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CHAPTER V
AT OAK HALL ONCE MORE

“Hurrah! here we are at Oakdale at last!”

“Old town looks natural, doesn’t it?”

“So it does, Roger. See any of the fellows?”

“Not yet, Dave. But we are sure to meet somebody, even if it is a school-day,” went on the senator’s son.

“Uncle Dunston, let me take the auto around to the hotel,” said our hero. “I know the streets better than you do. We have to make several turns.”

“All right, Dave,” was the ready answer, and Dunston Porter arose and allowed his nephew to crowd into the driver’s seat.

The run to the town in the vicinity of which Oak Hall was located had been made without further incident. On the way the party had talked over Mrs. Breen’s affairs, and Dunston Porter had promised to take the matter up, through his lawyer.

“I think it best that our names don’t appear in the case,” said he. “Otherwise, Mr. Haskers might not treat you so well during the term.”

“He never treats us well, anyway,” grumbled Phil. “But you are right, don’t mention our names.”

On this late winter day the town looked rather dreary, but the young folks were in high spirits, and Dave, with a grand flourish, ran the car up to one of the best hotels the place afforded. As before, word had been sent ahead that they were coming, and the host of the resort came out to meet them.

“We’ll have dinner ready inside of quarter of an hour,” he said. “Come in and make yourselves at home.”

The repast was fully as good as the dinner served at Ryeport, and everybody enjoyed it greatly.

“And now for the Hall!” cried Dave.

“Glad to leave us?” asked Jessie, half-reproachfully.

“You know better than to ask such a question,” he replied. “But if we have got to get back to the grind, why, we might as well do it.”

“And I’m a bit anxious to see how the old place looks,” added the senator’s son.

“Dave, you can run the car to the Hall, if you wish,” said Mr. Porter, feeling sure the youth would like to do that very thing.

“All right.”

The touring automobile was brought around, and they were just getting in when there came a sudden hail from across the way.

“Hello, there, everybody!”

“It’s Dave Porter, and Roger, and Phil!” said somebody else.

“Why, how are you, Shadow!” cried our hero. “And how are you, Buster?” he added, as Maurice Hamilton and Buster Beggs came across the road to greet them.

“Fine!” puffed Buster, who was very fat and jolly. “Only Shadow has been walking the feet off of me!” And then the stout youth shook hands all around.

“Now, just to hear that!” cried Shadow, as he, too, shook hands. “Why, all we did was to walk from the Hall to here.”

“And up one street and down another for half an hour,” burst in Buster.

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story!” cried Shadow, who was noted for his yarn-spinning weakness. “Once two men started to walk–”

“Stow it!” came from three of the other lads in concert.

“It’s too early yet to tell stories, Shadow,” said Dave, with a smile. “You can tell them to-night. Tell us now, is there anything new at the Hall?”

“There sure is.”

“What?” asked Phil and Roger.

“The wild man.”

“Oh, has he turned up again?” asked the girls, with interest.

“Twice – yesterday morning and this morning,” said Buster.

“He didn’t turn up at all, Buster,” interposed Shadow. “When you start to tell a story, why don’t you tell it straight?”

“Oh, you tell it,” grumbled the fat boy. “You have that sort of thing down to a science.”

“There isn’t very much to tell,” went on Shadow Hamilton. “He left his mark, that’s all.”

“Left his mark?” queried Dave.

“That’s it – wide, blue marks. He must have about a ton of blue chalk.”

“Say, Shadow, you are talking in riddles,” burst out the shipowner’s son. “Give it to us in plain United States, can’t you?”

“Sure I can. Well, this wild man visited the school yesterday morning and this morning, before anybody was up. The first time he went into the big classroom and took some books, and the next time he visited the kitchen and pantry and took some grub – I beg the ladies’ pardon – I should have said food – a ham, a chicken, and some doughnuts.”

“And the blue chalk–?” queried Mr. Porter.

“I was coming to that. In the classroom he left his mark – a big circle, with a cross inside, in blue chalk.”

