner or later."

He moved along as rapidly as the rocky shore of Moosetail Island permitted. He had to proceed with care, for there were many dangerous pitfalls.

At length his heart was gladdened by the sight of a rude log cabin, set in the trees a little back from the water. He hurried to it and found the door and window closed. Evidently the spot was deserted.

"Nobody here," he murmured, and his heart sank for the moment, for he could see that the camp had not been used for a long time. Then he went on, the rain in the meanwhile coming down harder than ever. The downfall made him think of the dam that was said to be weak. What if the present storm should make that structure give way?

"I wish we were all out of this," he murmured. "I wonder if it would do any good to call?"

He set up a yell and listened, and then he yelled again. From a long distance came an answering cry.

"Hurrah, that's somebody, anyway!" he exclaimed. "I hope it was one of the boys!"

He stumbled in the direction of the cry. Then he yelled once more, and again came the answering call. But now Dave was sure it was a man's voice, and he was somewhat disappointed.

"Where are you?" he called out, a moment later. "Where are you?"

"This way! Come this way!" was the reply, and soon Dave passed through a patch of timber and around some rocks and reached a spot where there was a tiny cove, with a stretch of fine sand. Facing the cove was a neat log cabin with a small lean-to, the latter containing a tiny stove.

A tall, good-natured man stood in the lean-to, peering out into the rain. He watched Dave's approach with interest. He looked to be what he was, a camp-cook and general worker.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, as Dave hurried in out of the rain and shook the water from his cap. "I thought you were one of our crowd."

"What camp is this?" questioned our hero, eagerly.

"Well, it ain't no camp in particular," answered the man, with a grin. "It's jest a camp."

"But who is stopping here?"

"Three young fellers and myself."

"Are their names Beggs, Lawrence, and Basswood?"

"You've struck it. Maybe you are a friend to 'em?" went on the man, inquiringly.

"I am, and I have come a long distance to find them," returned Dave, and his tone of voice showed his relief. "Where are they?"

"They left the camp right after dinner an' they ain't back yet. When you called I thought it was one of 'em, although they didn't expect to be back much before supper-time. But now it's rainin' I guess they'll come back sooner."

"How long have they been here?"

"Most a week now, I guess. I didn't come till day before yesterday. I didn't have nothin' to do an' they give me a job, cookin' an' like that," returned the man.

He invited Dave to make himself at home, and our hero was glad enough to go inside and take off the wet raincoat and also his shoes and socks. The baggage belonging to Phil and the others was in the cabin, and he helped himself to dry garments and a dry pair of slippers.

"We are all school chums," he told the man. "My name is Dave Porter."

"Oh, I heard 'em talkin' about you!" cried the camp-worker, and then said his own name was Jerry Blutt, and that he was from Tegley, just across the Canadian border.

"We are not far from the border here, are we?" asked our hero.

"About six miles, thet's all," answered Jerry Blutt, and this reply gave Dave another idea. More than likely Buster and the others had chosen this spot so that, if pursued by the officers of the law, they could flee into Canada.

Jerry Blutt said the three lads had spent their time in various ways, occasionally going fishing and swimming. They had also written some letters and gone to the railroad station to mail them in the box placed there for that purpose.

"Have they been having a good time?" asked Dave, curiously.

"I can't say as to that, Mr. Porter. They did seem mighty worried over something," answered the camp worker, and from this our hero felt certain that the man had not been let into the secret of why the runaways were there at all.

Half an hour went by and it continued to rain as hard as ever, while the sky remained dark and the wind blew with more or less violence. Time and again Dave went to the cabin door, to peer out into the storm, but each time he turned back disappointed. His chums were not yet in sight.

"They'll be surprised to see me," he thought. "I wonder if they will listen to reason and go back with me? Supposing they refuse to return? I'd hate to go back alone."

Then he questioned Jerry Blutt about the dam above the Falls. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"It ain't safe, so they tell me," he said. "But it's been that way a long time, so maybe it won't break away yet awhile. But I'd hate to be on the river when she does go."

"Are there any other camps on this island?" went on our hero.

"Not now. There was some other folks, two or three parties, I was told, but they all moved out yesterday an' the day before. Maybe they got afraid o' the dam," concluded the camp-worker.

CHAPTER XXIV

OUT IN THE STORM

"This is getting to be something fierce!"

It was Dave who uttered the words, about five o'clock in the afternoon. He was looking out of the door of the cabin, and beside him stood Jerry Blutt.

The storm had kept up without intermission, the rain coming down in a perfect torrent, and the wind blowing in fitful gusts from the east. It was raw and depressing, and our hero could not help but shiver as he looked out on the turbulent waters of the river.

"It's a pity them fellers ain't got back," said the camp-worker, with a slow shake of his head. "It ain't nice to be out in sech a downpour as this, an' with sech a wind! Might a tree blow down on 'em!" And he shook his head again.

Dave was even more distressed than the man. He could not get that dam out of his mind. Such a heavy fall of rain would certainly cause a great flow of water, and if the structure was weak, most anything bad was liable to happen.

"As soon as the boys get back I'll urge them to leave here," he told himself. "If that dam breaks we want to be on high ground, where the flood can't reach us."

"'Pears to me like the river was gittin' putty high," remarked Jerry Blutt, a little later, as he watched the water in the cove closely.

"Well, it would rise some with all this rain coming down," returned Dave.

"So it might,--but I don't know. I wish this camp was on the shore, instid o' this island."

"So do I," answered Dave, bluntly.

A fire had been started in the stove and a lantern lit, and Jerry Blutt rather reluctantly began preparations for the evening meal. But he kept peering out of the doorway of the cabin, and from the lean-to, and his eyes always rested on the river, with its rain-swept, swollen surface.

"I don't like it at all!" he said, finally. "I wish we had moved over to the shore."

"Don't you think it is safe to stay here?"

"It ain't as safe as it might be. If I was alone----" The man stopped short.

"What would you do?"

