Kitabı oku: «Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VII
LINK MERWELL AGAIN

Link Merwell showed signs of both suffering and dissipation. His face was thin and careworn, and his eyes had an uncertain, restless look in them. He had on a business suit much the worse for wear, and his tan shoes were worn down at the heels. Evidently he had not fared well since Dave had met him in the West.

"I once thought you were dead, Link," went on Dave, after a pause, during which Link Merwell had taken several steps away from the cottage. "I thought you had been buried by that landslide."

"I know it," was the bitter reply. "It would have pleased you immensely if I had been buried alive."

"That isn't true. I wouldn't like to see anybody lose his life in that fashion," declared Dave. And then he went on quickly: "Did Job Haskers escape?"

"I don't know anything about him – and I don't want to know," returned Link Merwell, and his tone was as bitter as before. "Haskers didn't treat me right, and we separated before we got caught in the sliding rocks and dirt."

"I didn't know that you knew Merwell," said Dave, turning to Ward Porton.

"Oh, yes. I have known him for some time," was the reply of the young moving-picture actor.

"I think we had better be going," broke out Link Merwell, who had retreated a step or two further. He showed very plainly that he was afraid Dave might lay hands on him.

"Oh, don't be in a hurry," answered Ward Porton. "Now we've got the chance, I'd like to talk to Porter."

"I don't think I'll stay," and Link Merwell moved still farther away. "I'll meet you later, you know where."

"See here, Link! Don't be in such a hurry," cried Dave, advancing toward the youth. "I want to talk to you."

"I know your game, Dave Porter! You want to catch me and hand me over to the authorities!" exclaimed Link, and showed more fear than ever.

"What makes you think that?"

"Never mind, you're not going to catch me this way! Don't forget, Porton. I'll see you later," and thus speaking, Link Merwell turned and started away on a swift walk. Then, as Dave went after him, he broke into a run, and reaching the roadway, dived into the woods beyond.

"My, my!" came from old Professor Potts. "David, why did he run away?"

"He's afraid of being arrested; that's why, Professor," explained our hero. "Don't you remember, he is one of the villainous fellows who robbed Mr. Wadsworth's jewelry works a year or so ago?"

"Oh, yes, to be sure!" murmured the old gentleman. "I remember now. What an awful thing for a young man like that to be such a criminal!"

"You say he is a criminal?" asked Ward Porton, curiously.

"He certainly is," answered Dave.

"Hum! I didn't know that," returned the young moving-picture actor, and for the moment looked quite thoughtful.

"May I ask what brought you to Crumville?" queried our hero. "I thought you and your company were bound for Boston."

"We did go to Boston, and the company is there now, unless it has gone up into the woods. I had a little business in this vicinity, and so I came here before going on the next trip with them."

"Did you come to Crumville with Merwell?"

"I did, but I didn't know he was a criminal."

"Then you must have met Merwell in Boston?"

"No, I met him on the steam yacht."

"The steam yacht! Do you mean the one that caught fire?"

"Of course."

"Then Link Merwell was on board that vessel?" cried Dave, in added wonder.

"Yes."

"Was he a member of your company?"

"He was. Mr. Appleby, our manager, took him on the day before we went on the trip. I don't know where Mr. Appleby met him."

"That certainly beats the Dutch! Of course, Merwell must have seen me and my friends in the rowboat."

"He said he did."

"He took good pains to keep out of sight!"

"I don't know anything about that, Porter. But he was on the boat, you can take my word for that."

"And is he a regular member of your company?"

"He is to be, provided he can make good at the business. I think he came to Mr. Appleby with some sort of a hard-luck story, and the manager said he would give him a chance. Privately, though, I don't think he's very much of an actor. But then you know, a fellow has got to do something for a living."

"He can probably act as well as the majority," answered Dave. "But I am surprised to learn that he was on the steam yacht and didn't show himself to us. Still, he was probably afraid to do so, and glad enough to keep out of sight. I suppose he brought you to this farm?"

