Kitabı oku: «Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall»
PREFACE
“Dave Porter and the Runaways” is a complete story in itself, but forms the ninth volume of a line issued under the general title of “Dave Porter Series.”
In the first volume of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” the reader was introduced to a typical American lad, and the particulars were given of his doings at an up-to-date boarding school.
There was a cloud over Dave’s parentage, and in order to solve the mystery of his identity he took a long voyage over the ocean, as related in the second volume, called “Dave Porter in the South Seas.” Then he came back to his schoolmates, as told of in “Dave Porter’s Return to School,” and then took a long trip to Norway, to hunt up his father, the particulars of which are given in “Dave Porter in the Far North.”
Having settled the matter of his identity to his satisfaction, our hero came back to Oak Hall and had a number of strenuous contests, related in detail in “Dave Porter and His Classmates.” Following this came the summer vacation, and the youth made a trip West, the happenings of which are set down in “Dave Porter at Star Ranch.”
When Dave returned to Oak Hall once more he found the school rivalries as bitter as ever, and what these led to has been related in “Dave Porter and His Rivals.” His enemies tried hard to do our hero much injury, but he exposed them and they were forced to flee, to escape the consequences of their actions.
The winter holidays found Dave homeward bound. He had anticipated some jolly times among his relatives and friends, but a robbery upset all his plans, and, almost before he knew it, he found himself bound southward, as related in “Dave Porter on Cave Island.” On the island he had many adventures out of the ordinary, and he came home more of a hero than ever, having saved Mr. Wadsworth, his benefactor, from ruin.
In the present story Dave is back once again at school. There are some queer happenings, and then some lads run away. How Dave proved his common sense, and brought the runaways back, I leave for the pages which follow to tell. I trust the reading of this volume will do all my young friends good.
Edward Stratemeyer.
February 1, 1913.
CHAPTER I
DAVE AND HIS CHUMS
“I say, Dave, here’s an odd piece of news.”
“An odd piece of news, Roger? What about?”
“A wild man in the woods back of Oak Hall,” answered Roger Morr, who held a letter in his hand. “Queerest thing you ever heard of.”
“I should say it was, if it’s about a wild man,” returned Dave Porter. “Who sent that letter?”
“Shadow Hamilton.”
“Maybe it’s another one of Shadow’s innumerable yarns,” suggested Dave, with a faint smile. “If he can’t tell them by word of mouth, he writes them down.”
“What has Shadow got to say about the wild man?” asked Phil Lawrence, looking up from the suit-case he was packing. “Has he been trying to clean out Oak Hall, or anything like that?”
“No, not exactly,” returned Roger, turning back to the letter, which he had not yet finished. “He keeps in the woods, so Shadow says, and scares everybody who comes that way.”
“How does he scare them?” asked Dave, pausing in the act of stowing a suit of clothing in a trunk.
“Shadow writes that he and Lazy were out walking one day and the wild man came after them with a big club. He wears long hair and a long beard, and his clothes are in tatters.”
“What did they do?” questioned Phil.
“They ran back towards the school. The wild man followed ’em as far as the bridge over the brook, and then jumped into the bushes and disappeared.”
“Humph!” muttered Phil. “Is that all?”
“Oh, no! The day before that, Chip Macklin and two other of the smaller boys went out, along the river, and the wild man came after them and shoved Chip into the water. He yelled to them never to come near him again. The other fellows ran away, and as soon as Chip could get out of the water he went after ’em. Then, three days later, Doctor Clay sent out Mr. Dale and Horsehair, the driver, to look into the matter, and the wild man met them at the bridge and threw mud balls at ’em. One mud ball hit the teacher in the arm, and one struck Horsehair in the nose and made it bleed. Horsehair was afraid to go on, because the wild man jumped around and shouted so furiously. Mr. Dale tried to catch him, but he ran away.”
“Poor chap! He must be crazy,” was Dave’s comment. “He ought to be taken care of by the authorities.”
“Yes, but they can’t catch him,” continued Roger. “They have tried half a dozen ways, but he slips ’em every time.”
“Who is he?” asked Dave, as he continued to pack his trunk.
“Nobody has the least idea, so Shadow writes.”
“Say, that will give us something to do – when we get back to Oak Hall!” cried Phil. “We’ll organize a posse to round up the wild man!”
