Kitabı oku: «Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake», sayfa 14
"Is that possible?"
"Yes, ma'am. And that ain't all, ma'am. Sure, and most of the things in the pantry and in the ice-box are gone, too!" announced Mary, running from one place to another. "Sure, ma'am, we've been burglarized, ma'am!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
DELLA FORD'S STATEMENT
"Burglars!"
"Did they take any of our valuables?"
"Oh, I wonder if they were in our rooms!"
"Mary, were all the things here when you went to bed?" questioned Mrs. Wadsworth, of the servant girl, who was now in the wildest possible state of excitement, wringing her hands and running from one room to another.
"Yes, ma'am, when I went to bed everything was in its place. I'm sure of it, ma'am."
The boys as well as the girls crowded into the kitchen, and then looked into the pantry, in a corner of which was located the ice-box.
"How about this pantry window, Mary? Did you leave it open last night?" asked Dave, pointing to the window in question.
"Sure, sir, I did not! I always lock up well before I go to bed," answered the girl.
"You didn't open the window this morning?"
"No, sir."
"Then that is where the thief must have come in," remarked Roger.
"I think we had better take a look around and see just how much is missing," advised Phil. "The thief may have cleaned us out more than we imagine."
Upon this, a systematic search was made through all the rooms of the bungalow. In the midst of the work Ben came running over from the other place.
"Say, what do you know about this!" he called out. "Somebody visited our bungalow last night and took nearly all our victuals and our tableware and our kitchen utensils!"
"The same thing happened here, Ben," answered Dave. "We are just sizing up the situation, to find out how much is gone."
"The others are at that now over at our bungalow. I thought I'd run over to tell you. I'll go back and tell them you are in the same fix. This is fierce; isn't it?" And then Ben hurried away.
An examination of the premises showed that all the tableware of value had disappeared, along with two rings which Laura had left on the mantelpiece in the living-room. From the kitchen nearly everything used in cooking was gone, and likewise almost everything from the pantry and the ice-box.
"Oh, my two rings!" burst out Laura. "The diamond that dad gave me and the beautiful ruby from Uncle Dunston!"
"It's too bad, Laura!" declared Jessie.
"That's what it is!" said Dave. "We'll have to get after that burglar, whoever he is."
"This looks to me like the work of some of these people who are camping out in the Adirondacks," announced Roger. "What would an ordinary burglar do with a lot of kitchen utensils, not to mention canned goods and stuff from an ice-box?"
"Maybe they took the stuff from the ice-box to eat," suggested Dave. "It might be that they would rather camp out than run the risk of going to Carpen Falls, or to some of the hotels, for their meals."
Having completed the search in the bungalows, the boys, followed by the others, went outside. Here they discovered a great number of footprints leading back and forth from the pantry window to the edge of the forest. Among some jagged rocks, the trail was lost.
"Looks to me as if there must have been half a dozen fellows in this raid," announced Roger. "What do you think of it, Dave?"
"Either that, or else the fellow who did the job made a dozen trips or more. To me, the footprints look very much alike."
Presently the crowd went over to the Basswood bungalow, and there learned that, among other things, some solid silver tableware which Mrs. Basswood had brought along had vanished.
"I was foolish to bring such expensive silver," declared the lady of the house. "But I thought we could use it if we happened to have visitors. I never dreamed of being robbed up here."
At the Basswood bungalow an entrance to the kitchen and pantry had been effected through the woodshed, the door of which had been broken open. From this shed a trail led up to the jagged rocks previously mentioned.
"The same rascal or the same crowd that did one job did both," declared Dave.
"I don't know what we are going to do for breakfast," declared Mrs. Wadsworth, rather helplessly. "We have next to nothing to cook, and nothing to cook it in."
"We are in the same fix," answered Mrs. Basswood. "It certainly is a terrible state of affairs. I wish my husband was here to tell us what to do."
"Oh, don't worry about something to eat!" cried Dave. "We can go down to Carpen Falls and get whatever we want, and also get some extra kitchen utensils, and don't forget the deer-meat. What worries me is the loss of Laura's rings and Mrs. Basswood's silverware."
