"He's a valuable beast," said one of the men. "I hope he ain't hurt none."
"He isn't hurt—and we are mighty glad he didn't hurt us," said Phil.
"Oh, he won't hurt nobody—if he's left alone," said the man.
"How can he hurt anybody, if he is left alone?" was Roger's dry query. But the man was too dull to see the joke.
From the stock farm hands, the boys found out which were the best roads to take, and then passed on again, up hill and down dale for a distance of six miles, when they came out on a broad and well-kept highway.
"Good! This is what I like!" cried Dave, and turned on the power until the touring car was moving along at a lively rate. Roger "hit her up," as he called it, also, and before long they had covered an additional ten miles. Then they had to go over a hill, beyond which lay the village of Lester.
"Let us stop at Lester for some ice-cream soda," whispered Phil to Dave, and the latter agreed.
At the foot of the hill there was a turn, and Dave slowed up to make this, and Roger did likewise. Then, as they passed a deep and muddy ditch, Dave gave a cry and came to a stop.
"Look there!" he called out, pointing down into the ditch.
All gazed to where he pointed. There, in the water and mud, rested the racing car belonging to Pete Barnaby. And standing in the mud up to his knees was the sporty man himself, looking the picture of woeful despair.
As the boys halted their touring cars and gazed at the racing car and its owner, they could not help but smile, and Phil laughed outright.
"How did it happen?" asked Dave, in as kindly a tone as he could assume, for he saw that Pete Barnaby was in serious trouble. The turnout had landed in a particularly soft spot, and was settling deeper and deeper every minute.
"None of your business!" growled the sporty man, wrathfully.
"Oh, all right!" returned Dave, coldly. "I thought maybe you would want us to help you."
"Precious little help I'd get from you chaps!" grumbled Pete Barnaby.
"You might get some if you would act half civil," answered Dave.
"Humph! I suppose you want me to ask you to help me, so that you can have the pleasure of refusing me, eh?"
"No, if I can aid you I will," answered Dave, promptly.
"He doesn't deserve any help," whispered Phil.
"I know that, Phil," answered Dave. "But I'd hate to leave him in the lurch. Why, that machine may sink so deep nobody could get it out."
"If you'll haul me out I'll pay you for your trouble," said Pete Barnaby, gruffly. "It's an easy way to earn ten dollars."
"I don't want your money," replied Dave. "I'll do what I can."
"So will I," added Roger. "The two machines together ought to be able to do the trick."
"Do you really mean it?" asked the sporty man, and now his voice had a ring of hope in it.
"Yes," said the senator's son, and Dave nodded.
The boys got out, and from the three cars ropes were produced and tied together, and the two touring cars were hooked one in front of the other, and then made fast to the racing car.
"Don't haul too hard at the start," begged Pete Barnaby. "If you do you may pull my car apart."
"We'll be careful," answered Dave. He turned to his chum. "Remember, Roger, we've got eighty horse-power hooked up here."
"I'll be on my guard," answered the senator's son. "But remember," he added to Pete Barnaby, "we are not to be responsible if the hauling breaks your car."
"I'll run that risk—only go slow," answered the man in trouble.
The rope had been made as long as possible, so that the stalled car could be drawn out of the ditch lengthwise instead of sidewise. The two cars in the road started up on low speed, and gradually the rope grew taut.
"Look out, everybody, in case that rope snaps!" cried Ben. "I once heard of a rope like that snapping and killing a house-mover."
"You are cheerful, I must say," was Sam's dry comment. Nevertheless, all were on their guard as the rope grew as tight as a string on a bow.
"She ain't moving yet!" cried Pete Barnaby. He stood by the side of his machine watching the rope closely.
Hardly had he spoken when there came a slow, sucking sound, as the wheels left their bed of soft mud. Then the racing machine moved forward slowly.
"Hurrah! she's coming!" cried Sam. "Put on a little more steam and you'll have her!"
Dave and Roger turned on more power, and the racing machine continued to move. Soon it was at the edge of the ditch, and then, with something of a jerk, it came up on the roadway, leaving a trail of dirty water and slimy mud behind it.
"Say, you did it all right enough!" cried Pete Barnaby, in delight. "I was afraid she was too deep down to budge."
"She would have been too deep if you had left her there very much longer," answered Dave. "Now, if you'll untie those ropes and clean them off for us, we'll be on our way again."
"Sure, I'll clean them off." And the sporty man set to work with alacrity. "Say, don't you really want me to pay you for this?" And he made a move as if to draw a roll of bills from his pocket.
"I don't want a cent," answered Dave.
"It's all right," added Roger; "only, Mr. Barnaby, I'd advise you after this not to stand in with Nat Poole and his crowd."
"I'm sorry I did, now; honest I am," was the sporty man's answer. "I—er—I only did it as a favor for Nat, because his father is holding one of my notes. How did you make out after I went away? I see you must have got through."
"We did," replied Dave, and then mentioned how Jed Sully had come to their aid. At this news Pete Barnaby began to grin.
"It was sure a neat way of turning the trick," he said, "and seeing how you young gentlemen have helped me, I'm glad you did it. You can be sure I'll never lay a straw in your way again, never!" And then, the ropes having been put away, the two touring cars proceeded on their way once more, leaving Pete Barnaby to clean up his machine and put it in running order again.