“And how do you know that is the mark of the wild man?” asked Laura.

“Oh, we found that out some time ago,” answered Shadow. “He seems to have a mania for blue chalk, and even puts it on his face sometimes, and he chalks down that circle with the cross wherever he goes.”

“Then, if he does that, why can’t they trail him down?” asked Dave.

“Because he is like a flea – when you try to put your hands on him he isn’t there,” answered Shadow. “And say, that puts me in mind of another story. Once three boys were–”

“That will do, Shadow!” cried Roger. “About the wild man is enough for the present.”

“Have they any idea who he is?” asked Dunston Porter.

“Not the slightest,” answered Buster. “And they don’t know where he keeps himself, although it must be in the woods near the school.”

“Oh, Dave, I hope he doesn’t harm anybody!” cried Jessie, with a shiver.

“Are you boys ready to go back to the Hall?” asked Dunston Porter.

“I am,” responded Buster, readily.

“So am I,” added the story-teller of the school.

“Then we’ll take you along, provided you don’t mind being crowded.”

“We won’t mind, if the young ladies won’t,” returned the fat youth.

“Oh, come in by all means!” cried Laura.

“We’ll make room somehow,” added Jessie.

A minute later the big car started on the way to Oak Hall, with Dave at the wheel and his uncle beside him.

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” called out Roger, as they spun along the turnpike.

“It certainly does!” answered Roger, and then he added, “What do you say to the old school song?”

“Fine!” came back the answer, and then the senator’s son commenced a song they all knew well, which was sung to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne.” The girls knew the song, too, and readily joined in.

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

Loud and clear over the cool air sounded the song, and it was sung several times. Then, just as the car rolled into the grounds of the school, the boys gave one of the Hall yells, and Dave honked the horn of the automobile loud and long.

“Hello! It’s the Porter crowd!”

“Welcome to our city!”

“How about Cave Island, Dave! Did you bring it with you?”

“Heard you caught Jasniff and Merwell, Roger. Good for you!”

“Say, Phil, you’re as sunburnt as if you’d been to the seashore for a summer.”

So the talk ran on as half a dozen students flocked up to the car. The afternoon session was over, and despite the chilliness many lads were out on the campus. Many knew the girls – having met them at some athletic games and at a commencement – and those that did not were glad of a chance for an introduction.

“I am real glad to see you back, boys,” said Doctor Hasmer Clay, the head of the institution, as he appeared and shook hands. “Glad to see you, Mr. Porter, and also the young ladies,” he added. “So you came all the way by automobile, eh? It must have been a delightful trip.”

“It was,” answered Dave’s uncle.

All went inside, and the visitors were permitted to accompany Dave and his chums to their dormitory. The boys’ baggage had already arrived, so it did not take the lads long to settle down.

“And now we’ll have to start back,” said Dunston Porter, a little later. “Dave, take good care of yourself, and make a good record.”

“I’ll do my best, Uncle Dunston.”

“And don’t let that wild man get you,” added Jessie, as she took his hand and allowed him to hold her own, perhaps longer than was necessary.

“And don’t forget to write,” put in his sister.

“Oh, I’ll not forget that!” answered Dave, with a smile, both to his sister and to the girl whom he regarded so warmly.

It was a trying moment – this parting – but it was soon over, and, with Dunston Porter at the wheel, and the girls and boys waving their hands, the touring car left the Oak Hall grounds, on its return journey to Crumville.

“Well, here we are, as the pug dog said to the looking-glass, when he walked behind it to look for himself,” remarked Phil, dropping into a chair.

“I suppose it will take us a few days to get settled down,” answered Dave, resting on the top of a table. “I don’t feel much like unpacking yet, do you?”

“No, let us wait until to-night or to-morrow,” returned Roger, dropping on one of the beds. He was still thinking of how clear and deep Laura’s eyes had appeared when she had said good-by to him.

