"Link Merwell!"
"Nat, you must be fooling!" put in Ben.
"Why, we couldn't find a single trace of him after that awful landslide!" went on Dave. "We made a thorough search, too."
"I don't know anything about that," returned the money-lender's son. "But I know Link Merwell is alive. I got a letter from him yesterday."
"Are you sure that it was not an old letter delayed in delivery?" queried Ben.
"No, it was not an old letter. It was dated only a few days ago. It was sent to me from Boston."
"Boston!" cried Laura. "Then he must not only be alive, but he must have followed us East."
"Did he say anything about Job Haskers?" queried our hero.
"He said he didn't know what had become of Haskers. He said they had separated a short while before the big landslide struck them. He was pretty well bruised up, and had to rest in alittle mining camp up in the mountains for two weeks."
"This is certainly the strangest news yet," was Dave's comment. "I thought sure that he and Haskers had been swallowed up in that landslide, along with that miner who was with them. Nat, what caused him to write to you? I thought you told me that you had destroyed his last letter without answering it."
"So I did destroy it, Dave, without answering it," returned the money-lender's son. "I was as surprised to hear from him as you would have been. I thought he would know enough to let me alone."
"What did he have to say, Nat?" questioned Ben. "Of course you haven't got to tell us if you don't want to," he added, hastily.
"That's all right. Didn't I tell you I was coming to see Dave? I was going to show him the letter. I've got it in my pocket. Here it is," and Nat brought forth the communication.
The letter was a long and rambling one which need not be reproduced here. In it Link Merwell told something of how he had been caught in the landslide, and how he had escaped and had been carried by some miners to their camp. A search had been made for Job Haskers and the man named Blugg, but without results. Then Merwell had obtained some money (probably from hisfather), and had come East, where he expected to obtain a position. He added that he was still as bitter as ever against Dave and his chums, and would do his best some day to "square accounts." As in his previous communication to Nat, he wanted to know if the money-lender's son would not aid him in making trouble for our hero.
"The same old Link Merwell!" remarked Dave, after he had read the letter, with Ben looking over his shoulder.
"Wouldn't you think a fellow who had been so close to death would want to reform?" said his chum. "But I suppose Link doesn't know what the word, 'reform,' means."
"Oh, Dave, aren't you afraid he will make you a lot of trouble?" cried Jessie, and her face showed her deep concern.
"I never was afraid of Link Merwell, and I don't believe I ever shall be," returned Dave, quickly. "At heart I think that fellow is a big coward."
"Yes, but you must be careful," warned his sister. "Even cowards know how to strike in the dark, and that would be Link Merwell's way of attacking you."
"I don't know how he is going to hurt Dave when he is away off in Boston," was Ben's comment. "The chances are he has got to go towork and earn his living. Probably his father is sick of putting up money for him."
"Merwell mustn't forget one thing," said Dave. "He is still responsible for his part in that jewelry robbery. If the authorities get hold of him, they will certainly send him to prison. So far as that affair is concerned, he was no better than Jasniff."
"What makes me mad is his trying to connect-up with me," burst out Nat. "I've told him twice now that I was done with him, and I want him to leave me alone."
"Were you going to answer this letter, Nat?" questioned Ben.
"No. I was going to tear it up, the same as the other. It's only got 'Boston' for an address, anyway."
"It seems to me, Nat, it might be a good thing for you to write to Link and tell him exactly what you think of him," said Dave. "Tell him you are done with him forever, and that you don't want to get any more letters. Perhaps that will settle him. Send the letter to the General Delivery."
"That's what I was going to ask you about, Dave. I don't want to have that fellow bothering me. I told you I was going to turn over a new leaf." And now for once in his life, Nat Poole looked Dave and then Ben squarely in the face.
"Then, by all means, write to him and tell him exactly where you stand," went on our hero. "Make the letter good and strong, Nat, so that there won't be any mistake about it."
"I'll do it," answered the money-lender's son. And then after a few words more, he replaced the letter in his pocket and drove on, and Dave and his party resumed their automobile trip.
