"Rockville!Rockville!You'll get your fillOf Rockville!"
"Rockville!Rockville!You'll get your fillOf Rockville!"
And immediately Oak Hall replied with its own well-known cry:
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
And then from both sides arose a great din of horns and rattles. In the rear of the field were several automobiles and they, too, let off their horns and screech whistles, adding to the noise.
The practice at an end, the toss-up followed, and this was won by Rockville, and they elected to take the ball. Out on the gridiron spread the two elevens, each player eager to do his best. Then the whistle blew, there came a kicking of the pigskin, and the great game was on.
The play was fast and furious from the start, and in a very few minutes Dave and his chums understood that to gain a victory was going to be no easy thing. Rockville had the advantage in weight, and long practice had put every man in the pink of condition.
But the trick that Nat Poole had tried to play bore unexpected results. The kick-off was a good one, but the pigskin was caught by Phil and he brought it back almost to the center of the gridiron, being aided by clever interference on the part of Roger and Plum. Then the signal was given to carry the ball through the center. The Rockville players thought it was a signal to run around the left end, and moved accordingly. Up the field came the pigskin, and before Rockville could recover from the error made, Plum had the ball within four yards of the goal line. Here, however, he was downed so heavily that the wind was knocked completely out of him.
"That's the way to do it! Hurrah for Oak Hall!"
"Now, shove it over, fellows!"
"They didn't follow their signals at all!" whispered one player to the Rockville captain.
"I know it," was the low answer. "Don't depend on the signals after this."
But the damage had been done, and two minutes later Oak Hall obtained a touchdown, Roger carrying the ball over the line. Dave made the kick, and the pigskin sailed neatly between the posts. Then what a cheering went up, and what a noise from the horns and rattles!
"That's the way to do it!"
"First blood for Oak Hall! Now keep up the good work!"
As quickly as possible the ball was brought once more into play, and now the contest waged fast and furious. Back and forth went the pigskin, first in the possession of one eleven, and then in the possession of the other. There was a fine run around the right end by Roger, and another by a player for Rockville. Then came a mix-up, and each side had to retire a player, while Rockville was penalized several yards for an off-side play.
"Five minutes more!" came the warning, and then in a fury Rockville tried to form a flying wedge—such a move being permissible that year. The shock was terrific, and in spite of all their efforts to stand firm, Oak Hall broke, and the pigskin was carried over the line. Then the goal was kicked—and the whistle blew, and the first half of the great game came to an end.
Score: Oak Hall 6, Rockville 6.
Panting for breath, for that last shock had been a telling one, the Oak Hall players filed into the dressing-room, there to rest and to receive such attention as they needed.
"Well, it is still our game as much as theirs," said Dave, trying to cheer up his men. "But we want to go at 'em hammer and tongs in the second half."
"Try that right-end trick as early as possible," advised Mr. Dodsworth. "I don't think they'll be looking for it. That mix-up on signals bothered them some."
"Did Mr. Dale see Poole?" asked Roger.
"Yes, and Poole was sent back to the school in care of one of the carriage drivers," answered the gymnastic instructor.
Down in the grandstand the supporters of Rockville and of Oak Hall were having lively discussions over the merits of the two elevens. Among the Rockville students were Jasniff, Merwell, and Frapley.
"I hope we wax 'em in the second half!" said Merwell to Jasniff.
"How much money did you put up, Link?" asked Jasniff.
"All I could scrape up—thirty-five dollars."
"And I put up forty dollars."
"With the Oak Hall fellows?"
"No, with some sports from the town."
"Just what I did. Of course, I hope we don't lose! If we do I'll be in a hole until my next remittance comes."
"Oh, Rockville has got to win!" said Jasniff, loudly. "We can't help but do it."
"This is Oak Hall's game!" cried a voice from the other end of the grandstand, and then a cheer went up, followed by another cheer from the local supporters.
"Say, when do we get back at Dave Porter?" asked Merwell, while the cheering was going on. "I'm getting tired of waiting."
"We'll get back at him very soon now," answered Jasniff. "If what Doctor Montgomery tells me is true, everything will be ready about Thanksgiving time."
"Can you depend on the doctor?"
"I think so. He is almost down and out, and will do anything for money," answered Nick Jasniff, and then the talk came to an end, as the second half of the game began.
Both elevens had been urged to do their best, and the play was as spirited as before. Rockville was unusually aggressive, and one of the players tackled Phil unfairly, giving his shoulder a severe wrench. A protest was at once made by both Phil and Dave, and amid a general wrangle the Rockville man was retired.
"Never mind, they are going to put Ross in!" was the cry. "He'll show 'em what he can do!" Ross had been a favorite player in years gone by, but had not been allowed to play before because he was behind in his studies. Now, however, it was seen that he was sorely needed, and the Rockville faculty gave the desired permission to fill the vacancy.
Ten minutes of play found the pigskin near the center of the field. Then, for the first time, Dave saw a chance to use the right-end trick which Mr. Dodsworth had suggested, and gave the necessary signal. At once the entire eleven was on the alert.
The trick consisted in sending the ball over to the right, back to center, and then to the right again, some players meanwhile rushing to the left as a blind. The movements were made with rapidity, and Rockville was caught napping. Up came the pigskin in Plum's arms, and he turned it over to another player, who in turn passed it to Dave. Then Dave saw a clear space and dove for it. He was followed and tackled, but shook himself loose, and dropped on the ball directly over the goal line.
A roar went up.
"Another touchdown for Oak Hall!"
"Now for another goal!"
Amid a wild cheering the try for goal was made. But a keen wind had sprung up, and the goal was missed by a few inches.
"Never mind, that makes the score eleven to six in Oak Hall's favor."
Once again the ball was brought into play. There were but seven minutes of time left, and Rockville played like demons, hurling themselves again and again at their opponents. But Dave felt that enough had been accomplished, and gave the signal to be on the defensive, and thus Rockville was held back, and the most it could do was to get the ball on Oak Hall's thirty-five yard line. And then the fateful whistle sounded, and the great game came to a close.
Final score: Oak Hall 11, Rockville Academy 6.
It was a well-earned victory, and the Oak Hall eleven were warmly praised by their friends and the public in general, while many condemned the military academy for the roughness shown.
"Oh, it was too lovely for anything!" said Vera Rockwell, when Phil and Roger sauntered up, waiting for the carryall to take the eleven back to Oak Hall.
"It was indeed!" added Mary Feversham. "We compliment you, and we compliment Mr. Porter, too," she added, her eyes beaming brightly.
"A well-fought game," was Mr. Rockwell's comment; and then the boys passed on, to join their fellows.