"We might go up into the woods and look around," suggested Ben, "although it's mighty wet up there from the rain."
The matter was talked over for a while longer, and in the meantime the ladies and the girls, aided by the hired help, made an inventory of what was left in the way of eatables.
"We can give all of you some coffee and some fancy crackers," said Mrs. Wadsworth.
"And we have found two cans of baked beans," added Mrs. Basswood. "They'll go some distance toward filling up the boys," and she smiled faintly.
"I'll tell you what we might do!" cried Roger. "Supposing four of us fellows jump into the four-oared boat and row up to the Appleby camp? I am sure they have plenty of provisions, and they'll lend us some until we can get in a new lot from Carpen Falls. And maybe they'll lend us a few cooking utensils, too."
"That's the thing to do!" returned Ben. "Come on, let's go up there at once;" and so it was settled.
Dave and Luke accompanied Ben and Roger on the trip; and as the four youths had often rowed together on the Leming River at Oak Hall, they soon covered the distance to the camp of the moving-picture people. They saw the crowd getting ready to depart for the enacting of the final drama in that locality.
"Hello, you're out bright and early in your boat!" cried Mr. Appleby, as he waved his hand to them. "Taking a little exercise, eh?"
"No, we came for assistance," called back Ben.
"Assistance!" repeated the manager. "What's the trouble?"
"We have been burglarized, and we have hardly anything left to eat!" broke in Luke, and at this announcement all of those in the Appleby camp came down to the dock to learn the particulars of what had occurred.
"In one way you have come at just the right time to get those things," said the manager of the moving-picture company to the boys. "We are going to leave here to-morrow to go back to Boston, so we shall want but little of the food that is on hand. And you'll be welcome to use our tableware and kitchen utensils. They belong here in the cottage, so all you'll have to do when you get through with them will be to bring them back."
While rowing to the Appleby camp, Dave had been giving serious thought to his own affairs. He remembered what he had heard concerning Ward Porton and Della Ford, and resolved to question the young lady and the other members of the moving-picture company about the young man who claimed to be the real Dave Porter. Our hero's chance came when the other boys were busy placing some provisions and cooking utensils in the rowboat. He motioned Della Ford and her aunt to one side, and the three walked out of hearing of the others present.
"If you don't mind, I would like to ask you something about Mr. Ward Porton," said our hero, to the girl.
"O dear, I thought I was done with that young man!" cried Della, with a toss of her head.
"He bothered my niece so much while he was a member of the company she got quite sick of him," declared Mrs. Ford. "He was a very forward young man."
"I'd like very much to find out about his past history: where he came from, and all that," went on Dave. "It's something very important."
"I know more about Mr. Porton than he thinks I do," announced Della. "That's one reason why I dropped him."
"But Della, you don't want to get into any trouble," interposed the girl's aunt, quickly.
"If you'll tell me what you know about Ward Porton, I'll promise that it won't get you into any trouble," answered Dave, quickly. "I want, if possible, to find out where he came from, and who brought him up."
"Who brought him up?" queried Mrs. Ford. "Didn't he live with his parents?"
"He says not. He claims to have come from a poorhouse in a town down in Maine."
"Why, you don't tell me, Mr. Porter!" exclaimed the lady, in astonishment. "He told me once that he had lived with his folks up to the time he was about ten years old, and that then his parents had died and he had gone to live with an uncle."
"Yes, and he did live with an uncle – or at least some man he called his uncle," added Della.
"Are you certain of this?" asked our hero, eagerly.
"I am, Mr. Porter."
"And may I ask what the thing was that you knew about him that caused you to drop him?" continued Dave.
"Wait a minute, Della, before you answer that question," interposed Mrs. Ford, hastily. "I think we ought to know why Mr. Porter is after this information."
"Since we have gone so far, I may as well tell you," returned Dave. And in as few words as possible he related how it had come about that Ward Porton was now claiming to be the real Dave Porter.
"Why, what a queer story!" declared Mrs. Ford. "It sounds like some novel."