"That certainly is news," was Ben's comment, as they rolled along the river road. "I thought from what you said, Dave, he must have been buried alive."
"So we all thought. His escape must have been nothing short of a miracle."
"I don't begrudge him his life, but I don't want him to bother Dave any more," said Laura. "He is such a wicked fellow."
"Dave, didn't you say, after you came from Cave Island, that Link said something about reforming?" asked Jessie.
"Yes, he did talk that way. He was very humble, and sorry that he had gone into the robbery with Jasniff. But I guess now that what made him humble was the fact that he was in danger of going to prison. As soon as he got away, his ideas changed."
"I hope he doesn't come here to bother you, Dave," sighed Laura.
"Oh, please don't think of such a dreadfulthing!" cried Jessie. "If he is in Boston, I hope he stays there." But this wish was not to be fulfilled, as we shall see later.
The ride along the river road and over the hills beyond was much enjoyed by the young folks, and it was after dark when they returned to Crumville. All told, Jessie made it very pleasant for Dave, but she could not forget the fact that the youth had rescued Della Ford from the sea, and she asked several times about the young lady and the moving-picture company to which she belonged.
"I don't know much about the picture company," Dave had answered. "I think there were about a dozen people in it, including Miss Ford's aunt and the young fellow and the fat man we picked up."
"But you said you would call on her in Boston; didn't you?" queried Jessie.
"I said I might call if I was in the city," Dave replied.
"And I suppose you'll go up there the first chance you get," pouted Jessie.
"Maybe," he answered, not altogether liking her tone. And then before anything more could be said the automobile swept up in front of Ben Basswood's home, and the conversation became general.
Ben had been on the back seat with Laura, and now as he left the party, Jessie came into thetonneau to keep Dave's sister company, so that on the journey to the Wadsworth mansion the talk between Jessie and Dave could not be renewed.
The next two days were busy ones for our hero. He had several matters of business to attend to for his father and his uncle. Added to this, old Caspar Potts asked the youth if he would not accompany him to the old farm where the pair had spent so long a time together.
"Why, certainly, I'll go to the farm with you, Professor," replied Dave. "But what are you going to do there, if I may ask?"
"I want to get a box of books that was left in the garret there when we came away," answered the old, white-haired gentleman. "I would have brought them here before, but it slipped my mind entirely. Perhaps you remember the box?"
"Do you mean that old blue box that stood in the back of the garret?" questioned Dave.
"That's the one, David. I don't think the books in it are of very great value, but they might as well be added to the library here," went on the old professor. The Wadsworth library comprised many hundreds of volumes, and was a source of great pride to Professor Potts, who had spent many days in classifying the books and getting out a private catalogue. To please the old gentleman, Mr. Wadsworth had, from time totime, added various books and pamphlets which he might not otherwise have purchased.
Since Dave and Caspar Potts had left the old farm, the place had been leased to another party, but now it was unoccupied, and the cottage and stable were locked up.
"Looks natural," remarked Dave, as he stood on the tiny piazza of the cottage and looked around on the familiar scene. Then his thoughts went back to the past. What tremendous changes had taken place since he had left that home! He had found a father, a sister, and an uncle, and had made a host of friends. Not only that; he was rich, and had received a good education, and was on the fair road to success.
"David!" It was Caspar Potts who spoke, and his voice trembled. "How different it is from what it used to be! Certainly your folks and Mr. Wadsworth have been great friends of mine," and the old gentleman blinked away the tears that stood in his mild eyes.
Unlocking the door of the little cottage, Dave went inside and lost no time in throwing open a number of windows, so that the fresh summer air from outside might dispel the dampness within. Then Caspar Potts entered, and both ascended the narrow stairway to the upper floor. Here was a tiny garret, which in the past had been given overmostly to the storage of old furniture and other articles not in use.
"I trust none of the tenants have disturbed that box," remarked Caspar Potts, when Dave had lit a candle which he had thoughtfully brought along.