“I really hope you will not be homesick,” said a girlish voice, and Bertram Vane, one of the students, appeared from the next room and sat down on a chair. “Homesickness is such an awfully cruel thing, don’t you know.”

“No homesickness here, Polly,” answered Dave. “I guess we are just tired out, that’s all. We’ve done a lot of traveling since we left Oak Hall.”

“So I understand. Wasn’t it dreadful that Jasniff and Merwell should prove such villains!” went on the girlish student. “Weren’t you really afraid to – er – to touch them?”

“Not much!” cried Phil. “I am only sorry Merwell got away.”

“But you got the diamonds, I heard?” put in Sam Day, who was another of the chums.

“We did.”

At that moment came musical sounds from another room near by – the sounds of somebody strumming on a guitar.

“Hello, there’s Luke Watson!” cried Roger. “Hi, come in with that guitar and give us a tune, Luke!” he called out.

“Thought I might cheer you up,” said Luke, appearing. “How would you like me to play ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or something like that?”

“Make it ‘Oh, Those Eyes So Tender!’” suggested Buster.

“Or else that beautiful ditty called, ‘He Loved, But Had to Leave Her,’” suggested Shadow. “Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” he went on. “This is true, too, though you may not believe it. A young man went to call on his best girl and took a bouquet of flowers along. The bouquet was done up in several thicknesses of tissue paper. Some of his friends who were jokers got hold of that bouquet and fixed it up for him. He gave it to the girl, and when she took off the tissue paper what do you suppose she found? A bunch of celery and some soup greens! He was so fussed up he didn’t know what to say, and he got out in a hurry.”

“Hurrah for the chaps who fixed up the bouquet!” cried Phil. “But start up, Luke. Something in which we can all join.”

“But not too loud,” cautioned Roger. “Old Haskers might not like–”

“Oh, hang old Haskers!” interrupted Phil. “He can’t–”

“Sh-sh!” came from Dave, suddenly, and silence fell on the group of boys. All turned towards the doorway leading to the hall. There, on the threshold, stood the instructor just mentioned, Mr. Job Haskers.

CHAPTER VI
PHIL SHOWS HIS STUBBORNNESS

Not one of the boys knew how to act or what to say. All wondered if Job Haskers had heard his name mentioned.

If the ill-natured instructor had heard, he made no mention of it. He looked sharply about the apartment and waved his hand to Luke.

“Watson, how many times have I told you that you make too much noise with your musical instruments?” he said, harshly. “You disturb the students who wish to study.”

“I thought this was the recreation hour, Mr. Haskers,” answered the lad, who loved to play the guitar and banjo.

“True, but I think we get altogether too much of your music,” growled the instructor. He turned to Dave, Roger, and Phil. “So you are back at last. It is high time, if you wish to go on with your regular classes.”

“We told Doctor Clay that we would make up what we have missed, Mr. Haskers,” answered Dave, in a gentle tone, for he knew how easy it was to start a quarrel with the man before him. As Phil had once said, Job Haskers was always walking around “with a chip on his shoulder.”

“And how soon will you make up the lessons in my class?” demanded the instructor.

“I think I can do it inside of ten days or two weeks.”

“That won’t suit me, Porter. You’ll have to do better. I’ll give each of you just a week – one week, understand? If you can’t make the lessons up in that time I’ll have to drop you to the next lower class.”

“Oh, Mr. Haskers!” burst out Roger. He knew what that meant only too well. They would not have a chance to graduate that coming June.

“I’ll not argue the point, Morr. I’ll give you a week, starting to-morrow. When you come to the classroom I will show you just what you have to make up.” Job Haskers looked around the room. “Now, then, remember, I want less noise here.” And so speaking, he turned on his heel and walked away.

For a moment there was silence, as the boys looked at each other and listened to the sounds of Mr. Haskers’s retreating footsteps. Then Phil made a face and punched one of the bed pillows, savagely.

“Now, wouldn’t that make a saint turn in his grave?” he remarked. “Isn’t he the real, kind, generous soul!”

