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

CHAPTER IX
THE KING OF SUMATRA

The boys had been traveling along a broad highway that ran to a town on the other side of the woods. The trees were thick and so were the bushes, with here and there a big rock, covered with the dead vines of the summer previous.

At one point some distance ahead was an old stone house, standing where another road ran in the direction of the river. This house had not been inhabited for years, and the doors and windows were gone, and the falling of the chimney had smashed in a large portion of the sloping roof.

It was from in front of the old house that the cries for assistance came, and now the boys heard two voices, both somewhat girlish in tones.

“Oh, let me go! Please, let me go!” came, wildly.

“You have no right to touch us!” was added, in another voice.

“What’s the matter?” called out Dave, as loudly as he could. But in his mind there had already flashed an inkling of what was going on. For some time past the wild man of that locality had not shown himself. Now, perhaps, he was again at his old tricks.

“Oh, make him go away!” screamed a girlish voice, and then, as our hero made a turn of the road, he caught sight of two girls standing near the old stone house. Back of them was another figure, that of a tall, powerful man, but this figure disappeared as if by magic, behind the ancient building.

“Why, Miss Rockwell!” exclaimed Dave, as he recognized a young lady from town whom he knew well. “And you, too, Miss Feversham! What is the matter?”

“That man – the wild man!” panted Vera Rockwell. “He – he – stopped us!”

“He wanted our purses!” added Mary Feversham, the other young lady.

“Where is he?” asked Roger and Phil, in a breath.

“He just ran behind the house – I saw him,” answered Dave. “Did he hurt you any?” he went on, anxiously, for he and Vera and Mary were good friends.

“No, but he – he scared us so!”

“Let us go after him!” put in Phil, quickly. He had taken Mary Feversham out a number of times and the two were well acquainted. “Come on!” and he started around the house.

All of the others were not slow to follow. Behind the building they came upon a mass of weeds and bushes and in their midst the remains of an old well, long since caved in. What had once been a path led to the side road before mentioned.

“That’s the way he must have gone – down the side road!” cried the shipowner’s son.

“Supposing we see if we can catch him?” suggested Dave. “But somebody ought to go back, and stay with the girls,” he added thoughtfully.

“I’ll go back,” answered Phil. He was only too glad of a chance to talk to Mary, not having seen her for a long time.

“If that fellow comes back, whistle for us,” advised Roger.

Dave was already on the side road with Buster and Gus beside him, and the senator’s son quickly followed.

“Don’t go too fast or I – I can’t ke – keep up with you!” panted Buster.

“Do you see anything of him, Dave?” queried Roger.

“Not yet, but there is a turn just ahead. When we make that we’ll be able to see almost to the river.”

All of the students sped on, the stout lad doing his best to keep up with the others. They reached the turn with Dave a step or two in advance.

“There he is!”

“I see him! Say, he’s wild-looking enough!”

“He is making for the river!”

“We ought to be able to catch him. We are four to one.”

Dave and Roger pressed forward with increased speed and poor Buster fell somewhat behind.

“I’m coming as fa – fast as I ca – can!” blurted out the fat youth. “Go on – I’ll get there sooner or later!”

“Pick up a stick, if you see one,” cried Dave, to Roger and Gus. “We may have a hot fight on our hands. That man ought to be in jail, or in an asylum.”

As they sped along, the three kept their eyes open and each presently armed himself with a fair-sized club. The wild man was running like a deer, pausing occasionally to turn and brandish his long arms at them savagely. They could see that his clothing was in tatters and that his hair and beard were long and unkempt.

“Hi! stop!” called out Dave, although he had but little hope of causing the man to halt. “We want to talk to you.”

“Go back! Beware! Go back, or it will be the worse for you!” called the wild man. “Leave the King of Sumatra alone!”

“The King of Sumatra?” repeated Roger. “Say, he’s crazy sure enough, to imagine himself that!”

The boys continued after the wild man and urged him to stop. But instead of heeding them, he ran on the faster.

“He’s an athlete, when it comes to running,” remarked Dave, as he tried in vain to get closer to the man.

“They say crazy people are always strong,” answered the senator’s son.

“I’ve go – got to gi – give up!” panted Gus, and came to a halt. “Go – got a pa – pain in my side!” And he put his hand over his hip.

“All right, we’ll manage alone!” cried Roger. “I don’t think we can catch that fellow anyway,” he added, half under his breath.

Another turn of the woodland road brought the Leming River into plain view, at a point where the stream was both wide and deep. The wild man kept sprinting along and it was impossible for the boys to draw any closer to him.

“Shall we threaten to shoot him if he won’t stop?” asked Roger. Neither of the lads carried firearms.

“No, he might do some shooting on his own account, – if he is armed. Come on, he may fall, or something like that.”