"I see the box, Professor," answered the youth. "Here, if you will hold the candle I will get it out." And then Dave worked his way over to a corner under the eaves, and from behind a broken rocking-chair and a dilapidated couch, dragged forth a small wooden box, painted blue. He threw back the cover, exposing to view thirty or forty books, covered with dust and yellow with age.
"Good! good!" murmured the old professor, as he brushed one of the volumes off with his coat sleeve. "Some of these books are not very valuable, David, but a few of them will add quite a little to our library. I had those volumes when I was a student at college," he added proudly.
"I'll carry the box downstairs," said Dave.
Caspar Potts, candle in hand, led the way to the floor below. As he came out into the kitchen of the cottage, he was somewhat surprised to find two persons on the porch, talking earnestly.
"Hello, you've got visitors!" said Dave, as he set the box of books down on a bare table. "Some one out for a look around, I suppose," he added.
"Maybe it is some one who would like to lease the farm," returned Caspar Potts. "Let us go out and see," and he extinguished the candle.
Brushing the dust and cobwebs from his coat, Dave followed the old professor to the porch of the cottage. The two visitors were so busy talking that, for the instant, they did not notice the others.
"Hello there!" exclaimed Dave, in some surprise, as his eyes rested on the face of one of the visitors. "How in the world did you get here?"
"I—er—I—er—It's Mr. Porter!" stammered the fellow addressed, and he leaped quickly to his feet.
It was Ward Porton, the young man Dave and his chums had rescued from the sea when the steam yacht was on fire.
"Dave Porter! Here!" came from the other fellow who had been seated on the stoop, and now he too leaped up. "—I guess we had better leave," he stammered.
"Link Merwell!" ejaculated our hero. It must be confessed that now he was all but dumfounded. He had thought that Link Merwell must be in Boston, and to find him here on the outskirts of Crumville, and in company with Ward Porton, the fellow he had rescued, was almost beyond belief.
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. "Haskersdidn'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."
Then, as Dave went after him, he broke into a run.Then, as Dave went after him, he broke into a run.—Page 63.ToList
Then, as Dave went after him, he broke into a run.—Page 63.ToList
"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 learnthat 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 thatthat 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."
"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 severalof 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 tobe 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 tostart. 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 passedout 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 ithad 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!"
"Perhaps they have gone off into some ditch!"
"Maybe they bounced off a rock and hit a tree!"
"A fellow could easily break a wheel on this rough road!"
"Oh, I hope none of them have been hurt!"
Such were some of the remarks that came from those in the tonneau of the touring-car, as Dave put on the power and started down the winding road which led to the bottom of the long hill.
"Better keep her in low gear, Dave," said Dunston Porter, as the car struck a rather steep incline. "The engine will help hold her back."
"I think I can hold her with the brakes, Uncle Dunston," answered the youth, who had already thrown off the power. He had the foot-brake well down, and now he threw in the emergency as well.
On and on slipped and slid the big touring-car, bumping over a road which seemed to grow worseas they progressed. All of the lights were on full, and they were needed, for the road turned and twisted in such a fashion that but little could be seen ahead. In some places the highway seemed extra narrow, this being caused by the heavy trees and bushes lining both sides. At one point the water had caused quite a washout, and into this and out again they bumped with such violence that all the girls shrieked in alarm.
"Some bump that!" was Roger's grim comment.
"O dear, I thought sure I'd be jounced out!" cried Jessie. "Dave, can't you go a little slower?"
"I'll try," returned the youth, and jammed down the foot-brake as hard as he could. For an instant the touring-car came almost to a standstill, but presently they slid onward again, coming a moment later to another bend.
"Look out! Don't run into us!" It was a yell from in front, and now Dave saw Luke Watson standing in the roadway, waving his handkerchief.
Down in the darkness beyond Dave made out the red, rear-light of the Basswood automobile. As the second touring-car came on Luke leaped to one side, but his warning had had its effect, and now Dave jammed on both brakes with all the force at his command, at the same time swervingslightly to the left. He just grazed a trunk strapped to the back of the first machine, and then came to a halt on a water-break a short distance beyond.