Of course the majority of the Rockville supporters felt blue over the outcome of the game, and they lost no time in leaving the grandstand and disappearing from view. Jasniff and Merwell went also, but in another direction.
"This leaves me high and dry," growled Merwell. "I won't have a cent to spend for two weeks."
"Let us see if we can't borrow some money," suggested Jasniff.
"I'd like to know who from? All the fellows who bet have lost their money."
"Then we'll have to hit somebody who didn't bet—some of the goody-goody fellows," and he laughed bitterly.
"Like Porter, eh?"
"Yes, Porter never bets, nor drinks, nor smokes. I can't understand how he makes himself popular, can you?"
"It's his smooth way. But some day he'll be found out and dropped," answered Merwell.
"He'll be dropped when we work our little game against him," returned Jasniff, with an evil look in his eyes.
Never had the carryall contained a happier crowd of students than those who rode back to Oak Hall after the game. They sang, cheered, and whistled to their hearts' content, and nearly drove Horsehair wild with their antics, climbing out of the windows and over the roof of the turnout.
"Bless my heart, but you must be careful!" pleaded the driver. "I don't want to hurt no-buddy on this trip!"
"Oh, Horsehair, we can't hold ourselves down!" answered Phil. "Such a victory isn't gained every day."
"Yes, sir, I know, sir. But them hosses don't know nothin' about football, an' fust thing you know they'll run away," pleaded the carryall driver.
"We'll take a chance," put in Roger, brightly. "Now, then, all together!" And out on the air rolled the old school song to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, and then followed a cheering that could be heard for half a mile.
"Bonfires to-night!" announced Buster Beggs. "The biggest yet."
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story——" began Shadow, but what he wanted to tell was lost in a tooting of horns and a clacking of rattles that lasted until Oak Hall was reached.
The celebration that night was a grand affair, and Doctor Clay allowed the students to remain out until midnight. Many bonfires were lighted, and the boys danced around, sang songs, and played many practical jokes on each other and on Horsehair and Pop Swingly. Shadow was in his element, and was permitted to tell a dozen or more of his yarns, much to his own satisfaction if not of his listeners.
The only boys who felt blue were Nat Poole and the lads who had played against Lemington and then been put off the eleven. Nat had received a sharp lecture from the doctor and then been sent to his room, to remain there until the following morning. He wanted to pack up and go home, fearing the jeers of his fellow-students when they learned of his meanness, but he did not dare to make this move, for his father had written him a sharp letter, telling him to finish out the term at Oak Hall or otherwise to go to work,—and Nat did not want to go to work.
Of course the victory over Rockville made Dave and his chums feel good. The whole eleven were warmly congratulated by the doctor, and by Mr. Dale and Mr. Dodsworth.
The game with the military academy was followed by a number of other contests, and the school made a fine record for itself, winning six games out of eight. The two games lost were with college boys, and these players were all considerably heavier than the Oak Hall lads. The last game took place on Thanksgiving Day, and was witnessed by Dave's father and Mr. Wadsworth, and also by Laura and Jessie. Oak Hall won this contest by a score of 18 to 11.
"Oh, it was grand, Dave!" cried Jessie, after the boys had left the gridiron. "That run you made was the best ever!"
"You all did well," said Laura.
"It makes my blood tingle, and I feel like getting into the game myself," said Oliver Wadsworth. "It was a clean-cut contest from start to finish."
Phil and some of the other boys were going home, and soon said good-by. Mr. Porter and Mr. Wadsworth went off with Doctor Clay, and that left Dave and Roger with the two girls. As Senator Morr was at home from Washington, it was decided that the young folks should pay Roger's home a visit for the rest of the day, Mr. Porter and Mr. Wadsworth coming there in the evening to take Laura and Jessie back to Crumville.
The young folks made a jolly party as they boarded the train. They turned over one of the double seats and sat facing each other, and laughed and chatted until Hemson was reached. Here a carriage awaited them, and they were driven to the Morr mansion, where they received a warm greeting from the senator and his wife.
The girls had much to tell about themselves, and then asked about matters at the school. They were indignant to learn that Nat Poole had exposed the football signals.
"It is just like him—the sneak!" cried Jessie. "Oh, Dave, I hope you don't have anything more to do with him."
"I am willing to let him alone if he will let me alone."
"Do you hear anything from Link Merwell?" questioned Laura.
"Not much. But I understand he and Nick Jasniff have it in for me."
"Then, Dave, you must be on your guard," cautioned his sister. "I think Merwell is a regular snake in the grass—his actions at the ranch prove it—and Jasniff is no better."
"Jasniff is worse," said Roger. "He is a brute."
The boys and girls spent a happy evening together, and all too soon Mr. Porter and Mr. Wadsworth arrived to take Laura and Jessie back to Crumville. The boys hated to see them go, and went to the depot with them. There was some warm handshaking, and then the train rolled away, and the boys went back to the house.
"Splendid girls, both of them," was Roger's comment, and Dave quite agreed with him. But he was thinking more about Jessie than his sister,—and it is quite likely Roger was thinking more about Laura.
The boys remained at Roger's home until Saturday afternoon, and then returned to Oak Hall. The air was heavy and very cold, and they were glad to get out of the carryall, rush into the school, and warm up.
"Feels like snow to me," said Dave; and he was right. It started to snow that night, and kept it up for the greater part of Sunday, so that by Monday the ground was covered to the depth of a foot or more.
"Hurrah, for a snowballing match!" cried Buster. "Everybody in the line after school."
"Let us choose sides," suggested Ben. "Instead of having an Army of the North and an Army of the South, we can have——"
"An Army of Red and an Army of Blue," finished Dave. "What do you say to the red sweaters against the blue sweaters?"
As many lads of the school wore red sweaters, and about an equal number wore blue, the idea caught on instantly, and at the noon recess the two armies, of Red and of Blue, were hastily organized. Each numbered twenty-five recruits, and Roger was made the leader on one side and Sam Day the leader on the other. With Roger went Dave and Phil, while Ben, Buster, and Shadow sided with Sam. Roger's side was the Army of Red, and they made themselves a big red flag, with the initials O. H. on it. Not to be outdone, Sam's army made a big blue flag, also with the school initials.
It was decided that the Army of Blue was to take a position in the woods, and that the Army of Red was to try to dislodge them and force them to retreat. If either army was driven back two hundred yards it must give up its flag and count itself beaten.
After school half an hour was allowed for getting ready, and most of that time was consumed in making snowballs and in fortifying the edge of the woods by throwing up a snowbank. Then a bugle belonging to one of the students sounded out, and the great snowball battle began.