"I hate to say it, but I think I'd go over to the shore, till the storm was over and I knew jest how thet dam was a-goin' to act."

"Well, I don't blame you," answered Dave. "And if you want to go, go ahead."

"Want me to go alone?"

"If you wish to go, yes."

"But it ain't no safer fer you than it is fer me."

"That's so, too. But I want to see those other fellows--in fact, I must see them. If I went to the shore I might miss them."

"You could come back later on."

"But I want to warn them of the danger from the dam."

"You could write a letter and stick it up where they couldn't help but see it. Then---- What's that?"

The camp-worker stopped short, as a distant cry reached their ears, sounding out above the wind. An instant later the cry was repeated.

"That is Ben Basswood's voice!" cried Dave. "They must be coming back!"

Soon another voice sounded out, and our hero recognized Buster Beggs's tones. He ran to the cabin door. All was dark outside, and the rain was being driven in sheets by the wind.

"Hello! hello!" he yelled, and catching up the lantern, he swung it out in one direction and another. Then he saw two forms approaching on the run, each dripping with water.

"Ben! And Buster!"

"Why, if it isn't Dave!"

"Where in the world did you come from?"

"Where is Phil?" demanded our hero.

"He is somewhere behind us," answered Buster. "Oh, what a time we've had!" and entering the cabin, the fat youth sank down on a bench all but exhausted.

"We've had to tramp for over two miles in this rain," explained Ben. "And of course we had to ford to the island. Say, the current is something fierce now! And the water is getting higher every minute!" he added.

"Did you say Phil was behind you?" demanded Dave. He still held the lantern on high.

"I thought he was--sure, he must be," answered Ben. "Give him a hail, will you? I'm too tired," and he sank on the bench beside Buster.

"Phil! Phil!" yelled our hero, at the top of his lungs. "This way! This way!" and he swung the lantern to the right and left.

"Did you say the river is rising?" demanded Jerry Blutt. "How high is it? Over the White Bar yet?"

"Yes, the Bar is a foot under water," answered Ben. "Oh, this is a great storm!"

"A foot under water!" murmured the camp-worker. "Say, we better git out! First thing you know this hull island will be under! An' if thet dam breaks----"

"Oh, the dam!" gasped Buster. "I forgot about that! They say it isn't safe at all! That is why all the other campers got out! Yes, we must leave the island and go to the shore." He turned to Dave. "Did you come alone?"

"Yes, Buster. I'll tell you all about it later. But now we must find Phil."

"I thought he was right behind me," came from Ben. He looked greatly distressed. "I wonder if anything happened to him? Maybe he slipped off the rocks into the river!"

"We must look for him!" cried Dave, and reached for his coat and cap. "Show me the way you came, Ben."

Ben was nothing loath, and side by side the two chums ran outside into the storm, and in the direction of the upper end of the island. They had gone but a short distance when they reached a low spot and here suddenly found themselves in water several inches deep.

"Hello, you are taking me into the river!" cried Dave.

"This isn't the river!" answered Ben, with a gasp. "Gosh! how the water is rising! This was dry when I came over it before!"

"Dry!" ejaculated our hero. "Ben, are you sure?"

"Positive! Say, the water is rising to beat the band! I guess we had better get out! If we don't we'll have to swim for it!"

"Phil! Phil! Where are you?"

Standing in water up to his ankles, our hero called again and again, and Ben joined in the cry. The lantern was flashed in all directions. But nothing was seen or heard of the missing student.

"I am sure he started to follow us across the river," said Ben. "Buster was in front, I came next, and Phil was in the rear. I asked him twice if he was all right and he said he was. Then it blew so hard, and the rain got so heavy, none of us said any more. Oh, Dave, what shall we do?"

"I don't know Ben--wish I did."

"Do you think he slipped off the rocks and was--was--drowned?"

"I hope not."

"If he was, wouldn't it be terrible?"

"Yes."

A cry came from behind them, and Buster appeared, followed by Jerry Blutt.

"Where is Phil?" demanded the stout youth.

"We don't know."

"The water is terribly high, and Jerry thinks we had better move to the shore. He says we might be drowned if that dam should break."

"Don't you think we ought to find Phil first?"

"Sure--if we can. Maybe he went back, when he found out how the water was rising," went on the stout youth, hopefully.

"I don't think he'd desert us," answered Ben. "That isn't Phil's style."

"You're right, Ben," said Dave.

All splashed around in the water for several minutes, but without making any discovery of importance. The river was now rising more rapidly than ever, and the camp-worker showed increased nervousness.

"Ain't no two ways about it--the dam's bust!" he cried, at last. "I'm goin' to git out, an' I advise all o' you to do the same. If you want me to carry anything to shore I'll do it."

"We can't carry any trunks in such a hurry," said Buster.

"Let us carry our suit-cases and bundles," said Ben.

With heavy hearts, Dave and the others returned to the cabin. The water in the cove had now risen so high that it swept the edge of the lean-to.

"Can we get to shore?" asked Buster. "We haven't any boat," he added, turning to Dave.

"We can if you'll hurry," replied Jerry Blutt. "Every minit lost makes it jest so much more dangerous."

In great haste Ben and Buster and the camp-worker gathered together such belongings as they could conveniently carry. The other things were placed in a trunk and hoisted by ropes into a big tree. Then a lantern was tied on a post in front of the cabin and to it was fastened a brief note, for Phil's benefit, stating they had gone to the shore.

"Oh, I hope he is safe!" murmured Dave, anxiously.

"So do I," added his chums.

Jerry Blutt led the way along the shore of the island and then out into the stream. They had the second camp lantern with them, one belonging to Jerry. He led the way from rock to rock, and they followed in single file, Dave bringing up the rear. Ever and anon our hero looked back for some sign of Phil, but without avail.

Once out in the river, all were certain that the dam above Camptown Falls had burst. The water ran with great rapidity and was filled with dirt and dbris of various kinds. On the rocks that were low they had all they could do to keep their footing.