“I think we’ll have plenty of other things to do when we get to school, Phil,” remarked Dave. “Just remember that we have lost a lot of time from our lessons, and if we want to make up what we have missed, and graduate from Oak Hall with honor, we’ve got to buckle down and study.”
“Oh, I know that,” answered Phil, and gave a little sigh. “Just the same, I’m going to have a try at the wild man – if he comes my way.”
“So am I,” cried Roger. “And Dave will try with us; won’t you, old man?” And Roger caught his chum affectionately by the shoulder. “You are the fellow to solve mysteries!”
Dave was about to answer when there came a knock on the bedroom door. He opened it to find himself confronted by a middle-aged lady, who was smiling but anxious.
“How are you getting along, boys?” she asked.
“First-rate, Mrs. Wadsworth,” answered Roger. “We’ll soon be finished now.”
“Are the girls getting anxious?” questioned Dave.
“Say, what do you think?” burst out Phil. “We are going back to Oak Hall to capture a wild man who–”
“Phil!” burst out both Dave and Roger, and the other youth stopped short in confusion.
“A wild man?” cried the lady of the house, in consternation. “Oh, Dave, I hope–”
“Oh, don’t let him worry you, Mrs. Wadsworth,” responded Dave, quickly. “There is a wild man up there, but I don’t think he will bother us any, and we’ve got too much to do to hunt for him.” And the lad gave his chum a look that said as plainly as words: “What did you want to mention it for?”
“Oh – I – er – I was only fooling,” stammered Phil. “Of course, if there is a wild man he won’t come near us. Tell the girls we’ll be ready in five minutes – at least I will,” he added, and resumed his packing.
“Can I do anything for you?” asked the lady.
“You might try to find my striped cap,” answered Dave. “I can’t seem to locate it.”
“It is in the library – I saw it a while ago, Dave.”
“And my baseball bat – the new one with the black handle.”
“That is in the back hall, in a corner. How about your books?”
“I’ve got all of them. Send Laura with the bat and cap, will you, please?”
“Yes;” and Mrs. Wadsworth hurried off, anxious to be of all the assistance possible.
“Say, that was a bad break for me,” murmured Phil, as the door closed, and before Dave or Roger could speak. “I didn’t want to worry her, Dave. I’m sorry I mentioned the wild man.”
“And the man may be caught before we get back to Oak Hall,” said Roger. He crossed the room and peered into a closet. “Has anybody seen my baseball shoes?”
“You left those at the Hall, Roger,” answered Dave.
“Did I? All right, then. I came away in such a hurry I can’t remember what I took and what I didn’t.”
“I guess we’ve got about everything now,” resumed Dave, looking around the bedroom. He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes to twelve. We are to have lunch at a quarter past, and start at one, sharp.”
“Provided the auto is ready,” interposed Phil.
“It will be – trust my Uncle Dunston for that,” answered Dave. “My, but isn’t it jolly to think we are going back to school in the auto instead of by train!”
“Yes, and to think that the girls and your uncle are going with us!” added Roger.
“Dave, look out for Roger, he’s got his eye on Laura!” said Phil, slyly.
“Oh, you give us a rest, Phil Lawrence!” burst out Roger, growing red. “I guess you’ve got an eye on her yourself.”
“Poor me! Poor me!” murmured Phil, as if talking to himself. “Roger will talk to nobody but Laura, and Dave will see and hear and think of nobody but Jessie, and I’ll be left in the cold! Oh, what a cruel world this is! If only – wow!” and Phil’s pretended musings came to a sudden end, as Dave shied a pair of rolled-up socks at him and Roger followed with a pillow. In another instant a mimic battle was on, with pillows and various articles of clothing for ammunition. Then came another knock on the door and Laura Porter appeared, with a baseball bat in one hand and her brother’s cap in the other.
“Oh dear me!” she cried, and then stopped short, for a red sweater, thrown by Roger at Phil, had missed its aim and landed on her head.
“I beg your pardon, Laura, really I do!” gasped Roger, as he sprang forward and took the sweater from its resting-place. “I – I didn’t mean that for you.”
“Oh, Roger, of course you did!” cried Phil, with a twinkle in his eye. “That’s the way he salutes girls always, Laura.”
“Is this the way you are packing up?” demanded Dave’s sister, with a little smile, while poor Roger grew redder than ever.