It was certainly a hot contest, and the snowballs flew in all directions, and many a "soldier" received one in the body or in the head. Sam had placed his followers with care, and try their best the Army of Red could not dislodge them.
"I have a scheme," said Phil, after the battle had lasted for fully half an hour, and while the boys were pausing to manufacture fresh "ammunition" in the shape of snowballs. "Let us rush up and then pretend to retreat. They'll think they have us on the run, and as soon as they leave the woods and that snowbank, we can turn on 'em again, and wallop 'em."
"If you try that, be sure of one thing," said Dave. "Have plenty of snowballs on hand. Otherwise that fake retreat may become a real one."
"We'll make a lot of snowballs," said Roger. "Pitch in, everybody!"
In a little while, the Army of Red was ready for the movement Phil had suggested. Then Roger explained just how it was to be carried out. They were to advance on the left wing of the Blues and then retreat in the direction of the road. As soon as the Blues came from cover, they were to drive them—if they could be driven—to the upper edge of the woods and across the field beyond.
"Now then, all together!" cried the senator's son. "And make them think you are really retreating, at first."
Forward went the Army of Red, throwing snowballs wildly. Then came a shower of balls in return, and several of the Reds were seen to fall, as if knocked down. Then came a pause, and several lads started to go back.
"Stop! Don't run!" yelled Roger. "Don't run!" But as this was part of the deception, those in retreat kept on backing away.
"Hurrah! we've got 'em on the run!" came from the woods, and in a trice several of the Army of Blue appeared on the top of the snowbank. "Come on, let us chase 'em!"
Over the snowbank came the Army of Blue, carrying all the snowballs it could manage. The Army of Red continued to retreat, each boy loaded down with ammunition. Then, just as the edge of the woods was cleared, a loud whistle sounded out.
It was the signal to turn, and like one man the Army of Red faced about, and let fly a heavy volley of snowballs, directly in the face of the enemy. The Blues were taken completely by surprise, and almost dazed. Then came another volley of snowballs, and a dozen lads were struck, in the head and elsewhere.
"Wow!" yelled one boy. "Say, what are we up against?"
"Let 'em have it!" came the rallying yell of the Reds. "Down with 'em! Drive 'em to cover!" And on they came with a rush, throwing their snowballs with all the accuracy possible. The severe onslaught demoralized the other army for the time being, and two boys broke and ran—then half a dozen more—and then the whole army.
"Stop! Turn and face 'em!" yelled Sam. "Give it to 'em hot!" But this was not to be, for the reason that the Blues were out of ammunition. They ran close to the woods, but were driven from that cover by a flank movement, and then took to the field, trying to manufacture snowballs as they ran.
"We've got 'em going—don't let up!" cried Dave, and, having stopped to make a few more snowballs, he pushed on, with Roger and half a dozen others beside him. Phil carried the flag, and all made for where the enemy had its flag of blue. Then came an exchange of snowballs at close range, and poor Phil was hit in the face. He dropped the flag, and Dave picked it up.
"Much hurt, Phil?" asked Roger, anxiously.
"I guess not," was the plucky reply. "Go on and wax 'em!" And then Phil turned back for a moment to catch his breath.
At the edge of the field was a ridge, and back of this a deep hollow. Sam decided to take a stand behind the ridge, and so directed his followers.
"But look out for the holes," said one of the boys. "Some nasty ones around here."
The battle soon waged as fiercely as ever. On came the Army of Red with a fresh supply of ammunition, and snowballs flew in all directions. Poor Sam was struck in the ear, and the carrier of the flag was hit in the arm and in the mouth. Down went the flag, and before the carrier could pick it up, three of the enemy pounced upon him, and while two held him, the third captured the all-important trophy.
"Hurrah! We've got their flag! Now drive 'em along!" was the cry.
"We must get the flag back!" called out Sam. "Now then, all together!" And again the battle went on.
"Now, for a final rush!" said Roger, after the blue flag had been taken to the rear. "We are going to win! Come on!" And he led the way.
Near the top of the ridge, the Red and the Blue fought fiercely, for all the boys were now thoroughly warmed up. Back and forth surged the long lines, and for several minutes it looked as if the Blues might succeed in driving the Reds back. Once Dave came close to losing the flag, and only saved it by sending two of the enemy sprawling headlong in the snow.
At last the Reds managed to reach the top of the ridge, and from that point send down a fierce shower of snowballs. The Blues could not withstand this fire, and broke and ran.
"Hurrah! the victory is ours!" yelled several of the Reds.
"Let us clinch it, and make 'em cry for mercy!" shouted one of the victorious army, and forward he went, and nearly all of the others after him.
"Be careful!" cried Dave. "There are a lot of holes around here! Somebody may break a leg."
His voice was drowned by the shouts of those who had won, and over the ridge and towards the hollow poured the victors and vanquished—the latter trying to dodge the fresh shower of snowballs.
"It's all over—let up!" yelled one boy of the Army of Blue. "Let up, can't you?"
"One last shower, fellows!" cried Roger. "Now then, all together!"
The snowballs were delivered, and then came a pause, as all realized that the battle was at an end. Then, from the far end of the hollow, came an unexpected yell:
"Help! help! I am down in a hole and can't get out! Help!"
"Somebody is in trouble!"
"Who is it?"
"Where is he?"
"It is Tom Hally!" cried Roger, mentioning one of the new boys at Oak Hall. "He must have fallen into one of the holes near the big hollow."
"Come on and see what is the matter," said Dave, and dropping the flag, he sped in the direction of the cries, and a dozen others followed.
When they reached the spot from which the cries for help had proceeded they could see nothing of Tom Hally.
"He was here a minute ago—I saw him!" declared a student named Messmer. "He must have gone down out of sight!"
"Be careful that somebody doesn't go down on top of him," cautioned Roger.
He had hardly spoken when there came a cry from Messmer, and, looking in his direction, the other boys were horrified to see him sink into the snow up to his waist.
"Hi! hi! help me!" yelled Messmer. "Quick, something has me by the foot!"
"Maybe it's Hally, at the bottom of the hole!" burst out Dave.
"Let us make a chain and haul him out," suggested Phil.
This suggestion was considered a good one, and in a twinkling a long line was formed, the boys taking hold of each other's hands. Dave was at one end of the line, and he approached Messmer with caution.
"Help me!" gasped Messmer. "Something is dragging me down!"
"Take hold of my hand," answered Dave. "Hold tight!"
Messmer did as requested, and then Dave gave the other boys the signal to haul away.
"But be careful," he added. "Otherwise the line may break, and some more of us will go in the hole."
The students hauled steadily and cautiously, and slowly but surely Messmer came out of the snowy hole. As his feet came into view it was seen that a pair of hands were clasped around one of his ankles.
