22CHAPTER IIITHE TEAM THAT RAN AWAY
“Oh, Dave, the gully!” cried his sister Laura. “If we go into that we’ll all be killed!”
“Please keep quiet, Laura,” flung back her brother in a low, tense voice. “These horses are scared enough as it is.”
Dave was doing his best to bring the spirited grays out of their mad gallop. But they had not been out of the stable for the best part of a week, and this, combined with the scare from the roar of the automobile, had so gotten on their nerves that to calm them seemed next to impossible. On and on they flew over the packed snow of the hard road, the sleigh bouncing from side to side as it passed over the bumps in the highway.
Jessie was deadly pale and had all she could do to keep from shrieking with fright. But when she heard Dave address his sister in the above words, she shut her teeth hard, resolved to remain silent, no matter what the cost. Ben was worried as well as scared––the more so because he realized there was practically nothing he could do to aid Dave in subduing the runaways. The youth23on the front seat had braced both feet on the dashboard of the sleigh, and was pulling back on the reins with all the strength of his vigorous muscles.
Thus fully a quarter of a mile was covered––a stretch of the hill road which fortunately was comparatively straight. But then there loomed up ahead a sharp turn, leading down to the straight road through the valley below.
“Dave––the turn!” gasped Ben, unable to keep himself from speaking.
“I see it. I’ll do what I can,” cried the young driver; and then pulled on the reins more strongly, if possible, than before.
Closer and closer to the dreaded turn in the road the sleigh approached, and as it drew nearer the girls huddled in their seats almost too terror-stricken to move. Ben sprang up, totally unconscious of doing so.
“Can you make it, Dave, do you think?” gasped the real estate man’s son, when the turn was less than a hundred feet away.
“I don’t think I’ll try,” was the unexpected answer. “Hold fast, everybody! We’re going through the fence!”
The turn in the road led to the left, and as they approached it Dave relaxed his hold on the left rein and pulled with might and main on the right. This brought the team around just a trifle, but24it was enough to keep them from attempting to follow the road––something which would undoubtedly have caused the slewing around of the sleigh and probably its overturning. As it was, the team left the roadway, and the next instant had crashed through a frail rail-fence and was floundering along in the deep snow of a ploughed-up and sloping field beyond.
“Whoa there!” cried Dave, soothingly. “Whoa, Jerry! Whoa, Bill!” And thus he continued to talk to the team while the sleigh bumped along through the deep snow and over the uneven ground.
Running away on the smooth surface of the highway had been one thing; keeping up such a gait over a ploughed field and in snow almost a foot deep was quite another. Soon the fiery grays broke from their mad gallop into a trot, and a minute later Dave had no trouble in bringing them to a halt. There they stood in the snow and the furrows of the field, snorting, and emitting clouds of steam from their nostrils.
“Hold ’em, Dave, while I get out and go to their heads!” cried Ben, and an instant later was out in the snow and had hold of the steeds. Each of the horses was trembling a little, but the run seemed to have done neither of them any harm.
“Oh, Dave! Dave!” gasped Jessie. She tried to go on, but could not.
25
“Oh, how thankful I am that you did not attempt to go around that corner!” came from Laura. “If you had tried that we would have been upset and maybe all killed!” and she shuddered.
“It was just the right thing to do, Dave,” was Ben’s comment. “But I don’t know that I would have thought of it. You are a quick thinker, and I guess we have you to thank for saving our lives.”
“Well, we’ve broken down somebody’s fence,” returned Dave, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll have to fix that, I suppose.”
“Huh! What’s a broken fence to saving one’s neck!” snorted Ben. “Besides, we only busted a couple of rails, and they are not worth a great deal.”
“Dave, do you think it will be safe to ride behind that team any more?” questioned Laura.
“I’m going to do it,” he answered promptly. “No team of horses is going to get the better of me!”
“I think, now that they have had this run, they’ll tame down a little,” said Ben. “Besides that, the rest of the road to Coburntown is almost straight and flat.”
“Yes, and as soon as we get on a straight road I’ll give them all the running they want,” answered Dave. “I’ll guarantee that by the time26we reach town they’ll be just as meek as any one would want them.”
With Ben still at their heads the team was turned around and led to the roadway once more. There the horses were tied to a tree near by, and then Dave and Ben spent a little time in repairing the damage done to the fence.
“I wish we could find out who those fellows in the auto were,” said Ben, when they were once again on the way. “They ought to be fined for speeding.”