"Dave, that was a real nice thing to do!" declared Jessie, and gave him a bright look.
"He must have felt awfully small, for you to be so generous after the way he acted," was Laura's comment.
"Maybe it will be a lesson to him, to do what is square in the future," said Belle.
They were soon in the town of Lester, and there stopped at the main drug store, where the boys treated the girls to ice-cream "sundaes," as they are sometimes called. Then they took a round-about way back to Crumville, arriving there at sundown.
"Oh, what a nice day we have had, in spite of the drawbacks!" cried Jessie, dancing into the mansion.
"Drawbacks?" queried her mother. "Did you get a puncture, or a breakdown?"
"Oh, no; nothing happened to the cars," answered the curly-haired miss. And then she turned to the boys, to let them tell the story. While they were doing this, Mr. Wadsworth came in, followed by Dave's father and his uncle, and Caspar Potts.
"That is just on a par with Aaron Poole's actions in general," said Mr. Wadsworth. "He would claim the earth, if he dared. I think the other property owners along that road will have something to say if he tries to close it up."
"I heard about the new paper company this morning," said Dave's father. "Some of the stockholders are not in sympathy with the way Mr. Poole is managing affairs, and they talk of putting him out."
"I hope they do put him out!" cried Dave. "He tries to carry things with too high a hand altogether."
"I am glad people are finding out what sort of folks the Pooles are," said Caspar Potts. He had not forgotten how in the past Aaron Poole had driven him to the wall, and tried to get his little farm away from him.
After the automobile outing, Phil, Roger, and Sam left Crumville to pay their folks a brief visit before departing for Oak Hall. This left Dave and Ben to get ready by themselves, and to take out the girls, which they did on several occasions. They thought they might meet Nick Jasniff and Link Merwell, but did not do so, and later on heard that the pair had departed for Rockville Military Academy. They saw Nat Poole, but he kept out of speaking distance.
"I wish Nat was going to Rockville, too," said Ben. "He'd never be missed at Oak Hall."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Ben," returned Dave. "Nat spends considerable money—although how he gets it from that miserly father of his I don't know—and that makes him some friends. But I, too, wish he wasn't going back to our school."
"Do you suppose he'll take the same train we take?"
"Perhaps, although I hope not."
On the day before departing for Oak Hall, Dave and Ben went down to the railroad station to purchase their tickets. There they saw Nat, with a new dress-suit case and a new fall overcoat, talking to his father.
"He must be going to take the train this afternoon," said Dave, and he was right. When the train came in Nat got aboard, along with a number of other passengers. As he did this, he espied the others, and spoke a few words to his father in a whisper. Then the train rolled away, and Aaron Poole strode over to where Dave and Ben were standing.
"See here, young man, I want to talk to you!" cried the money-lender, gazing sourly at Dave.
"What do you want, Mr. Poole?" asked Dave, as calmly as he could.
"You tried your best to get my son into trouble the other day."
"No, I didn't—Nat got himself into trouble."
"Bah! You needn't try to tell me! I know all about it."
"I don't care to discuss the question," went on Dave, a trifle sharply.
"Nat was to blame—if you don't believe it, ask Mr. Sully, the roadmaster," put in Ben.
"Don't you try to tell me!" fumed Aaron Poole. "I know both of you boys only too well! You did your best to get my son and his friends into trouble. Now, I want to warn you about something. I understand both of you are going back to Oak Hall. Nat is going there, too, and I give you fair warning that you must treat him fairly. If you don't I'll come to the school and have it out with Doctor Clay, understand that?" And the money-lender shook his long finger into the faces of the boys.
"Mr. Poole, just let me tell you something," answered Dave. "It is something you ought to know, and I feel it is my duty to tell you, even though you are not treating us as you should. Come out of the crowd, please."
"I don't want to listen to your talk."
"Well, you had better,—unless you want a lot of trouble later on."
"What do you want?" And rather unwillingly the money-lender followed Dave and Ben to a secluded corner of the railroad station.
"I want to warn you about the company Nat is keeping. The two boys he is going with, Nick Jasniff and Link Merwell, are bad characters. You don't have to take my word for it—write to Doctor Clay and see what he says. Nick Jasniff ran away from school and he got hold of some money that didn't belong to him and used it. Link Merwell got mixed up with some horse-thieves, on his father's ranch out West, and his father had to foot the bill to hush the matter up. I feel it my duty to tell you this, so that you can warn Nat. That's all." And Dave caught Ben by the arm and started to walk away.
"Humph! So that is your game, eh? Trying to blacken other boys' characters!" sneered Aaron Poole. "Well, it won't work with me, for I know you too well, Dave Porter. Don't I know where you came from—the Crumville poorhouse? I guess I can trust my son to pick out the right kind of friends. You are jealous of him, because those other boys won't go with the like of you! Don't talk to me! Only——" And Aaron Poole raised his forefinger again. "Remember my warning, when you get to Oak Hall!" And then he strode away, his thin lips tightly drawn, and his sharp chin held high in the air.