"Tom Hally is there!" shouted Dave. "Be extra careful, or he may slip back!"
He had hardly spoken when Messmer's foot came up with a jerk. The unfortunate boy below had let go, being probably too exhausted to keep hold.
"Oh, Dave, what shall we do?" gasped Roger. He stood next in the life line.
"Make two lines!" cried Dave. "Here, you get hold of one of my feet, and Messmer can get hold of the other. Now don't let go, whatever you do. I'll go down after Hally."
"But the danger——" began Ben.
"We can't leave Hally to smother to death there, Ben. Now then, hold tight," answered Dave.
The two lines were formed, each end boy holding tight to one of Dave's ankles. Then Dave threw himself down in the snow and wormed his way to the edge of the hole. Several feet below he saw one of Tom Hally's hands sticking up, the fingers working convulsively. He made a clutch and got a firm grip of the wrist.
"Haul away!" he called. "But be easy, or the edge of the hole may cave in!"
Under Dave's directions the boys hauled away with care, and presently poor Tom Hally came to the surface of the snow, and was dragged to a safe spot. He was all but exhausted, and too weak to stand.
"Here, we'll carry you to the school!" cried Roger, and he and some others made a "chair," and thus the unfortunate lad was carried to Oak Hall, where he was placed in a rocking chair in front of a fire.
"I went down all of a sudden," he explained, when he could talk. "I yelled for all I was worth, and I saw some of you running towards me. Then I went out of sight, and the next I knew Messmer's feet were on my head. I caught hold of one foot and was dragged almost to the surface. Then my strength gave out,—and I hardly know what I did after that."
"Dave pulled you out," answered Phil. "He saw one of your hands sticking out of the snow, and he got us fellows to form two lines, with him on the end."
"I am very thankful," said Tom Hally, and he gave Dave's hand a warm squeeze. "I shall never go near that hollow again!"
"It's a dangerous place in the winter time," said Roger. "We should have known better than to have retreated in that direction."
"Well, the Army of the Red won!" cried one of the students. "Say, wasn't it a dandy battle!"
"It certainly was!" answered several others.
Doctor Clay was much alarmed to learn that Hally and Messmer had gone down in a hole in the snow, and he came to see how the former was getting along. Then he praised Dave and his chums for their bravery in effecting a rescue.
In the past Hally, who was a rather silent student, had had little to say to the other boys, but now he spoke to Dave, and asked him quite a number of questions concerning himself and the other occupants of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12.
"I'd like to be in with your bunch," said he, wistfully. "I don't like our crowd very well."
"Where are you?" asked Dave.
"In No. 13—with Nat Poole and his crowd."
"They aren't very much of Nat's crowd any more, are they?"
"Oh, several boys still stick to him. But he makes me sick."
"Well, I am sorry, Hally, but our rooms are filled up," said Dave.
"Poole is down on you, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"He told me you and he had had a lot of trouble."
"So we have—but I claim it was mostly Nat's fault. He does some pretty mean things."
"So he does, for a fact," and Tom Hally nodded earnestly. "He is down on Maurice Hamilton too, isn't he?"
"Yes, but Shadow never did him any harm. It's just Nat's mean disposition," returned Dave; and there the conversation had to come to an end.
But that talk, coupled with the fact that Dave and his chums had so bravely gone to Tom Hally's rescue, produced an unexpected result. Two days later, when the occupants of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 got up, they were surprised to find, just inside of one of the doors, a big pasteboard box, securely tied with a heavy cord.
"Why, what's this?" asked Phil, who was the first to see the box.
"Must be a Christmas box!" cried Dave. "And yet it is rather early in the season for that."
"Is it addressed to anybody?" questioned Ben.
"Nothing on it," announced Roger, after an inspection. "Maybe the box was placed in this room by mistake."
"Let us open it and see what is inside," suggested Polly Vane.
"I second that motion," added Luke. "Hope it's got some nice Christmas pies in it."
"Maybe it's a trick," cautioned Shadow. "Go slow on opening it."
The boys pushed the box to the center of the dormitory with care, and then Roger cut the cord with his pocketknife.
"You open it," said Phil to Dave.
"I am not afraid," answered Dave, and took off the cover.
And then what a shout went up!
"Our shoes, and boots, and slippers!"
"Where in the world did this come from!"
"Say, I thought my shoes were gone for good!"
"Are they all here?"
"I guess so. Let us sort 'em out and see."
Hastily the box was turned over, and the contents dumped on the floor. Then began a general sorting out, lasting for several minutes.
"One of my gym. shoes is missing," announced Phil.
"Perhaps one of the other fellows has it," suggested Dave, and the shipowner's son started a fresh search. But it was of no avail. Every shoe, slipper, and boot that had been taken had been returned excepting one of Phil's foot coverings.
"Well, I don't care much," said Phil. "These shoes were about worn out, anyway."
"Where do you suppose this box came from?" asked Ben, and then he gazed curiously at Shadow, and the others did the same.
"I—I suppose you think—that is, you imagine I—er—I had something to do with this," stammered the boy who had on several occasions walked in his sleep.
"Do you know anything about it, Shadow?" asked Dave.
"Not the first thing!"
"Did you dream of anything last night?"
"Yes, I dreamed about a—er—a——" stammered the sleep-walker. "I—er——Oh, it wasn't about shoes, or anything like that."
"Well, what was it?" demanded Roger, sternly.
"It was about a party, if you must know. I dreamt I took a girl, and we had a nice time dancing and playing games. There weren't any shoes in it," and poor Shadow got redder than ever.
Dave looked the box over with care. It was a common pasteboard box, with nothing on it in the way of writing or advertising.
"This certainly is a mystery," he said, slowly. "First the shoes disappear, and now they come back. I give it up."
"Somebody has been playing a trick on us!" declared Roger. "The question is, who?"
"I don't know of anybody who would do such a thing, excepting it was Nat Poole," declared Ben.
"Well, there is no use of taxing Nat with it," declared Dave. "For he would deny it point-blank, unless you could prove it against him."
The boys talked the affair over until it was time to go down to breakfast, but they could reach no conclusion regarding the mystery.
"Maybe it will never be explained," said Buster.
"Well, even so, I am glad to get my shoes and slippers back," lisped Polly Vane.
A few days after the restoration of the foot coverings there came a thaw and then a sudden cold snap. Ice began to form on the river, and soon it was thick enough for skating, much to the joy of the students, for nearly all of them loved to skate. Some of the boys had ice-boats, and these were also brought out for use.
"I understand that Rockville is going to put out a strong ice-hockey team this winter," said Roger to Dave one day. "They are going to challenge us, too."