“I doubt if we’ll be able to locate them,” answered Dave. And he was right––they never saw or heard of the reckless automobilists again.
As has been mentioned, beyond the hill the road to Coburntown was almost straight and level. And here for over two miles Dave allowed the grays to go along at a good gait, although keeping his eyes on them continually, so that they might not get beyond control. As a consequence of this additional burst of speed, when they came in sight of the town for which they were bound, the grays were quite docile and willing to behave themselves properly.
“Now if you say so, I’ll take you girls around to the French Shop,” suggested Dave, “and then Ben and I can drive around to Mr. Wecks’s shoe-store.”
This was agreeable to Laura and Jessie, and in27a few minutes the girls were left at the door of the establishment where Laura had said she wished to match some ribbon. Then the two boys started for the shoe-dealer’s shop. Dave had already acquainted Ben with the particulars of his errand to the place.
“What are you going to do if Wecks says you really had the shoes?” questioned the son of the real estate dealer, when they were on the way to the shoe store.
“But how can he say that when I haven’t been near the place, Ben?” returned Dave.
“I don’t know. But I do know that people have sometimes had things charged to them at the stores which other people got.”
“Humph! Well, I sha’n’t pay for any shoes that I did not get,” answered our hero, simply.
Mr. Wecks’s establishment was at the far end of the main street of Coburntown; so the lads had half a dozen blocks to cover before they reached the place.
“Hello, it’s closed!” exclaimed Ben, as they came in sight of the store; and he nodded in the direction of the show window, the curtain of which was drawn down. The curtain on the door was also down, and on the glass was pasted a sheet of note paper.
“Some sort of notice. I’ll see what it is,” answered Dave, and, throwing the reins to Ben, he28left the sleigh. Soon he was reading what was written on the sheet of paper:
Closed on account of death in the family.William Wecks.
Closed on account of death in the family.
William Wecks.
“Somebody dead. That’s too bad!” mused Dave. “I wonder who it can be?” and then he passed into a barber shop next door to find out.
“It’s Mr. Wecks’s father––a very old man who lived back in the country from here,” explained the barber. “Mr. Wecks went up there last night, and he doesn’t expect to come back until after the funeral, which will probably be day after to-morrow.”
“I don’t suppose his clerk is around?” questioned Dave.
“No. The funeral gave him a holiday, and he was glad of it. He’s out of town, too;” and having thus expressed himself, the barber turned to wait upon a customer who had just come in, and Dave returned to the sleigh.
“If that’s the case, you’ll have to let the matter rest until the next time you come to Coburntown, or else you’ll have to write to Mr. Wecks,” said Ben.
“I’ll be coming over again before very long,” answered Dave. “But, just the same, I’d like to have this matter settled.”
While Dave was speaking to his chum a man29passed him on the sidewalk, looking at him rather fixedly. This man was Mr. Asa Dickley, the proprietor of the largest gentlemen’s furnishing establishment of which Coburntown boasted. Our hero knew the man fairly well, having purchased a number of things at his place from time to time, and so he nodded pleasantly. Mr. Asa Dickley nodded in return, but with a rather sour expression on his face. Then he glanced at Ben, and at the handsome sleigh and still more stylish team of horses, and passed on muttering something to himself.
“Mr. Dickley didn’t look very happy,” was Dave’s comment, as he and Ben entered the sleigh.
“I don’t think he likes my father very much,” answered the son of the real estate dealer. “He wanted to get a piece of property here very cheap, and my father found another customer for the place at five hundred dollars more.”
“I see, Ben. Just the same, why should he give me such a hard look? Of course, I haven’t been in his place of business for a good while. But he can’t expect me to buy all my furnishing goods from him.”
“Well, you know how it is, Dave––when you buy some things from some storekeepers they think they are entitled to your whole trade. However, I shouldn’t let the matter worry me.”
“Not much! I’ve got other things to think30about. Don’t forget that I expect next month to take that examination in civil engineering. That’s what is on my mind just now.”
“Oh, you’ll pass, don’t worry, Dave. Just think of what a brilliant showing you made at Oak Hall.”
“True. But my studies in civil engineering have been a good deal harder than anything I tackled at school. If it wasn’t for Mr. Ramsdell, the old civil engineer who is coaching Roger and me, I don’t know how I would possibly have gotten along.”
“If you pass the examination, what will you do next?”
“Roger and I will go out on some constructive work and thus get a taste of real engineering. Mr. Ramsdell thinks he can get us positions with the Mentor Construction Company of Philadelphia, who are now doing a good deal of work in Texas––laying out railroads and building bridges.”