"Well, wouldn't that make you groan!" was Ben's comment, after the man had disappeared. "Dave, you had your trouble for your pains."
"I don't care, Ben—I just felt I had to tell him. It's a shame to let Nat cotton to fellows like Jasniff and Merwell. They will drag him down as sure as fate."
"I believe you there. But if Nat's father won't listen—why, I'd drop the matter. Besides, you must remember that those fellows are going to another school, situated quite some distance from Oak Hall. Nat won't see them, excepting on special occasions."
"He can meet them whenever he goes to Rockville—the town I mean—and Jasniff and Merwell will get him to drink and smoke, and maybe gamble, and worse. Nat is easily led at times."
"Yes, I know that." Ben drew a long breath. "Well, let's drop the subject, Dave. We have our own battles to fight." And then the boys separated, each to finish the preparations for his departure.
Swiftly the hours rolled away until it was time for Dave to bid his family and his friends good-by and leave for Oak Hall. The evening before his departure he took a walk with Jessie, to the end of the Wadsworth garden, but what was said between the pair was never known to anybody but themselves. When they came back he was holding her hand, and both of them looked as if they understood each other perfectly and were correspondingly happy.
All of the girls, as well as Dave's father, went to the depot to see him off, and there they met Ben and some of his folks. Then the train came in, and the youths climbed on board, dress-suit cases in hand. The girls waved their handkerchiefs.
"Have a good time!" cried Belle, gayly.
"Take good care of yourself, Dave!" added Jessie.
"Don't forget to write," supplemented Laura.
"We'll do everything you want us to do!" shouted Dave, with a smile, and then he and Ben waved their caps from the car window as the train rolled forward, and Crumville was left behind.
"Well, we are off at last," observed Ben, as he and Dave settled back in the seat for the run to the Junction, where they would have to change cars for Oakdale, the town nearest to the school. "And I am not sorry, are you?"
"Not at all, Ben. When it comes time to go to Oak Hall I am always glad to go and meet the other fellows; when the term is over I am equally glad to get home and see the folks. It is like the seasons—at the end of the summer I am glad winter is coming, and at the end of winter I am just as pleased that summer is at hand."
"It's the change, I suppose." Ben stretched out and drew his knees high up in front of him. "My, but when you come to look at it, what changes have taken place at Oak Hall since we first went there! Don't you remember what a bully Gus Plum used to be, and how Chip Macklin used to toady to him! Now Plum has reformed completely, and Chip is as manly a little chap as any of 'em."
"It's a pity that Nat Poole can't take a leaf from Gus's notebook and reform, too," answered Dave.
"Maybe he will—after he sees the error of his ways. But, Dave, what of athletics this season? Are you going in for them?"
"I am—but not too strongly, Ben. I want to get all the education I can."
"Want to get through and leave Oak Hall?"
"I don't want to be a schoolboy all my life. I want to get out in the world and make something of myself."
"What are you going to become after you leave school?"
"I don't know yet. I was talking it over with father and my uncle, but I haven't reached any decision."
At the Junction the boys had to wait about half an hour for the train to Oakdale. Dave suggested that they walk over to a candy store and have some soda water.
"May meet some of the other fellows there," he added. "The train from the other way came in quarter of an hour ago, and I saw a lot of dress-suit cases in the baggage room."
As the two youths entered the candy store a shout went up from three boys who were drinking soda.
"There are Dave Porter and Ben Basswood!"
"Hello, Dave, old man; how are you?"
"My, look at Ben's new suit! It's almost loud enough to talk!"
"Hello, fellows!" answered Dave, and striding forward he shook hands with the crowd, one after the other.
"Got any of those mountain lions with you?" queried Joseph Beggs, a round-faced, fat lad. "Heard you brought down about a dozen while you were on the ranch."
"Yes, Buster, I've got three in my trunk," answered Dave, gayly. "Want me to let 'em loose!"
"Heard you did up Link Merwell," said Luke Watson, another lad, who was well liked because of his singing and playing abilities. "I was glad to hear it."
"So were all of us," broke in the third boy, a tall, slim youth, Maurice Hamilton by name. "But speaking of mountain lions puts me in mind of a story. Once three men——"
"The same old Shadow!" interrupted Dave, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze that made the story-teller of the school wince. "Shadow, I believe you'd try to spin a yarn when you were proposing to your best girl."
"That sure would be a yarn," cried Ben, as he, too, shook hands.
"I haven't any best girl and you know it," retorted Shadow. "But I say," he continued, closing one eye tightly. "How is Miss Jessie Wadsworth, Dave?"
"Very well," was the answer, and Dave turned a bit red. "Let us have something," he added, hastily, to the clerk behind the soda fountain counter. "What shall it be, Ben?"
"Make it a true love frappé," sang out Buster Beggs, with a broad grin.
"But don't forget to put some ginger in it," added Shadow Hamilton.
"My love, how can I leave thee!One parting hug I give thee!And now when Oak Hall calls me,I go, whate'er befalls me!"
"My love, how can I leave thee!One parting hug I give thee!And now when Oak Hall calls me,I go, whate'er befalls me!"
sang Luke Watson, and put up his hands as if playing an imaginary guitar.