"Somebody get out and put a few stones under the wheels!" cried Dave, who could not leave his seat because of one foot on the brake.
"All right, we'll fix it!" cried his uncle, and leaped out, followed quickly by the boys in the tonneau of the car.
Loose stones were to be had in plenty, and soon the car wheels were well blocked. Then Dave was able to join those on the ground.
"Shall we get out?" asked Laura, anxiously.
"Suit yourselves," returned Dunston Porter, who was already moving in the direction of the other car.
The Wadsworth machine contained a hand flashlight, and getting possession of this, Dave and his chums hurried toward the other automobile. They had already seen at a glance that the Basswood touring-car had swung around to the side of the road, and that one front wheel was held fast between a large rock and a fair-sized tree. Apparently the car was not hurt, and no one seemed to be injured.
"How did it happen, Ben?" sang out Dave, when he saw that the accident was not a serious one.
"Funniest thing you ever heard of," returned his chum. "You couldn't possibly guess it."
"Didn't you slip on the rocks?" queried Phil.
"It was a cow put us here," said Mr. Basswood, gravely. "Just a plain, every day, red cow." And in spite of the accident his eyes had a twinkle in them.
"A cow!" came from several of the others, in wonder.
"Yes, a cow!" answered Ben, and his tone showed his deep disgust. "I was going down the hill just as nicely as you please when along came a cow. A man was driving her, and when he saw us coming he did his best to get the cow out of our way. But that mooly didn't budge from the middle of the road, so I had to turn to one side—and this is the consequence."
"But I am so thankful that no one was hurt," broke in Mrs. Basswood. "Think of what might have happened if the car had turned over!" and she shuddered.
"But where is the cow?" questioned Roger.
"Oh, as soon as she had put us in this hole she turned tail and ran down the hill as fast as she could, and the man went after her," explained Mr. Basswood.
"I guess the man ran away because he was afraid we might hold him responsible fordamages," remarked Shadow. "Say! this puts me in mind of a story," he added. "One time a cow got on the front piazza of a house, and——"
"For gracious sake, Shadow! I guess you'd want to tell stories at a funeral," burst out Ben. "Never mind your yarn now. Let us see if we can get this machine out from between this rock and that tree."
"You didn't break the steering-gear, did you?" asked Dave, anxiously, as he allowed the flashlight to play over and around the touring-car.
"I don't believe I hurt anything, Dave. But of course I can't be sure until I try to run the car," answered Ben. "What's worrying me is: How am I going to get out of this fix? I don't believe I can back out—in fact it wouldn't be safe."
"Looks to me as if we'd have to chop the tree down to get out of here," commented Luke, who had come back from where he had signaled the other car.
"I think I see a way of aiding you," said Dunston Porter, who was examining the rock that held the wheel to the tree. "I think if we dig under the edge of this rock, we can loosen it and roll it down the hill. Then we'll be able to lift the front of the automobile around—that is if we can keep the machine from sliding down on us."
"We can easily fix that part of it," answeredDave. "All we've got to do is to take that towing-rope we brought along and fasten it to a tree and the back axle of the car."
"That's the talk, Dave!" cried his uncle. "Get the rope and make it fast at once."
While our hero and several of the other boys were adjusting the towing-line which had been brought along for emergencies, Dunston Porter and Mr. Basswood set to work to loosen the rock which held the wheel. This was no easy task, but finally, with the aid of a hammer and a small crowbar, it was accomplished, and the rock slid down the roadway. Then the automobile began to start forward.
"Look out there!" cried one of the boys. "This line may not hold!"
"That will hold two cars like that," answered Dave. The rope strained and creaked, but did not break, and soon those in front of the car had the machine jacked around once more in a straight position, headed down the road.
"Now Ben, I guess you're all right again," said Dave.
"Provided I don't meet that cow again," was the retort. "How about that rope?"
