Kitabı oku: «Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall», sayfa 15
CHAPTER XXIX
A BIT OF EVIDENCE
“Dave, what do you make of this?”
“Well, to tell the truth, Phil, I don’t think much of it.”
“You don’t think it is a clew?”
“Do you?”
“It’s rather faint, I must confess.”
“Oh, I don’t think there is anything to it,” declared Ben.
“There is something, but not a great deal,” came from Roger. “I don’t see how you are going to follow it up.”
This talk between the boys occurred after Dave, Phil, Ben, Roger, and Buster had called upon Jason Sparr and the justice and insisted on seeing the letter the hotel man had received which stated that the boys were guilty of blowing up the dining-room of his hostelry.
The hotel man had treated them kindly, for he was in dread that the boys would get their folks to sue him for damages. He had offered to pay back the money taken from Phil for the spread, and the shipowner’s son had taken the amount, to which he was justly entitled.
The examination of the letter had revealed next to nothing. It was evidently written in a disguised hand, but some of the letters looked like Job Haskers’s handwriting. In the corner of the paper some sort of an advertisement had been torn off, only the letters, “blisher” showing.
“I think those letters are part of the word, ‘Publisher,’” Dave had said. “This letter was evidently penned by somebody who used some publisher’s blank.”
“Maybe Job Haskers had those blanks,” Phil had exclaimed. “Remember, he said he published or was going to publish something once upon a time.”
The boys talked it over, but could reach no conclusion. Jason Sparr told how the letter had come to him, but this added no new light on the subject.
“Well, it was a nasty trick, no matter who played it,” said Dave.
“I sha’n’t rest until I find out who did it,” retorted Phil.
All were resolved to watch Job Haskers and also Nat Poole. But while doing this they had to turn once more to their studies. Phil, Ben, and Buster had to work harder than ever, and so did Dave, to make up for the time lost during their absence. But Doctor Clay was kind to them, and for once Job Haskers did not say anything, although he showed that he expected them to “toe the mark,” as Roger expressed it.
Several weeks slipped by, and during that time Oak Hall played several games of ball. One game of importance was won, and this was celebrated in a befitting manner. Dave attended the games, and so did Phil and Roger, but none of the three allowed the sport to interfere with their studies. All were “in the grind,” and resolved to graduate that coming June with the highest possible honors.
During those days Dave received many letters from home. His folks and friends were glad to know that the wild man had been captured and the mystery of the blowing up cleared away. Jessie sent him a very warm letter in particular, congratulating him for bringing back the runaways, and saying she hoped he would have no more trouble during the final term at Oak Hall. She added that she and all the others expected to come to the school at graduation exercises.
“Now it is up to me to make good,” said Dave, after reading this letter several times. “Dad expects it, and Jessie, and everybody, and I am not going to disappoint them.”
But it was no light task to remain at the top of the senior class, or even near it, for there were bright seniors in plenty, including the studious Polly Vane, who seemed the brightest of all. But Dave plugged away, day after day, resolved to keep at it until the very last. He was writing on his theme and had it about half finished.
“One month more and it will all be over but the shouting,” said Roger one day, as he came into the room where Dave was studying.
“All over but the shouting or weeping,” returned Phil, who was present. “I am afraid some of the fellows will do more weeping than cheering,” he added, grimly.
“Let us hope that everybody passes,” said Dave, looking up with a quiet smile.
“Such a thing has never been done,” said Ben. “Somebody is bound to drop by the wayside – I hope it isn’t yours truly,” and he sank his head again into his book.
“I think old Haskers is commencing to tighten the screws again,” said Buster. “He let up for a while, after the wild man was caught, but yesterday and to-day – phew! we caught it, didn’t we?”
“We sure did!” cried Phil. “I can’t understand that man. Why is he a teacher when he just naturally hates boys?”
“That’s a conundrum that can’t be answered,” said the senator’s son.
“Well, we won’t weep on leaving him,” remarked Luke, dryly.
“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” said Shadow. “Once on a time a man in an auto ran into a boy carrying a cat in a basket. He didn’t hurt the boy much but he killed the cat. Says he, ‘I am sorry, my boy, and I’ll pay you for the cat. How much?’ ‘I – I don’t know,’ blubbered the boy. ‘Will two dollars do?’ asked the man. ‘Yes,’ says the boy, and took the money. ‘Were you taking the cat home?’ asked the man, when he was ready to drive on. ‘No,’ said the boy. ‘I was going to take him down to the canal and drown him!’” And there was a smile over Shadow’s yarn.
