Stratemeyer Edward
Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall

CHAPTER XIX
LOOKING FOR THE RUNAWAYS

When Dave and Roger went to the midday meal in the dining-room they looked all over for Phil, Ben, and Buster, but the three were not in sight.

“Dave, they haven’t come back yet.”

“So I see,” returned our hero, and he was much disturbed. He ate sparingly, and the senator’s son also had but little appetite for the meal.

“Say, what’s become of those chaps?” questioned Shadow.

“I’ll tell you later,” answered Dave. “Don’t say anything now – and tell the others to keep quiet, too.”

But such a happening could not be kept quiet, and soon it was whispered around that Phil, Ben, and Buster were missing. This presently got to the ears of Andrew Dale, and the head assistant teacher sought out Dave for an explanation.

“I understand you went out with Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs this morning, Porter,” said the teacher. “They are not yet back. Do you know where they went?”

“They went off in a motor-boat, that is all I know about that part of it, Mr. Dale. Roger Morr and I would like to speak to you and Doctor Clay in private. It is very important,” went on our hero.

“Very well. Come at once to the office and I will call the doctor.”

A little later found the two youths in the office with Doctor Clay and his head assistant. There, as briefly as he could, Dave told his story, and Roger corroborated what was said. The head of the school was deeply interested and not a little alarmed.

“This is certainly serious,” he declared, with a grave shake of his head. “It reflects not only on you but on this school. I must look into this at once.” And then he asked many questions, and Andrew Dale did the same.

“Running away makes it look bad for Lawrence, Beggs, and Basswood,” remarked Mr. Dale. “They should have stood their ground, as Morr and Porter did.”

“That hotel man and the constable probably scared them so they did not know what they were doing,” returned Doctor Clay. He turned to the boys. “You have no idea where they went?”

“No, sir, excepting that they went up the river in the Kingsley motor-boat. They know Tom Kingsley quite well and he lets them use the boat once in a while.”

“Do you think you could find them, if I let you off to do so?”

“We could try, sir.”

“Then you may go at once. Tell them it was very foolish to run away, and urge them to come back at once,” added Doctor Clay.

A little more conversation followed, and then Dave and Roger left the office and started on the search for the runaways.

“We ought to have a motor-boat ourselves, to follow them up the river – that is, if they went any distance,” said the senator’s son.

“We might try to borrow one, Roger.”

“Not Nat Poole’s – he wouldn’t lend it to us.”

“I know that.”

The two students walked to the river and looked up and down the stream. A rowboat and a sailboat were in sight, but that was all.

“There is Jack Laplow in his sloop,” cried Dave, mentioning a riverman they knew. “The wind is blowing up the stream. Maybe he’ll take us along.”

They hailed the riverman, who made a living by doing all sorts of jobs on the stream. He did not have much to do just then and readily agreed, for a small amount, to take them up the river and bring them back.

“We want to find some fellows who are in the Kingsley motor-boat,” explained Dave. “Have you seen anything of them?”

The riverman had not, but said he would help to watch out for the lads. Dave and Roger hopped aboard the sloop, and soon the little craft was standing up the Leming River, with Jack Laplow at the tiller.

It was a warm, clear day, and had the boys not been distressed in mind, they would have enjoyed the sail immensely. But as it was, they were very sober, so much so in fact that the old riverman at length remarked:

“What’s wrong – somebody hurt, or are ye going to a funeral?”

“No funeral,” answered Dave, with a forced laugh. “But we are in a hurry to find those three fellows.”

“Well, I don’t see no motor-boat yet,” answered Jack Laplow.

“One thing is certain: if it went up the river it’s got to come down,” said Roger.

“They may get out and send it back,” answered our hero.

“But, Dave, surely you don’t think–” But Dave put up his hand for silence and nodded in the direction of the boatman; and the senator’s son said no more.

A mile and a half were covered, and they were just passing one of the many islands in the river, when Jack Laplow gave a shout.

“There is the motor-boat now!”

“Boat ahoy!” shouted Dave, and then, as they drew closer, he saw that it was really the Kingsley craft. He was chagrined to see that only a man was on board, a fellow who was running the boat very slowly.

“Where are those boys who were aboard?” demanded our hero, as the motor-boat came closer.

“Is this your boat?” asked the man on board, in return.

“No, but my friends were on that boat. Where are they?”

“Left the boat at Snog’s Point, and hired me to bring her back. I don’t know much about motor-boats, so I’m running kind o’ slow,” explained the man.

“Snog’s Point?” repeated Roger. “Where were they going?”

“Don’t ask me, for I don’t know. They was in a tremenjous hurry, I know that. It’s all right, ain’t it?” went on the man, quickly.

“Oh, yes, it was all right,” answered Dave. And then they allowed the man to go on his way.