The most dangerous part of the river had yet to be passed--a section close to the shore, where the water was deep and the rocks for fording few.

"Mind your footin' here!" sang out the camp-worker. "An' if you slip, look out thet you don't hurt yourselves!"

He was splashing along in water up to his knees, sometimes on the rocks and then again on a sandbar running in that direction. Then he had to make a turn, to avoid a deep portion of the stream, where the current was rapid.

Ben was behind the man and Buster was just ahead of Dave. As all struggled along, there came an extra heavy blast of wind, followed by a perfect deluge of rain.

"Oh!" screamed Buster, an instant later, and peering through the rain, Dave saw him suddenly throw up his arms and slip from a rock. There was a splash, and poor Buster disappeared from view.

"Buster is in the river!" yelled our hero, and then he leaped for the rock from which the stout youth had fallen. He looked down and saw an arm and a head come up.

"Help! hel----" came from the unfortunate one, and then the swift current caught him and turned him over, out of sight.

"Help!" yelled Dave, to attract the attention of those ahead. And then, as he saw Ben turn back, he slipped down on the rock and into the swirling river and struck out after Buster.

CHAPTER XXV

PERILS OF THE FLOOD

"Dave! Dave!" yelled Ben, as he saw our hero disappear into the swiftly-flowing river. "Look out, or you'll both be drowned!"

"What's the trouble?" yelled Jerry Blutt, as he turned back for the first time since leaving the island.

"Buster slipped in, and Dave went after him," answered Ben. "Oh, what shall we do?" he went on, despairingly.

"Here--we'll throw out the rope!" answered the camp-worker, and took from his shoulder a rope he carried.

In the meantime Dave had come up and was striking out with might and main for his chum. Our hero realized that Buster must be hurt, otherwise he would swim to save himself.

"Must have struck on his head, when he went over," he thought, and he was right, poor Buster had done just that and now lay half-unconscious as the current swept him further and further from his friends.

It was too dark to see much, and Dave had all he could do to keep in sight of the unfortunate one. But presently the stout youth's body struck against a rock and was held there, and our hero came up and seized the lad by the arm.

"Buster! Buster!" he called out. "What's wrong? Can't you swim?"

"Hel--help me!" gasped the fat youth. "I--I got a knock on the head. I'm so--so dizzy I do--don't know what I--I'm do--doing!"

The current now tore Buster away from the rock, and he and Dave floated along on the bosom of the river for a distance of fifty yards. It was impossible to do much swimming in that madly-rushing element and Dave wisely steered for shore. He continued to support his friend, who seemed unable to do anything for himself.

At length, when our hero was all but exhausted, his feet struck a sandbar. At once he stood up, finding himself in water that reached to his waist. He caught up Buster and placed the weakened lad over his shoulder. In a dim, uncertain way he saw the shore loom up in front of him, and struck out in that direction.

It was a short but hard struggle. Twice Dave went down, once losing his hold on his chum. But he got up each time and went after Buster in a hurry. Then he made a final dash, came in contact with some bushes, and hauled himself and his burden to temporary safety.

All was dark around the two boys, and the rain came down as pitilessly as ever. But for this they did not, just then, care. They had been close to death, and now they were safe, and that counted for everything.

Poor Buster had received a severe bump on the forehead and had a swelling there of considerable size. But the stunning effect was passing, and he was able to sit up and peer around him.

"Oh, what a crack I got, when I fell over!" he murmured, and then he added, gratefully: "It was a fine thing for you to jump in after me, Dave!"

"Well, I couldn't stand there and see you drown, Buster," answered our hero. "I had to do something."

"Where are the others?"

"Up the stream--unless they went overboard, too."

"Then I suppose we ought to walk that way."

"We will--after we get our breath and you feel strong enough."

"Maybe you can call to them?"

"I'll try."

Dave yelled at the top of his voice, not once but several times. Presently an answering hail arose from a distance, and then Ben came running up, followed by Jerry.

"Dave! Buster! Are you safe?"

"Yes," answered both.

"Oh, I am so glad! We were afraid you were both drowned! How did it happen?"

The two told their story, and then the others told how they had thrown out the rope and had seen Dave disappear in the darkness after Buster.

"I would have jumped in, too, but I didn't see how I could do any good," went on Ben. "Jerry said we had better come ashore and look for you down here. So we did that. My! but it's a fearful flood, isn't it!"

"Yes. I wish we knew where Phil was," and Dave heaved a deep sigh. Had their chum lost his life in that rapidly-rising river?

"Ain't no ust to stay here--gitting wetter an' wetter," said the camp-worker, after a pause. "Besides, if that flood gits wuss it is bound to come up here. We better git further back--up the hill."

"Is there any shelter around here? I mean on high ground?" asked Dave.

"Yes, I know of a cabin up on the hill," answered Buster. "I don't know if I can find it in the rain and darkness, but I can try."

He walked along, through the trees, until he reached a footpath running up from the shore. They followed the path for about a hundred yards, and then came in sight of a long, low, rambling cabin, the home in years gone by of some lumbermen. It was in a dilapidated state, with doors and windows gone, but it would provide a roof over their heads, and that was something.

Entering, the lantern was hung on a nail, and they looked around them. There was a fireplace, with some dry sticks handy, and soon they had a fire started, which added much to the comfort of the surroundings. They hung up the majority of their wet garments and sat close to the blaze, drying themselves.

"If I only knew where to look for Phil, I'd go after him," said Dave. "But to look for him in the darkness is like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack."

"We'll have to go out first thing in the morning," returned Ben.

"Yes, as soon as we can see," added Buster.

The boys who had run away were anxious to learn what Dave had to say about affairs at Oakdale, and in a low voice, while the camp-worker was preparing hot coffee and something to eat, he related what had happened since their departure.

"You made a big mistake to run away," he said, earnestly. "Just because you did that, many folks feel sure you must be guilty. You ought to go right back and face the music."

"I guess you are right, Dave," answered Ben, shamefacedly. "But when Phil said 'run,' I didn't stop to think, but just got out."