"I'll unfasten it for you just as soon as you are ready to start."
"I think I'd rather walk to the foot of the hill," remarked Mrs. Basswood, timorously.
"Let us all walk down. I'll be glad of the exercise," cried Belle, who was tired of being cramped up in the tonneau of the automobile.
"Oh, but maybe that cow will get after us," exclaimed Jessie.
"Pooh! who's afraid of a cow!" cried the western girl, who had been brought up to face hundreds of animals on her father's ranch.
"Well, I think we had better let the automobiles go first, anyway," suggested Laura. "We don't want them to come along and run over us," she added, playfully.
Soon Ben and his chums were in the first of the touring-cars. Dave released the rope, and the automobile resumed the descent of the hill. Then the towing-line was wound up and thrown into the tonneau of the second car, and that also resumed its journey.
Down at the foot of the long hill they met the cow and her owner, a tall, cadaverous-looking individual, who eyed our friends frowningly.
"I see you got your cow all right enough," remarked Ben.
"So I did, but I'd a mighty long run to stop her," growled the man.
"You put us in quite a hole; do you know that?" went on Ben.
"'Tain't none of my fault," replied the owner of the cow, quickly. "I have as much right onthis road with my cow as you have with that there autymobile."
"Just the same, you had no right to let your cow keep to the middle of the road," cried Ben. "If we had had a worse accident we might have held you responsible."
"Huh! Hold me responsible, eh? Well ye wouldn't have got a cent out of me," said the owner of the cow, and then he passed on up the hill once more, driving the animal before him. The cow was contentedly chewing her cud, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to disturb her.
A quarter of a mile further on our friends came to a small stream spanned by rather a shaky-looking bridge, over which each machine was run with great care. On the other side of the stream they came to another fork of the road.
"Here's a signboard anyway!" cried Dave, whose car was now in advance. "'Rayville Four Miles.' We'll be there soon if this road holds out."
"I think you'll find the roads around Rayville all right," called Mr. Basswood to him. "My friend told me that they were in good condition, especially those on the other side of the town."
A quarter of an hour later found the two touring-cars in the village where Mr. Basswood's friend resided. Here, as the gentleman had said,was located a fairly good hotel, where accommodations for the night could be had.
"Now, I'm going to go around and see my friends," said Mr. Basswood. "Ben, you and your chums can stay here at the hotel. We'll be back before it's time to retire," and then he set off in the touring-car, taking his wife with him.
As the hotel at Rayville made a specialty of catering to automobile parties, our friends found the accommodations there both ample and satisfactory. After the hard run of the day, the girls and the boys were glad to rest awhile. Then they fixed up for dinner, which was served to them in a private dining-room, apart from the other patrons of the house. As might be expected, they had a good deal of fun, and Shadow was allowed to tell several of his stories, much to his own satisfaction if not to that of his listeners.
"By this time to-morrow night we ought to be at Bear Camp," said Dave, after they had finished dinner and gone out on the hotel veranda to watch what little was going on in the town.
"I guess it will be a good deal more lonely than it is here, Dave," observed Jessie.
"There will be too many of us to be lonely," he answered. "I'm looking forward to some splendid times."
"Oh, so am I, Dave, and I am sure the others hope to have good times, too."
It was about ten o'clock when Mr. and Mrs. Basswood came back to the hotel, having spent a very pleasant evening with their friends, who had wanted them to remain over night.
"I've got some news that I want to telegraph to Crumville," announced Ben's father, as he came in. "News that may interest Mr. Poole."
"What is that, Dad?" questioned his son, curiously.
"Why, Mr. Dobson spoke about a strange sort of man who called on him yesterday. He thought the man was out of his mind. He said the fellow asked for work first, but then said he didn't care whether he got a job or not, because he had to take the night express for Sumatra."
"A strange man who wanted to take the night express for Sumatra!" exclaimed Dave. "It must have been 'The King of Sumatra'—Wilbur Poole!"
"Just exactly what I think, Dave," answered Mr. Basswood.