“In Texas? Say! that’s quite a distance from here.”
“So it is, Ben. But it is not as far as I expect to get some day. If I ever make anything of civil engineering I hope some day to be able to do some great work in other parts of the world––maybe in Mexico or South America.”
“Say, that will be great!” cried Ben, enthusiastically.31“You’ll have a fine chance to see the world. You must take after your uncle, Dave. He was always a great fellow to travel. Think of how you located him years ago away down on that island in the South Seas!”
“It sure was a great trip! And some day I’d like to take it over again. But just now I’ve got to put in all my time on this civil engineering proposition. I think I’ll be lucky if I pass and get that chance to go to Texas.”
32CHAPTER IVWARD PORTON AGAIN
A quarter of an hour later the girls had finished their shopping and rejoined the boys. Then it was decided that the party should go on to Clayton, six miles farther. They were told that the road was in excellent condition, and this proved to be a fact, so that the sleighing was thoroughly enjoyed.
It was growing dark when they drove down the main street of Clayton, and, although a bit early, all agreed to Dave’s suggestion that they get dinner at the leading restaurant––a place at which they had stopped a number of times and which they knew to be first-class.
“What a pity Roger couldn’t come along,” said Jessie to Dave just before sitting down to the sumptuous meal which the boys had ordered. “I know he would have enjoyed this very much.”
“No doubt of it, Jessie,” answered Dave, who well knew what a fondness for his sister the senator’s son possessed. “But, as you know, Roger had to go home on a business matter for his father. Senator Morr is very busy in Washington these33days, so Roger has to take care of quite a few matters at home.”
“Isn’t it queer that he doesn’t want to follow in the footsteps of his father and take up politics?” went on the girl.
“Senator Morr didn’t want him to do it. And, besides, Roger has no taste that way. He loves civil engineering just as much as I do.”
“It’s a wonder you and he didn’t persuade Phil Lawrence to take it up, too, Dave.”
“Oh, Phil couldn’t do that. You know his father’s shipping interests are very large, and Mr. Lawrence wants Phil to take hold with him––and Phil likes that sort of thing. He is planning right now to take several trips on his father’s ships this summer.”
“When does that examination of yours come off, Dave?”
“About the middle of next month.”
“And if you really pass, are you going to work away down in Texas?” continued the girl, anxiously.
“If I can get the position,––and if Roger is willing to go along.”
“I don’t like to have you go so far away;” and Jessie pouted a little.
“Well, it can’t be helped. If I want to be a civil engineer I’ve got to take an opening where I can get it. Besides, Mr. Ramsdell thinks it will34be the best kind of training for Roger and me. He knows the men at the head of the Mentor Company, and will get them to give us every opportunity to advance ourselves. That, you know, will mean a great deal.”
“Oh, but Texas, Dave! Why, that is thousands of miles away!”
“Not so very many thousands, Jessie,” he answered with a little smile. “The mails run regularly, and I trust you will not forget how to write letters. Besides that, I don’t expect to stay in Texas forever.”
“Yes, but when you come back from Texas, you’ll be going off to some other far-away place––South America, or Africa, or the North Pole, or somewhere,” and Jessie pouted again.
“Oh, say, let up! I’m not going to South Africa, or to the North Pole either. Of course, I may go to Mexico or South America, or to the Far West. But that won’t be so very soon. It will be after I have had considerable experience in civil engineering, and when I am older than I am now. And you know what sometimes happens to a fellow when he gets older?”
“What?”
“He gets married.”
“Oh, indeed!” Jessie blushed a little. “And then I suppose he goes off and leaves his wife behind and forgets all about her.”
35
“Does he? Not so as you can notice it! He takes his wife with him––that is, provided she will go.”
“Oh, the idea!” and now, as Dave looked her steadily in the eyes, Jessie blushed more than ever.
Where this conversation would have ended it is impossible to say, but at that moment Laura interrupted the pair, followed by Ben; and then the talk became general as the four sat down to dinner.
The horses had been put up in a stable connected with the restaurant, and after the meal it was Dave who went out to get them and bring them around to the front of the place. He was just driving to the street when his glance fell upon a person standing in the glare of an electric light. The person had his face turned full toward our hero, so that Dave got a good look at him.
“Ward Porton!” cried the youth in astonishment. “How in the world did that fellow get here, and what is he doing?”
Like a flash the memory of the past came over Dave––how Ward Porton had tried to pass himself off as the real Dave Porter and thus relegate Dave himself back to the ranks of the “nobodies.”