“Want to go up to Snog’s Point?” asked the man of the sloop.

“Yes, – and as quickly as you can get there,” replied Dave.

As the wind was in the right direction, it did not take long. The Point was a rocky cliff with a stretch of sand at its base. Here the boys jumped ashore.

“Want me to wait for you?” asked the riverman.

“Wait for half an hour,” said Dave. “Then, if we are not back, you can go back;” and so it was arranged.

In the sand our hero and Roger could plainly see the marks of the motor-boat and many footprints. They followed the footprints to a road leading through a stretch of woods, and then came out on a highway leading to Barrelton.

“The town is about half a mile from here. Wonder if they went there?” mused Roger.

“Maybe we can learn something at the nearest farmhouse,” suggested Dave.

They hurried on, and presently reached a farmhouse set close to the road, with a barn on the other side. At a grindstone a tall, thin boy was sharpening a sickle.

“Yes, I saw them fellers,” he drawled, when asked about the runaways. “They was walking to town to beat the cars. I thought they must be in one o’ them cross-country races, or something like that.”

“Come on!” cried Dave to his chum. Then he turned back suddenly. “Do you know anything about the trains from Barrelton?”

“Ain’t many trains from there,” answered the youth at the grindstone.

“But do you know what there are?”

“There’s a train north jest about due now.”

“And what is next?”

“A train south a leetle after four o’clock. An’ the freight goes through at seven.”

“Hurry, Roger!” cried Dave.

“Do you think they’d take a train, Dave?”

“I don’t know – I hope not.”

The two boys set off on a run, taking it easy at first, so as not to get winded. They passed a number of farms and presently came in sight of Barrelton, so called because of the barrel factory located there. From a distance they had heard the whistle of a locomotive, and knew that the north-bound train had stopped at the station and gone on.

“There is the station!” cried Dave, pointing up the railroad tracks. They continued to run and did not stop until they gained the platform. Here they met the ticket agent.

“The train just went, didn’t it?” asked Dave, and as the agent nodded, he went on: “Did three young fellows like ourselves get on?”

“If they did, I didn’t see ’em,” answered the man.

“Oh!” cried Roger, “maybe they didn’t take the train, after all.”

“Let us hope so.”

Somewhat out of breath, the two boys tramped around Barrelton, looking for Phil and the others, and asking about them. But nobody appeared to have seen the runaways, and not a trace of them was to be found anywhere.

“All we can do is to get something to eat and take the other train for Oakdale,” said Roger, after they had satisfied themselves that the runaways were nowhere in that vicinity. The walking around had made him hungry.

They procured some pie and milk at a little stand near the station, and shortly after four o’clock took the way train for Oakdale and walked to the school. They went directly to the doctor’s office. The master of Oak Hall listened patiently to what they had to tell.

“I am sorry you did not find them,” he said, gravely. “It was very foolish of them to run away, very. I trust they will come back of their own accord soon.”

“Will you see Mr. Sparr about the matter?” asked Dave.

“Yes, Porter. And I wish you and Morr to go with me.”

The interview took place that evening, the boys and the doctor driving down to the hotel after supper. Jason Sparr treated the master of the Hall politely but said very little.

“When I make my next move I’ll have a lawyer,” he said. “I know somebody tried to blow up my hotel, and I think it was some of your boys – that Lawrence boy especially. But I ain’t going to have ’em arrested until I can prove it.”

“Very well,” answered Doctor Clay. “And in the meantime, you had better keep quiet, or you may have a suit for damages on hand.”

On the day following there was something of a sensation. The weekly newspaper issued in a nearby town came out with a thrilling account of the dynamiting of the dining-room of the hotel. In the account appeared the following:

“There is strong evidence pointing to the fact that the outrageous deed was perpetrated by some schoolboys who held a grudge against Mr. Sparr. They are known to have been present at the blowing up of the old stone bridge, and were seen near the shanty where the sticks of dynamite were kept, and one boy of the town says he saw a young man coming from the shanty with something in his hand. Mr. Sparr has the authorities at work and is piling up his evidence, and the arrest of the rascally schoolboys may be hourly expected. It is said that some of the boys have run away, but the authorities have an idea where they can be located. The town committee is thinking of offering a reward for the capture and conviction of the rascals. For the safety of our citizens, the Weekly Globe-Leader hopes the evil-doers will soon be apprehended.”

 

No names were mentioned in this account, but everybody in Oakdale and vicinity knew that the boys of Oak Hall were alluded to, and there was much talk over what might be done. Doctor Clay felt the disgrace keenly, and Dave and Roger were equally affected.

“What are we going to do, Dave?” asked the senator’s son.

“I don’t know,” returned our hero. “But we’ve got to do something, that’s certain.”