"Well, we'll have to make up a team to beat 'em," answered Dave.
"That won't be so easy," declared another student. "They have some great skaters and hockey players at the military academy this season. They've got one player who is a star."
"Who is that?"
"Will Mallory. He came from down East, and he is the slickest ice-hockey player you ever set eyes on."
"Well, if they challenge us we'll do our best," declared Dave, and some others said the same.
The next day, after school, Dave had occasion to go to Oakdale on an errand. Roger was going along, but at the last minute had to stay behind, so Dave went alone.
He had scarcely passed out of the school grounds when he noticed that he was being followed. A tall, thin man had stepped from behind some oak trees, and was coming after him.
"I wonder what that chap was doing around the school?" the youth asked himself.
He walked along rapidly, and the man did the same. Then Dave slackened his pace, and the follower did likewise.
"He doesn't want to catch up to me, that's sure," thought the youth. "Maybe he is afraid I'll recognize him. Wonder who he is?"
He turned and looked back. But the man had his overcoat pulled up and his soft hat pulled far down, and Dave could see little of his face.
"This is a mystery," mused Dave. "I am going to speak to him," and he stopped short and waited for the mysterious individual to come up.
The stranger approached slowly, as if hoping Dave would go on before he came up. Once he looked towards the fields on either side of the road, as if thinking to turn off. But no side road was at hand, so he had to either come on or turn back.
"Why, it is Doctor Montgomery!" said the lad to himself, as he recognized the man. Then, as he got still closer, Dave saw that the so-styled doctor looked shabby and dissipated. His nose was exceedingly red, as if he had been drinking, and his overcoat was much worn and so were his shoes.
"How do you do?" he said, somewhat gruffly, as he came up to where Dave was standing.
"How are you?" returned Dave, coldly, and stepped aside, as if to let the doctor pass. But instead of doing this the traveling physician came to a somewhat unsteady halt.
"Your name is Dave Porter, isn't it?" he queried, trying hard to steady a voice that liquor had rendered nervous.
"It is."
"I guess you know me, Doctor Montgomery."
"Yes."
"Going to Oakdale?"
"I am."
"So am I. If you don't mind I'll walk with you. I want to talk to you."
"What do you wish?" demanded Dave. The road was rather a lonely one, and he did not fancy the doctor for a companion.
"I've been wanting to see you for some time, Porter," answered Hooker Montgomery, hesitatingly, as if not knowing how to begin. "Fact is, I went up to the school hoping to meet you."
"Why didn't you call for me if you wanted to see me?"
"Well—er—the fact is, Doctor Clay and I are not on good terms, that's why. To tell you the truth, I once sold some of my medicines to some of his hired help, and he didn't like it. He thinks my medicines are not—er—reliable. But they are, sir, they are—more reliable than those of most physicians!" And Hooker Montgomery tried to draw himself up and look dignified. But, to Dave, the effort was a failure. He could read the fellow thoroughly, and knew him to be what is commonly called a fakir, pure and simple.
"What did you want of me?" asked Dave, as they walked on in the direction of Oakdale.
"I wished to see you on an important business matter."
"Business? What business?"
"I will come to that presently, Porter. But it is important, very important, I can assure you. I was going to ask you to call at a certain place in Rockville and see me about it."
"What place?"
"A boarding-house at which I am stopping. It is a very nice place, located on the river, and kept by a lady named Dunn—Mrs. Margaret Dunn."
At once Dave remembered the letter picked up on Bush Island—the letter written by Doctor Montgomery, and asking Jasniff to meet him at Dunn's on the river. In that communication the doctor had said he would aid Jasniff all he could, provided the Rockville student would assist him in some transaction involving little risk—which would mean that there must be something "shady" about it.
"Can't you explain the business to me without my going to Rockville?" he asked.
"I cannot. I have some things at the boarding-house—some letters and documents—I wish to show you. Day after to-morrow is Saturday. Can't you come to Rockville in the afternoon and see me? I can assure you, sir, it is very important, very important indeed!" And Doctor Montgomery gave Dave a mysterious look.
"Do the letters and documents concern me personally?"
"They concern you, and—shall I tell you? Yes, I will! They concern you and your sister. But don't ask me to say more now. I will explain all when you come to see me."
Dave began to think rapidly. This fellow was friendly with Jasniff and probably with Merwell also. Once Merwell had caused Laura Porter much annoyance by holding certain letters she had written. Was it possible Merwell still had some of her letters, and was he planning to make more trouble because of them?
"I don't understand this business, Doctor Montgomery," he said, frankly. "If it was so important why didn't you write to me, or telephone?"
"I will explain. This is important to you and your sister. It would hurt your reputation to make anything public. I want to do things on the quiet, see? Acting entirely in your interests, Porter. You will understand it all when you call and—er—see the letters and documents, and the photographs, especially the photographs."
"All right then—I'll come—if I can get off."
"About three o'clock in the afternoon?"
"Between three and four."
"Very good, sir, very good indeed. You will not regret coming, I can assure you, sir. But one thing more. Let me caution you to say nothing to your school friends of this visit. I wish you to come entirely alone."
"Why alone?" demanded Dave, suspiciously.
"Because I wish to protect myself as well as you and your sister. I want no witnesses to our meeting, as I wish to avoid all trouble. I shall be alone, and I wish you to be alone also."
"This is a mighty strange proceeding."
"Possibly, Porter. But you will understand everything when you call. You need not be afraid. At present I am the only boarder Mrs. Dunn has, and she is old and somewhat deaf. The house is on the river road, the fourth place above the sawmill. It is painted light yellow. You can't miss it."
"And you won't tell me any more at present?"
"I cannot. But on Saturday afternoon, if you will come to me alone, you shall know all."
"Very well."
"And one thing more, Porter. I am going to do you and your family a great favor."
"Well?"
"I am a poor man. I could have made money out of my remedies had I charged as some physicians do, but instead I wished to aid humanity, and so sold my priceless medicines for a song. Yes, I am poor, sir, and I need money. If I aid you——" Hooker Montgomery paused suggestively.
"If you really do me a favor, you shall be well paid for it, Doctor Montgomery," replied Dave, promptly.
"You mean that?" And now the doctor's voice took on a sudden note of keen interest.
"I do."
"They tell me your folks are rich."
"We are well off."
"Ah, ahem! Very good! Then if I do a very great favor for you probably you will—er—appreciate it."
"Yes, sir."
"Then it is settled, Porter, and I shall look for you about three o'clock on Saturday sure. And you are to come entirely alone."
"I understand. But, listen, Doctor Montgomery," went on Dave, and his voice grew stern. "There is to be no underhanded work in this. If there is—well, you'll get the worst of it."