Dave was crossing the sidewalk at the time, but as soon as he had the team and the sleigh in the street he jumped out and made his way towards the other youth.
36
“I think I’ll interview him and see what he has to say for himself,” murmured Dave to himself. “Maybe I’ll have him arrested.”
Ward Porton had been staring at our hero all the while he was turning into the street and getting out of the sleigh. But now, as he saw Dave approaching, he started to walk away.
“Stop, Porton! I want to talk to you,” called out our hero. “Stop!”
“I don’t want to see you,” returned the other youth, hastily. “You let me alone;” and then, as Dave came closer, he suddenly broke into a run down the street. Dave was taken by surprise, but only for a moment. Then he, too, commenced to run, doing his best to catch the fellow ahead.
But Ward Porton was evidently scared. He looked back, and, seeing Dave running, increased his speed, and then shot around a corner and into an alleyway. When Dave reached the corner he was nowhere in sight.
“He certainly was scared,” was Dave’s mental comment, as he looked up and down the side street and even glanced into the alleyway. “I wonder where he went and if it would do any good to look any further for him?”
Dave spent fully five minutes in that vicinity, but without being able to discover Ward Porton’s hiding-place. Then, knowing that the others37would be wondering what had become of him, and being also afraid that the grays might run away again, he returned to where he had left the sleigh standing.
“Hello! Where did you go?” called out Ben, who had just emerged from the restaurant.
“What do you think? I just saw that rascal, Ward Porton!” burst out Dave.
“Porton! You don’t mean it? Where is he?”
“He was standing under that light when I drove out from the stable. I ran to speak to him, and then he took to his legs and scooted around yonder corner. I went after him, but by the time I got on the side street he was out of sight.”
“Is that so! It’s too bad you couldn’t catch him, Dave. I suppose you would have liked to talk to him.”
“That’s right, Ben. And maybe I might have had him arrested, although now that he has been exposed, and now that Link Merwell is in jail, I don’t suppose it would have done much good.”
“It’s queer he should show himself so close to Crumville. One would think that he would want to put all the distance possible between himself and your folks.”
“That’s true, Ben. Maybe he is up to some more of his tricks.”
38
The girls were on the lookout for the boys, and now, having bundled up well, they came from the restaurant, and all got into the sleigh once more. Then they turned back in the direction of Crumville, this time, however, taking a route which did not go near Conover’s Hill.
“Oh, Dave! were you sure it was that Ward Porton?” questioned his sister, when he had told her and Jessie about the appearance of the former moving-picture actor.
“I was positive. Besides, if it wasn’t Porton, why would he run away?”
“I sincerely hope he doesn’t try to do you any harm, Dave,” said Jessie, and gave a little shiver. “I was hoping we had seen the last of that horrid young man.”
“Why, Jessie! You wouldn’t call him horrid, would you, when he looks so very much like Dave?” asked Ben, mischievously.
“He doesn’t look very much like Dave,” returned the girl, quickly. “And he doesn’t act in the least like him,” she added loyally.
“It’s mighty queer to have a double that way,” was the comment of the real estate man’s son. “I don’t know that I should like to have somebody else looking like me.”
“If you couldn’t help it, you’d have to put up with it,” returned Dave, briefly. And then he39changed the subject, which, as the others could plainly see, was distasteful to him.
As they left Clayton the moon came up over a patch of woods, flooding the snowy roadway with subdued light. In spite of what had happened, all of the young folks were in good spirits, and they were soon laughing and chatting gaily. Ben started to sing one of the old Oak Hall favorites, and Dave and the girls joined in. The grays were now behaving themselves, and trotted along as steadily as could be desired.
When the sleighing-party reached Crumville they left Ben Basswood at his door, and then went on to the Wadsworth mansion.
“Did you have a fine ride?” inquired Mrs. Wadsworth, when the young folks bustled into the house.
“Oh, it was splendid, Mamma!” cried her daughter. “Coming back in the moonlight was just the nicest ever!”
“Did those grays behave themselves?” questioned Mr. Wadsworth, who was present. “John said they acted rather frisky when he brought them out.”
“Oh, they were pretty frisky at first,” returned Dave. “But I finally managed to get them to calm down,” he added. The matter had been discussed by the young folks, and it had been decided40not to say anything about the runaway unless it was necessary.