It had been a blustery day, and as night came on the wind increased in violence, until it fairly howled around Oak Hall. It tore through the branches of the oaks that gave the place its name, until it looked as if some of the trees might be broken off by the fury of the elements.
“My gracious! I never saw such a wind!” cried Roger, as he came in from a trip to the gymnasium.
“It must be fierce at sea,” returned Dave, who was with him. “I am glad I am on shore. The newspapers will tell about wrecks along the coast to-morrow.”
Nobody thought of going out that evening, and the boys put in the time studying and reading. The windows rattled, and occasionally a shutter banged, and a good night’s rest seemed out of the question.
“My, what a night for a fire!” remarked Phil, while he and his chums were undressing.
“Don’t mention such a thing!” returned Ben, with a shiver. “It would burn down everything!”
At last the boys retired. A few dropped off to sleep, but Dave was not one of them. He had studied hard and was restless, and the fury of the elements added to his nervousness.
At last he could stand it no longer to remain in bed, and got up to sit in an easy-chair for awhile.
He was just crossing the dormitory floor when there came an extra heavy blast of wind outside, followed by a crash, as one of the giant oaks standing close to the school building was broken off near the top. Then came another crash, a jingling of glass, and a sudden wild cry for help.
“Hello, something’s gone through a window!” Dave muttered. “Maybe it’s in the next room!”
He ran to the window and looked out. Just below the window-sill he saw some branches of the broken tree. He looked down and noted that the tree-top had gone into the window of the room below.
“What’s the row?” cried Roger, springing up and rubbing his eyes.
“Is the roof caving in?” asked Phil.
“Some tree-branches came down and went through the window right below us,” answered Dave. “Listen!”
All did so, and heard the cry for help repeated.
“It’s Job Haskers calling!” said the senator’s son. “He uses the room below us now.”
“Let us see if he is hurt,” suggested another of the boys.
Clad in their pajamas, the boys flocked out into the hallway, there to be joined by others. Word was passed around of what had occurred, and all made their way to the door of the instructor’s apartment. They heard him yelling for help with all his might.
The door was locked, and Dave and some others put their shoulders to the barrier and forced it open. All was dark in the room, and the wind was rushing around, sending books, pictures, and other things in all directions.
Several matches were struck, and at last a sheltered light was lit. Doctor Clay, Mr. Dale, and some of the other teachers had now arrived, and instructors and students gazed curiously at the scene before them.
The top of the tree had come straight through the big window of the apartment, crashing down on a bureau and a writing-desk, smashing both flat. Some branches of the tree rested on the side of the bed, pinning Job Haskers against the wall, as if in a cage.
“Help me! Save me!” spluttered the terror-stricken teacher. “I am being crushed to death!”
“All hands to the tree!” shouted Mr. Dale, and showed what he meant. Boys and men took hold of the tree-branches and pulled them to one side.
“Are you much hurt, Mr. Haskers?” asked Doctor Clay, kindly.
“I – I don’t know, I think so!” gasped the teacher. His face was white and he was shivering from fright.
“Can’t you crawl under the branches?” asked Mr. Dale. “Here, come this way.”
He showed how it could be done, and trembling from head to feet, the scared teacher got out from under the tree-top. His face and one shoulder were scratched, but otherwise he appeared to be unhurt. But all were forced to acknowledge that he had had a narrow escape.
“You had better take one of the spare rooms, Mr. Haskers,” said Doctor Clay, as another blast of wind swept through the room. “You cannot remain here, with this tree-top in the room. And I am afraid we shall have to saw it up to get it out again. You can be thankful that your life has been spared.”
“The furniture is smashed!” murmured the teacher.
“Never mind the furniture, so long as you are not hurt. It can be mended, and all the window needs is some new sash.”
“My things have been scattered,” grumbled the teacher. “A perfect mess!”
“Leave it until morning – you can do nothing to-night,” said the doctor; and so it was finally decided, and teachers and pupils trooped off to bed. The broken-in door was closed, but it could not be locked.
The boys had scarcely gotten back to the dormitories when Dave called Phil, Ben, Roger, and Buster to one side.
“Now is our chance,” he whispered. “Did you notice that the bureau and the writing-desk in Haskers’s room were smashed? It may not be the most honorable thing to do, but I think we are justified in looking his things over and seeing if we can’t find some clew to that letter Jason Sparr received.”