"Oh, no; nothing of that sort, I can assure you, sir! You have absolutely nothing to fear," answered the man hurriedly, but his eyes were rather shifty as he spoke.
"All right, I'll be on hand,—if I can get away."
They had now gained a crossroads, and here the doctor halted. He looked at Dave as if on the point of speaking again, then simply jerked his head in an attempted dignified fashion, and hurried off, around a bend and out of sight.
It would be hard to analyze Dave's feelings as he proceeded on his errand to Oakdale. He wondered if Doctor Montgomery was acting on his own account or for Merwell and Jasniff, and he also wondered what the mysterious letters and documents and photographs could be. Was it possible that Laura had once given her photograph to Merwell, or had it taken when in that rascal's company? If the latter was true, Merwell would know that the Porters would give a good deal to get the picture, and have the negative destroyed.
"Perhaps it is only a scheme to get me to Rockville and to some place where Jasniff and Merwell can lay hands on me," he mused. "They'd like nothing better than to black my eyes and pound me to a jelly. If I go there alone I'll have to keep my eyes wide open."
Then Dave remembered what the doctor had said about being a poor man and needing money. Perhaps the fellow thought to "bleed him," not only in the interest of Jasniff and Merwell, but also for himself.
"He'll not get a cent out of me unless he has something of real value to turn over to me," Dave decided. "If it's only a blackmailing scheme, he'll find me as sharp as himself." He could make nothing of the fact that the doctor had at first tried to avoid him.
He was half tempted to tell Roger and Phil about the affair, but at last decided to see it through alone. If there really was something in it about private letters and photographs he would prefer that his chums know nothing of it.
All that evening and throughout Friday, Dave was very thoughtful. His chums noticed it, and Roger and Phil both asked what was wrong.
"Nothing wrong," he answered, with a faint smile.
"You've got something on your mind, Dave," went on the senator's son. "Struck a new girl, or has Jessie struck a new fellow?"
"Not as bad as that, Roger. I was just wondering if I should buy a red necktie or a blue one."
"Rats! It's a girl, I'll wager a new hat."
"Or else Dave is thinking out some new essay with which to capture a prize," suggested Phil.
"Don't you worry about me," answered Dave. "Come on out and have a skate," and thus the subject was dismissed, for the time being.
The Leming River was in fine condition for skating, and fully two score of students were out, some cutting fancy figures, and a few racing. Among the number was Nat Poole, clad in a new crimson sweater and wearing a brand new pair of long hockey skates.
"Nat is training for hockey," said Roger. "He says he is going to organize a team."
"Well, we'll organize one, too," answered Dave. "I always did like field hockey, and I know I'd like it on the ice."
"Come on, Dave!" shouted Ben, circling up on his skates, and doing a "spread eagle."
"Come on where?"
"Get into the race! We want you, and Phil, and Roger, too."
"What race is that?"
"Mr. Dodsworth wants all the big boys in it. It's a race up the river for a mile, and back to the boathouse. The winner gets a silver lead-pencil sharpener."
"All right, I'm in that!" cried the shipowner's son. "I need a sharpener."
"So do I," added Roger. "How about it, Dave?"
"I'll go in, although my skates are not as sharp as they might be."
A crowd had gathered to see the race, and in a few minutes the contestants were lined up by the gymnastic teacher. The starters numbered fourteen, and included Nat Poole, Dave, Roger, Phil, Shadow, Ben, and Plum.
"All ready?" asked Mr. Dodsworth. "Then go!" And away went the long line, the skates flashing brightly in the clear sunlight, and the onlookers cheering, and uttering words of encouragement to their favorites.
"Go it, everybody!"
"May the best skater win!"
"Don't try to skate too fast, Ben. Remember, the race is two miles long!"
"Hello, there goes one fellow down!"
"It's Luke Watson. He has lost his skate."
The last report was correct, and as the skate could not be adjusted without the loss of some time, Luke gave up, and watched the others.
Nat Poole was exceedingly anxious to win the race, and he had been partly instrumental in getting up the contest. His new skates were of the best, and it must be admitted that Nat was no mean skater.
Phil had good skates and so had Roger. Dave's skates were only fair, and were very much in need of sharpening.
Away went Nat at top speed, soon drawing half a dozen yards ahead of his competitors. Behind him came a student named Powers, and then followed Ben, Roger, Phil, Dave, and the others.
"I don't think I can win!" sang out Dave to his chums. "These skates slip too much. But I'll do my best."
"Come on, you slow-coaches!" cried Ben, merrily, and then he shot forward until he was abreast of Nat. Seeing this, the money-lender's son put on an extra burst of speed, and went ahead again.
"Say, Nat Poole is certainly skating well!" cried one of the onlookers. "He'll make a record if he keeps it up."
"I don't think he can keep it up," answered another.
In a very few minutes the turning point was gained, and Nat made a sharp curve and started back. The turn brought him directly in front of Dave.
"Clear the track!" he roared. "Clear the track, I say!"
"Clear the track yourself!" answered Dave. Nevertheless, as Nat came closer, he swerved a little to one side so that the money-lender's son might pass. As Nat swept on he swung his arms freely, and one fist took Dave in the side.
"Foul! foul!" cried several who saw the move.
"It was his own fault!" Nat retorted. "I told him to get out of the way!" And off he started for the finishing line.
Dave said nothing, but kept on, reaching the turning point a few seconds later. Phil and Roger were just ahead of him, and Plum was beside him.
"Go on and win!" he shouted. "I can't keep up with these skates!"
"Here goes for a finish!" yelled Phil, and darted ahead, with Roger at his heels. Then Plum flashed forward, and soon the three were side by side, with Dave about three yards to the rear, followed by Powers.
Coming down the homestretch, Nat Poole thought he had it all to himself. He was glad of it, for he had set such a fast pace at the start that he was becoming winded, and he had to fairly gasp for breath. He looked over his shoulder, and as nobody was near he slackened his speed a little.
"Keep it up, Nat!" yelled one of his supporters. "Go it, old man!"
"Morr and Lawrence are crawling up!"
"So is Plum!"
These last cries startled Nat, and he sought to strike out as he had at the start. But his wind was now completely gone—and the finishing line was still a quarter of a mile away.
"There goes Morr to the front!"
"Lawrence is after him, and so is Plum!"
"Here comes Basswood!"
"What's the matter with Porter? He is dropping behind."
"He said his skates were dull."
"Oh, that's only an excuse!" sneered one of the students who had been put off of the football eleven that term.
"It's true," answered Tom Hally. "I saw the skates myself. Can't you see how he slips when he strikes out?"