“Oh, we were only waiting for you to bring my things, Laura,” answered her brother, coolly. “We’ll be ready in three minutes and a half by the factory whistles.”
“Say, what is this I hear about a wild man?” continued Laura, as she sat down on a chair Roger shoved towards her. “You’ve made Mrs. Wadsworth and Jessie all excited over it.”
“Oh, it isn’t anything,” burst out Phil, quickly. “I made a mistake even to mention it.”
“She came down and told Jessie and me that she was afraid you’d have more trouble, when you got back to school. As if you haven’t had troubles enough already!” And Laura looked affectionately at her brother, and then at his chums.
“Oh, this won’t amount to anything, Laura,” said Dave. “So tell Mrs. Wadsworth and Jessie not to worry about it.”
“But I want to know what it means?” demanded the sister; and in the end Dave and his chums had to relate what they knew about the wild man. As they finished the girl shook her head doubtfully.
“I don’t like that a bit,” she said. “I am sure you’ll get mixed up with that wild man somehow. Why, he might attack you and try to kill you!”
“We’ll be on our guard – when we go near the woods,” answered Roger.
“You had better not go alone,” insisted the girl.
“We seldom travel alone,” said her brother. “Generally Roger, Phil, and I are together, and very often some of the other fellows are with us. But don’t you worry, Laura, and tell Jessie and her mother it will be all right.”
“And there is another thing to be careful about, Dave,” went on Laura, as she prepared to leave.
“What is that?”
“Be careful of how you treat Nat Poole.”
“Why, what do you mean?” cried Dave, and then he added quickly, as he saw that his sister had something on her mind: “What has happened now?”
“I don’t know exactly, Dave. But I got word through Ben Basswood’s cousin that Nat had told Ben he wasn’t going to let you ride over him this term. I think Nat is jealous because you were so successful in that trip to Cave Island.”
“Did you learn of anything Nat intended to do?” questioned Roger, curiously.
“No, excepting that he said he wasn’t going to play second fiddle to your crowd any longer. He tried to get into a quarrel with Ben, but Ben would have nothing to do with him.”
“Did Nat go back to the Hall when it opened?” asked Phil.
“Yes, the same day Ben went back.”
“I am not afraid of Nat Poole,” declared Dave, stoutly. “He is a bully, always was, and I suppose he always will be. I tried to do him a favor the last time I saw him – but he doesn’t seem to have appreciated it.”
“Laura!” called a musical voice, from the stair landing.
“Coming, Jessie!” answered Laura. “Now you boys, hurry – lunch will be served in a few minutes;” and she left the room.
“So Nat Poole wants to make more trouble, eh?” mused Dave, as he resumed packing. “What a chap he is! Why can’t he be decent and mind his own business?”
“Because he isn’t that breed, that’s why,” answered Phil. “He hates to see another fellow become popular. Dave, you take my advice and watch him, when we get back to school.”
“I’ll do it,” answered Dave, thoughtfully.
CHAPTER II
A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST
“Everything ready?”
“Yes, so far as I know.”
“Then we are off! Good-by, everybody!”
“Good-by! Take care of yourself, Dave!”
“I will!”
There was a tooting of an automobile horn, a chorus of cries and cheers, a waving of caps, and then the big touring car that had been drawn up in front of the Wadsworth mansion rolled from the piazza steps through the spacious grounds; and Dave Porter and his chums were once more on their way to boarding school.
To those who have read the previous volumes of this line of stories Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the benefit of new readers allow me to state that Dave was a wideawake American lad, now well along in his school years.
When a small child our hero had been found one day, walking along the railroad tracks near the town of Crumville. He could tell nothing about himself, and as nobody came to claim him, he was taken to the local poorhouse, where he remained a number of years. Then he was bound out to a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who was farming for his health. The professor did what he could for the lad, but soon got into difficulties with a mean money-lender named Aaron Poole, and would have lost his farm had it not been for something out of the ordinary happening.
On the outskirts of the town lived a wealthy jewelry manufacturer, Oliver Wadsworth. Mr. Wadsworth had a daughter named Jessie, and one day, through an explosion of an automobile tank, the little miss was in danger of being burned to death, when Dave came to her assistance. This so pleased the Wadsworths that they came not only to the boy’s aid but also helped Caspar Potts.