On the following morning Dave had to apply himself diligently to his studies. Since leaving Oak Hall he had been attending a civil engineering class in the city with Roger, and had, in addition, been taking private tutoring from a Mr. Ramsdell, a retired civil engineer of considerable reputation, who, in years gone by, had been a college friend of Dave’s father. Dave was exceedingly anxious to make as good a showing as possible at the coming examinations.
“Here are several letters for you, David,” said old Mr. Potts to him late that afternoon, as he entered the boy’s study with the mail. “You seem to be the lucky one,” the retired professor continued, with a smile. “All I’ve got is a bill.”
“Maybe there is a bill here for me, Professor,” returned Dave gaily, as he took the missives handed out.
Dave glanced at the envelopes. By the handwritings he knew that one letter was from Phil Lawrence and another from Shadow Hamilton, one of his old Oak Hall chums, and a fellow who loved to tell stories. The third communication was postmarked Coburntown, and in a corner of the envelope had the imprint of Asa Dickley.
“Hello! I wonder what Mr. Dickley wants of me,” Dave mused, as he turned the letter over.41Then he remembered how sour the store-keeper had appeared when they had met the day before. “Maybe he wants to know why I haven’t bought anything from him lately.”
Dave tore open the communication which was written on one of Asa Dickley’s letterheads. The letter ran as follows:
“Mr. David Porter.“Dear Sir:“I thought when I saw you in Coburntown to-day that you would come in and see me; but you did not. Will you kindly let me know why you do not settle up as promised? When I let you have the goods, you said you would settle up by the end of the week without fail. Unless you come in and settle up inside of the next week I shall have to call the attention of your father to what you owe me.“Yours truly,“Asa Dickley.”
“Mr. David Porter.
“Dear Sir:
“I thought when I saw you in Coburntown to-day that you would come in and see me; but you did not. Will you kindly let me know why you do not settle up as promised? When I let you have the goods, you said you would settle up by the end of the week without fail. Unless you come in and settle up inside of the next week I shall have to call the attention of your father to what you owe me.
“Yours truly,“Asa Dickley.”
42CHAPTER VWHAT ASA DICKLEY HAD TO SAY
Dave read the letter received from Mr. Asa Dickley with much interest. He went over it twice, and as he did so the second time his mind reverted to the communication received the morning before from Mr. Wecks.
“What in the world does Mr. Dickley mean by writing to me in this fashion?” he mused. “I haven’t had anything from him in a long while, and I don’t owe him a cent. It certainly is a mighty strange proceeding, to say the least.”
Then like a flash another thought came into his mind––was Ward Porton connected in any way with this affair?
“Somebody must have gotten some things in my name from Mr. Dickley, and he must have gotten those shoes from Mr. Wecks, too. If the party went there in person and said he was Dave Porter, I don’t think it could have been any one but Ward Porton, because, so far as I know, he’s the only fellow that resembles me.”
Our hero was so much worried that he gave scant attention to the letters received from Phil43Lawrence and Shadow Hamilton, even though those communications contained many matters of interest. He was looking at the Dickley communication for a third time when his sister entered.
“Well, Dave, no more bad news I hope?” said Laura, with a smile.
“It is bad news,” he returned. “Just read that;” and he turned the letter over to her.
“If you owe Mr. Dickley any money you ought to pay him,” said the sister, after perusing the epistle. “I don’t think father would like it if he knew you were running into debt,” and she gazed anxiously at Dave.
“Laura! You ought to know me better than that,” he answered somewhat shortly. “I never run any bills unless I am able to pay them. But this is something different. It is in the same line with the one I got from Mr. Wecks. I didn’t get his shoes, and I haven’t gotten anything from Mr. Dickley for a long time, and nothing at all that I haven’t paid for.”
“Oh, Dave! do you mean it?” and now Laura’s face took on a look of worry. “Why, somebody must be playing a trick on you!”
“If he is, it’s a mighty mean trick, Laura. But I think it is more than a trick. I think it is a swindle.”
“Swindle?”
44
“Exactly. And what is more, do you know who I think is guilty?”
“Why, who could be guilty?” The sister paused for a moment to look at her brother. “Oh, Dave! could it be that awful Ward Porton?”
“That’s the fellow I fasten on. Didn’t we meet him in Clayton? And that’s only six miles from Coburntown. More than likely that rascal has been hanging around here, and maybe getting a whole lot of things in my name.” Dave began to pace the floor. “It’s a shame! If I could get hold of him I think I would have him locked up.”
“What are you going to do about this letter?”