Inside of three minutes more the wild man gained the shore of the river and disappeared around a point of rocks and brushwood.

“Be careful, Dave,” warned Roger. “He may spring out at you with a club.”

“I’ve got my eyes open,” was the ready reply.

Both advanced with caution, and soon came up to the nearest of the rocks. With clubs ready for use, the two youths continued to move forward. Then they came to a sudden halt. The wild man was no longer in sight. What had become of him?

“Maybe he ran into the woods,” suggested Roger.

“Perhaps, but – hark!” And our hero held up his hand. From a distance came a scraping sound, like something sliding over a rock.

“Look!” called out the senator’s son. “He’s got a boat! There he goes!”

Dave turned in the direction pointed out by his chum. Both saw a small rowboat sweep out from under some brushwood. In it stood the wild man, using an oar as a pole on the rocks.

“Stop!” cried Dave. “Stop, or you may be sorry for it.”

“You can’t catch the King of Sumatra!” yelled the wild man, and flourished his arms and made a hideous face at them. Then he sat down on the middle seat of the craft, placed the oars in the rowlocks, and commenced to row rapidly down the stream.

“Well, that’s the end of the chase,” remarked Dave, in some disgust.

“That’s right, since we haven’t any boat,” returned Roger. “Wonder where he got that craft? I don’t think he bought it.”

“It isn’t likely. Probably he saw it somewhere along the river and simply appropriated it.” And this proved to be true.

The boys watched the wild man until a bend of the stream hid rower and craft from view. Then they turned back in the direction of the old stone house.

“Did you get him?” demanded Buster, who was waiting with Gus at the point where he had dropped out of the race.

“No,” answered Roger, and told why.

“He sure is a cute one,” went on the stout youth. “Say, if they don’t catch him soon, he’ll have this whole neighborhood scared to death.”

The students soon reached the old house. Here they found the two girls and Phil, the latter with a heavy stick in his hand, ready for any emergency. The girls had calmed down a little, but were still much agitated.

“We were to come home in my uncle’s carriage,” said Mary Feversham. “But the horse got a lame foot and so we decided to walk. We had heard of the wild man, but did not think we would meet him. Oh, it was dreadful!”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” asked Dave.

“Oh, no, but he frightened us so! He danced around us and caught us by the arms, and he wanted us to give him money! Oh, it was dreadful!”

“He ought to be in an asylum,” said Dave. And then he and Roger related how the wild man had escaped.

“I sha’n’t go out alone again,” said Vera Rockwell. “That is, not until that man is captured.”

“We’ll take you both home,” said Phil, promptly, looking at Mary.

“But we don’t want to keep you from what you were going to do,” said Vera.

“Oh, we were only out for a walk,” replied Dave. “We’ll walk to town with you. Maybe we’ll hear something more of this strange fellow.”

All turned back on the road that led close to Oak Hall, and after discussing the wild man from various points of view, the conversation turned to other matters. The girls told of what they had been doing during the past holidays and asked the boys about themselves.

“I heard that that horrid Jasniff is under arrest,” said Vera to Dave. “I am glad of it. It is a pity that Merwell got away.”

“Perhaps,” answered our hero. “But, somehow, I sometimes think that Link Merwell will turn over a new leaf.”

Vera looked back, to make sure that none of the others were near.

“Just like Mr. Plum, I suppose you mean,” she whispered. “Oh, it was splendid, what you did for him, Dave!”

“Oh, I didn’t do much for Gus.”

“My brother thinks you did. He heard the whole story. It was brave and noble of you, it was indeed!” And Vera’s face showed her earnestness.

“Well, Gus has turned out a nice fellow. I wish Merwell would turn out as good.”

“But he helped to take those jewels.”

“That is true – and that will always be a black mark against him,” said Dave, soberly.

Soon all reached the outskirts of Oakdale and there, at one of the corners, the boys left the girls.

“Pretty late!” cried Gus Plum, consulting the watch he carried. “We’ll have to hike back lively, if we don’t want to be marked up for tardiness.”

“We can get an excuse, if we tell about the wild man,” said Buster. “I’ve hurried all I’m going to.”

“We’ll certainly have a yarn to spin when we get back to the school,” was Phil’s comment.

At the entrance to the campus the boys, who were a little late, met the first assistant to Doctor Clay. As my old readers know Mr. Dale was as pleasant as Job Haskers was disagreeable.

“Had a fine walk, boys?” he asked, with a smile.

“We had an adventure,” answered Dave, and then he and his chums told what it was.

“Well! well! that wild man again,” mused the instructor. “This is getting truly serious. I was hoping he would leave this neighborhood. And so he calls himself the King of Sumatra? That is strange.”

“It certainly is strange,” answered Dave.