"I don't believe it's true, Mr. Porter!" cried Della Ford. "I believe he is a faker! At first I thought he was quite nice, but I soon discovered otherwise. He is addicted to gambling, and when he gets the fever he gambles away the very clothing on his back."
"Then that is why you broke with him?"
"That was one reason. But as I said before, I know more about Mr. Porton than he imagined. One day we had been out walking, and after he left me I picked up a letter which must have dropped from his pocket when he pulled out his cigarette case. As the letter had no envelope, I did not know whose it was, and read it. It was evidently written by a very angry man. The writer, who signed himself Obadiah Jones, said that he was sick and tired of putting up for Ward; that Ward could no longer expect any assistance from him; that he cast the young man off, and never wanted to hear from him again."
"And you say that letter was signed by a man named Obadiah Jones?" asked Dave, eagerly.
"Yes. Rather an old-fashioned name; isn't it?"
"Did the man give his address?"
"No, there was no address of any kind on the letter," answered Della Ford.
"Was this Obadiah Jones the man he said was his uncle?" continued our hero.
"I don't know about that," answered the girl.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE BIG BEAR
Dave was very thoughtful as the four boys rowed back to the bungalows with the things procured from Mr. Appleby. His talk with Della Ford and her aunt had lasted until the others were ready to depart, but he had gained little information beyond that already known to the reader.
"If only I had the address of that Obadiah Jones, I might go and see him and listen to what he has to say about Ward Porton," he told himself. "Of course he may not be Porton's uncle at all – I know lots of children taken from poorhouses and orphan asylums who call the folks aunt and uncle. But even if he isn't, he may be able to give me some information that will put me on the right track regarding this affair."
The morning was spent by those at the bungalows in getting settled once more. The provisions brought from the Appleby camp were divided between the two places, and likewise the kitchen utensils.
"I'd like to set some sort of a trap and catch those burglars," declared Ben.
"I don't see how you're going to do it," returned our hero. "I doubt very much whether they will show themselves in this vicinity again. More than likely they are miles away."
"Dave, do you think Link Merwell had anything to do with this?"
"It's possible, Ben, although I don't see how he would have the nerve to come back here after what happened. I should think he would feel like quitting this territory entirely."
Another day went by, bringing no word from Crumville. Our hero and Roger had tramped all the way to Carpen Falls, hoping for letters, but the only one to come in was a re-directed epistle for Ben, inviting him to become a subscriber to some local charity.
"O shucks! I suppose the charity is all right," said Ben, when he got this letter, "but I'd like to get some real news from dad or somebody else at home."
Dave said little, but he felt more downcast than ever. He had thought that a letter would surely come by now. Roger noticed how he felt, and placed a kindly hand on our hero's shoulder.
"Don't you worry, Dave, old man," he said feelingly, "this will come out all right in the end."
"I hope so, Roger," was the answer. "But this suspense wears on a fellow."
"Perhaps if you went to Maine to that town where the poorhouse is located that Ward Porton says he came from, you might be able to find out something about that Obadiah Jones," went on the senator's son, who had been told of what the Fords had revealed.
"I was thinking something of that, Roger, and if I can't get on the track any other way, I'll go there," was the reply. "But I hate to think of leaving here until I get some kind of word from Crumville."
"Well, some things move slowly, Dave, don't forget that. More than likely your unc – I mean the folks down in Crumville – are doing all they can to get to the bottom of the matter. Most likely they are investigating the proofs that Ward Porton said he was willing to present."
On the following morning there was something of a surprise. About eleven o'clock, while some of the lads were fishing, and Dave had Jessie out in a canoe, there came a shout from up the brook, and looking in that direction our hero saw Phil approaching, with his uncle beside him, leaning on the youth's shoulder.
"Hello, Mr. Lawrence's ankle must have got better quickly!" cried Dave.
"And is that the so-called wild man?" returned Jessie. "He doesn't seem to be very wild now."
"You've heard us tell why he acted in that outlandish way," was the answer, as Dave paddled toward the dock.
Soon the boys were surrounding the new arrivals, and Mr. Lawrence was led to a couch, upon which he was glad to sit down and thus rest his injured ankle. The ladies and the girls were introduced, and the man shook hands with them rather shamefacedly.