“I’m going to go to Coburntown the first chance I get and tell Mr. Dickley, and also Mr. Wecks, the truth. I want to find out whether the party who got those things procured them in person or on some written order. If he got them on a written order, somebody must have forged my name.”
“Hadn’t you better tell father or Uncle Dunston about this?”
“Not just yet, Laura. It will be time enough to worry them after I have seen Mr. Wecks and Mr. Dickley. Perhaps I can settle the matter myself.”
Dave was so upset that it was hard for him to buckle down to his studies; and he was glad that45evening when an interruption came in the shape of the arrival of his old school chum and fellow engineering student, Roger Morr.
“Back again! And right side up with care!” announced the senator’s son, as he came in and shook hands. “My! but I’ve had a busy time since I’ve been away!” he replied in answer to a question of Dave’s. “I had to settle up one or two things for father, and then I had to go on half a dozen different errands for mother, and then see to it that I got those new text books that Mr. Ramsdell spoke about. I got two copies of each, Dave, and here are those that are coming to you,” and he passed over three small volumes. “And that isn’t all. I just met Ben Basswood at the depot where he was sending a telegram to his father, who is in Chicago. Ben had some wonderful news to tell.”
“What was that?” asked Laura and Jessie simultaneously.
“He didn’t give me any of the particulars, but it seems an old friend of theirs died out in Chicago recently, and Mr. Basswood was sent for by some lawyers to help settle the estate.”
“Yes, we know that much,” broke in Dave. “But what’s the new news?”
“Why, it seems this man, Enos, died quite wealthy, and he left almost his entire estate to Mr. Basswood.”
46
“Is that so!” cried Dave. “That sure is fine! I don’t know of anybody who deserves money more than do the Basswoods,” and his face lit up with genuine pleasure.
“It will be nice for Ben,” said Jessie, “and even nicer for Mrs. Basswood. Mamma says there was a time when they were quite poor, and Mrs. Basswood had to do all her own work. Now they’ll be able to take it easy.”
“Oh, they are far from poor,” returned Dave. “They’ve been living on ‘Easy Street,’ as the saying goes, for a number of years. Just the same, it will be a fine thing for them to get this fortune.”
“There was one thing about the news that Ben didn’t understand,” continued Roger. “His father telegraphed that the estate was a decidedly curious one, and that was why the lawyers wanted him to come to Chicago immediately. He added that Mr. Enos had proved to be a very eccentric individual.”
“Maybe he was as eccentric as that man in Rhode Island I once read about,” said Dave, with a grin. “When he died he left an estate consisting of about twelve thousand ducks. This estate went to two worthless nephews, who knew nothing at all about their uncle’s business. And, as somebody said, the two nephews very soon made ‘ducks and drakes’ of the whole fortune.”
“Oh, what a story!” cried Jessie, laughing.47“Twelve thousand ducks! What ever would a person do with them?”
“Why, some duck farms are very profitable,” returned Roger.
“You don’t suppose this Mr. Enos left such a fortune as that to Mr. Basswood?” queried Laura.
“I’m sure I don’t know what the fortune consists of. And neither did Ben. He was tremendously curious to know. And he said his mother could hardly wait until Mr. Basswood sent additional information,” replied Roger.
“Ben told me that this Mr. Enos was once a partner of his father in business, the two running an art store together. Enos was very much interested in art; so it’s possible the fortune he left may have something to do with that,” added Dave.
As my old readers know, Roger Morr had always thought a great deal of Laura; and of late his liking for her had greatly increased. On her part, Dave’s sister had always considered the senator’s son a very promising young man. Consequently, it can well be imagined that the four young people spent a most enjoyable time that evening in the mansion. The girls played on the piano and all sang, and then some rugs were pushed aside, a phonograph was brought into action, and they danced a number of the latest steps, with the older folks looking on.
48
Roger was to remain over for several days at Crumville, and early the next morning Dave asked his chum if he would accompany him on a hasty trip to Coburntown. He had already acquainted Roger with the trouble he was having with the shoe-dealer and the man who sold men’s furnishings.
“We can take a horse and cutter and be back before lunch,” said Dave.
“I’ll be glad to go,” answered the senator’s son. “I haven’t had a ride in a cutter this winter.”
They were soon on the way, Dave this time driving a black horse that could not only cover the ground well, but was thoroughly reliable. By ten o’clock they found themselves in Coburntown, and made their way to the establishment run by Asa Dickley. The proprietor of the store was busy with a customer at the time, and a clerk came forward to wait on the new arrivals.