But how strange, our hero was still to find out.

CHAPTER X
NAT POOLE WANTS TO KNOW

That evening Dave was on his way to the school library, to consult a certain work of reference, when he ran into another student who suddenly grasped him by the shoulder. It was rather dark where the pair confronted each other, and for the instant our hero did not recognize the fellow.

“What do you want?”

“I want to speak to you for a minute, Dave Porter,” said the other, in a voice that trembled a trifle.

“Oh, it’s you, Nat,” answered Dave, as he recognized the son of the Crumville money-lender. “What do you want?” He rather imagined that the youth wished to pick another quarrel with him.

“I – I want to talk in private with you,” returned Nat, and looked around, to see if anybody else was near.

“What about?”

“You were out walking this afternoon and met that wild man, so I heard.”

“That is true.”

“You tried to catch him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Roger Morr, Buster Beggs, Gus Plum, and I did our best to collar him, but he was too fast for us. He ran down to the river, got into a rowboat, and rowed away.”

“So I heard. And I heard something else,” continued the boy from Crumville. “When you called to the man to stop he answered back, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Will you please tell me what he said?” And Nat’s voice had an eager ring in it.

“He told us to beware and go back, or we’d get into trouble.”

“Didn’t he say something more than that?”

“Oh, yes, a great deal more.”

“He called himself something, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Look here, Nat, what is this to you? Why are you so interested?” queried Dave, for he could easily perceive that the other youth was more than ordinarily anxious to know the particulars of what had occurred.

“I – I – want to – er – know, that’s all. Did he call himself anything?”

“Yes; he thinks he is the King of Sumatra.”

“He called himself that?” asked Nat, with increased excitement.

“Yes, two or three times. But see here, Nat–”

“Will you please tell me how he looked? Was he tall and rather thin?”

“Yes.”

“And what kind of hair did he have?”

“Brownish-red, as near as I could make out, and very long. And he had rather a long beard and a large nose,” went on our hero.

At this brief but accurate description of the wild man, Nat Poole paled a trifle and uttered something of a gasp.

“Whe – where did he go?” he faltered.

“He rowed down the river just as fast as he could. I don’t know how far he went, for the bend hid him from view,” answered our hero. “Say, Nat, do you think you know that man?”

“Why – er – know him? Of course I don’t know him,” was the stammered-out reply. “But I – I think – maybe – I’ve met him.” And then, to avoid further questioning, Nat Poole hurried away. Our hero could do nothing but stare after him.

“That is mighty queer,” mused Dave, as he turned into the library to consult the reference book. “If Nat doesn’t know the man, why was he so anxious? He acted scared to death when I said the fellow called himself the King of Sumatra.”

Dave remained in the school library for a half an hour and then joined Phil, Roger, and the others in Dormitory Number Twelve. He found the students discussing a talk Roger had had with Nat Poole only a few minutes before.

“Nat called me out in the hallway,” said the senator’s son. “He wanted to know all about that wild man, and he wanted to make dead certain that he had called himself the King of Sumatra.”

“That is certainly queer – on top of what happened to me,” said Dave, and told of the interview he had had.

“Well, this is a puzzle,” declared Phil, slowly. “What do you make of it, Dave?”

“I think Nat imagines he knows the wild man.”

“That’s the way it looks to me,” added the senator’s son.

“Say, you don’t suppose that wild man has anything to do with the fellows Nat used to train with – Jasniff, Merwell, and that crowd?” questioned Buster.

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so,” returned our hero. “He is surely a crazy individual, and as nobody around here seems to know him, he must be a stranger to these parts.”

“But what would make Nat so interested?” asked little Chip Macklin.

“Give it up,” answered Roger.

“Maybe he has something to tell, but won’t tell it to us,” ventured Phil. “He may go right to the doctor.”

But if Nat Poole went to the master of Oak Hall, or to anybody else at that institution, the boys did not hear of it. He asked no more questions about the wild man, and when any of our friends came near him he immediately walked away, thus avoiding an interview.

The proposed meeting of the athletic committee of Oak Hall was held on Saturday afternoon in the gymnasium and was well attended. An even twenty names had been put up for the regular baseball nine of the institution. Of these names, fifteen belonged to old students and five were those of newcomers to Oak Hall. As he had said he would do, Gus Plum had handed in his name, and so had Sam Day and some of our other friends. But Dave, Phil, and Roger were conspicuous by their absence.

“See here, Porter, you’re going to play, aren’t you?” asked the former manager.

“No,” answered Dave, quietly but firmly.

“Why not?”

“Well, in the first place, I have too many back lessons to make up, and in the second place, I hope to graduate this coming June, and I want to make a record for myself, if possible.”

“But you can do that and play on the nine, too,” urged the manager.