"Oh, we just took a walk up this way," returned Ward Porton, with some hesitation. He gave Dave a keen look. "You see, I was on my way to the Crumville poorhouse. By the way, Merwell told me that you had once been connected with that institution," and he gave Dave another keen look.

Our hero's face flushed, and for the instant he did not know what to say. Caspar Potts, too, showed confusion.

"David was not – er – connected with that institution, sir," said the old gentleman, hurriedly. "He was placed there when he was a child by those who found him wandering along the railroad tracks here. They did not know who he was, and – "

"I don't think Mr. Porton will be interested in that story, Professor," interrupted our hero.

"Well, to tell the truth I am interested," answered Ward Porton. "I once lived in a poorhouse myself."

"Indeed! Is that so?" murmured Caspar Potts. "How interesting!"

"It wasn't anywhere around here, though," went on the young moving-picture actor. "It was 'way down East. And believe me, it was a hard life! I don't really see how I pulled through," and he smiled, grimly.

"I can't say that I had such a very hard time of it," said Dave. "They treated me fairly well, and as soon as I got old enough to work, Mr. Potts here took me and not only gave me a good home, but also the beginning of a good education. Then, after that, I found my folks – I had been stolen away from them you see when a baby – and since that time I have had an easy time of it."

"You're the lucky one then," answered Ward Porton. He seemed on the point of saying something more, but evidently changed his mind. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'll be going," he concluded.

"Better take my advice, and drop Link Merwell," said Dave, as the young man moved away. "If you don't, sooner or later he'll get you into hot water. The authorities want him, even though they got back the things he stole."

"I'll remember what you say," was the answer, and then the young moving-picture actor walked away, and soon disappeared around a bend of the road.

"It is very strange that they should have come here," remarked Caspar Potts, when he and Dave re-entered the cottage to get the box of books.

"I should say it was!" answered our hero. "I don't understand it at all. I believe Link Merwell is up to another one of his tricks. I'm going to keep my eyes open for him."

When Dave returned home he told the others there of having met Link Merwell and Ward Porton. Mr. Wadsworth was, of course, particularly interested in Merwell, and he at once telephoned to the authorities to be on the lookout for that individual. But Link Merwell had probably taken warning, and did not show himself again. Nor, for the time being, did Dave see anything further of Ward Porton.

On Friday Belle Endicott, Laura's friend from the West, arrived, and was followed on Saturday morning by Roger and Phil. Ben brought word that he had written to Luke Watson and Shadow Hamilton, and that those two former pupils of Oak Hall had also signified their willingness to accompany the party to Mirror Lake.

"And say, Dave, what do you think!" cried Ben. "This place that we are to go to at Mirror Lake is known as Bear Camp. They tell me the bears just love that vicinity."

"Bear Camp!" shrieked Jessie, who was present. "Oh, Ben, you are fooling!"

"Not a bit of it, Jessie. My father got a letter from Tad Rason, an old hunter and guide who lives in the vicinity of Mirror Lake. He says that that place has been known as Bear Camp for years. He told about shooting a big black bear there only a year or so ago."

"O dear, if there are bears up there I don't know that I want to go!" said Laura. "Just think of having a big bear chase you!"

"Oh, you mustn't mind that, Laura!" cried Dave, gaily. "Just think of the nice hug he could give you," and then he dodged, as Laura threw a fancy pillow at him.

"I think those bears will spoil everything," came from Jessie, her face clouding. "I didn't know any wild animals were left in the Adirondacks."

"Bear Camp," mused Laura. "What a queer name that is!"

"I think it's a fine name," answered Ben. "It suits me, anyway."

The boys were glad to see Belle Endicott, who was a large, well-built girl, with a bright, breezy, western air about her. Belle had much to tell concerning matters at Star Ranch; and Dave asked her about many of the friends he had made among the cowboys at the place.

"Oh, I'll just love to see bears," said Belle, when told about the camp. "They are such funny, clumsy creatures. Why, I once saw a little cinnamon bear climbing up a tree, and he was the funniest fellow I ever looked at."