“Right you are!” declared Phil, promptly, and the others said practically the same.
They waited until the other boys had retired once more, and then, at a signal from Dave, all filed silently into the hallway again and tiptoed their way to the room below. Soon, they were inside and had the light lit, and also a lantern which belonged to Ben’s bicycle, and which he had chanced to have on hand.
Silently and with great care the boys went over the many things that had been scattered over the floor – wearing apparel, books, pads, papers, and various articles of more or less value. Presently Phil gave a low cry.
“Look at this!” And he held up several sheets of paper. In one corner were the words:
LATIN MADE EASY
JOB HASKERS, Publisher,
Albany, N. Y
“It’s the same paper!” cried Dave. “He tore the corner off so that just the letters ‘blisher’ remained.”
“That’s pretty good evidence,” said Roger.
“I should say it was!” cried Ben. “Wonder what he will have to say about it, when we confront him with it?”
“Let us look for more evidence, while we are at it,” came from Buster. And then the midnight search continued.
CHAPTER XXX
THE EXPOSURE – GOOD-BY TO OAK HALL
“Doctor Clay, we must see you about something that is very important.”
Thus spoke Dave, the next morning, as he and his chums filed into the doctor’s private office after the opening of the school. Job Haskers was not at his class, but in his room, straightening out his things, while some men had been sent up, to get rid of the tree-top and repair the window. The storm was a thing of the past, and no other damage of importance had been done.
“Very well, boys,” returned the master of the school, kindly. “Come in and let me know what it is.”
The students came in, rather awkwardly it must be admitted, for they had much on their minds and did not know just how the worthy doctor would take it. But they had decided on a course of action, and they had given their word to stick together to the end. Dave, as the natural leader, had been chosen spokesman.
“Doctor Clay, we want to bring up a subject of great importance,” said Dave. “Important to us, and to you, and to the whole school. The boys have asked me to speak for them and for myself.”
“About what?” demanded the master, somewhat shortly.
“About Mr. Haskers and how he has treated us.”
“What has he done now?”
“It isn’t what he has done now, Doctor Clay, it is what he did some time ago – did his best to get us into grave trouble,” answered Dave, warmly. “You’ll remember the letter Mr. Sparr got, stating we were guilty of trying to blow up his hotel. We are now satisfied that Mr. Haskers penned that letter – in fact, we have the evidence to prove it.”
“Impossible!”
“No, sir, it is true, and I dare him to deny it. It is an absolute fact, Doctor Clay, and we have come here this morning to inform you that we can no longer attend a school where he is a teacher,” went on Dave, firmly.
“But – but you – er – you astound me, Porter! Tell me what you know, or think you know.”
In a plain, straightforward manner Dave mentioned the letter and the printing that had appeared on it. Then he told how he and his chums had searched the bedroom after the tree-top crash and found the sheets of paper with that same printing, and he produced them.
“And we also found these, in a corner of the broken writing-desk,” he continued. “Some writing by Mr. Haskers, in which he practiced backhand. This writing is just like that which appears in the letter Mr. Sparr got. Compare the two and you will see we are right. Wilbur Poole said Mr. Haskers saw him blow up the hotel, and he told the truth, even if he is weak-minded.”
“But why should Mr. Haskers do such an outrageous thing?” asked the master of Oak Hall.
“I will tell you why, sir,” returned Dave, and related the affair of the Widow Breen. “That made him very sore on us, and he wanted to get us out of the school. At first he tried it by overworking us in our lessons, and when he found that that didn’t work he tried this game of making out that we were criminals.”
“Yes, but – but would a teacher of mine stoop so low?” murmured the worthy doctor, shaking his head doubtfully.
“No ordinary teacher would, Dr. Clay. But Mr. Haskers is not an ordinary man – he is very dictatorial and harsh, and he hates boys even though he has to teach them. He isn’t a bit like Mr. Dale, or the others.”
“We never had any trouble with any teacher but Haskers,” put in Phil.
“And if we have to leave Oak Hall I’m going to get my father to sue Haskers for damages,” added Roger.
A talk lasting the best part of an hour followed, and at last the worthy doctor had his eyes opened to the unworthiness of his assistant. He scanned the sheets of paper and the writing the boys had brought with interest.
“You are right – this is Mr. Haskers’s hand,” he said, slowly. “But is it the same hand that wrote that villainous letter to Mr. Sparr?”