“I wish to speak to Mr. Dickley,” said Dave; and he and Roger waited until the man was at leisure. Mr. Dickley looked anything but pleasant as he walked up to our hero.
“I got a very strange letter from you, Mr. Dickley. I can’t understand it at all,” began Dave.
“And I can’t understand why you treat me the way you do,” blurted out the shopkeeper. “You49promised to come in here and settle up over a week ago.”
“Mr. Dickley, I think there is a big mistake somewhere,” said Dave, as calmly as he could. “I don’t owe you any money, and I can’t understand why you should write me such a letter as this,” and he brought forth the communication he had received.
“You don’t owe me any money!” ejaculated Asa Dickley. “I just guess you do! You owe me twenty-six dollars.”
“Twenty-six dollars!” repeated Dave. “What is that for?”
“For? You know as well as I do! Didn’t you come in here and get a fedora hat, some shirts and collars and neckties, and a pair of fur-lined gloves, and a lot of underwear? The whole bill came to just twenty-six dollars.”
“And when was this stuff purchased?” went on Dave.
“When was it purchased? See here, Porter, what sort of tom-foolery is this?” cried Asa Dickley. “You know as well as I do when you got the things. I wouldn’t be so harsh with you, only you promised me faithfully that you would come in and settle up long before this.”
“Mr. Dickley, I haven’t had any goods from you for a long, long time––and what I have had I have paid for,” answered Dave, doing his best50to keep his temper, because he knew the storekeeper must be laboring under a mistake. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t been in your store for several months.”
“What!” ejaculated the storekeeper. “Do you mean to deny that you bought those goods from me, young man?”
“I certainly do deny it. As I said before, I haven’t been in this store for several months.”
At this plain declaration made by Dave, Mr. Asa Dickley grew fairly purple. He leaned over his counter and shook his clenched fist in Dave’s face.
“So that is the way you are going to try to swindle me out of my money, is it, Dave Porter?” he cried. “Well, let me tell you, it won’t work. You came here and got those goods from me, and either you’ll pay for them or I’ll sue your father for the amount. Why, it’s preposterous!” The storekeeper turned to his clerk, who was gazing on the scene in open-mouthed wonder. “Here a customer comes in and buys a lot of goods and I am good-hearted enough to trust him to the amount, twenty-six dollars, and then he comes here and declares to my face that he never had the things and he won’t pay for them. Now what do you think of that, Hibbins?”
“I think it’s pretty raw,” responded the clerk.
51
“Weren’t you in the shop when I let Porter have some of those goods?”
“I certainly was,” answered Hibbins. “Of course, I was in the rear, sorting out those new goods that had come in, so I didn’t see just what you let him have; but I certainly know he got some things.”
“Mr. Dickley, now listen to me for a minute,” said Dave in a tone of voice that arrested the man’s attention in spite of his irascibility. “Look at me closely. Didn’t the fellow who got those things from you look somewhat different from me?”
Dave faced the storekeeper with unflinching eyes, and Asa Dickley was compelled to look the youth over carefully. As he did this the positive expression on his face gradually changed to one of doubt.
“Why, I––er––Of course, he looked like you,” he stammered. “Of course you can change your looks a little; but that don’t count with me. Besides, didn’t you give me your name as Dave Porter, and ask me if I didn’t remember you?”
“The fellow who got those goods may have done all that, Mr. Dickley. But that fellow was not I. I may be mistaken, but I think it was a young man who resembles me, and who some time ago made a great deal of trouble for me.”
52
“Humph! That’s a fishy kind of story, Porter. If there is such a person he must look very much like you.”
“He does. In fact, some people declare they can hardly tell us apart.”
“What’s the name of that fellow?”
“Ward Porton.”
“Does he live around here?”
“I don’t know where he is living just at present. But I saw him day before yesterday in Clayton. I tried to stop him, but he ran away from me.”
The storekeeper gazed at Dave for a moment in silence, and then pursed up his lips and shook his head decidedly.
“That is too much of a fish story for me to swallow,” he said harshly. “You’ll either have to bring that young man here and prove that he got the goods, or else you’ll have to pay for them yourself.”
53CHAPTER VIMORE TROUBLE
Dave and Roger spent the best part of half an hour in Asa Dickley’s store, and during that time our hero and his chum gave the particulars of how they had become acquainted with Ward Porton, and how the young moving-picture actor had tried to pass himself off as the real Dave Porter, and how he had been exposed and had disappeared.
“Well, if what you say is true I’ve been swindled,” declared the storekeeper finally. “I’d like to get my hands on that young man.”