"And that is what I did, too," added the stout youth. "But I don't blame Phil any more than I blame myself," he added, hastily.

"Nor do I," said Ben. "We made a big mistake. We should have stood our ground, like you and Roger did."

"Well, you come back with me, and we'll face this to a finish," went on our hero. "But, of course, we've got to find Phil first."

Only the camp-worker slept well that night. The boys were restless, and several times one or another got up, to go to the doorway and listen, thinking he had heard a call from Phil. But the calls were only imaginary, and morning dawned without a sign of the missing one.

It was still raining, but not so hard as before, and by eight o'clock the clouds broke away and the sun commenced to shine. All had an early breakfast, from the stores brought along, and then the party hurried down to the river.

That the dam above Camptown Falls had broken was plainly evident on all sides. During the night the river had risen seven or eight feet, bearing on its bosom many trees and bushes, with here and there the remains of camps that had been located on low ground. Moosetail Island had been swept from end to end, only the higher spots escaping the flood. The waters were now going down, the rush from the broken dam having spent itself.

The boys gave scant heed to the destruction effected by the rain and the broken dam. All their thoughts were centered on Phil. What had become of their chum? Was he dead or alive?

"I wonder if it wouldn't be best to get over to the island and look around?" suggested Dave. "Most likely he went there--thinking you would be at the cabin."

"But how are we to get to the island?" asked Buster. He had no desire to fall into the turbulent stream again.

"Oh, the water is going down rapidly, Buster. I think we can make it by noon."

All walked up and down the river bank, looking in vain for some trace of the shipowner's son. Once they met some people from another camp and asked about Phil. But these folks shook their heads.

"Didn't see a soul," said one of the men.

Jerry Blutt had been looking the situation over carefully, and he said he thought they could get to the island by going up the river a distance.

"Then the current will help us along, and we won't have to fight so hard," said the camp-worker. He did not like the idea of crossing the water, but did not wish to desert the boys.

On the trip they carried the rope, with Jerry at the head and Dave at the rear. All took tight hold, so that if one slipped the others might pull him up.

"Now, take it easy," cautioned the camp man. "This water is runnin' putty swift, even yet."

He had mapped out a course with his eye, and proceeded slowly and cautiously. Once away from the shore, they felt the full force of the onrushing waters and were all but swept from their feet. It was well that they were a good distance above Moosetail Island, for to reach this spot by going straight out in the stream would have been impossible.

It was a long, hard, and dangerous trip, and all drew a deep breath of relief when they finally set foot on the island. At times they had been in water up to their waists and it had looked as if they must surely be swept away. Once a tree branch, coming swiftly along, had caught Dave and literally carried him off his feet for several yards.

They landed at one end of the island, at a point where the bushes were still two feet under water. The evidences of the flood were on every hand, and the water was muddy and filled with broken-away brushwood and trees.

"I guess we had better strike out for the camp," said Dave. "Phil would go there if he went anywhere."

As they advanced one or another gave a loud call. But no answer came back, and this made them look gravely at each other. Was the perilous trip to the island to prove a vain one?

In a quarter of an hour they came in sight of the camp. The cove had been blotted out, and the water was eddying around the cabin to a depth of several inches. Mud was everywhere, inside the place and out, and this showed that the flood had swept the spot at a height of several feet.

"We might have stayed here," was Buster's comment. "It didn't hurt the big tree."

"But we didn't know how bad it was going to be," answered Ben. "It might have washed away the whole island."

"Let us go up to the high ground and look for Phil," suggested Dave. "Maybe he went to the highest spot he could find."

The others agreed, and leaving the camp-worker at the cabin, the boys, led by Buster, tramped through the wet and mud to a little hill. Again they set up their calls, but, as before, no answer came back.

"I don't believe he came here," said Ben, at last. "If he was here he would surely hear us."

"Unless he was hurt and couldn't answer," returned Dave.

From the top of the little hill they could see both ends of Moosetail Island and also both shores of the river. As they gazed about them, Dave suddenly gave a shout.

"Look! look!" he cried, pointing to the shore which they had left but a short while before. "There is somebody waving a handkerchief at us!"

"It's Phil!" returned Ben.

"Are you sure?" questioned Buster. "I can see it is a man or a boy, but that is all."

"It looks like Phil," said Dave. "Oh, I hope it is!"

CHAPTER XXVI

BACK TO THE SCHOOL

They waved frantically to the person on the shore, and he waved frantically in return, and at last all were convinced that it must really be their missing chum.

"He must think I am Jerry," said Dave. "Won't he be surprised to see me!"

"He will be, unless he was at the cabin last night and read the note," returned Buster.

"The note wasn't touched," said Ben. "I noticed that it was exactly as we left it."

All gave a parting wave and pointed to the shore, and then left the hill. They made their way down to the cabin, and told the camp-worker what they had seen.

"It must be Lawrence," said Jerry Blutt. "Maybe he'll come over here, instead of waiting for us to go to him."

"Gracious, I never thought of that!" cried Buster.

"We'll be like the men in one of Shadow's stories," said Ben. "One was upstairs in a big office building and one downstairs. The man upstairs went down, and the downstairs man went up, and they kept that up until both stopped, tired out, one upstairs and one down." And the others had to smile at the brief yarn.

All journeyed to the lower shore of the island, where they could get a better view of the spot where the person they thought was Phil had been. They saw the party walking up the river bank, looking for a good place to ford. All shouted loudly and waved their hands to keep him where he was, and he nodded his head deeply, to show that he understand.

"It must be Phil," said Dave. "Oh, how thankful I am that he wasn't carried away by the flood!"

The boys were impatient to get back to the shore, and Jerry Blutt did not blame them. To carry any of the stuff over was still out of the question, and they did not attempt it.

"You can come and get it some day, Jerry," said Buster. "You can ship it to us by express, and we'll pay you for your trouble;" and so it was arranged.