“The lad shall go to boarding school and get a good education,” said Oliver Wadsworth. And how Dave was sent off has already been related in the first book of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.” At the school he made many warm friends, including Roger Morr, the son of a United States senator; Phil Lawrence, the offspring of a wealthy shipowner; Buster Beggs, who was fat as he was jolly, and Maurice, otherwise “Shadow” Hamilton, who would rather spin yarns than eat. He also made some enemies, not the least of whom were Gus Plum, a great bully, and Nat Poole, son of the money-lender already mentioned. Plum had since reformed, but Nat was as overbearing and dictatorial as ever.
The great cloud resting over Dave in those days was the question of his identity, and when some of his enemies spoke of him as “that poorhouse nobody” he resolved to find out who he really was. Getting a strange clew, he set forth on his travels, as described in “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” where he found his uncle, Dunston Porter. Then he came back to Oak Hall, as told of in “Dave Porter’s Return to School,” and next went to the Land of the Midnight Sun, as set forth in “Dave Porter in the Far North,” where he was gladdened by a long-hoped-for meeting with his father.
“They can’t say I’m a poorhouse nobody now,” he told himself, and went back to Oak Hall once again, as set forth in “Dave Porter and His Classmates.” Here he made more friends than ever, but he likewise made enemies, the most bitter of the latter being one Link Merwell, the son of a ranch-owner of the West. Merwell did his best to get Dave into trouble, but in the end was exposed and had to leave the school.
Vacation time was now at hand, and through Laura Porter, our hero’s newly-found sister, Dave and his chums were invited to visit some of Laura’s friends in the Far West. Laura Porter and Jessie Wadsworth went along; and what a grand time the young folks had can be realized by reading “Dave Porter at Star Ranch.” The boys went hunting and fishing, and learned to do some broncho-riding, and they likewise fell in with Link Merwell again and showed that bully up in his true colors.
“Back to the grind now!” said Dave, after the vacation was over, and back he did go, to Oak Hall, as told of in “Dave Porter and His Rivals.” That term was a lively one, for some lads came there from another school, and they, led by Nat Poole, tried to run matters to suit themselves. But when the newcomers lost an important football contest, Oak Hall woke up to the true condition of affairs, and Dave and his chums quickly regained their places on the eleven, and then won a grand victory. During this time Link Merwell, in company with another bad boy named Nick Jasniff, became a student at Rockville Military Academy, a rival institution of learning. Both bullies did their best to make trouble for our hero, but, as before, he exposed them, and this time they had to flee to escape arrest.
When the Christmas holidays came around Dave went back to Crumville, where he and his family and old Caspar Potts now lived with the Wadsworths. At that time Mr. Wadsworth had at his jewelry works some rare diamonds, waiting to be reset. Directly after Christmas came a startling robbery. The diamonds were gone, and it was learned by Dave that if they were not recovered, not only would Mr. Wadsworth be ruined, but that his own father and his uncle would be seriously crippled financially, as they had gone on a bond for the return of the gems.
At first, clews to the robbers were scarce, but soon Dave made a queer discovery, and followed this up by another, as set forth in the volume preceding this, entitled, “Dave Porter on Cave Island.” He and his chums became satisfied that Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff had committed the theft, and they followed the evil pair, first to Florida and then to Cave Island, so named because of the numerous caverns it contained. The evil-doers were caught and the diamonds recovered, but, at the last moment, Link Merwell managed to escape.
“Let him go,” said Dave. “He acts as if he wanted to turn over a new leaf.”
“I am glad it wasn’t Jasniff,” returned Phil. “He is the worse of the pair.”
“Right you are,” agreed Roger.
The senator’s son and Phil had accompanied Dave to Crumville, and all had received a warm reception at the hands of those who were waiting for them. Mr. Wadsworth was delighted to get back the jewels, and thanked Dave over and over again for what he had done. Dave’s father and his uncle were also happy, and as for Laura, she had to hug her brother over and over again. Jessie wanted to hug him, too, but her maidenly modesty prevented this, but she gave Dave a look and a hand squeeze that meant a good deal, for our hero was her hero, too, and always had been.
The boys knew they had to go back to Oak Hall, but the older folks had insisted that they rest up a bit, after their traveling. So they “rested” by going skating and sleigh-riding for the last time that season, taking the girls along.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Dave’s uncle, one morning, after the snow had cleared away. “The roads are so fine just now, what is to prevent my taking you to Oak Hall in the touring car? We can make it in a day, I think.”