“Compare the two and you will see that we are right,” answered Dave.
“I will,” answered the doctor; and a little later he set off for Oakdale in his buggy, going alone.
The boys walked down to the gymnasium, resolved to keep out of all classes until the matter had been settled. They had impressed it on Doctor Clay’s mind that either Job Haskers must leave the school or they would do so.
It was nearly noon when the master of Oak Hall came back, driving slowly and looking very thoughtful. The boys met him at the entrance to the grounds and he told them to come to the office, and closed the door carefully behind them.
“You were right,” he said, almost brokenly. “I have been deceived by this – this – I do not know what to call him! It will make a great stir when the truth is known – and it will hurt the school,” he added, with a sigh.
“Why should we make a stir about it?” asked Dave, quickly. “Let him go, that is all we ask. He can resign.”
“No, the truth must come out,” was the firm reply. “He shall not shelter himself behind you, even for the benefit of the school. I have already told the authorities the facts in the case. If they wish to arrest him they can do so, and you may appear against him, if you wish.”
“When will you tell him?” asked Phil, as there came a brief pause.
“At once! And I wish you to be present and hear what is said,” returned Doctor Clay. He rang a bell and a servant appeared. “Tell Mr. Haskers to come here immediately.”
There was silence after this, the boys not knowing what to say, and the master of the school being busy with his thoughts. Presently the door opened and Job Haskers came in, with a look of curiosity on his face.
“You sent for me, Doctor?” he inquired.
“I did, Mr. Haskers,” was the cold reply. “I want your resignation, and I want it at once!”
The master of Oak Hall had gotten to his feet and the two men stood facing each other. Doctor Clay had his jaw set, and never had the students seen him look so determined. He was no longer a kindly schoolmaster, he was a judge, and a stern judge at that.
“You – you want my resignation?” faltered Job Haskers.
“Yes, and at once.”
“Why?”
“Because you are not fit to teach here – you are not fit to teach anywhere!” thundered the doctor. “I want your resignation, and then I want you to leave just as soon as you possibly can.”
“But – but – I want you to explain. I want–”
“It is not necessary for me to explain, Haskers. You have been found out. You are a despicable villain, and you ought to be in jail. I trusted you, and you have deceived me. More than that, you have tried to get these young gentlemen into serious trouble. Don’t deny it, for it will do no good. We have the absolute proof against you, and those proofs are also in the hands of the law. If you don’t want to be arrested, you will leave this school as soon as you can get your baggage packed.”
“Sir, I want you to know–” commenced Job Haskers, but stopped short, for Doctor Clay had taken a stride forward and was shaking a finger in the teacher’s face.
“I will not argue with you, Haskers. For a long time I have not been satisfied with your work, for you did not seem to have the students’ interest at heart. You have a good education. But a teacher must have more than that – he must have a heart for his work. Now you are found out, and I want nothing more to do with you. I will give you a check for what is due you up to to-day, and you will sign a receipt in full, and also your resignation, and then I never want to see or hear of you again.”
“And suppose I won’t resign?” snarled the teacher. “I have a contract–”
“If you don’t get out, you’ll go to jail.”
“And we’ll sue you,” Dave could not help putting in.
“That’s right, we’ll push the case as far as the law allows,” added Phil.
“Ha! you think you are smart, but you don’t know it all,” snarled the teacher, but his manner showed his uneasiness. He attempted to argue, but Doctor Clay would not listen, and when he said he would send for a constable, Job Haskers quickly capitulated, signed his resignation, took his check, and hurried away to pack his baggage. He left about an hour later, by the back way, so that none of the students saw him go. An hour after that a man came for his trunks and bags; and that was the last seen or heard of him at Oak Hall.
“Hurrah!” cried Dave, when the affair was at an end. “How glad I am that Haskers is gone! I feel as if a weight had been taken from my head!”
“I guess everybody will be glad,” returned Roger, and he was right. Some of the students wanted to get up a celebration in honor of the unpopular teacher’s departure, but this was not permitted. But the boys had a time on the quiet, and thoroughly enjoyed it.
With the going away of Job Haskers, and the clearing up of the mystery surrounding the letter, Oak Hall settled down once more to its normal condition. Another teacher came to take the place of the man who had left, and he proved popular all around, and made Doctor Clay wonder why he had not made a change long before.