It was as hard to gain the shore as it had been to reach the island, and all were well-nigh exhausted when they finally left the water, not to return again. Phil saw them coming, and when he made out Dave he was almost dumfounded.

"Where in the world did you come from?" he demanded, as he caught our hero by the hand.

"From Oakdale, Phil."

"Did you run away, too?" demanded the shipowner's son.

"Hardly," answered Dave, with a grin. "I came to bring you fellows back. But first tell us, how did you get out of the flood last night?"

"Oh, I had a fierce time of it. I tried to get back to the camp, but stumbled over some tree-roots and went down in a hole and hurt my ankle. When I got up I couldn't see the others, and I must have lost my way. Then it began to rain and get dark, and I didn't know which way to turn. I yelled dozens of times, but I didn't hear any answer. I tried to locate the cabin, but I must have been completely turned around, for I came out on the shore. Then the flood came along, and before I knew it I was floating down the river. I hit a tree and clung to that, and we drifted a mile or more before the tree got stuck on a sandbar. I stayed there, in the rain and darkness, until morning and then waded and swam ashore. I was so tired out I had to rest for awhile, and then I came up here, to try to find out something about our crowd. I was thinking of getting over to the island again when I saw you on the top of the hill. Of course, I thought Dave was Jerry."

"We were scared to death, thinking you had been drowned," said Ben.

"Well, I came pretty close to it," was the serious reply. "No more such flood for me!"

All turned towards the cabin where four of the party had spent the night, and there Jerry was called on to prepare the best meal their limited stores afforded. On the river-bank they had picked up some fish cast up by the flood, and these were broiled, making a welcome addition to the meal.

While the meal was being prepared, and after it had been eaten, Dave had a serious talk with Phil and the others, and all realized the folly they had committed in running away from Oak Hall. Phil in particular, was much disturbed and said he had been thinking of coming back.

"But we saw that article in the newspaper, and it scared us," went on the shipowner's son. "Of course, it didn't mention any names, but we knew it was meant for us. I know now, just as well as the others, that it was a mistake to run away."

"Then, you'll go back with me?" questioned Dave, eagerly.

"Yes."

"And you'll go back, too, Ben and Buster?"

"Yes."

"I am mighty glad to hear it--and I feel that this thing will come out all right in the end," returned Dave.

"By the way, there is one thing I haven't told you, Dave," said Buster, a minute later. "The general excitement drove it clean out of my head. We know who it was that spoiled the feast Phil got up for the crowd."

"You do?" asked our hero, with interest.

"Yes. It was Nat Poole. He went to Rockville and sent those telephone messages to Jason Sparr and that musical professor, calling the whole affair off. He did it because he wasn't invited to take part."

"How did you learn this?"

"I heard it the night I went to the Hall to get our baggage. When I was in hiding, waiting for a chance to go to the dormitory, I saw Nat Poole come in, along with that new student, Will Fasey. They had been out somewhere having a good time, and Nat was telling Fasey how he had sent the telephone messages and queered the feast. I would have pitched into him then and there only I didn't dare expose myself," went on the stout youth.

"But he'll get what is coming to him from me, when I get back to the school," put in Phil. "It was a contemptible piece of business, and I want everybody to know it. Besides, he has got to pay for what I lost by the transaction."

"If it wasn't for that, maybe we wouldn't have been suspected of blowing up the hotel," said Ben. "Then you really think the wild man did it, Dave?"

"Yes."

"But what of that letter Jason Sparr got, saying our crowd was guilty?"

"I don't know what to make of that, Ben. I don't think the wild man could write that."

"Would Nat Poole be bad enough to do it?"

"Maybe. But it was an awful thing to do. I didn't think Nat would be as mean as that."

The boys had dried and pressed their clothing as best they could, and put on clean collars, cuffs, and neckties, and therefore looked quite presentable once more.

"As soon as we get to town we can get cleaned up a little better," said Dave. "So we won't look quite like tramps when we return to the Hall."

"I hate to face Doctor Clay," remarked Phil, dubiously.

"So do I," added Ben and Buster.

"Well, it has got to be done," answered Dave. "So make the best of it. The doctor understands the situation, so I don't think he'll be hard on you."

"I hope they have got the wild man, and that they prove he blew up the hotel," said Phil, wistfully. "That is the only thing that will really clear us."

"Oh, they are bound to get the wild man sooner or later," answered Dave, hopefully.

It was decided to take the one afternoon train from Camptown Falls, and at the proper time the boys walked to the little depot, Dave with his suit-case, and the others with some hand baggage. Instructions were left with Jerry Blutt regarding the other baggage, and the man was paid for his services. He said he was glad that nobody had been drowned in the flood, and added that he was going up to the broken-away dam later on to see how matters looked.

It was a rather quiet crowd that got aboard the train when it came along. The conductor wanted to know how they had fared in the flood, and they told him. At Lumberport the boys had to wait an hour for the next train to Oakdale Junction, and they spent the time in getting a good supper, and in having their shoes shined, and in brushing up generally.

"I'll be glad to get back late at night," said Phil to Dave. "I'd hate to have the whole crowd staring at us when we came in."

At the Junction they waited but a few minutes, and the run to Oakdale did not take long. They were the only ones to get off at the depot, and the spot was all but deserted. But they had telegraphed ahead, and Horsehair was on hand, with a carriage, to meet them.

"Glad to see you young gents back, indeed I am," said the school driver.

"Any news, Horsehair?" asked Dave, as they piled into the carriage.

"Not as I know of."

"Have they got that wild man yet?" questioned Phil.

"No, sir. But they seen him--along the river--day before yesterday. He was sleepin' in a barn. But he got away before the farmer and his man could git him."

"Where was that?" questioned Ben.

"Up to the Morrison place."

"The Morrison place," mused Buster. "I know that family. When I get a chance I am going to ask them about this," he added.

When the boys arrived at Oak Hall they found Doctor Clay sitting up to receive them. He smiled at Dave, but was somewhat cold towards the others.