“You wouldn’t like it any better than I would,” returned Dave, grimly. “You see, I don’t know how far this thing extends. Mr. Wecks has been after me to pay for some shoes that I never got.”
“Say, that moving-picture actor must be a lulu!” declared the storekeeper’s clerk, slangily. “If you don’t watch out, Porter, he’ll get you into all kinds of hot water.”
“I think the best you can do, Dave, is to notify the storekeepers you do business with to be on54the lookout for Porton,” suggested Roger. “Then, if he shows up again, they can have him held until you arrive.”
“I’ll certainly have to do something,” answered Dave.
“Then I suppose you don’t want to settle that bill?” came from Asa Dickley, wistfully.
“No, sir. And I don’t think you ought to expect it.”
“Well, I don’t know. The fellow who got those goods said he was Dave Porter,” vouchsafed the storekeeper doggedly.
From Asa Dickley’s establishment Dave, accompanied by his chum, drove around to the store kept by Mr. Wecks. He found the curtains still down, but the shoe-dealer had just come in, and was at his desk writing letters.
“And you mean to say you didn’t get those shoes?” questioned Mr. Wecks with interest, after Dave had explained the situation. “That’s mighty curious. I never had a thing like that happen before.” He knew our hero well, and trusted Dave implicitly. “I shouldn’t have sent that letter only I had a chance to sell a pair of shoes that size, and I thought if you had made your selection I could sell the pair you didn’t want to the other fellow.”
Once again the two boys had to tell all about Ward Porton and what that young rascal was55supposed to be doing. As they proceeded Mr. Wecks’s face took on a look of added intelligence.
“Exactly! Exactly! That fits in with what I thought when that fellow went off with the shoes,” he declared finally. “I said to myself, ‘Somehow Dave Porter looks different to-day. He must have had a spell of sickness or something.’ That other chap was a bit thinner and paler than you are.”
“He’s a regular cigarette fiend, and that is, I think, what makes him look pale,” put in Roger. And then he added quickly: “Do you remember––was he smoking?”
“Yes, he was. He threw a cigarette stub away while he was trying on the shoes, and then lit another cigarette when he was going out. I thought at the time that he was probably smoking more than was good for him.”
“I don’t smoke at all, and never have done so,” said Dave. He turned to his chum. “I think the fact that the fellow who got the shoes was smoking is additional proof that it was Porton.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea that it was anybody else,” answered the senator’s son.
Mr. Wecks promised to keep on the lookout for Ward Porton, in case that individual showed himself again, and then Dave and Roger left.
“I’m going into all the stores where I do business56and tell the folks to be on the watch for Ward Porton,” said our hero.
“A good idea, Dave. But see here! How are they going to tell him from you?” and the senator’s son chuckled. “You may come along some day and they may hold you, thinking you are Porton.”
“I thought of that, Roger, and I’ll leave each of them my signature on a card. I know that Ward Porton doesn’t write as I do.”
This idea was followed out, the boys spending the best part of an hour in going around Coburntown. Then they drove back to Crumville, and there Dave visited some other establishments with which he was in the habit of doing business.
All the storekeepers were much interested in what he had to tell, and all readily agreed to have Ward Porton detained if he should show himself. At each place Dave left his signature, so that there might be no further mistake regarding his identity.
After that several days passed quietly. Both Dave and Roger were applying themselves to their studies, and as a consequence saw little of Ben except in the evenings, when all the young folks would get together for more or less of a good time.
“Any more news about that fortune in Chicago?”57asked Dave, one evening of the Basswood lad.
“Not very much,” answered Ben. “Father telegraphed that he was hunting for some things that belonged to Mr. Enos. He said that as soon as he found them he would tell us all about it.”
“That certainly is a strange state of affairs.”
“Strange? I should say it was!” cried the other. “Mother and I are just dying to know what it all means. One thing is certain––Mr. Enos did not leave his fortune in stocks or bonds or real estate, or anything like that.”
On the following day came additional trouble for Dave in the shape of a communication from a hotel-keeper in Coburntown. He stated that he had heard through Asa Dickley that Dave was having trouble with a party who was impersonating him, and added that a person calling himself Dave Porter was owing him a bill of fifteen dollars for five days’ board.
“Isn’t this the limit?” cried Dave, as he showed the letter to his father and his Uncle Dunston.
“No use in talking, Dave, we’ll have to get after that rascal,” announced the father. “If we don’t, there is no telling how far he’ll carry this thing. I think I’ll put the authorities on his track.”