“He ought to be ducked in the river!” was Buster’s comment. “Why, how can anybody make up the lessons you’ve missed in a week? It’s absurd! Say, do you know what I’d do if I were you? I’d complain to the doctor.”

“So would I,” added Sam Day. “Two weeks would be short enough.”

“I’ll not complain to the doctor,” returned Phil. “But I know what I will do,” he added, quickly, as though struck by a sudden idea.

“What?” came from several.

“Never mind what. But I’ll wager he’ll give us more time.”

“I guess I know what you think of doing,” said Dave. “But take my advice and don’t, Phil.”

“Humph! I’ll see about it, Dave. He isn’t going to run such a thing as this up my back without a kick,” grumbled the shipowner’s son.

“Well, wait first and see if he doesn’t change his mind, or if we can’t get through in the week,” cautioned Dave.

“What was Phil going to do?” questioned Luke, strumming lowly over the strings of his guitar.

“Oh, don’t let’s talk about it,” cried Dave, before Roger could speak. He did not wish the Mrs. Breen affair to become public property. “Tell us about the wild man, and all the other things that have happened here since we went away.”

“And you tell us all about Cave Island and those stolen jewels,” said Buster.

Thereafter the conversation became general, Dave and his chums telling of their quest of the Carwith diamonds, and the other students relating the particulars of a feast they had had in one of the dormitories, and of various efforts made to catch the so-called wild man.

“I don’t believe he is what one would call a wild man,” said Ben Basswood, Dave’s old chum from home, who had just come in from some experiments in the school laboratory. “He is simple-minded and very shy. He gets excited once in a while, like when he threw those mud-balls.”

“Well, you ought to know,” remarked Buster. “Ben is the only fellow here who has talked to the man,” he explained.

“When was that, Ben?” questioned Dave.

“That was when the man first appeared,” answered the Crumville lad. “I didn’t find out until yesterday that he was the wild man, and then it was because of that blue chalk he uses. I met him in the woods when I was out during that last snow, looking for rabbits with my shotgun. I came across him, sitting on a rock, looking at an old newspaper. He had some of the blue chalk in his hand and had marked a circle with a cross on the rock. He asked me where I was going, and told me to look out and not shoot a star, and then he asked me if I used chalk for powder, and said he could supply a superior brand of chalk cheap. I thought at first that he was merely joking, but I didn’t like the look in his eyes, and then I made up my mind he was not right in his head, and I left him. When I came back that way, an hour later, he was gone, and I have never seen him since.”

“Where was this, Ben?”

“Up in the woods, where the brook branches off by the two big rocks.”

“I know the spot!” cried Roger. “Say, maybe he hangs out around there.”

“No, we hunted around there yesterday, but he wasn’t to be seen. I don’t believe he has any settled place of abode, but just roams through the woods.”

“Poor fellow! Somebody ought to catch him and place him in a sanitarium,” was Dave’s comment.

Various matters were talked over until the supper hour, and then the boys filed down to the dining-hall. Here our hero met more of his school chums, including Gus Plum, who had once been his enemy but who was now quite friendly, and little Chip Macklin, who in days gone by had been Plum’s toady.

“Very glad to see you back, Dave!” cried Gus. “And, say, you’ve certainly made a hero of yourself,” he added, warmly.

“It was great, what you and Roger and Phil did,” added Chip, in deep admiration.

Everybody was glad to see Dave back, and after supper it was all he could do to get away from many of his friends. But he managed it at last, and he, Roger, and Phil went upstairs, to put away their things and get out their schoolbooks.

“We have got to study and that is all there is to it,” said Dave, firmly. “Fun is one thing and getting ready to graduate is another. We have got to get down to the grind, boys.”

“That’s right,” answered the senator’s son.

“But don’t forget what old Haskers said,” grumbled Phil. “He’ll make us sweat, just you wait and see!”

“‘Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,’” quoted Dave. “I think we can get through if we buckle down hard.”

“Supposing Mr. Dale and the other teachers pin us down as old Haskers did?” demanded Phil.