"It is too late to listen to what you have to say to-night," said he. "All of you may report in my office directly after our opening exercises in the morning."

When the boys went upstairs there were a good many exclamations of surprise, and Roger and the others wanted to ask innumerable questions. But a monitor cut all talk short, and Dave and the runaways got to bed as quickly as possible.

All were up early, and Dave, Phil, and the others had to tell their story before going down to breakfast. Roger and those who had been left behind with him listened eagerly to the tale of the flood and the other happenings.

"I guess Dave got there just in time," said the senator's son. "How about it, Buster?"

"He sure did," said the stout lad, and shuddered to think how close he had been to drowning.

It can well be imagined that Phil, Ben, and Buster did not have much appetite for breakfast. Phil looked around for Nat Poole, but the money-lender's son had not yet returned to the school.

"Now, tell me everything," said Doctor Clay, when the boys at length filed into his office. "As they say in court, we want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"And that is what I'm going to give you, Doctor Clay," answered Phil. "I made a big mistake in running away, and I am glad Dave came to bring us back. I haven't done anything wrong, and I am here to face the music, as the saying goes."

"And so am I," came from Ben and Buster.

Then the boys told their story in detail, omitting nothing, and Dave related how he had gone to Camptown Falls, and how the flood had caught him. In the midst of the narrative came a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in," said the doctor, and one of the servants entered.

"A man to see you, sir," said the servant. "He says it is very important--something about that wild man, sir! He's terribly excited, sir!"

"The wild man again!" murmured the master of the school, while the boys looked at him and the servant with interest. "Show the visitor in and I will hear what he has to say."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE TRAIL THROUGH THE WOODS

In a minute the servant ushered in a farmer whom the boys recognized as Henry Morrison, a man who had a farm along the river-front, about a mile from Oak Hall.

"Good-morning, sir," said the farmer, bowing to the doctor and then to the boys. "Excuse me for being in such a hurry, but I thought you would like to know."

"I'll be glad to hear what you have to say, Mr. Morrison," replied the master of the school. "Sit down," and he pointed to a handy chair.

"It's about that wild man, Doctor Clay!" exclaimed the farmer, dropping into the seat and mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. "It's something terribul, the way he carries on. He 'most scared my wife to death!"

"He has been to your place again?"

"Yes, sir, last night. He was in the barn, and he jumped out at my wife and said he was going to blow the fort to pieces! She got so scared she dropped her pailful of milk and ran to the house. I got mad and got my shotgun, but the fellow had skipped out before I could catch sight of him."

"What time was this?"

"Just about six o'clock. But that ain't all. This morning I started for town, intending to tell the constable and the justice about it, when all of a sudden, when I was passing the end of your property, I see the wild man down there, behind a tree."

"Just now?" asked Dave, eagerly.

"Not more'n a quarter of an hour ago. That's why I stepped in here. He's a dangerous man, Doctor Clay, and I think he ought to be rounded up!" went on Henry Morrison, earnestly.

"You are right, he certainly ought to be put under restraint," answered the master of Oak Hall. "I will see to this at once. Will you assist in the hunt, Mr. Morrison?"

"Of course--if I don't have to go alone. I don't think it is safe for anybody to tackle him alone, he's that wild and dangerous."

"Can we take part in the search?" asked Phil, eagerly. "Oh, do let us do it, Doctor Clay!" he pleaded.

"I suppose so, if you will promise to be careful. Mr. Morrison, can you point out the exact spot where you saw the man?"

"Of course I can."

"Then we will at once make up a searching party."

Doctor Clay could act quickly when the occasion demanded, and inside of ten minutes a searching party was made up, composed of Dave and his chums, Mr. Dale, Horsehair, and several men who chanced to be working around the grounds.

"Oh, I hope we catch him and are able to prove that he blew up the hotel dining-room," said Phil to Dave.

"So do I, Phil."

Henry Morrison led the way, and it was not long before the spot was gained where he had seen Wilbur Poole. From that point a path ran from the river back into the woods.

"Maybe he took that path," suggested our hero, and several thought the same.

"I think we had better scatter," suggested Mr. Dale, who had been placed in charge by the doctor. "By doing that we can cover a wide range of territory in a comparatively short space of time. And keep as quiet as possible, for should he hear us he will most likely start and run."

"If he didn't run when he saw Mr. Morrison," murmured Buster. "He may be miles away already."

The crowd separated into pairs, Dave and Phil going together and Roger going with Ben, and Buster with Horsehair. All had armed themselves with sticks, and Mr. Dale carried a pair of handcuffs, and one of the hired men had a rope.

Deeper and deeper into the woods went the party, spread out in a long line. They had examined the river-front and felt fairly certain that the wild man had not left by boat.

"Looks like a wild-goose chase," remarked Phil, with a sigh, after a half an hour had passed.

"Oh, we don't want to give up yet," answered Dave. "Why, it isn't much after ten o'clock. We can stay out till noon, at least."

"I'd stay out all day, if I thought we could catch him," returned the shipowner's son, promptly.

Presently the boys espied a small stone house, standing beside a brook which flowed through the woods into the river. In the house lived an old man who made his living by making baskets and fancy articles of birch bark.

"Let us see if old Herick is around," suggested Dave. "He may be able to tell us something."

They found the old man hard at work on a fancy basket. He looked surprised when thus suddenly confronted by the students.

"Did I see a wild man?" he queried, in reply to their question. "I guess I did,--at least he acted queer enough. He danced up here, made a deep bow, and told me the army would be along in four minutes. Then he made another bow and walked off, as stiff as a drum-major."

"When was this?" demanded Dave.

"About half an hour ago."

"And which way did he go?" put in Phil, eagerly.

"That way," and the old basket-maker pointed up the brook. "Walked right in the water, too. I was going to follow him at first but then I didn't think it was any use."

The boys waited to hear no more, but telling old Herick to watch for the other searchers and tell them about the wild man, they set off up the brook as fast as they could travel.