"I'll have to apologize to you for acting so rudely," said Lester Lawrence, after the introductions were over. "I suppose the boys have told you why I did it?"
"Yes, Mr. Lawrence," answered Mrs. Wadsworth, kindly. "And under the circumstances we are quite willing to let bygones be bygones."
"Can we do anything for your ankle?" questioned Laura, who was a natural-born nurse.
"I guess about all it needs is rest," answered Lester Lawrence. "It was quite a journey from my shack to this place. But I saw that Phil was getting anxious to rejoin you, so I told him we might as well make the venture to-day rather than wait. He has been hoping that you would have some word for him from my brother."
"No word yet, Phil," answered Dave, "but there may be in the mail to-day."
"Say, we had some scare this morning just before we left the cabin!" declared the shipowner's son. "I was nearly frightened into a fit!"
"What was that?" came from several of the others.
"I was cleaning the dishes after breakfast, and I went outdoors to throw some scraps in a heap behind some bushes. Just as I got there with my panful of stuff, up jumped – what do you think? – a great big bear!"
"A bear!" shrieked the girls.
"Did you shoot him?" broke in Shadow.
"Shoot him? What with – a frying-pan?"
"Then the bear got away?" asked Roger.
"I don't know whether the bear got away or I got away. I dropped that frying-pan, and I legged it for the cabin for all I was worth. In the meantime the bear disappeared among the trees just back of the cabin. I got my uncle's rifle and went out to look for him, but it was no use."
"O dear, a bear!" murmured Jessie. "Suppose he comes down here?" and she gave a slight shiver.
"Why, that would be fun!" declared Belle. "I'd like to see that bear, and get a shot at him, too," went on the girl from Star Ranch.
"If that bear is anywhere in this vicinity we might organize a hunt for him," suggested Luke, who, on the day previous, had gone out with Ben and Shadow and brought down a partridge.
"That's the talk!" cried Roger. "Come on, let us go on a hunt! It will give us something to do."
The matter was discussed for a quarter of an hour, and during that time Roger and Ben managed to take Phil to one side and tell him about the news from Crumville. The shipowner's son was, of course, much astonished.
"I believe it's a fake!" he declared, flatly. "Dave is Dave Porter, and no mistake! We cleared that matter up directly after our return from the South Seas."
"Just what I said, Phil," responded Roger. "At the same time, I suppose the Porters have got to listen to Ward Porton's claim."
"Bah! it's a conspiracy I tell you – a conspiracy gotten up by this fellow, Porton, and by Link Merwell! You can't tell me any different!" and Phil's face showed his earnestness.
It was decided that all of the boys should go out directly after lunch, in a hunt for the bear. The number of shotguns and rifles on hand was enough to go around, so that each of them would be armed. They also provided themselves with some provisions, not knowing how late it would be before they got back.
"Oh, Dave, do be careful!" pleaded Jessie, when the boys were ready to depart. "Don't let that bear eat you up!"
"Don't worry," he answered. "I'll take care of myself." And then he added with something of a sigh: "I hope you have good news for me when I get back."
"I hope so too, Dave. But just remember what I said," she went on, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'll think just as much of you even if they prove that you are not Dave Porter."
Phil was with the crowd, and all headed up the brook, and then along the trail leading to the cabin which had been occupied by Lester Lawrence. Arriving there, a hunt was made through the forest back of the cabin.
"It's a good deal like hunting for the proverbial needle in a haystack," remarked Roger.
"Where did you see the bear last, Phil?" questioned Luke.
"Just about here," was the reply, and the shipowner's son pointed with his hand. "I think he went in that direction," he added.
The boys spread out in a long, straight line, and in this fashion proceeded through the forest for the best part of a mile. During that time they thought they saw a deer in the distance, and Roger might have taken a shot, but Dave imperatively stopped him.
"We can't shoot at anything if we want to get close to that bear," announced our hero. "Bears are very scary creatures, and if you make too much noise that beast will run for miles and miles before he stops."
Late afternoon found the boys still on the search. They had seen nothing to shoot at, and some of them were growing disheartened. Luke was limping slightly, having caught his foot between a crevice in the rocks.