“Grand!” shouted Dave.
“Just the thing!” added Phil.
“Couldn’t be better,” supplemented Roger.
“You can ship your baggage on by express,” went on Dunston Porter, “and then we’ll have room enough to take Laura and Jessie, if they want to go along.”
“Fine!” burst out Roger, so quickly that it made Phil wink, and then the senator’s son grew red. “Isn’t it all right?” he demanded.
“Sure thing,” responded the shipowner’s son.
The matter was talked over; and that night it was arranged that the two girls should go along on the trip, returning later to Crumville with Mr. Porter. Not to tire Laura and Jessie too much, it was decided to leave after lunch the next day, stopping over night at Ryeport, and finishing the trip to Oak Hall the morning following.
“If only the good weather holds out,” said Roger, wistfully. And then he added suddenly: “Who is going to sit in front with your uncle, Dave?”
“Why, you are, of course,” broke in Phil, with a grin.
“Why – er – I–” stammered the senator’s son.
“Now, Phil, you know you said you’d like that seat,” broke in Dave. “He’s only fooling you, Roger.” And then Roger looked quite satisfied, for, it might as well be confessed, Roger and Laura were very friendly and liked greatly to be in each other’s company. The senator’s son had a manly regard for Dave’s sister – the same kind of a feeling that our hero had for dear little Jessie.
The trunks and suit-cases had been shipped off, and the big six-cylinder car – a new machine belonging to the Porters – had been brought around, with Dunston Porter at the wheel, for the old hunter and traveler had taken a strong liking to autoing. The girls and boys had piled in, after much handshaking and some kisses, and now the car was rolling out of the grounds, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth, Dave’s father, and old Caspar Potts standing on the piazza, waving the travelers adieu.
“Take care of yourself, my boy!” shouted Mr. Porter.
“I will, Dad!” called back Dave. “You take it easy till I get back,” he added, for he knew that his parent had been working hard of late.
“I hate to see Dave go – he is so full of life and good cheer,” murmured Mrs. Wadsworth, with a sigh.
“Best lad in the world,” added her husband.
“Yes, yes! The very best!” came in a quavering voice from old Caspar Potts, and the tears stood in his glistening eyes.
“I trust he comes through this year at Oak Hall all right,” resumed Mr. Porter, as, the automobile having disappeared, those left behind reentered the house. “He wishes to graduate, you know.”
“Don’t you think he’ll come through?” asked the manufacturer, quickly.
“I’m not sure about it. He has lost so much time – on that trip he and the others took – you know.”
“That is true.”
“Oh, Davy will come through, never fear!” cried Caspar Potts. “I know the lad. If he makes up his mind – well, it’s as good as done,” and he nodded his whitened head several times. To the old college professor who knew him so well, there was no youth quite so clever and manly as Dave Porter.
In the meantime the big touring car was leaving Crumville rapidly behind. On the front seat, beside Mr. Porter, sat Phil, waving an Oak Hall banner and cracking all kinds of jokes. In the back were the two girls with Dave and Roger. All were well bundled up, for the air, though clear, was still cold.
“Here is where we make fifty miles an hour!” cried the shipowner’s son, gayly.
“Oh, Phil!” burst out Laura. “Fifty miles an hour! Uncle Dunston, don’t you dare–”
“Phil is fooling,” interrupted her uncle.
“That’s it – I made a mistake – we are to go at sixty miles an hour, just as soon as we pass the next chicken coop. We won’t dare do it before, for fear of blowing the coop over. We–”
“Why not make it seventy-five miles while you are at it,” broke in Dave. “Nothing like going the limit.” And at this there was a general laugh.
“There is a bad turn ahead,” said Dunston Porter, a minute later. “They have torn up part of the road around the hill. We’ll have to take it pretty slowly.”
The touring car crept up the hill, past several heaps of dirt, and then started to come down on the other side. Here there was a sharp curve, with heavy bushes on both sides. Mr. Porter blew the horn loud and long, to warn anybody ahead that he was coming.
“Look out!” yelled Phil, suddenly. But the warning was not necessary, for Dunston Porter saw the danger and so did the others. A horse and buggy were just ahead on the torn-up highway, going in the same direction as themselves. The horse was prancing and rearing and the driver was sawing at the lines in an effort to quiet the steed. It looked as if there might be a collision.