"Say, doesn't anybody want to hear that story about the mountain lions?" queried Shadow, reproachfully. Story-telling was his hobby, and it had often been said by his friends that he would rather spin a yarn than eat.
"Some other time, Shadow," answered Buster. "We want to hear about Dave's trip West, and about what he did to Link Merwell."
"Before I tell you about that, let me give you a piece of news," said Dave. And then he related how he and the others had met Merwell and Jasniff with Nat Poole, and how the two former youths were going to Rockville Military Academy. As he had anticipated, this created quite a sensation, and a lively discussion followed, which was kept up even after the crowd got aboard the train which would carry them to Oakdale.
"Well, if Rockville wants such fellows it can have 'em," was Buster Beggs's comment. "I, for one, am glad they are out of Oak Hall."
"I know one fellow who will be glad they are gone," said Shadow. "That is Gus Plum."
"Yes, indeed," answered Dave, for he well remembered what influence Merwell and even Jasniff had exercised over Plum when the youth had found his appetite for liquor almost too strong for him.
Of course Dave had to go over many of his Western adventures, and the others listened with keen interest to all he had to tell. When he mentioned the theft of the horses at the ranch, and how Link Merwell had been mixed up with the thieves, more than one shook his head.
"According to that, Link and Nick are a team," said Luke Watson. "Dave, you had better be on your guard. They won't hesitate to play you some foul trick."
Oakdale, a small but prosperous town, was reached at last, and the schoolboys piled out of the train, along with a few other passengers.
"Hello, there is Polly Vane!" cried Dave, catching sight of a slender lad with a girlish face. "How are you, Polly?"
"Oh, it's Dave Porter!" answered Bertram Vane, in a low but pleased voice. He held out his slender hand. "I am delighted to see you back! How tanned you are, and how strong-looking!"
"It was the mountain air did it, Polly. By the way, is Horsehair around?" he continued, with a glance beyond the depot platform.
"Oh, yes! Here he comes now!" And as Polly spoke the big carryall of the school swung into view, with Jackson Lemond, commonly called "Horsehair," on the driver's seat. The boys made a rush for the carryall, throwing their suit-cases in the rack on top, and piling inside one over the other.
"Horsehair, you're looking fine!"
"How's the widow, Horsehair? Heard you were going to marry a widow with eight children."
"Nine children, Buster,—don't drop any of the family like that."
"Nothing like getting a ready-made family while you are at it, Horsehair."
"I heard the widow was a suffragette, Horsehair. Is that right?"
"If she's that, Horsehair, she'll make you mind the children and wash dishes—better beware!"
"Oh, don't worry about that. Horsehair is an expert at washing dishes, and at minding babies he once took first prize at a county fair; didn't you, Horsehair?"
"Say, you!" roared the carryall driver, his face as red as a beet. "You quit your knockin'! I ain't gittin' married to no widder, nor nobody else! An' I ain't washin' dishes an' mindin' babies nuther! Such boys!" And with a crack of his whip he started up the turnout so suddenly that half the lads were pitched into the laps of the other half.
It was certainly a jolly crowd that rolled over the well-kept highway toward Oak Hall. They knew that many hard lessons awaited them, and that, once school opened, discipline would be strict, but just now all were in high spirits. To the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" Luke Watson started up the school song, and the others joined in lustily:
"Oak Hall we never shall forget,No matter where we roam,It is the very best of schools,To us it's just like home!Then give three cheers, and let them ringThroughout this world so wide,To let the people know that weElect to here abide!"
"Oak Hall we never shall forget,No matter where we roam,It is the very best of schools,To us it's just like home!Then give three cheers, and let them ringThroughout this world so wide,To let the people know that weElect to here abide!"
"That's the stuff!" cried Ben, slangily. "Now, then, for the field cry," and then came the Oak Hall cheer:
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"I think we ought to display the school colors!" cried Dave. "Anybody got a flag?"
"Here is one," answered Polly Vane, from his seat in front, beside the driver. "But I haven't got a stick for it."
"Never mind, Shadow's fishing rod will do," answered Dave. "Shadow, hand it over."
"All right, but don't break the rod," said Shadow. "It cost me four bones."
The rod was put together, and the school colors fastened to the top. Then the rod was thrust out of a side window of the carryall and waved in the air, first by one student and then another.
"Look out, that you don't hit nobody with that fishin' pole!" warned the carryall driver, as the turnout swung around a bend of the road.
He had scarcely spoken when a buggy came into view, driven by a tall, serious-looking individual, wearing a high silk hat. The buggy swung forward quickly, directly in line with the fishing rod, and before the boys could haul the colors in the rod hit the silk hat, sending it whirling into the bushes beside the roadway.
"Hi! hi! what's the meaning of this outrage!" roared the individual in the buggy, as he brought his horse to a standstill. "Do you want to kill me?"
"Who is it? Is he hurt?" questioned Dave, quickly.
"I don't know," answered Ben. "The rod took off his hat, but whether it struck his head or not remains to be seen."
"Wot's the trouble back there?" demanded Jackson Lemond, as he succeeded in bringing his team to a halt.
"Trouble is, we hit that man with the rod," answered Buster.