"Oh, Belle! Weren't you frightened?" asked Jessie.

"Frightened? What, with Sid Todd with me? No, indeed! We just watched him until we got tired of it, and then Todd up with his rifle, and that was the end of Mr. Cinnamon Bear."

"Good for Sid!" cried Dave. "He was always on hand when wanted. I'd like to see him again."

"Well, he sent his regards to you, Dave," was Belle's rejoinder.

Shadow Hamilton and Luke Watson, the latter carrying a case containing his guitar and his banjo, arrived on Saturday afternoon. They came to Ben's house, and, having been notified by telephone, Dave hurried over to see them.

"Dave, you're a sight for sore eyes!" said Luke Watson, as he gave our hero's hand a grasp that made him wince. "My gracious, it seems to me that I haven't seen you in a year of Sundays!"

"One thing's sure, Luke," answered Dave, with a twinkle in his eyes. "You haven't seen me since I've seen you," and at this remark both laughed.

"Luke has brought his instruments along," said Ben, "so we'll be sure to have plenty of music up at the camp."

"It suits me, and will surely suit the girls," returned Dave. "We can sit out in the moonlight nights, and have fine times singing," he added.

"Say! talking about singing in the moonlight, puts me in mind of a story," burst out Shadow. "Once on a time a young fellow went to serenade his girl, and – "

"Never mind the yarn now, Shadow," said Ben. "I've got something to tell you that is more interesting than a story. It's about Nat Poole's uncle."

"Nat Poole's uncle?" queried Dave. "You don't mean Wilbur Poole, the wild man we caught in the woods back of Oakdale?"

"That is the man."

"What of him? I thought they had taken him to a sanitarium, and that he was getting better."

"So he was getting better – in fact he was almost well, so Nat said. But now what do you think has happened?"

"What?" came from all of the other boys.

"He has disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"That's it. He has run away, and nobody knows where he went to."

CHAPTER VIII
OFF FOR BEAR CAMP

"Who told you this, Ben?" asked Dave.

"I just got the story from Nat. He and his family are very much worried. They had an idea that Wilbur Poole was practically well again, and that is the reason why they did not watch him very closely."

"Of course they are searching for him?"

"Sure! Nat said the authorities and also several other people were after him. Nat himself was going to look for him to-morrow."

"Maybe we'll run across him," said Luke Watson.

"I hope we don't, Luke!" exclaimed Dave. "That man gave us trouble enough up at Oak Hall."

"Right you are there!" burst out Shadow. And then he added: "I wonder if he'll call himself the King of Sumatra, as he did before?"

"A man who is out of his mind is apt to call himself anything," said Dave. "I feel sorry for Nat. This must worry him and his family a good deal."

It was not long after this when all the boys went over to the Wadsworth mansion, there to complete their preparations for the trip to Mirror Lake. Ben had had the Basswood automobile thoroughly overhauled, and Dave had likewise had the Wadsworth touring-car put into the best possible running shape.

"My, but there is going to be quite a bunch of us!" was Dave's comment, as he looked at the boys and girls who were present.

"Mamma says we must finish all our packing to-night or else do it Monday morning," said Jessie. "She doesn't want any of it done on Sunday."

"My things are all ready, and so are Belle's," returned Laura. "But I don't know how it is with the boys."

"We'll be all right; don't you worry," answered Dave.

"We never got left yet," added Ben, with a grin.

Luke had brought along his banjo, and the others insisted that he play a tune or two. Then they sang a couple of songs; and after that the Wadsworth phonograph was started, and the young folks enjoyed an hour or so of dancing.

Sunday morning most of the young folks went to church, and in the afternoon some of them spent their time in writing letters. Dave and several of the boys took a walk around the town. At the railroad station they ran across Nat Poole.

"I am off to look for my Uncle Wilbur," said Nat. "We've an idea that he went to Plattsburg, New York. He used to have some friends there, and we think he started off to visit them."