“They won’t do it,” declared our hero. “Take my word for it, Mr. Dale will give us a month, if we want it. I know him. And the others will do the same.”

“Well, maybe we can get through, if that’s the case,” said the shipowner’s son, slowly. “Just the same, I think old Haskers the meanest man alive.”

The following morning, after a good night’s rest, the boys went to their various classes. As Dave had predicted, Mr. Dale, the head teacher, treated them with all possible consideration, for he loved boys and understood them thoroughly. The other teachers were likewise very lenient.

“Old Haskers is the one stumbling-block,” said Roger. “Dave, maybe we had better see Doctor Clay about him.”

“Not much!” cried Phil. “We’ve got a club we can use on Haskers. Why not use it?”

“You mean, go to him and tell him we know about that Mrs. Breen affair, and that we will expose him if he doesn’t let up on us, Phil?” said Dave.

“Yes.”

“Do you think that is a – well, a gentlemanly thing to do?”

“It’s what old Haskers would do, if he was in our place.”

“Perhaps. But I’d rather not do it. Let my uncle’s lawyer try to collect that money without our appearing in the case. We have had trouble enough in the past with Haskers. Let us buckle in and study up. I am sure we can get through,” added Dave, earnestly.

“All right,” growled Phil; but his manner showed that he was not satisfied.

Two days went by, and the boys settled down to the regular routine of the school. The lessons to be made up were exceedingly hard, and Dave found he had to study almost constantly to do what was required of him.

“But I am going to make it!” he murmured, setting his teeth hard. “I am not going to disappoint the folks at home.”

One afternoon the three chums had a very hard lesson in Latin to do. It was a clear, sunshiny day and they had one of the windows wide open to let in the fresh air. Dave and Roger were bending over their books when they heard a sudden exclamation from Phil.

“I’ll be hanged if I’m going to do it!”

And then of a sudden a Latin book was hurled across the room, to land on a bureau, just missing the glass.

“Hello!” cried Dave, raising his head. “What’s wrong now?”

“I’m not going to do it!” cried Phil, stretching himself. “It’s an outrage and I won’t submit to it.”

“You mean this boning away for Haskers?” queried Roger.

“Just that,” answered the shipowner’s son. “Why can’t he treat us as fairly as the other teachers did? It wouldn’t hurt him a bit to give us more time.”

“Phil, what’s the use of talking it over again?” asked Dave. “I thought we had settled it once for all.”

“No, I won’t stand it, I tell you,” cried Phil, stubbornly. “He can’t make a pack-mule of me.”

“Well, then, speak to the doctor about it,” advised Roger.

“I don’t have to speak to the doctor,” stormed Phil; and walking over to a rack, he caught up his cap and marched from the room.

“He is certainly in a bad humor,” was Dave’s comment. “I am afraid he’ll put his foot into it, Roger.”

“So am I. He’s been aching to get back at old Haskers ever since he put all this studying up to us.”

“Do you know, Ben is just as angry at Haskers as Phil is?” went on our hero, after a pause, during which both had hoped that their close chum would return. But Phil had stalked down the stairs and out of the building.

“Ben?”

“Yes, so he told me this noon.”

“What about?”

“Oh, Ben talked in class and old Haskers penalized him heavily – gave him a lot of extra Latin to do. It nearly broke Ben up.”

“You told Ben about that Breen affair, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe he and Phil will both go to Haskers about it.”

“I hope not, Roger. I don’t think it is just the right thing to do – to use that as a club over Haskers to get him to let us off. I don’t like that kind of dealing.”

“Neither do I. But it’s just what such a mean-spirited fellow as Haskers deserves. He has never treated us squarely since we came here. I think this school would be a good deal better off without him, even if he is well educated.”

Dave heaved a deep sigh. He was on the point of replying, but changed his mind. He took up his book again, and soon was trying his best to study. Roger followed his example.

But both boys made slow progress. Each was thinking about Phil. What would be the outcome of their headstrong chum’s actions?