"Humph! I told you to be careful," grumbled the carryall driver. "It don't pay to act like a passel o' wildcats, nohow!"
"It's too bad it happened," said Dave, and leaped to the ground and ran back to where the buggy stood, with the driver glaring at them savagely. The other students followed.
"Are you hurt?" asked Dave, anxiously. The man in the buggy was a total stranger to him.
"Hurt? I don't know whether I am or not. What do you mean by knocking off my hat with that stick?"
"It was an accident, sir. We had our school colors on the fishing rod and were waving them in the air. We didn't expect to hit anybody."
"Bah! you are a lot of rowdies!" growled the man. "Give me my hat!" And he pointed to where the head covering rested on some bushes.
"There you are," said Ben, restoring the hat to its owner. "But we are not rowdies—it was purely an accident," he added, with a little flash out of his clear eyes.
"Bah, I know schoolboys! They think it smart to be tough!" The man looked his silk hat over. "I ought to make you buy me a new hat."
"That doesn't seem to be damaged any," said Buster, as he looked the tile over. "If it is, of course we'll make it right," he added, hastily. He and Luke were holding the fishing rod at the time of the accident.
"Do you boys belong at Oak Hall?" demanded the man, smoothing down the roughed-up silk hat with his forearm.
"Yes," answered Dave.
"I thought so. Well, if this hat is cracked or anything like that I'll notify the master of the school, and make you get me a new hat. Maybe it will be a lesson to you, to be more careful."
"Let me see the hat, please," said Luke.
"What for?"
"I wish to see if it is really damaged."
"If it is, I'll let you know quick enough, don't fear."
"I want to see it now. I am not going to pay for a new hat if this one is all right."
"Ha! so you don't want to take my word for it, eh?" roared the man.
"I want to look the hat over," answered Luke, stubbornly.
"So do I," added Buster.
"I'll not give you the hat—to play more tricks with. I shall take it to a hat dealer, and if he says it is injured, I'll call at the school about it." And having thus delivered himself the man in the buggy put the silk hat on his head, spoke to his horse, and whirled on down the road in the direction of Rockville.
"Talk about a peppery individual!" cried Ben. "He certainly is one."
"I don't think the hat was damaged at all," said Dave. "It will simply be a hold-up—if he tries to get a new one out of us. That hat is quite old and rusty-looking."
"He was a rusty-looking fellow all the way through," commented Buster. "Wonder who he is?"
"He's some kind of a doctor," answered the carryall driver, who had left his turnout to join the boys. "He came to Oakdale and Rockville this summer, and he gives lectures on how to git well and strong, an' then he sells medicine. I know a feller got a bottle from him, but it didn't do him no good. He calls himself Doctor Montgomery,—but I reckon he ain't no real doctor at all."
"Must be one of these quacks who go around the country trying to rope people in," said Dave. "If he is, he ought to be run out of the neighborhood."
"Maybe we'll never hear from him again," said Luke. But the boys were destined to hear from Hooker Montgomery again, and in a manner to surprise them.
Returning to the carryall, the boys took in the colors, so that they might do no further damage, and then the journey to Oak Hall was resumed. The encounter on the road had sobered them a little, and this did not wear away until they came in sight of the school buildings.
"Hurrah! I see Phil and Roger!" cried Dave, as the carryall swung in between the large oak trees that gave the place its name. "Hello!" he shouted. "Here we are again!"
"Dave!" returned the senator's son, running forward, while Phil did the same. "How are you all?" he added, waving his hand to the crowd in general.
A number of other boys were present, and soon Dave was surrounded by his old friends, all eager to shake hands. They wanted to know all about his trip, and he in return wanted to know what they had been doing. So there was a perfect babble of voices as the crowd walked into the main school building, where good old Doctor Hasmer Clay, the head of the institution, stood to welcome each new arrival.
"Glad to see you back, Porter," he said, kindly. "And I must thank you in person for the skin you sent from the ranch. We have placed it on the floor of the reception room. I am quite proud to think one of my pupils is such a good shot."
"Roger and Phil are good shots, too," answered Dave, anxious that his chums should have all the credit due them.
"So I understand." Doctor Clay paused for a moment. "I believe you met Lincoln Merwell out West." He eyed Dave curiously as he mentioned the fact.
"Yes, I met him—and we had some trouble—but it is all over now. But, Doctor Clay——" Dave motioned the master of the school to one side and lowered his voice. "Do you know that Merwell and Nick Jasniff are going to Rockville Military Academy?"
"Is it possible!"
"That is what they say. It seems to me that the authorities of Rockville ought to know what sort they are."
"That is true, Porter, but—ahem!—I don't know what I can do. You see, to tell you the truth, the management of the military academy has changed hands, and the new master and I are not on speaking terms. He wished to obtain certain pupils, and they came to this school instead, and that made him very angry. He claimed that I treated him unfairly, but I did not. Even if I were to warn him against Jasniff and Merwell it is not likely that he would take the warning in good part. Besides, the military academy is not in a prosperous condition financially, and I rather think the owners will take almost any pupils they can get."
"I see, sir. Well, if that's the case, why we might as well drop the matter," answered Dave.