“I don’t think so. I’d like to play,” continued our hero, wistfully, “but I don’t see how I can.”

“This isn’t fair, Porter. We really need you.”

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as that,” returned Dave, with a faint smile. “You’ve got Gus Plum to pitch, and some of the others. There are plenty of good ball-players here this term.”

“I don’t know about that,” answered the manager, with a grave shake of his head. “I wish you’d come in.”

“Not this year,” said Dave; and then the two separated.

Phil and Roger were likewise urged to try for the nine, but they followed Dave’s example. Then a tentative nine was formed, with Gus Plum as pitcher, and also a “scrub” nine, with one of the newcomers to Oak Hall in the box. Practice was to start on Wednesday afternoon of the following week.

“Too bad we couldn’t take part,” sighed the shipowner’s son. “I’d like to wallop the Rockville Military Academy fellows just once more!”

“Well, we can’t have everything,” answered Dave. “I want to graduate with the highest possible honors, and that means plenty of hard boning.”

“And a fellow can’t bone and play ball, too,” added Roger.

“We might – if old Haskers would be easy on us,” murmured the shipowner’s son.

“Now, see here, Phil,” said Dave, almost sternly. “Don’t ask Haskers for any more favors. He has done all that can reasonably be expected of him.”

“All right, just as you say,” grumbled Phil. But his manner showed that he was not altogether satisfied.

A week went by, and Dave and his chums applied themselves diligently to their studies. During that time nothing more was heard of the wild man, and the excitement concerning that strange individual again died down. But the folks living in the vicinity of the woods back of Oak Hall were on their guard, and it was seldom that women and children went out alone.

The boys were doing very well in their studies, and Dave received warm words of encouragement from Andrew Dale. He had made up nearly all the back lessons imposed upon him by Job Haskers, and that dictatorial teacher could not help but be satisfied over the showing made. Roger was also doing well, and poor Phil was the only one who was backward, although not enough to cause alarm.

“I’ll get there, but it comes hard,” said the shipowner’s son. “I should have asked old Haskers for more time.”

“Don’t you do it,” answered Dave. “Come, I’ll help you all I can.” Which he did.

One day there came a letter to our hero which gave him great satisfaction. He read it carefully, and then hastened off to communicate the news to Phil, Roger, and Ben.

“It’s a letter from my Uncle Dunston,” he explained to his chums. “If you will remember, he said he would hire a lawyer to take up that Mrs. Breen case against Professor Haskers.”

“What does he say?” asked Roger, quickly.

“I will read it to you,” answered Dave, and read the following:

“You will be glad to learn that Mr. Loveland, one of our lawyers, has gotten a settlement for Mrs. Breen out of your teacher, Mr. Haskers. He had quite a time of it, Haskers declaring that he did not owe as much as the widow said he did. The lawyer said he would sue for the full amount, and then Haskers came to see him. Mr. Loveland says the teacher wanted to learn who had hired him to stir the matter up, and mentioned some students’ names. But the lawyer gave him no satisfaction at all, and at last Haskers paid up in full, took his receipt, and got out. I instructed Mr. Loveland to put his charges for services on our bill, so Mrs. Breen will get the entire amount collected. I am going to take it to her in person, and see to it that it is wisely invested for her benefit.”

“Good!” cried the senator’s son. “That will help the old lady a great deal.”

“Say, I’ll bet old Haskers was sore when he forked over that money,” was Ben’s comment. “No wonder he’s been looking like a thundercloud lately.”

“Yes, and he’d let out on us – if he dared,” said Phil. “But he doesn’t dare.”

“Don’t be too sure of that, Phil,” said Dave, seriously. “There is no telling what he will do – later on, when he thinks this affair has blown over.”

“Humph! I am not afraid of him,” declared Phil, recklessly.

“If he tries any of his games we’ll expose him,” added Ben.

“Better go slow,” advised Roger. He, too, felt that Job Haskers might become very vindictive.

Spring was now at hand, and a week later came the first baseball game of the season. It was a contest with Esmore Academy from Daytonville and held on the Oak Hall grounds. Quite a crowd was present, including some of the town folks. Gus Plum was in the pitcher’s box for the Hall, and Sam Day was on first base, and Chip Macklin on third.

“I hope we win!” cried Dave.

“I hope you do,” answered Vera Rockwell, who was present with some other girls. “But why are you not playing?” she went on.

“Not this term,” said our hero, with a smile, and then he spoke of his studies.

“I suppose it is noble of you to give up this way,” she said. “But – I’d like to see you play.”

The contest proved a well-fought one, and was won by Oak Hall by a score of eight runs to five. At the conclusion there was a great cheering for the victors.

“This means bonfires to-night!” cried Roger, as the gathering broke up.

“Yes, and a grand good time!” added Buster Beggs.