On and on went the skaters. Nat was still ahead, but now Roger and Phil came up on one side, and Gus Plum on the other, while Ben came up close in the rear. Behind Ben was Dave, determined to see the race out even if he did not win.
With the finishing line but a hundred feet away, Phil, Roger, and Gus Plum shot to the front. Then Ben followed. Nat Poole tried to keep up, but could not. Then of a sudden Dave went ahead also.
"Nat is dropping behind!"
"He put on too much steam at the start!"
"There goes Porter ahead of him!"
"See, Morr, Lawrence, and Plum are even!"
"Yes, and there comes Ben Basswood up to them!"
"Here they come! Clear the way, everybody!"
With a rush the skaters came on. For one brief instant Roger was ahead, but then the others put on a burst of speed, and over the line they came, amid a great yelling and cheering.
"A tie between Morr, Plum, and Lawrence!"
"And Basswood and Porter tied for second place!"
"Nat Poole wasn't in it, after all."
"My skate got loose," grumbled Nat, as he came up slowly. "If it hadn't been for that I would have won."
"That's an old excuse, Nat!" shouted a boy in the rear of the crowd. "Invent something new!" And a laugh went up, that angered the money-lender's son greatly. He took his defeat bitterly, and lost no time in leaving the ice and disappearing from view.
"A fine race!" declared Mr. Dodsworth, "But I don't know how I am to award the prize."
"Cut it in three parts," suggested Buster.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "An old Irishman was dying and wanted to make his will. 'How do ye want to lave yer money, Pat' asked his friend. 'Sure,' says Pat; 'I want to lave it all to me woif an' me four childer, equal loike, so ivery wan gits a quarter!'"
"We might have another race," suggested Mr. Dodsworth. "That is, if you are not too tired—I mean, of course, a race between those who were tied."
"Oh, let us cut sticks for it," suggested Phil.
"That will suit me," said Plum.
"Me, too," said the senator's son. "I am too tired to race again."
So the three lads drew sticks for the prize, and Gus Plum won.
"Hello! I'm in luck!" cried Gus, and looked much pleased. The silver lead-pencil sharpener was passed over to him, and he thanked the gymnastic instructor warmly for it.
"I am glad he got it, since it pleases him," said Phil to Roger, and the senator's son nodded in agreement.
The only boy who felt sore over the race was Nat Poole, and he continued to declare that he would have won had his skate not come loose.
"But just wait," he said, to some of the students. "I'll show 'em what I can do when we get to playing hockey." And that very night he started in to organize an ice-hockey team. He did not consult Mr. Dodsworth or Andrew Dale, fearing that they would not favor his selection of players.
"They have nothing to do with hockey," Nat explained to his friends. "All they have to look after is baseball and football, and track athletics. Doctor Clay didn't say a word about ice hockey, or field hockey, either." This was true, the master of the Hall having probably forgotten all about those sports. Nevertheless, it was understood by the majority of the students that all games and contests held with parties outside of Oak Hall were to come under the supervision of the gymnastic instructor and Andrew Dale.
"What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow afternoon?" asked Roger of Dave, on going to bed Friday.
"I have a little business to attend to in Rockville, Roger."
"Is that so? Want me to go along?"
This was a question Dave had dreaded to have asked, and he hardly knew how to answer. He determined to be as frank as possible.
"No, Roger. I am sorry, but the party I am going to see asked me to come alone."
"Oh, all right. I just thought I'd mention it."
"If it hadn't been for that I should like very much to have you and Phil along," continued Dave, earnestly. "But I can't take anybody."
"Must be going to see a girl," and the senator's son looked at his chum quizzically.
"No, it is not a girl. Now please don't ask me any more questions."
"Just as you say, Dave," answered Roger, and then began to get ready to go to bed. He could not help but wonder what the business was, and why Dave was so secretive about it.
In the morning Dave had to go through the same kind of a scene with Phil. The shipowner's son was as much mystified as Roger, and after Dave had departed, the pair walked into the warm gymnasium to talk the matter over.
"Dave has something on his mind," said Roger. "I noticed it yesterday."
"So did I, Roger. What is it, do you suppose?"
"I don't know, excepting it may be about Merwell and Jasniff. He said it wasn't about those girls."
"Do you think he is going to meet Merwell and Jasniff in Rockville?"
"Possibly. I can't think of anything else."
"If Dave got into trouble, I'd like to be on hand to help him."
"So would I. But I guess Dave knows how to take care of himself." And then the subject was dropped, and the two students began to exercise with some Indian clubs.
In the meantime, Dave was on his way to Rockville. As the road was clear of snow he used his bicycle, and soon covered the distance to the town. He passed along the river road to the sawmill, and then kept his eyes open for Mrs. Dunn's house.
"This must be the place," he said to himself, as he reached a dilapidated residence, located in what had once been a fine flower garden, but which was now a tangle of rank bushes and weeds. The gate was off, and leaping from his wheel, he trundled his bicycle along the choked-up garden path to the front piazza. Then leaving his wheel against a tree, he mounted the steps and rang the old-fashioned turn bell.
Dave had approached the house boldly, thinking that possibly somebody might be watching him from behind the blinds of the windows, all of which were closed. Yet he was on his guard, and in the lining of his overcoat he carried a stout stick, with which to defend himself should such a course be necessary.
No one answered his first summons, and he rang the rusty bell a second time. Then the front door was opened, and Doctor Montgomery showed himself.
"Ah, how do you do!" he said, with a bland smile. "Walk right in, Mr. Porter. I see you are on time."
Dave hesitated for a moment, and then entered the broad hallway of the house. In front of him was a long flight of stairs leading to the second floor, and on either side were doors leading to the parlor and to a dining-room.
"Mrs. Dunn isn't feeling very well, so I had to come to the door myself," explained Hooker Montgomery, smoothly. "She used to take some drug-store medicine and it did her no good. Now she is taking my remedies, and she will soon be herself." He said this so naturally that Dave was thrown a little off his guard. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Dunn was not at home, having gone away to visit a sister in Albany. It was because of her absence that the tricky doctor had invited Dave to come to the house. Had she been at home his schemes would have necessitated meeting Dave somewhere else.
"Doctor, I haven't much time to spare, so I hope you will get at the bottom of what you want without delay," said Dave, after the door had been closed and locked by the physician. It was so dark in the hall he could hardly see.
"I'll not take much of your time, sir,—not over half an hour at the most," was the reply from Hooker Montgomery. "But all of the documents and letters and photographs are in my room, on the second floor. Kindly come up there and look at them." And the man started up the stairs. Dave hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be best to go up, and then followed.
At the head of the stairs the doctor paused, and then opened a door leading to a back bedroom. The apartment had two windows, but the blinds were closed, what little light there was coming in through the turned-down slats.