With their minds free from worry, Dave and his chums buckled down to their lessons, and our hero spent much time over his paper on “The Future of Our Country.” Soon the examinations started, and then the boys fell to worrying over how they would fare in this final test.
“Well, I hope I pass,” remarked Phil, when the last examination was over. “I don’t expect to be near the top. I lost too much, going to Cave Island, and when I ran away.”
“Me for the passing mark, too,” chimed in Ben.
“Well, I am hoping for something better,” said Roger.
“What about you, Dave?” queried Buster.
“I am like Roger, hoping for something better,” answered our hero, with a smile. “But I’m prepared to take what comes,” he added.
At last came the day when the announcements were to be made. Dave had sent in his theme and he expected to hear from this as well as from his studies. In the meantime, preparations were going forward for the graduation exercises, and visitors were expected from far and near. Nearly all the folks from Crumville were coming, and also the parents of Phil, Roger, and the other seniors.
The big assembly room was crowded when the announcements were made. The passing mark was seventy-five per cent., and many of the boys dreaded to think that they might be below that.
“I will read the names in the order of merit,” said Doctor Clay, after the opening exercises. “Only two boys have failed to pass for graduation, and they will be conditioned, if they so desire. I am proud of the record.” And then the master of the school proceeded to read the list. Polly Vane and Dave had each ninety-six per cent., Roger had ninety-four, Shadow ninety, Sam and Luke each eighty-eight, Phil eighty-seven, Gus eighty-six, and so on down to Buster, who squeezed through with seventy-eight. The boys who had failed to pass were Nat Poole, who had only sixty-eight, and one of his cronies, who was marked sixty-nine.
“It ain’t fair! I did as well as lots of ’em,” said Nat, when the reading was over. But nobody listened to him, for all knew that the examinations had been just in every particular.
“I will now announce the prizes for the best themes on the subject, ‘The Future of Our Country,’” went on Doctor Clay. “The reading of the nine papers handed in has afforded me great pleasure, for all are good and many of them excellent. But I think the best of all is that written by David Porter, and the committee of teachers who have examined the papers agree with me. Porter, I congratulate you, and I will now ask you to come forward and read your meritorious composition to your fellow-students.”
And amid a general handclapping our hero went to the platform and commenced to read the theme. Everybody listened with close attention, and loud was the applause when he had concluded. It was certainly a fine paper, and later on Doctor Clay had it published in one of the school journals, where it attracted not a little attention.
Dave was certainly happy and he had good reason to be. He sent word home that night of how he had fared and the next day received several messages of congratulation. One message from Jessie he prized very highly, for she wrote, “You deserve a big hug for coming through so finely. My very best wishes.” The other boys also got congratulations; and that night and the night to follow were “bonfire nights,” in more ways than one.
“Well, we are rid of Haskers, and also Merwell and Jasniff,” remarked Roger to Dave. “We ought to be happy, eh, Dave?”
“Yes, and especially over coming out so well for graduation,” answered Dave.
“Do you think we’ll ever see Haskers or Merwell again?” questioned Phil.
“I don’t know – I trust not,” answered our hero. But his wish was not fulfilled. He did meet the pair, and in a most unexpected fashion, as will be related in the next volume of this series, to be called “Dave Porter in the Gold Fields; or, The Search for the Landslide Mine,” in which we will learn how Dave went West with some of his chums, and joined an old prospector in a hunt for a lost mine that had been willed to Roger Morr’s mother.
The graduation exercises at Oak Hall that year formed a gala event long to be remembered. The school and the campus were crowded, and Dave and his chums surprised even Doctor Clay by “chipping in” and hiring a brass band to play outside, after the exercises were over. The boys also presented their teachers and the master with some volumes of history and poetry, and received numerous gifts in return. From his father Dave got a bank-book, with an amount written therein that was a complete surprise. His sister gave him a neat stickpin and his uncle a set of books, and from Jessie and her folks came a desk set, of solid silver, suitably engraved.
“Well, I think I ought to be the happiest boy alive,” said Dave, after the exercises were over, and he had his diploma, tied with a broad ribbon. “I feel just as if I was walking on air.”
“And I am glad, too,” said his sister Laura, warmly.
“We are all glad,” put in Jessie, and gave him her brightest smile.
“Glad and proud, Dave,” said his father. “My boy, you have done very well.”
And then the whole party went down to the gymnasium, where refreshments were being served to the visitors. And here let us leave Dave Porter, wishing him well.