As the chums progressed they looked to the right and left, wondering if Wilbur Poole had kept to the tiny watercourse or taken to the woods, which were now exceedingly dense.

"I see his footprints!" cried Phil, as they passed a sandy stretch. "Anyway, those marks look fresh."

"I fancy you are right, Phil, and if so, he can't be very far ahead of us."

They went on, following the windings of the stream until it became less than a foot wide. It came to an end at a number of springs among the rocks.

"Fine, cold water," announced Dave. "Here is a chance for a good drink, Phil."

Both were drinking their fill when a loud voice suddenly challenged them.

"Ha! What are you doing at my fountain?"

Both looked up hurriedly and saw the wild man standing on the highest of the rocks. He had his arms folded and was glaring at them sternly.

"Oh!" murmured Phil. "Say, Dave, there he is! What shall we do?"

"Let us try to make friends with him," suggested Dave. "If we don't, he may run away, and he can easily do that in these thick woods."

"If we could only notify the others!"

"You can go back if you wish, while I talk to him."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Oh, I reckon I can take care of myself," answered Dave.

"Do you not know I gave a million dollars for these fountains?" went on the wild man.

"Well, they are worth it," answered Dave, calmly. "It is very good water. Why don't you have it bottled, Mr. Poole?"

"Who calls me Poole? I am the King of Sumatra. My army is following me."

"To blow up another fort, I suppose," said Phil, as he commenced to back away.

"Yes."

"Then I must go, for I don't want to be blown up," and, so speaking, Phil commenced to retreat.

"The fort is not here--it is in Oakdale, close to the other fort," said the wild man, and now he came down from the big rock and stood quite close to Dave. There was a strange look of cunning in his eyes, and Dave had to shiver, although he did his best to keep calm.

"In Oakdale," said Dave, slowly. "Say, you blew up that hotel fort in fine shape, didn't you?"

"Ha! ha! so I did! But I was discovered, worse luck, I was discovered!" continued the wild man, with a sad shake of his head. "The enemy saw me!"

"Somebody saw you?" queried our hero, with interest.

"Yes, worse luck. But it shan't happen again. Next time I shall go masked. I have my mask here." And Wilbur Poole pulled from his pocket a mask made of a bit of blue cloth. "I will show you how I wear it." And he fastened it over his face by means of a couple of strings.

"Fine! fine!" cried Dave, in pretended delight. He wished to humor the man until Phil returned with the others. "It couldn't be better. You ought to patent that kind of a mask."

"I will patent it soon, after the other fort is down."

"You just said somebody saw you when you blew up the other," continued our hero. "Who was it?"

"Ha! that is a state secret. Only the cabinet must know of it--the cabinet and the man who makes shoes."

"I am sorry you won't let me in on your secrets," said Dave. "I want to help you. Won't you hire me as a clerk?"

"How much do you want a week?" demanded the wild man, in a business-like tone.

"How much will you give?"

"To a good clerk forty dollars."

"Then I'll take the job."

"Very good. Your name is Crusoe, isn't it--Robinson Crusoe?"

"You've got it."

"If I give you the job, you must have your hair shaved off," continued the wild man, looking at Dave's hair critically.

"All right, I'll have that done when we reach a barber shop."

"It isn't necessary to wait!" cried Wilbur Poole. "I am a barber."

"You?"

"To be sure--I have a certificate from the Emperor of Siam. See here!"

The wild man put his hand into an inner pocket and suddenly brought forth a pair of long shears.

"I can cut your hair and shave you," he announced. "Just sit down on yonder throne and I'll start to work." And he pointed to a flat rock.

The sight of the sharp-pointed shears was not a pleasant one, and when the wild man invited him to sit down Dave felt very much like running away. The man evidently saw how he felt, and suddenly caught him by the arm.

"Sit down!" he thundered. "I won't hurt you. I am an expert barber."

"Let us talk about the job first," said Dave, trying to keep his wits about him, although he was terribly disturbed. He wondered how long it would be before Phil would return.

"What do you want to know?"

"Will you cut my hair in the latest fashion?"

"I never cut hair in any other way."

"And will you curl the ends? I like curls."

"If you want them, although they make a man look girlish," answered the wild man.

"And will you----" went on Dave, when Wilbur Poole suddenly grabbed him by both arms and forced him backwards on the flat rock.

"I'll go to work at once!" cried the wild man. "Sit still!" And he flourished the shears before our hero's face.

Dave felt a chill run down his backbone. But a moment later he felt a thrill of relief, as from the bushes behind the wild man stepped Phil, Mr. Dale, and several others.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CAPTURE OF THE WILD MAN

"Now then, you may go to work," said our hero, as he saw Mr. Dale come up close behind the wild man. "But sharpen the scissors first, please."

"I will," was Wilbur Poole's answer, and he opened up the shears and commenced to stroke them back and forth on a rock near by.

An instant later the wild man was jerked over backwards and the dangerous shears were snatched from his grasp. He commenced to struggle, but the whole crowd surrounded him, and before he could realize the situation his hands were made fast.

"It is treachery, base treachery!" he groaned. "My army has betrayed me!" And he commenced to weep.

"What a terrible state of mind to be in!" murmured Roger. "He is certainly as crazy as they make 'em!"

"I guess you are right," answered Phil. "But I am glad we have got him."

"He spoke about the blowing up of the hotel," said Dave. "And he said somebody saw him do it."

"Who was it?"

"He didn't mention any names."

"Maybe he was simply wandering in his mind," suggested Ben.

"I don't think so," returned Dave. "I think, if he was questioned long enough, we could get the truth out of him. He doesn't seem to be crazy all the time."

"It's a terrible thing for the Poole family--to have such a crazy man in it," was Buster's opinion; and the other lads agreed with him.

The prisoner was marched along the brook, past the home of old Herick, and then down the river-road. By this time all the searchers had come together, including Henry Morrison and some outsiders.

"I'm mighty glad you've got him," said the farmer. "And I hope he don't get away from you."