"I certainly hope you find him, Nat, and that he's all right," answered Dave, kindly.

"By the way, I heard Link Merwell was in town," went on the money-lender's son.

"Yes. I met him at our old farm."

"I should think he'd be afraid to show himself, fearing arrest."

"He's a strange fellow, Nat, and there is no telling what he will do. He has been knocked around so much the last few months that I suppose he doesn't care very much what happens next."

"I don't want to see him. I've got troubles enough without running into Link Merwell," grumbled Nat; and then his train came in and he was off.

During their spare time the boys had studied an automobile road-map of New York State, and especially of the Adirondack Mountains. They had figured out that they would have good traveling nearly the whole of the distance, although there were a few bad stretches here and there to be covered, and also a number of mountains to be climbed.

"But the mountains won't bother us," said Dave, in reply to a question from Luke. "Our car can go up almost any hill, and the Basswood auto is just about as good. Of course we'll have to do some of the traveling on low or second gear."

"The reason I asked was this," returned Luke. "A couple of years ago some friends of mine started to tour the Adirondacks in a runabout. They went up the side of one mountain, and then down on the other. They then found themselves in a valley, and couldn't climb the grade on either side. They tried for two days to get out, and then had to get a team of horses to pull them a distance of several miles."

"We'll watch out that nothing like that happens to us," answered Dave. "We won't go down into any hollow until we know something about how we are going to get out of it."

As both touring-cars were large, it had been decided that Mr. and Mrs. Basswood, as well as Dunston Porter, should accompany the young folks on the automobile trip. As all the baggage had been packed and either shipped forward by express or strapped on the touring-cars, it did not take long on Monday morning to get ready to start. It was a clear and fairly cool day, and a slight shower Sunday night had laid the dust.

"All aboard that's going!" cried Dave, gaily, when the Wadsworth car had been run around to the front of the mansion.

He had hardly uttered the words when there came the sound of an automobile horn from the road, and a few seconds later the Basswood car came into sight with Ben's crowd on board.

"You'll say good-bye to us here, but we'll be at Mirror Lake before you get there," said Mrs. Wadsworth, as she kissed her daughter and the other girls.

"Now look out for accidents!" cautioned Dave's father.

"We'll be careful," answered Dunston Porter, with a smile. And then he added to Caspar Potts: "Professor, don't forget to take good care of the place while we are away."

"It shall be well taken care of, rest assured of that, sir," was the old gentleman's reply. "I trust all of you enjoy the outing," he went on, his kindly face beaming.

Dave was at the wheel, with his uncle beside him, and the others packed rather tightly in the tonneau behind. With many a shout and merry word, the Wadsworth touring-car left the grounds, followed by the Basswood machine, and passed out along the highway leading north from Crumville.

"Now Dave, do look where you are running," cautioned Laura. "We don't want any punctures or blow-outs."

Soon Crumville was left behind, and the automobiles were passing along the river road where some time before Dave and his chums had assisted Nat Poole. Then they began to climb the distant hills, and presently were on the highway leading to Poughkeepsie, where they were to cross the Hudson River.

"If only this lovely weather holds out I'm sure we'll have a splendid trip," said Jessie.

"I suppose, Belle, you'd rather be on horseback than in an auto," remarked Phil.

"Well, I won't go back on horseback-riding," returned the western girl, "I love it too dearly. But this is very nice," she added, quickly. "Very nice indeed!"

By noon they reached the city on the Hudson River, and there stopped for lunch. Then they passed over the high bridge spanning the stream and struck out northward once more. Mr. Dunston Porter was now running the car, and this gave Dave more of a chance to talk to those behind him.

That evening found them in Albany, where it had been decided to spend the night. Dunston Porter had already telegraphed ahead for hotel accommodations, so there was no difficulty on that score. The older folks were glad enough to rest during the evening, but the young people went out for a walk up the hill leading to the Capitol building.

In the morning the tourists were rather alarmed to see that the sky had clouded over, and there were some indications of rain.