"I have to shut off a good deal of light on account of my eyes," explained the doctor, as he saw Dave glance at the blinds. "My eyes are very weak, and I am told that the sunlight is very bad for them."
"I am sorry to hear that," answered Dave.
He hardly knew what to say or how to act. His reception had not been what he had anticipated, and he could not imagine what was coming next.
"Here are some of the documents I wish you to look over first—and then we'll talk business," said Hooker Montgomery, pointing to a mass of legal-looking papers lying on the bed. "You can take them to the window if you wish," and he sank down in a rocking-chair, as if tired out, and placed both hands over his eyes.
Curious to know what the documents might contain of importance to him, Dave took some of them up and stepped close to one of the windows. The writing was poor, and it was hard to make out what had been written.
His face was bent closely over one of the pages when of a sudden he felt some unusual movement behind him. He started to turn, but before he could do so, a big bag was thrown over his head and arms, and tied around his waist. At the same instant he was tackled around the legs, and his ankles were tied together.
Of course he struggled, and for several minutes his would-be captors had all they could do to hold him. But he had been taken so completely off his guard that resistance proved useless. Soon a rope was passed around the bag and over his arms, and further struggling was out of the question.
"Who are you?" he demanded, in a muffled tone, for inside of the bag it was all he could do to breathe. The covering was so heavy he could not see a thing.
No answer was vouchsafed to his question. He was backed up against the bed, and made to sit down, and then he heard his captors leave the room, locking the door after them.
Dave was both chagrined and angry—chagrined to think that he had been taken in so easily, and angry to think that he was a prisoner and at his captors' mercy.
"This must be the work of Merwell and Jasniff," he thought. "They simply hired the doctor to get me here. There is nothing in the story of documents, letters, and photographs. What a fool I was to walk into the trap!"
And then he wondered when his captors would return, and what they proposed to do with him.
For fully a quarter of an hour Dave waited, straining his ears to catch every sound. From below came a murmur of voices, but what was said he could not learn. Once he thought he recognized Jasniff's rough tones, but he was not sure.
Tired of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dave got up and tried to move around. Then he made the discovery that his ankles were tied to a rope that was secured to the bed, and that the latter was stationary.
"I'm a prisoner, and no mistake," he reasoned, grimly. "I wonder how long they intend to keep me here?"
The room was cold, and he was glad that he had his overcoat on. His cap had fallen off inside the bag, but his thick hair and the bag prevented his catching cold in the head.
"Guess I'll wake them up a bit," he thought, and so commenced to stamp on the floor. Then he stamped louder, until he felt he must be knocking the plaster from the ceiling below. He was in the midst of the stamping when the door of the room was thrown open and somebody came in.
"Stop that noise, or I'll knock you down!" said a sharp voice, and at the same instant a strong hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was given a vigorous shake.
Dave was surprised, for the voice was not that of Doctor Montgomery, neither did it belong to Merwell nor Jasniff. Yet, in some way, the voice sounded familiar.
"What are you going to do with me?" demanded Dave, as he stopped his stamping.
"You'll find that out later, Porter. Now keep quiet,—if you know when you are well off."
"I want to know now. You have no right to treat me in this fashion. I'll have you and Doctor Montgomery put in jail for it."
"You shut up!" cried the stranger, and he gave Dave a shove that sent him back on the bed. "You make any more noise and I'll quiet you in a way you won't like!" And then the fellow left the room again, and the door was locked as before.
Feeling that he might be attacked and seriously injured if he kept up the noise, Dave remained quiet, and thus the remainder of the afternoon passed. As night came on the room became dark and extra cold, and he shivered in spite of himself.
"If they leave me here all night I'll be frozen stiff," he thought, grimly. "Oh, why didn't I tell Roger and Phil where I was going! They might come to the rescue!"
After another wait Dave heard more talking below, and then three persons came upstairs and into the room.
"Now, you keep real quiet and you won't get hurt," said the person who had spoken before. "If you start to raise a row—well, you'll wish you hadn't, that's all."
"What are you going to do?"
"Keep quiet, and you'll find out before very long."
"Do you know this is a very high-handed proceeding?"
"Shut up!"
The tone was extra sharp, and Dave received a rough shake of the shoulder. Not knowing but what he might be knocked down, he relapsed into silence.
Presently his feet were unfastened, and he was led out of the room and down the stairs. Then the party made its way to the rear of the house, and went outside.
"Now we are going to give you a little sleigh-ride for your health," said the person who had spoken before.
As there was no snow on the ground Dave felt this must mean a ride on the river, and he was not mistaken. A horse and a low box-sleigh were at hand, and into the turnout Dave was lifted, the fellow who had spoken getting on one side of him and somebody else on the other. Then still another party took up the reins, and started to drive off, over the ice, which was just thick enough to bear the weight of such an outfit.
Although Dave's arms were tied to his sides, he could move his hands a little, and he managed to get hold of a good-sized pin, which had been fastened to a corner of his overcoat. As the sleigh moved over the smooth surface of the river he resolved to make an effort to learn the identity of the silent fellow beside him, and so moved the pin around, and shoved it towards the individual as far as possible.
"Ouch!" came the sudden exclamation, as the point of the pin reached its mark, and the fellow leaped partly to his feet. "What in thunder——" And then the speaker broke off short.
"I know you, Link Merwell!" cried Dave. "I thought all along it was you."
"I'm not Merwell!" growled the fellow, in a deep voice. "Don't you dare to stick me with that pin again, or I'll mash you!" And then he refused to say any more. But he gave Dave's arm such a pinch that it was black and blue for a long time afterwards.
With the bag over his head, Dave could not hear very well, yet he felt tolerably certain that the fellow was Link Merwell, and if this was so, then most likely the driver of the sleigh was Nick Jasniff. But who the third party could be was still a mystery.
"Some old enemy I have forgotten," reasoned the captive. And then he wondered where he was being taken, and for what purpose.
After a ride of half an hour the sleigh came to a halt, and Dave was ordered to get out. Then he was marched up a steep bank and up some steps. A door was opened, and all of the party entered a building of some sort. He was placed in a room and tied fast to a ring fastened in the floor.
"Now you behave yourself and you'll soon be freed and treated to a hot supper," said the man who appeared to be the spokesman for the crowd. "But if you make a row you'll not be freed, and you'll not get a mouthful."
Then Dave was left alone once more, and all three of his captors apparently left the building.
The room was warm, and for this the captive was grateful. A chair had been placed for him to sit upon, so he was fairly comfortable. An hour passed and during that time all was silent. Then somebody came in and started to release his arms and take the bag from his head.