"He won't get away," answered Mr. Dale.

"The women of this district have been afraid to go out alone," went on Henry Morrison. "They'll be glad to know he's been captured."

"We'll have to let the Pooles know right away," said Dave.

"I fancy Doctor Clay will send a telegram," answered Mr. Dale. "And in the meanwhile we'll have to take the prisoner to the Oakdale lockup."

It was nearly noon when the crowd reached Oak Hall. The wild man had but little to say. His capture had evidently broken his spirit, and he was inclined to cry. But when Doctor Clay asked him if he would like to have something to eat, he brightened up wonderfully.

"It is a sad case," said the master of the Hall. "But under proper treatment I think he can be cured."

The news quickly circulated throughout the school that the wild man had been caught and that he was Wilbur Poole, an uncle to Nat, and all the boys were anxious to catch a sight of the strange individual. The teachers and servants were likewise curious, and looked at him as he ate his dinner in a corner of the dining-hall, surrounded by those who had captured him and who were watching, to see that he did not get away. He was not allowed to use a knife and fork, but his food was cut up for him and served with a spoon.

The only person at Oak Hall who did not come in to see the wild man was Job Haskers. When asked about this, the dictatorial teacher shrugged his shoulders.

"Some of the boys are wild enough for me," he said. "I want nothing to do with the insane."

"It is a sad case," said the teacher who was addressing Job Haskers.

"There are many just as bad," responded the other, coldly. "It is up to the Poole family to look after that man and see that he doesn't break out again."

It was decided to take the wild man down to Oakdale in the school carryall, to be driven by Horsehair. Mr. Dale was to go along, and so were Phil, Dave, Ben, Buster, and Doctor Clay.

The carryall was brought around to the side entrance of the school, and Wilbur Poole was told that he was about to take a ride through the country. He walked through the hallway willingly enough, but suddenly, on turning a corner, set up a shout.

"You! you! I have found you at last!" he cried, rushing forward. "You are the one who exposed me! Base soldier that you are! You have ruined the whole army!" And in a sudden fit of passion he ran up to Job Haskers and caught him by the throat.

"Le--let g-g-go!" gasped the teacher, and tried to shake the man off. Then the others ran up, and Wilbur Poole was dragged back and handcuffed.

"Do you know that man?" asked Dave, struck by a sudden idea.

"Yes! yes!" groaned the wild man. "He exposed me! The army is lost!"

"How did he expose you?"

"He saw me do it."

"Do what?"

"Blow up the fort-hotel. Oh, what a base villain he was to look on!" groaned the wild man, and suddenly commenced to weep.

"What is--the--er--man talking about?" stammered Job Haskers, and all saw him turn pale.

"He says you saw him blow up Sparr's place," said Dave, pointedly.

"It is false, absurd!" said the teacher. "I--er--I never saw the rascal before."

"He isn't a rascal, Mr. Haskers. He is simply out of his mind," remonstrated Mr. Dale. "He is not accountable for his actions."

"Well, he ought not to say such things," returned the dictatorial teacher.

"You saw me--you know you did!" cried Wilbur Poole. "You spoiled everything! I might have blown up many forts if it hadn't been for you!" And he shook his head dolefully.

"Take him away," said the teacher, and turned his back on the wild man.

"Dave, I think the wild man speaks the truth!" whispered Phil to our hero.

"Possibly, Phil. I think the matter will bear investigation."

"And if old Haskers saw the thing done, why didn't he tell about it. Do you think that letter--"

"It struck me that such might be the truth, Phil. But don't say anything until you are sure."

"He was down on us--ever since we mentioned that affair with the Widow Breen," went on the shipowner's son.

"I'd like to see that letter Jason Sparr got--saying we were guilty," returned our hero. "Maybe Doctor Clay can get hold of it."

All the way to Oakdale the boys spoke of the case in whispers. Phil was quite sure Job Haskers had seen Wilbur Poole blow up the hotel and equally sure that the dictatorial teacher had written the letter to the hotel-keeper stating he, Dave, and their chums were guilty.

"He thought we'd be locked up, or at least that we'd be sent away from the school and he would be rid of us," said Phil. "He is growing afraid of us! Oh, if we can prove that he did it, I'll make it hot for him!"

"If he did such a thing as that, he ought to be discharged from Oak Hall," was Ben's comment.

"I'll get my father to sue him for damages," put in Buster.

"Well, don't be hasty," advised Dave. "There may be some mistake--although I think not."

At Oakdale, Wilbur Poole was turned over to the authorities, who placed him in a comfortable room attached to the lockup. As it was known that he was insane, he could not be counted a criminal, and the majority of the people pitied him and hoped that some day he would be restored to his right mind.

A telegram was sent to the Poole family, and the next day came a reply that some men would come to take Wilbur Poole away to a sanitarium. It was established beyond a doubt that he had used the dynamite to blow up the dining-room of Sparr's hotel, and, consequently, our hero and his chums were cleared of that charge, much to their satisfaction.

"I wonder if Nat will come back?" said Shadow. "I should think he would hate to do it."

"I don't think he will," said Luke.

"What will you do if he does come back, Phil?" asked Gus.

"I don't know, Gus. Of course, I'll let him know what I think of him for spoiling my plans for a spread. But I hate to be hard on him, because of this disgrace about his uncle."

"Yes, that's a terrible thing," was Chip Macklin's comment. "I'd hate to have a crazy man in my family."

"Well, such things can't be helped," put in Polly Vane. "The Poole family will have to make the best of it."

It was several days later when Nat Poole showed himself. Phil and Dave did not see him until later, and both were struck by the change in his appearance. He looked haggard and much older, and his arrogance was completely gone.

"Got back, eh?" said Phil, walking up to him.

"Yes," returned the money-lender's son, and his voice sounded hollow.

"What have they done with your uncle, Nat?" asked Dave, kindly.

"Put him in another sanitarium, where he will have the best of care and doctoring."

"I hope he gets well."

The Essential Edward Stratemeyer Collection

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