CHAPTER XX
THE WILD MAN AGAIN

“Roger, I have an idea!”

“What is it, Dave?”

“I may be mistaken, but I’ve been thinking that perhaps that wild man did the blowing up at the hotel.”

“What makes you think that?” questioned the senator’s son, putting down the book he had been trying to study.

A day had passed after the events recorded in the last chapter, and so far no word had come in concerning Phil and the other runaways. Doctor Clay had sent for a private detective to assist in locating them and also to try, if possible, to clear up the mystery concerning the hotel affair.

“Well, in the first place, it would be just like a crazy man to do such a thing, wouldn’t it?”

“Perhaps.”

“In the second place, I have heard that the wild man was seen around when the bridge was blown up.”

“Is that so? Who saw him?”

“Mr. Tyson, the farmer who lives near the bridge.”

“Why didn’t he try to capture the fellow?”

“He did, but in the excitement of the blowing up the wild man slipped him. And that isn’t all. Mr. Tyson saw him coming from the vicinity of that shanty where the dynamite was kept.”

“Say, that is certainly interesting!” cried the senator’s son. “When did you learn all this?”

“Less than an hour ago. Mr. Tyson brought some vegetables to the school and I had a talk with him.”

“Did he think the wild man blew up the hotel?”

“No, he didn’t connect the two.”

“Hum! What do you think of doing about it?”

“I hardly know. I wish we could round up the wild man.”

“Plenty of folks wish that.”

“I think he hangs out somewhere along the river, or on one of the islands.”

“Maybe Nat Poole knows.”

“I hardly think so – although I am sure Nat wants to find the fellow – why, I can’t imagine.”

During those trying days, Job Haskers was as harsh and dictatorial to Dave and Roger as ever, and several times he passed sneering remarks about those who were missing.

“You may think as you please, Doctor Clay,” said he to the master of the Hall. “I feel sure in my mind that Lawrence and those other boys are guilty. I do not think Mr. Sparr would accuse them if he was not pretty sure of his ground.”

“Well, he has not dared to have those warrants served,” replied the doctor, dryly.

“Because he is afraid there will be a great deal of money used in the case to fight him.”

“Mr. Haskers, do you stand up for Mr. Sparr? I thought you had had some difficulty yourself with him once?”

“That was but a small affair. I think he is perfectly honest and that he wants to do what is right.”

“Possibly. But he did not treat Lawrence very fairly in the matter of that dinner that was ordered.”

“That was a mistake, and Mr. Sparr lost as much as he got. Yes, I think those boys guilty, and in the end you will find out that I am right,” added Job Haskers as he went off, smiling grimly to himself, as if it was a pleasure to him to have the boys thus accused.

The next morning came another surprise. On getting up Dave noticed that something was missing from the dormitory. Phil’s suit-case was gone, likewise a portion of his clothing, and also the valises of Ben and Buster, and part of their outfits.

“Well, this beats the Dutch!” exclaimed Roger, on learning the news. “Who took them, do you suppose?”

“Don’t ask me, Roger.”

“Maybe they came themselves and got them,” suggested Sam.

“If they did, wouldn’t we hear them?” asked Gus.

“Talk about a mysterious disappearance,” cried Shadow. “Say, this puts me in mind of a story. Once some fellows–”

“Oh, stow it, Shadow!” cried the senator’s son. “Let’s get busy and try to find out what this means. Maybe they are back at the school.”

All of the boys dressed hastily and took a look around. But they could find no trace of the runaways. Yet the traveling-bags and the clothing were certainly gone.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say the place was haunted!” cried Luke.

“Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Polly Vane, looking scared. “I don’t wish to see any ghosts.”

Doctor Clay was informed of what had occurred, and he had another search conducted. But it was all to no purpose – the things were missing, and that was all there was to it.

It may well be imagined that with so much going on it was next to impossible for Dave and Roger to study. Yet they did their best, not wishing to drop behind again as they had during the trip to Cave Island. Job Haskers did not let up on them, and many a time they wished he would leave Oak Hall and that they might never see him again.

One afternoon Roger came to Dave in great haste and beckoned for him to come outside.

“I think we had better follow Nat Poole,” said the senator’s son. “I think there is something in the wind.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Nat has been packing a valise and he has put in the strangest things – some clothing, some bottles of medicine, some rope, and a thing that looks like a crown made of brass.”

“A crown made of brass? Oh, Roger, maybe that wild man – who calls himself the King of Sumatra–”

“That’s the idea, Dave, I see you’ve caught on. Come on, before Nat gets away from us.”

Our hero needed no further urging, and soon he and Roger were on their way to the gymnasium, where the senator’s son had, by pure accident, seen Nat Poole packing the things mentioned in his handbag.