"I will think it over, and perhaps I'll send a letter to the master of Rockville," returned Doctor Clay, seriously. "I don't want even an enemy to harbor such lads as Jasniff and Merwell without knowing what they are, although it would be to Rockville's credit if it took those boys and made real men out of them."
As my old readers know, Oak Hall was a large building of brick and stone, shaped in the form of a cross, with the classrooms, the private office, the dining-room, and the kitchen on the ground floor. On the second floor were the majority of the school dormitories, furnished to accommodate from four to eight pupils each. The school was surrounded by a broad campus, sloping in the rear to the Leming River, on the bank of which was located the school boathouse. At one side of the campus was a neat gymnasium, and at the other were some stables and sheds, and also a newly-built garage for automobiles and motor-cycles.
Dave and his chums had their quarters in dormitories Nos. 11 and 12, two large and well-lighted apartments, having a connecting door between. Not far away was dormitory No. 13, occupied by Nat Poole and his cronies. Merwell and Jasniff had had beds in that room, but now those places were given to others.
Roger and Phil had arrived the day before, and were already settled, and now they did what they could to make Dave at home, assisting him in unpacking his trunk and his suit-case, and putting the things away in the bureau and the clothes closet. Of course Dave had brought along some pictures and banners, and these were hung up or set on the bureau—that is, all but one photograph—one of Jessie she had given him the day before. That he kept to himself, in his private drawer with a few other treasures, under lock and key.
"Hello, Dave; can I help you?" came a voice from the doorway, and Gus Plum appeared. The former bully of the Hall was a trifle thin and pale, but his eyes were clear and his voice pleasant to hear.
"Why, Gus, how are you!" cried Dave, and shook hands warmly. "Did you have a good time this summer?"
"Quite good," answered Plum. "You know I went up to Maine with Mr. Dale. He took up half a dozen fellows, and we went in for botany and geology while we were camping out."
"Well, I guess Mr. Dale is good company," answered Dave. He referred to Andrew Dale, the first assistant teacher of the school, a man well beloved by nearly all the students. Every summer this teacher took out some of the boys, and there was always a rivalry as to who should go along.
"It was better than just—er—knocking around," stammered Gus Plum. He meant carousing around with fellows of the Merwell and Jasniff sort, and Dave understood. He hesitated for a moment and looked around, to see if anybody but Phil and Roger were in the rooms. "Of course, you know Nat Poole is back," he continued, in a low voice.
"Yes,—I saw him leave Crumville."
"Dave, you want to beware of him." Gus Plum uttered the words very earnestly.
"Oh, I am not afraid of Nat—never was."
"Yes, but this is different, Dave. I suppose you know there are a lot of new fellows at Oak Hall this year."
"There are new fellows every year—the seniors go and the freshies come in."
"Yes, but this year we have more new fellows than ever. A school in Laverport broke up, and sixteen of the students were transferred to Oak Hall—sophs, juniors, and seniors. So those fellows, added to the freshies, make quite a bunch."
"What has that got to do with Poole and me?"
"Nat Poole and one of the fellows from Laverport, a chap named Guy Frapley, are very good friends—in fact, I think they are related. This Frapley was a sort of leader at Laverport, and he has got a number of the other newcomers under his thumb. Last night I was down by the boathouse, and I heard Nat and Frapley talking about you. Nat was very anxious to do something to 'make you take a back seat,' as he termed it, and after a while Frapley consented to take the matter up with him."
"What do you suppose they'll do?" questioned Phil, who had listened to Plum's words with interest.
"I don't know exactly, but they'll do something, you can be sure of that. More than likely it will be something underhanded."
"I am not afraid of Nat Poole—nor of this Guy Frapley, either," said Dave.
"Dave has so many friends here, why should he be afraid?" asked Roger.
"Well, I only thought I'd warn you, that's all," answered the former bully, meekly. "I don't want Dave to have any more trouble if I can help it."
"It's kind of you, Gus, to tell me of this," answered Dave, heartily. "And I'll be on my guard. But I really don't think Nat Poole will cut much of a figure during this term of school. He has lost too many of his old friends."
But, for once, Dave was mistaken. Nat Poole did "cut a figure," although not quite in the manner expected, and what he and his cronies did caused Dave not a little trouble.
In a few days Dave felt as much at home as ever. Nearly all of his old friends had returned to Oak Hall, and dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 were filled with as bright a crowd of lads as could well be found anywhere. In the number were Gus Plum and Chip Macklin, but the former was no longer the bully as of old, and the latter had lost his toadying manner, and was quite manly, and the other students treated them as if all had always been the best of friends.
It did Dave's heart good to see the change in Plum, and he was likewise pleased over the different way in which Macklin acted.
"I never thought it was in Gus and Chip," he said, privately, to Roger. "It shows what a fellow can do if he sets his mind to it."
"It's to your credit as much as to their own," declared the senator's son. "I don't believe Gus would have reformed if you hadn't braced him up."
"I wish I could reform Nat Poole."
"You'll never do it, Dave—but you may scare him into behaving himself."
"Have you met Guy Frapley, Roger—I mean to talk to?"
"Yes, in the gym., where Phil and I were practicing with the Indian clubs."
"What do you think of him?"