"Well, if it rains we can put on our raincoats and put up the tops," said Dave. So far they had been traveling with the tops folded down.

Noon found them well up in the heart of New York State. They stopped only for a short while at lunch time, wishing to cover as much ground as possible before the storm might break.

"If possible we want to make Rayville to-day," announced Mr. Basswood, when the two cars had come to a standstill at a crossroads. "I've got some friends living there, and I want to make a call on them. Besides, there's a good hotel there, where we can stop for the night," for they had made no arrangements beyond Albany.

There had been a signboard at the crossroads, but this had fallen down, so the tourists did not know which of the forks of the road to take. Finally a man, coming along in a runabout, told them to take the highway on the left.

"That other road is the regular one," he explained, "but it is pretty well torn up, and you'll make time by taking this one. But be careful of the hill, it's just a little bit dangerous."

"We'll be careful," answered Dave, who was now running the car once more.

"Want me to take the wheel?" questioned his uncle.

"Oh, no, I guess I can get along all right."

The Basswood car, with Ben in charge, had already taken to the highway on the left, and the other turnout followed it at a distance of several hundred feet. Ben had put on considerable speed, and Dave had to watch closely to keep the other car in sight.

"Take it easy, Davy," said his Uncle Dunston. "We don't want any accidents away out here from any garage."

"I want to keep Ben in sight. He's going it pretty lively," answered Dave.

"Yes, it's a wonder his father doesn't hold him back a little. But Mr. Basswood said he was anxious to reach Rayville, and that's at least twenty miles farther."

Ahead were several turns in the road, and at these Dave lost sight of the car ahead. Being cloudy, it was quite dark on the roadway, especially where the trees lined the highway, and soon Dave found it necessary to turn on the headlights. Then he sounded his horn, expecting to get a reply from Ben, but to his surprise none came.

"Do you know what I think he's trying to do?" said our hero, hastily. "I believe he's trying to run away from us."

"It's a foolish thing to attempt, Dave, on a strange road like this," answered Dunston Porter, gravely. "I should think Mr. Basswood would stop it."

Presently they were climbing a long hill. The road wound in and out among the trees, and at one place the grade was so steep that Dave had to throw the clutch into low gear. He and his uncle listened intently, and from a distance heard the chug-chug of the other car a long way ahead.

"Say, this is some climb, believe me!" cried Roger, as they made another turn, and Dave found it advisable to come down to low gear.

"What will you do if you can't make it, Dave?" queried Phil.

"Oh, we'll make it – don't worry," was the answer. "I threw into low gear just for safety's sake. This road twists so a fellow can't see fifty feet ahead of him."

"I don't hear the other car any more," declared Roger, a moment later.

To this Dave did not reply. There was another turn ahead, and a particularly hard climb over some rather rough rocks. Then, with a jolt, the big touring-car came out on the top of the hill. Here was another turn, and then began a sharp descent.

"Stop here a minute, Dave!" ordered the youth's uncle, and then, as our hero brought the machine to a standstill, he added: "That's rather a bad road ahead, and you had better give the other car a chance to get down before we try to make it."

"A good idea, Uncle Dunston. We'll wait," answered Dave.

As they stood there all strained their ears to catch some sound from the other car.

"I don't hear it at all," said Roger.

"All I hear is the breeze in the trees," put in Laura.

"They must be running without power," answered Dunston Porter.

"If they are going down a really steep hill, it's a wonder we don't hear some squeak from the brakes," was Phil's comment.

"Listen!" cried Dave, suddenly, and held up his hand.

All strained their ears once more, and now far below them they heard several cries mingled with a shriek. Then came a sudden crash, followed by more shrieks.

"They've had an accident!"

"Wonder what it was?"

"We'll have to go and see!" cried Dave, and put on the power once more.

"That's right!" cried Dunston Porter: "Get down there as fast as you can, Dave. But be careful – we don't want to run into them, or have any accident of our own. There must be something wrong down there!"