As they approached, they saw the money-lender’s son trundle out a bicycle he owned and mount it, swinging his valise over his shoulder by a strap. He looked back to see if he was being observed, but Dave and Roger were on guard and quickly dove out of sight behind some bushes.

“We’ll have to follow on our own wheels,” said Dave.

Their old bicycles were still in the gymnasium. They were not in very good condition, but the tires were air-tight and that was enough. Without delay, they trundled the machines out, and leaping into the saddles, pedaled after Nat.

The course of the money-lender’s son was along the river road, and he followed this for the best part of a mile. Then he branched off on a side-road leading to what were known as the Chester Hills. It was hard work pushing the machine up the hills, but Nat kept at it steadily, and Dave and Roger followed. Strange to say, the money-lender’s son did not once look back after leaving the school. Evidently he was of the opinion that nobody had observed his departure, or, if so, had taken no particular notice of it.

From the top of one of the hills, Nat struck off on another side-road, leading to a little valley. Here was a brook, and at a point where it widened out, a small and really beautiful island. In the center of the island a cabin had been built by some sportsman, and a rustic bridge connected the resort with the shore.

Reaching the rustic bridge, Nat dismounted, and with his valise still over his shoulder, walked towards the cabin. As he did this Dave and Roger came quite close and they, too, dismounted, keeping in the shelter of some trees near by.

“Stop! I command you, in the name of the King of Sumatra, to stop!”

The call came from the cabin, and a second later the wild man appeared. He was clad in a blue pair of trousers and over his shoulder was thrown a big red blanket. On his head rested a crown made of a tin pail cut into sharp points.

“I salute you, King of Sumatra!” called out Nat, making a low bow.

“Ha! it is my servant that speaks,” said the wild man. “Bow low, bow, I tell you!” and he flourished a wooden sword that he held in one hand.

“It is the wild man, sure enough!” whispered Roger, in great excitement.

“And evidently he has been expecting Nat,” returned Dave. “Let us get closer and see what is up.”

They advanced with care until they were behind a tree at the very foot of the rustic bridge. In the meantime Nat had gone forward, bowing low at every step.

“I have brought you something, my king!” cried the money-lender’s son. “Something of great importance to you.”

“What is it?” demanded the wild man, his curiosity excited.

“A new crown. It is of gold, a beautiful crown.”

“Ha! ha! that is well! The King of Sumatra needs a new crown!” cried the wild man, strutting up and down in front of the cabin. “Give it to me, that I may see if it fits.” And he held out his empty hand.

“Let us go into the cabin, and you can sit in your chair of state while I place it on your head,” said Nat, in a soothing, persuasive voice. “You will like it, I know.”

“Did you bring your army with you?” demanded the wild man, suspiciously.

“No, I am all alone – the army is at Oakdale,” answered Nat.

“Again ’tis well. Come in, and I will sit on the throne,” and with a sweeping gesture of welcome, the wild man stepped back into the cabin, and Nat Poole followed.

“Now, what do you make of this?” whispered Roger, looking at Dave in wonder.

“I have an idea, Roger,” answered our hero. “Nat knows that man; in fact, he is well acquainted with him. I think he is going to try to make him a prisoner.”

“A prisoner? Oh, I see; for the glory of it, eh?”

“No, to get him back to some sanitarium as quietly as possible. I think Nat would like to do it without anybody around here being the wiser.”

“Oh! Then maybe the fellow is some relative of the Pooles.”

“Possibly, or a close friend. But come on, let us see what happens. We ought to try to capture the man ourselves.”

“To be sure. But I don’t see how we are going to do it. We are unarmed, and they say crazy folks are fearfully strong.”

“We’ll have to watch our chances.”

The cabin had a window as well as a door, and to the former the two boys crawled. Peering through a vine that grew over the opening, they saw that the wild man had seated himself on a rude bench which he called his throne. It was covered with a tattered carpet and some cabalistic signs in blue chalk. Nat had placed his valise on the ground and was opening it. He brought out the crown and also the rope, but took care to conceal the latter under his coat.

“Now you must close your eyes and sit perfectly still while I place the crown on your head,” said the money-lender’s son. “I will have to do it from behind, for that is the way they do it in England and Germany.”

“Do they do it in Russia that way, too?” demanded the wild man, and his eyes took on a glowing look as he gazed at the brass crown.

“Of course.”

“Then let it be so.” And the wild man sat back on the bench and closed his eyes, and stroked his straggly beard.

Quickly Nat stepped behind the man, and while he fumbled with the crown with one hand, he brought out the rope with the other. He was greatly excited and his hands trembled.

“Now sit perfectly still while I count fifty,” said the money-lender’s son. “Then when I–”

He did not finish, for at that instant the wild man let out a sudden yell and leaped to his feet. He ran to the doorway; and the next moment came face to face with Dave and Roger.