"I think he is fairly aching to become the leader of the school. He was leader at Laverport, and it breaks his heart to play second fiddle to anybody here. He and Nat are as thick as two peas. They tell me he is a great football player, so I suppose he will try to run the eleven—if the fellows will let him."
"I don't think the old players will let a new crowd run our team."
"The trouble is, some of the old players are gone, and the new crowd may count up the largest number of votes. In that case they'll be able to run things to suit themselves."
Dave had settled down to his studies in earnest, for that winter he wished to make an extra good record for himself. He loved sports, but as he grew older he realized that he was at Oak Hall more for a mental than a physical training.
"When my time comes, I shall have a good many business interests to look after," was the way he expressed himself to Phil, who joked him about "boning like a cart horse," "and I know if I haven't the education I'll be at the mercy of anybody who wishes to take advantage of my ignorance."
"Well, you are not going to give up football, are you, Dave?" questioned the shipowner's son.
"Not if they want me on the eleven."
"Well, that depends. We have a meeting Monday afternoon, in the gym."
Dave had noticed a good many whispered conversations taking place between some of the old students and all of the new ones, and he had wondered what was going on. A hint was dropped that the football meeting would "wake things up," whatever that might mean.
"I think I know what is in the wind," said Gus Plum to Dave during a recess on Monday. "Nat Poole and Guy Frapley came to me last night and they wanted me to pledge myself to support Frapley for captain of the eleven."
"Well, they had a right to do that, Gus."
"I told them I wouldn't do it. They said if I didn't I'd get left. I told 'em that wouldn't hurt me very much, because I didn't care for playing anyway."
"I see," answered Dave, thoughtfully.
He at once sought out Roger, Phil, and Sam Day,—those who had loved to play football in the past, and who had hoped to be on the eleven the present season—and talked the matter over with them. Then the shipowner's son made a quiet canvass among all those interested in football.
"Plum is right," he declared later. "Frapley, aided by Nat Poole and his cronies, is going to carry matters with a high hand."
"It's an outrage!" cried Sam. "A stranger running the Oak Hall eleven! I shall protest!"
"It won't do any good—if Frapley gets the votes," answered Roger. "Especially if he is a good player, and they say he is."
The news that there was going to be a lively time drew a large crowd to the meeting in the gymnasium. This was called to order by the former manager of the eleven, and a call was issued for nominations for a new manager.
"I nominate John Rand!" cried Nat Poole, mentioning one of the students from Laverport.
"Second the nomination!" added Guy Frapley, promptly.
"I nominate Henry Fordham," said Roger, putting up one of the old students, who did not play, but who was a good general manager, and a youth well liked by his classmates.
Dave seconded Roger's nomination, and as there were no other names submitted, the nominations were declared closed.
"Mr. Chairman, I'd like to say a few words before we hold an election—I mean, before we vote," said Sam Day, mounting a chair.
"Oh, dry up, and let us cast our ballots!" muttered Nat Poole.
"I wish to speak in favor of Henry Fordham, whom allold studentsof Oak Hall know so well," continued Sam. "He knows——"
"Vote! vote! Let us vote!" called out several new students loudly, and it was seen that they were urged on by Guy Frapley.
In a moment half a dozen students were speaking at once, and it took several minutes for the chairman of the meeting to restore silence. Then Sam was allowed to make a short speech and he was followed by Dave, both speaking in favor of Fordham. Then a new student spoke in favor of Rand, and then the voting began.
The result was a painful surprise for Fordham, and equally painful to Dave and his chums. So well had Nat Poole, Guy Frapley, and their cohorts laid their plans that John Rand was elected manager of the coming eleven by a majority of five votes.
"It is all up with our crowd!" murmured Roger to Dave, when the result was announced. "That crowd has got votes enough to ride over us rough-shod, and it is going to do it."
And the senator's son was right, as later events speedily proved. The new football team, made up of a regular eleven and five substitutes, counted but six old Oak Hall players. Dave, Roger, Phil, and their close chums were utterly ignored. Guy Frapley was chosen captain and quarter-back, and Nat Poole was made full-back. It is needless to say that some of the old players, who had worked so hard in the past to make Oak Hall victorious, left the meeting in disgust.
"This is the worst I was ever up against!" murmured Roger. "Talk about ingratitude! And just think that once Phil nearly lost his life to help us win!"
"And think of how hard Dave and you worked," put in a sympathizer. "It's a burning shame, that's what it is."
"Well, there is one satisfaction," said Dave, as calmly as he could, although he was as depressed as any one. "It is on their shoulders now to make good. We haven't anything on that score to worry about."
"I'll tell you what let's do!" cried Phil. "We'll organize a scrub eleven, and wax 'em out of their shoes!"
"I don't believe they'll play you—they are afraid," said Buster.
"Never mind, then we'll play somebody else. We can challenge them, anyway. If they are afraid of us we want the whole school to know it."
Phil's idea met with considerable favor, and he easily persuaded Dave, Roger, Sam, Gus Plum, and a number of others to join his scrub eleven, which was named the Old Guard. Phil was manager as well as captain, and played right half-back, while Dave was quarter-back, and Roger was center. The eleven went into practice with as much vigor as if they were training for some championship games.