"I move we rest and have something to eat," announced Ben, and this suggestion was quickly seconded by the others. Then, when the sun was well down in the west, they decided to turn back toward the bungalows.
It was a tramp of over a mile and a half, and as the footing in many places was uncertain, they had to proceed with great care.
"Such a hunt!" grumbled Ben. "It's been all hunting and no shooting."
"Which puts me in mind of a story!" cried Shadow. "Oh, this is a short one, so you needn't frown at it," he went on quickly, glancing around. "It's about a fellow who came along and saw an old man fishing in a lake. 'How's fishing?' he asked of the old man. 'Couldn't be better,' was the answer. 'Catch anything?' 'No.' 'Then what do you mean by saying the fishing is good?' 'So it is. I didn't say anything about the catching.'" And at this a grin went around.
"We ought to be getting in sight of the bungalows soon," remarked Roger, after they had climbed over some rough rocks and were walking through a dense patch of the forest.
"Say, this is a fine place to get lost in," remarked Phil.
"It will be all right as long as the sunlight lasts," answered Dave. "I am using that for a compass."
Soon they came to the edge of a clearing, on the other side of which were a series of rocks with vines and brushwood. The boys were about to advance across the clearing when suddenly Shadow's arms went up into the air.
"St – st – stop!" he spluttered, in a low tone. "Dr – dr – drop down, all of you!"
The others saw that he was much in earnest, and immediately sank down behind the trees and rocks. Then all gazed inquiringly at the former story-teller of Oak Hall.
"It's the be – be – bear!" spluttered Shadow. "Sa – say, don't you think we had be – be – better run for it?"
"The bear! Where is it?" demanded Dave.
"I saw him just lift his head up among the rocks yonder," returned Shadow. "Say, he looked like an awful big fellow!"
"Well, if he is there, you bet we are not going to run away from him!" declared Phil. "Come on, let's see if we can't shoot him."
"Wait a minute, Phil," advised Dave. "If the bear is among yonder rocks, as Shadow says, we had better spread out a little, and thus get a better chance at him."
Seeing that his companions were not frightened, Shadow regained some of his composure and followed them, although keeping a little to the rear. With great caution, and holding their firearms ready for use, the whole crowd of boys crossed the clearing and gained the first of the rocks beyond. Fortunately, the breeze was coming from ahead of them, thus carrying their scent away from where the bear was supposed to be.
It had been agreed that when necessary Dave should give the signal to fire. He was slightly in advance, and now with great caution he looked over some rocks just ahead of him. The sight that met his gaze was an interesting one. There was a slight depression there, partly filled with brushwood, and in the midst of this stood a big bear. He had his head down in a hole, and was digging out various things with his forepaws, flinging them to one side and behind him. Out came a kettle, a frying-pan, some knives and forks, cups, saucers, a pie-plate, a dishpan, and numerous other articles, which clattered over the rocks.
"Great hambones, Dave! what kind of a noise is that?" asked Phil, who was beside our hero.
"It's our stolen stuff, that's what it is, Phil!" cried Dave. "Those burglars must have thrown the stuff in that hole!"
"But what would the bear be doing among that stuff?" questioned Luke.
"He's after grub," answered our hero. "They must have thrown some of the food in there with the other stuff. Come on, boys, get ready to fire!"
Fortunately for the lads, the bear was so interested in what he was trying to accomplish that he did not notice their approach. The noise of the flying kettles and pans drowned out the voices.
"What's the matter with all taking a shot at him at the same time?" questioned Phil.
"All right, I'm willing," responded Dave, quickly. "We might as well all have the glory of killing him – if we have that luck."
Every rifle and every shotgun was quickly raised and aimed at the bear. Just as Dave was on the point of giving the order to fire, the beast came out of the hole and looked around. Then in alarm he raised up on his hind legs, a truly terrifying animal to behold.
Bang! Crack! Bang! went the rifles and shotguns in an irregular volley. And then, as the report died away, the huge beast gave a leap into the air, and coming down, sprang directly toward the boys.