As had been anticipated, the regular eleven tried to ignore the Old Guard. When a challenge to play was issued, John Rand sent back word that he could fix up his own scrub eleven without any help from outsiders. His scrub was made up of freshmen and, of course, the regular team beat them with ease.
"Never mind—they are afraid of us—and we'll let everybody know it," declared Roger. And then the challenge from the Old Guard to the regular eleven was posted up in the gymnasium, where all might see it. It was torn down over night, but a new copy was put up by the following noon.
As was to be expected, the challenge created much talk, and Phil and Frapley almost came to blows about it. Phil and his chums were accused of trying to break up the good feeling of the school in general, and, in return, the shipowner's son very bluntly told the new captain of the school eleven that he would lead Oak Hall to defeat.
"It's time enough to talk like that after we are beaten," declared Guy Frapley, grimly. Then it was announced that the regular Oak Hall football eleven would play the opening game of the season against an eleven from Lemington on a Saturday afternoon, the contest to take place on the Lemington Athletic Grounds.
"They ought to be waxed good and proper!" said Chip Macklin.
"Who?" asked Dave.
"Our eleven, Dave. Oh, I know what you will say—that that isn't the true school spirit and all that—but just the same, Poole and Frapley and that bunch don't deserve to win."
"I've got half a notion not to go to the game," declared Sam.
"I am going," answered Dave. "I don't like that crowd, and I don't think we were treated fairly. Just the same, for the honor of Oak Hall, I am going to the game and root for our side."
"The same old Dave!" murmured Roger, in admiration. "Well, if you're going I am going too."
Lemington was situated several miles up the river, and while some of the boys decided to go to that town by the carryall and on their bicycles and motor-cycles, others decided to go up in boats.
As my old readers know, Nat Poole was the owner of a good-sized motor-boat, a craft he had had stored in the boathouse since the last summer. In this boat the dudish student frequently went for a cruise up and down the river, taking his cronies along. The fact that he owned the craft and could give them a ride, made Nat quite popular with some of the students.
"I'll take the eleven up to Lemington in my motor-boat," said Nat to the manager. "It will be a fine sail, if the weather is good." And so it was arranged.
As the weather remained warm, Dave and his chums often went out on the river for a row, and one afternoon they rowed as far as Bush Island, about two miles away. On the island were some chestnut trees, and the boys walked over to see if the nuts were fit to gather.
"I see some other fellows here!" cried Roger, and pointed to some boys in military uniforms some distance away.
"They must be fellows from Rockville Academy," answered Dave. "I didn't think they'd come as far as this after school hours."
"Well, I suppose they have as much right here as we have," was Phil's comment.
They passed on, and presently lost sight of the other crowd. Then, quarter of an hour later, they came out on the island shore, to see the other lads in a rowboat, just getting ready to leave the place.
"Why, there are Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff!" exclaimed Roger.
"Right you are," answered Dave. Then he gave another look. "Where is our boat?" he questioned, quickly.
All looked around and saw that their rowboat was missing.
"They must have taken it," cried Phil. He raised his voice: "I say, Merwell! Jasniff! Stop, I want to talk to you!"
"Not much!" called back Nick Jasniff.
"We don't want to talk to you," answered Link Merwell.
"What have you done with out boat?" questioned Roger.
"That's for you to find out!" returned Nick Jasniff. "Ta ta! Hope you have a nice time getting back to Oak Hall!"
And then he and Link Merwell and their companions took up their oars and rowed swiftly away from Bush Island.
"We are certainly in a pickle," remarked Roger, as the Rockville cadets rounded a point of the island and disappeared from view.
"I wonder what they did with our boat," said Phil. "I don't see it anywhere on the water."
"Perhaps they took it to the other side of the island," suggested Dave.
"Would they have time to do that?"
"I don't know. This is a total surprise to me, Phil."
"They did the trick on the impulse of the moment," went on Roger. "For they didn't know we were coming here."
"And we didn't know they were here," added Dave. "Let us take a look around and see if we can spot the boat."
"All right, I'll go down the shore and you can go up," cried Phil, and set off at as rapid a gait as the nature of the ground permitted.
A hasty search did not bring the rowboat to light. The boys met on the other side of the island, and stared wonderingly at each other.
"See anything?"
"Not a thing."
"The boat must be somewhere."
"Maybe they sunk her!" cried the senator's son. "Merwell and Jasniff are just unprincipled enough to do it."
"If they did that, they must have done it close to where we tied her up. They wouldn't have time to take her away," returned Dave. "Let us go back and see if we can find any trail in the mud and sand."
They crossed the island, passing the chestnut trees as they did so. Under one of the trees Dave picked up a letter. It was addressed to Nicholas Jasniff, General Delivery, Rockville.
"Jasniff must have dropped this when he was nutting," said Dave, as he and the others looked at the address.
"What is in it?" asked Phil. "It's open; read it."
"Would that be fair, Phil?"
"I think so. Jasniff is an enemy, not a friend. It may contain some clew to his doings, and if there is anything underhanded going on we can let the authorities know."
Dave took out the single sheet that the envelope contained. On it was written, in a sprawling, heavy hand, the following: