As the bell-boy left, the three chums crowded into the bathroom, leaving the door on a crack. Soon there came another knock, and Job Haskers presented himself, silk hat and cane in hand. He was well dressed and evidently groomed for the occasion. He had expected to find Mr. Fordham alone, and was somewhat annoyed on beholding a visitor ahead of him.
"Good-morning, Mr. Haskers," said the elderly gentleman, politely. "This is my friend, Mr. Passmore."
"Happy to know you, sir," responded the former teacher, with pretended warmth. "A lovely morning after the storm," he went on, as he drew off the gloves he was wearing.
"We were just discussing this stock you have been offering to Mr. Fordham," remarked Mr. Passmore, a bit dryly. "The Sunset Company is a new one to me. Did you help to organize it?"
"Well, I—er—I had a little to do with the organization," stammered the former teacher.
"You are a regular stock-broker, I presume, Mr. Haskers."
"Yes, that is my business. But I don't deal in ordinary stocks—I handle only those which are gilt-edged and big money makers," added Job Haskers, with a flourish.
"Been following the business for some years, I presume."
"About fifteen, all told. I used to have an office in Wall Street, New York, but I gave that up, as I found the confinement bad for my health."
"It must be a pretty exacting business," went on Mr. Passmore.
"It is, sir. When a fellow is in stocks he can't follow much of anything else."
"I'd hate to follow stocks for fifteen years."
"Do you mean to say you have been handling stocks for the past fifteen years?" questioned Mr. Fordham, slowly.
"Exactly, sir—ever since I gave up my position as cashier of a Boston bank," returned Job Haskers, smoothly. "And now, to get down to business, as my time is somewhat limited. I suppose you are ready to subscribe for that stock?" And the former teacher brought forth a paper and his fountain pen.
"We'll see," mused Mr. Fordham. "Dealing in stocks for the past fifteen years, eh? How long since you gave up your office in Wall Street?"
"About—er—two years," stammered Job Haskers. He looked keenly at Mr. Fordham and then at Mr. Passmore. "What—er—why do you ask me that question?"
"Mr. Fordham probably thought it strange that you could be dealing in stocks and teaching school at the same time," answered Bert's father, dryly.
At this announcement Job Haskers' jaw dropped.
"I—I don't understand you," he stammered.
"Well, you will understand in a minute," returned the rug dealer, blandly. He raised his voice. "Boys, I guess you had better come in now!"
The boys had listened to all that was said, and now they lost no time in filing into Mr. Fordham's bedroom.
Job Haskers stared at them in amazement, and his face dropped in consternation.
"Porter!" he gasped. "And Morr and Lawrence! Wha—what does this—er—mean?"
"Perhaps you know as well as we do," answered Dave, sharply.
"You have been spying on me!"
"We are here by permission of Mr. Fordham," returned Roger.
"How did you know I was to call?"
"Never mind about that," put in Phil. "We are here, and that is enough."
"And we know all about what you are trying to do," added Dave.
"This is a plot—a plot against me—to ruin me!" spluttered the former teacher of Oak Hall. "Oh, you needn't try to disguise it! I know all of you!"
"We have no plot against you, Mr. Haskers," replied Dave, calmly. "If your business is perfectly legitimate——"
"Never mind about that!" interposed Job Haskers, hastily. He jammed the paper and his fountain pen in his pocket. "You can't make a fool of me! You have been following me up, and you mean to—to—do what you can to—er—get me into trouble." He backed towards the doorway.
"What is your hurry, sir?" asked Mr. Passmore, and he quietly placed himself in front of the door.
"Let me pass! Let me pass!" shrilled Job Haskers, and now he looked thoroughly scared.
"Don't you wish to talk this matter over?" questioned Mr. Fordham, wonderingly.
"No, sir. I am not going to stay here to be made a fool of!" cried the former instructor. "Let me pass, I demand it!" he added, to Bert's father.
"Oh, all right, if you insist," answered Mr. Passmore, and stepped aside. At once Job Haskers threw the door open and retreated to the hallway.
"Just wait, you young scamps! I'll get even with you for this!" he exclaimed, shaking a long finger at Dave, Roger, and Phil. "I'll show you yet! You just wait!" And with that threat he literally ran down the hallway and down the stairs and out of the hotel.
"Say, he's some mad, believe me!" was Roger's grim comment.
"I think he is more scared than anything else," returned Dave. "He acted as if he thought we had trapped him in some way."
"Just how it struck me," put in Phil. "He certainly didn't lose any time in getting away, did he?" and the shipowner's son grinned broadly.
"He had a guilty conscience," was Mr. Passmore's comment. "Mr. Fordham, I think you can congratulate yourself that he has left."
"I think so myself, sir," replied the old gentleman. He looked kindly at Dave and his chums. "It looks to me as if you had saved me from being swindled," he continued. "If he had a fair sort of a proposition I think he would have stayed."
"I think so myself," added Mr. Passmore. "Just the same, supposing I look into this Sunset Company for you?"
"As you please, Mr. Passmore. But I doubt if I care to invest—after what I have heard and seen of this fellow, Haskers," answered the old gentleman.
The matter was talked over a little more and then the boys and Bert's father departed, first, however, receiving the warm thanks of Mr. Fordham for what they had done. In the foyer of the hotel the chums fell in with Bert.
"Say, I saw that Haskers fellow shoot out of the hotel in a mighty hurry," he said. "You must have made it hot for him."
"We did," answered Dave. "Where did he go?"
"Up the lake road, as fast as he could walk."
"I wonder where he is stopping?" mused Phil.
"We might take the auto and follow him?" suggested the senator's son. "There is no hurry about our getting home."
"Let's do it!" cried Dave, for he was as curious as the others concerning the former teacher of Oak Hall.
"If you don't mind I'll go along," said Bert.
So it was arranged, and letting Mr. Passmore know of their plans they soon got ready for the trip.
"Now, don't get into any trouble," warned the rug dealer, as they were about to depart. "That fellow Haskers may be like a rat—very ugly when cornered."
"We'll keep our eyes open," answered Dave.
Soon the touring-car was rolling over the lake road, in the direction Job Haskers had taken. The storm had left the road a trifle muddy in spots, but that was all. Overhead the sky was blue and the sun shone brightly.
Less than a quarter of a mile was covered when those in the touring-car saw a figure ahead they knew to be Job Haskers. He was walking along more slowly now, his head bent down as if in deep thought.
"I suppose he is trying to figure out what to do next," was Phil's comment. "Wants to locate another sucker—if he can."
"Such a man ought to be in jail," said Bert "He may rob some poor fellow and do it in a legal way, too,—so that the man won't be able to get back at him."
Roger had slowed down, so that the touring-car kept well behind the former teacher. Presently the boys saw Haskers turn up a side road, one that led to a small hotel, standing on a hill overlooking the lake.
"He's going to the Fenton House," said Bert. "Maybe he is stopping there."
"Possibly," returned Dave.
Slowly following the man, they saw Job Haskers enter the hotel and walk in the direction of the reading-room. Roger stopped the car and turned to the others.
"Well, what's the next move?" he asked. "Want to go in?"
"What's the use?" asked Phil. "We'd only have a lot of words with him. He's got a right to stay here if he wants to."
"Let's go in anyway," said Dave. "You must know somebody here," he continued, turning to Bert.
"Oh, yes, I know several young fellows and girls," answered the lad who was spending the summer at the lake.
"Then we can pretend to be calling on them," put in Roger.
Leaving the touring-car standing in the road, the four youths entered the hotel. They glanced into the reading-room, and noted that over a dozen persons were present. Then Dave gave a low cry.
"Look, boys! What do you think of that?"
He pointed to one corner of the reading-room, where two persons sat on a leather couch, one with a newspaper in his hand.
"Why, it's Link Merwell!" gasped Phil. "Merwell as sure as you're born!"
"How did that rascal get here?" murmured Roger.
"Who is it?" asked Bert, curiously.
"That fellow who is on the couch with Haskers," whispered Dave. "He used to go to school with us at Oak Hall, and then he had to leave, and after that he and a fellow named Jasniff robbed Mr. Wadsworth's jewelry works."
"Oh, yes, Roger told me about that. You fellows followed the rascals to Cave Island, didn't you?"
"Yes, and we caught Jasniff, but Merwell got away."
"Then why not have him locked up right now?" demanded Bert.
"It's what we ought to do," declared Phil.
"Haskers and Merwell must be in with each other," was Dave's comment. "Maybe Merwell is trying to sell some of that Sunset Company stock, too."
"Wonder if we can't hear what they are saying?" said Roger. "It might help us to make out a case against them."
"We can go around to that side window and listen," suggested Phil, and pointed to the window in question.
This was quickly agreed upon, and the four boys left the hotel and walked out on a gravel path close to the window. As the day was warm, the window was wide open.
"No, it was a frost!" they heard Job Haskers say, in harsh tones.
"He wouldn't buy the stock?" queried Link Merwell.
"Worse than that, Merwell. I was trapped, and I had all I could do to get away."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you know who was there, with that old man, when I went to see him?"
"I have no idea."
"Three of the boys you hate—Porter, Morr, and Lawrence."
Merwell started back in consternation.
"You don't mean it—you are fooling!"
"It's the truth. They were there and ready to have me arrested, I suppose. I got out in a hurry." Job Haskers gave a deep sigh and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
"Did—did they follow you?" asked Link Merwell, nervously.
"I don't think so—I didn't give them time. Oh, this is too bad! I expected to get a lot of money from that old man," and Job Haskers shook his head, sadly.
"I told you it wasn't safe to stay around here," was Merwell's comment. "Why not go out West with me? It will be much safer there, I am sure."
"My funds are low."
"I'll stake you, as the miners say."
"How much money have you?" asked Job Haskers, a bit more hopefully.
"Enough to take us both West. I made dad come down—he sent the money order this morning, and I just got it cashed. I told him if he didn't come down I'd have to give myself up to the police, and that would disgrace the whole family."
"I see." The former teacher of Oak Hall gritted his teeth. "Oh, how I wish I could do something to punish Porter and those others!"
"Humph! you don't wish that any more than I do," replied Link Merwell, scowling. "I'm going to do something some day, mark my words!" he added, vindictively.
At that moment the agent for a big observation car that ran around the lake approached the boys on the gravel path beneath the window.
"Wouldn't you young gentlemen like to take a nice ride this afternoon?" he asked, in a business-like tone. "A fifty-mile ride in our new observation touring-car, visiting all the points of interest around the lake, and taking in Creswood, Lighton, and Tomkins' Mill—a two-hours' ride for one dollar." And he held up a handful of tickets.
"We don't want any ride," answered Dave.
"We have our own touring-car," added Roger, pointing to the car.
"Oh, I see, all right," said the man, and passed on, to hunt for customers elsewhere.
When the man had started to speak his voice had carried into the reading-room, and much surprised to think others were so near, both Haskers and Merwell had gotten up from the couch to glance out of the window.
"Well, I never!" gasped Merwell.
"They must have followed me after all!" groaned Job Haskers.
The youth who had been mixed up in the robbery of the jewelry works grabbed the former teacher by the arm.
"We can't stay here—at least I can't!" he whispered, hoarsely. "I am going to dust!" And out of the reading-room he glided, and Job Haskers followed him.
"Where shall we go?" asked the former teacher, his shaking voice showing how much he was disturbed.
"I don't know—but I won't stay here," returned Merwell. "Have you much baggage? I have only a Gladstone bag."
"I have a suit-case, that is all."
"Then let us pack up and get out by the back way. We can pay our bills later. Come on, there is no time to spare!"
"Well, they are gone, that's certain!"
"Yes, and there is no telling where they went to."
"Must have slipped out by a back way."
"They sure are a slick pair."
It was some time later, and Dave and the other boys stood on the broad piazza of the hotel discussing the situation.
Following the talk with the observation car agent they had looked into the reading-room only to discover that Job Haskers and Link Merwell had vanished. At once they had rushed into the building, looking through the hallways and other rooms that were open to the general public. Not a trace of the two evildoers was to be found anywhere. Then they had consulted the clerk at the desk, and through him had learned that only Job Haskers was stopping at the place.
"But he has a young friend here, a Mr. Smith—Jackson Smith," the clerk had told them. And then he had described the fellow called Jackson Smith, and Dave and his chums had felt assured that it was Link Merwell under an assumed name. Finally a visit had been paid to the rooms Haskers and Merwell had occupied, and both had been found vacated, with the keys sticking in the locks.
"And neither of 'em stopped to pay his bill," the clerk had told them, mournfully.
"I am not surprised," Dave had answered. "They are a bad pair."
The clerk had wanted to know the particulars, and the boys had told him as much as they deemed necessary. Then they had come out on the piazza of the hostelry, wondering what they ought to do next.
"I don't think it is worth while trying to follow them up," said the senator's son. "If you caught Merwell you would have to appear in court against him, and you know what a lot of trouble you had appearing against Jasniff;" and this statement was true.
"Oh, let them go!" cried Phil. "Say," he added, "did you hear what Link said about bleeding his dad for money? Isn't he the limit!"
"That proves he isn't working for a living," remarked Dave. "And to think that he told me he was going to reform!"
"That sort of a chap doesn't reform," asserted Roger.
"Oh, I don't know. Gus Plum reformed."
"Yes, but Plum isn't like Merwell, or Jasniff. He was simply overbearing. These other fellows are downright dishonest."
The four boys walked back to the automobile, and soon they were returning to the hotel at which Bert was staying. By that time it was close to the lunch hour and so the visitors were invited to stay over for something to eat.
"Didn't catch that man Haskers, eh?" remarked Mr. Passmore, as he came up, in company with Mr. Fordham.
"No, he ran away," answered Roger, and then he and the others told of what had occurred.
"I am very thankful to you for saving me from a bad investment," said Mr. Fordham. "I shall not forget it." And he kept his word, for later on, after he had consulted with his son and found out just how worthless was the stock in the Sunset Milling Company, he sent each of the boys a fine pair of gold cuff-links.
After lunch the lads remained with Bert for about an hour and then took their departure for Roger's home, where they arrived some time before dark. As they rolled up the driveway a surprise awaited them.
"Look who's here!" exclaimed Dave. "Hello there, Luke!"
"Hello yourself," answered Luke Watson, with a broad grin. "I thought you chaps would be along soon."
"And Shadow!" cried Roger, as another form came into view, from the Morr piazza. "This is a surprise! I didn't expect to see you quite so soon."
"Oh, we hadn't anything special to do, so we came ahead," answered Luke. "Hope it won't put you out?"
"Not at all, glad you are here." There was a general handshaking, for the automobile had now come to a stop and the boys had piled out to greet their former schoolmates.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" burst out Shadow Hamilton. "A fellow made a date with a girl for six o'clock. Well, at five—"
"Wow!"
"Shadow is onto the game already!"
"Say, Shadow, give us a chance to say how-do-you-do first, won't you?"
"I believe Shadow would try to tell a story if he was going to a funeral."
"Oh, say!" burst out the former story-teller of Oak Hall. "That puts me in mind of another. Two Irishmen went to a funeral and——"
"Shut him off!"
"Put a popcorn ball in his mouth!"
"Make him apologize on the spot!"
At once the four others surrounded the would-be story-teller and pushed him from the gravel path to the green lawn. Then followed something of a wrestling match, all the lads taking part.
"Let up, will you!" panted Shadow, breaking away at last. "I won't tell any stories if you don't want to listen to 'em. But just the same, that story about the Irishmen was a good one. And that about the fellow who went to see the girl at five o'clock is a corker. You see his watch had stopped and he——"
"Jump him!"
"He can't stop, no matter how hard he tries!"
"Let's stand him on his head and make him tell it backwards!"
Again there was a rush, but this time poor Shadow took to his heels and rushed up on the piazza, just as the door opened and Mrs. Morr came out to greet the boys.
"Roger!" exclaimed the lady of the mansion, turning to her son, "what in the world——"
"Only a little horse-play, Mom," replied the son, with a smile. "We are so glad to see the fellows that we have to let off a little steam."
"It looked like a fight to me."
"Oh, nothing like that, Mrs. Morr," said Dave, quickly. "Only fun; isn't that so, fellows?"
"Of course!" was the quick reply.
"Have you met Luke and Shadow, Mom?" asked Roger.
"Yes, about an hour ago. I told them that you had telephoned that you were on the way home, so they said they'd remain out here, watching for you. I showed them what room they were to occupy," added the lady of the mansion.
"Fine!" cried Roger. "I'll put the car away for the present, and then we'll fix up for dinner and listen to those stories Shadow had to tell."
"Somebody said Buster Beggs was coming," said Luke.
"Yes, he'll be here the night before the Fourth."
Quarter of an hour later found the whole crowd of boys upstairs in the house. In anticipation of the Fourth of July party, as she called it, Mrs. Morr had turned over one wing of the second floor of the big house to the youths. There they could "cut up" to their hearts' content.
"Say, this is something like old times at Oak Hall!" cried Phil, as the youths gathered in one of the bedrooms and proceeded to distribute themselves in various attitudes on the chairs and the bed. "Somehow, I think we are going to miss that school!"
"Miss it! Well I guess yes!" answered Dave. "And that puts me in mind of something. I was thinking——"
"Whoop! Is he going to tell stories, too?"
"Say, Dave, that act belongs to Shadow."
"No, I wasn't going to tell a story," answered Dave. "I've got an idea for a club."
"A club? What do you mean?" asked Roger. "Do you mean for us to get up a club?"
"Yes, the Oak Hall Club, to be composed of fellows who attended Oak Hall for a year or more."
"Great!"
"Let us do it!"
"We'll make Dave president," cried Roger.
"And you treasurer," added Phil.
"And Shadow chief story-teller," put in Luke, with a grin.
"Huh! What's the use of being chief story-teller when you won't let me tell a story?" grumbled Shadow. "But I know what I'll do," he added, with a sudden twinkle in his eye. "If you won't let me talk, I'll write it down. And I'll write a sentence none of you can read and be sure of," he went on.
"What's that?" asked Phil, curiously. "A sentence none of us can read? Maybe you'll write it in Choctaw, or Chinese."
"No, I'll write it in plain, every-day United States, and none of you will be sure how to read it."
"What's the riddle?" demanded Dave, who saw that the story-teller had something up his sleeve.
"Give me a sheet of paper and a pencil and I'll show you," returned Shadow.
Paper and pencil were furnished by Roger, and the story-teller quickly wrote down the following:
"After a row the sailors had a row!"
"After a row the sailors had a row!"
"Now read it out loud!" cried Shadow, as he passed the paper to the others. All gazed at it for several seconds.
"I pass," remarked Dave, calmly.
"Why, that's easy!" cried Phil. "After a ro——Say, Shadow, what do you mean, did they quarrel or row the boat first?"
"Maybe they rowed the boat twice," suggested Roger, with a grin.
"Or had two quarrels," suggested Luke. And then a general laugh went up.
"You've got us this time, Shadow!" cried Dave. "Give him a lemon, somebody, for a prize," and then another laugh went up.
"That idea of an Oak Hall Club is a good one," said Luke. "But you can't organize it now—the fellows are too scattered."
"Oh, I was thinking we might do it later on—perhaps this winter," answered Dave.
The newcomers were much interested in what Dave, Phil, and Roger had to tell about Job Haskers and Link Merwell, and various were the opinions advanced as to what had become of the pair.
"They are both mighty sore, because they had to leave Oak Hall in disgrace," said Luke. "Every one of us had better keep his eye peeled, for they'll make trouble if they get half a chance." And then the bell rang for dinner and the boys went downstairs.
The next day the lads were all busy getting ready for the Fourth of July. It had been arranged that they should have quite a display of fireworks on the lawn of the senator's home, and many folks of that vicinity were invited to attend.
"Here is Buster Beggs!" cried Roger, that evening, and the youth who was so fat and jolly hove in sight, suit-case in hand. He shook hands all around and was speedily made to feel at home.
"Glad you are going to have fireworks," he said to Roger. "I don't care much for noise on the Fourth, but I dote on fireworks. Let me set some of 'em off, won't you?"
"Of course," was Roger's reply. "We boys are going to give the exhibition, while the older folks, and the girls, look on."
"But we are going to have a little noise—at sunrise," put in Phil.
"What kind of noise—a cannon?"
"No, some firecrackers."
"Oh, that will be all right," answered Buster, thinking the firecrackers were to be of ordinary size.
So they were—all but one. But that one was a monster—the largest Phil and Roger had been able to buy. They had not told the others about this big fellow, not even Dave, for they wanted the explosion of that to be a surprise.
"It will sure make them sit up and take notice," said Phil to Roger, as the pair hid the big cannon cracker away in the automobile garage.
"We'll set it off back of the kitchen," answered Roger. "It won't do any harm there."
On the night of the third the boys retired somewhat early, so as to be up bright and early for the glorious Fourth.
They had been sleeping less than an hour when a sudden cry awakened them.
"Fire! Fire! Get up, boys! The garage is on fire, and I am afraid the gasoline tank will blow up!"
"What's that!"
"The garage on fire!"
"Say, look at the blaze!"
Such were some of the cries, as the boys tumbled out of bed, one after another. A bright glare of fire was dancing over the walls of the rooms.
"It's some brushwood behind the garage!" announced Dave, as he poked his head out of a window to look. "It's that big heap the gardener put there yesterday."
"He shouldn't have placed it so close," said Luke. "Why didn't he rake it to some spot in the open?"
All of the boys were hurrying into their clothing as fast as possible. The alarm had been given by Senator Morr, and by the chauffeur, who slept in a room of the barn next to the garage.
"Oh, Roger!" gasped Phil. "That big cannon cracker!"
"I was thinking of it, Phil!" returned the senator's son, hurriedly. "We must get it out somehow!"
"If it goes off it will wreck the building!"
"Yes, and the gasoline tank with it!"
The tank in question was not underground, as would have been safer, but was located in a bricked-up place at one side of the garage. In the storehouse were two barrels of gasoline, and also some lubricating oils. If that storehouse caught, it would certainly make a hot and dangerous blaze.
Pell-mell down the stairs rushed the youths, one after another. In the meantime Senator Morr was dressing and so were the others of the household.
"Be careful, boys! Don't go too close!" warned Mrs. Morr.
"Watch out for an explosion!" puffed her husband. The senator was so stout that dressing in a hurry was no easy matter for him.
When the boys got out in the garden they found the chauffeur and the gardener at work, trying to pull the burning brushwood away from the garage. The flames were crackling merrily and the sparks were flying in various directions.
"I'm going in and get that big cannon cracker," said Roger to Phil, in a low voice, so that the others might not hear.
"I'll go with you, Roger. Be careful, though, the sparks are flying all round that doorway."
"I've shut everything!" bawled the chauffeur, as he saw Roger at the big sliding doors. "Better not open up, or the fire will get inside."
"I've got to go in, Jake!" answered Roger. "I've got to get something out."
"What?" asked Dave, who was close by.
"Never mind, Dave. It's something that can't be left in there," and so speaking Roger slid open a door and hurried inside the garage. Phil came directly behind him.
On the floor, in a corner, was a box with ordinary firecrackers in it—about two hundred packs in all. On top of this was a package in paper containing the big cannon cracker.
"Lookout!"
"It's on fire!"
Thus yelled both boys as they saw that the flames from the brushwood had made their way into a corner of the garage, just where the firecrackers had been placed. For an instant they hesitated, then both leaped forward again and commenced to stamp out the fire.
It had caught at a corner of the box containing the smaller firecrackers and was also at the paper containing the cannon cracker. This Phil caught up, knocking the fire away with his hand.
"What are you after, anyway?" The question came from Dave, who had followed his chums into the building. Buster, Shadow, and Luke were outside, at the rear, helping to pull the brushwood away and stamp out the flames.
"Firecrackers—a box full!" cried Roger. "We must get it out!"
"A giant firecracker!" added Phil. "Big enough to blow down a house!" And he held up the package and then made a dive for the outer air, for the garage was now full of smoke.
Dave understood on the instant, and stooped to pick up one end of the burning box. Roger took the other end, and thus they ran from the garage.
Crack! crack! crack! It was the small firecrackers in the box that were beginning to go off, the pieces flying through a lower corner of the burning box.
"Into the back yard with it!" cried Roger. "Keep it away from the buildings!"
"All right, this way!" answered Dave, and then the pair made for something of an open lot behind the kitchen of the mansion and there threw the box on the ground. Crack! bang! crack! went the firecrackers, going off singly and in bunches, until all were shot off.
"It's a pity we didn't save 'em," said Roger, mournfully.
"It's a grand good thing they didn't go off in the garage," returned Dave.
"Well, I saved the big cannon cracker anyway," said Phil, as he walked up at that moment.
"Where did you put it?" questioned Roger, quickly.
"Over there, in a corner of the fence. I didn't want to take any chances, otherwise I might have taken it to the barn."
"Better leave it outside, where it can't do any damage," said Dave.
While talking, the three boys had been running back to the garage. There they found their chums and the men at work, including Senator Morr, all hauling the burning brushwood away and pouring water from a small hose on the flames. The most of the fire was out, so they found little to do. Only one corner of the garage had been touched, and for this the senator was thankful.
"But it was careless of you, James, to put that brushwood there, so close to the building," he said to the gardener, "Don't do it again."
"If you please, sir, I didn't put the brushwood as close as that," replied the gardener, stoutly. "Somebody else did that."
"What!" cried the senator, in surprise.
"I said I didn't put the brushwood so close to the garage, sir," repeated the gardener. "I put it right there," and he pointed to a spot about fifteen feet from the rear wall of the building. "I was going to burn it up first thing in the morning,—that is if the young gentlemen didn't want the stuff for a bonfire at night."
"But who did put the brushwood up against the garage?" demanded Senator Morr.
"I'm sure I don't know," put in the chauffeur. "But what James says, sir, is true—he put the heap out there—I was working around the garage when he did it."
"Do you mean to insinuate that this fire was set by somebody?" cried the senator, quickly.
"I don't know about that, sir," answered the chauffeur, while the gardener merely shrugged his shoulders. He was an old man and one who had been trusted by the Morrs for years.
"If what you say is true, I'll have to look into this matter," remarked Senator Morr. "I don't propose to have my garage burnt down, with two automobiles worth five thousand dollars,—not to say anything about the danger to the rest of the place. If I find——"
Bang! It was an explosion like a cannon and made everybody jump. As Dave looked, he saw a corner of a distant fence fly apart, and bits of fire seemed to fill the midnight air. Then followed utter silence.
"The cannon cracker!" gasped Phil.
"What could have made it go off?" asked Roger.
"Some sparks from this fire—or else it was lit when Phil took it out," answered Dave.
"What are you talking about?" asked Senator Morr, and when he had been told he shook his head and smiled, grimly.
"Well, I'm glad it didn't go off in the garage," he said. "But after this you must keep your explosives in a safer place. Jake, James, bring some buckets of water and put out that fire from the explosion. It isn't much, but we want no more sparks flying around here."
The water was brought, and soon every spark had been extinguished. Then the crowd went back to the garage, to make sure that no more fire lingered in that vicinity.
"It certainly looks as if somebody had set this fire," mused Senator Morr. "Perhaps a tramp. Have you seen any such fellows around here?" he asked, looking at the others.
The boys had seen no tramps at all, and James said he had seen none for over a week.
"I saw one day before yesterday," said the chauffeur, "but I know he left town that night—I saw him board a freight train."
"Well, it is strange. Keep your eyes open," said Senator Morr, and then he returned to the house, to quiet his wife and retire once more.
"It's mighty queer about that fire," remarked Luke, when the boys were undressing. "It certainly does look as if it was set."
"Dave, do you think Merwell and Haskers would do it?" questioned Roger.
"Yes, if they were in this neighborhood. But have they been here?"
The boys looked at each other. Nobody had seen Merwell or the former teacher of Oak Hall in that vicinity.
"Let us make some inquiries down at the railroad station in the morning," suggested Dave. "If those two stopped off here somebody must have seen them."
"Phew! what a noise that cannon cracker did make!" murmured Phil. "If we had set that off in the morning—as we intended—I reckon it would have woke up the neighborhood pretty well."
"It did wake some folks up," answered Roger, for quite a few boys and men had come up to find out what the flames and noise meant.
"It was certainly some firecracker," was Luke's comment.
"Say, speaking of firecrackers puts me in mind of a story!" burst out Shadow.
"Wow! A story this time of night!" murmured Buster. "I'm going to bed."
"This is a short one," pleaded the would-be story-teller. "A man was giving a celebration one Fourth of July to a lot of children. He had ordered a lot of firecrackers, but they didn't come. So he sent a telegram to the wholesale house in the city. 'Send big and little crackers as ordered at once.' About an hour afterwards he got a return telegram which said, 'Our grocery department is closed to-day. Your order for crackers will be filled to-morrow.'"
"Call that a crackerjack joke?" asked Roger, with a grin.
"Don't crack any more like that, Shadow," added Dave.
"You might get fired if you do," contributed Phil; and then a general laugh went up, after which all of the boys again retired.
In the morning the lads inspected the vicinity of the fire once more, and spent some time in shooting off a pistol and a shotgun which Roger possessed. Then, acting on a suggestion from Dave, they took a walk to the railroad station.
Here an interesting bit of news awaited them, which was to the effect that, owing to some trouble with a bridge about a mile outside of Hemson, two passenger trains and a freight had been held up at the station for several hours.
"Most of the passengers remained in the trains," said the station agent. "But some of 'em got restless and they went over to the hotel, and some walked down to where the bridge was being repaired."
"Did you notice two people in particular?" asked Roger, and described Merwell and Job Haskers as well as he could.
"No, I don't remember seeing those fellows," said the agent.
From the railroad station the boys went to the hotel, and then walked along the country road leading to the Morr place. Presently they met a man driving a milk wagon.
"Say, you had a fire last night, didn't you?" asked the driver of Roger, as he reined up.
"Yes, Mr. Platt," answered the senator's son. "But it didn't amount to anything."
"How did it catch, do you know?" went on the driver of the milk wagon, curiously.
"No, we are trying to find out."
"Maybe it was set. I see two fellers sneakin' around your place last evening," went on Mr. Platt.
"You saw two fellows sneaking around our place last evening?" cried Roger, with interest.
"I certainly did."
"What did they look like?" asked Dave.
"I see 'em plainly an' I was wonderin' what they was up to," said the driver of the milk wagon, and then he described the two persons quite minutely.
"Haskers and Merwell, beyond a doubt!" exclaimed Phil. "Now what do you know about that!"
"It certainly is the limit!" murmured Luke.
"Wonder if they are still around?" came from Shadow. "Say, this puts me in mind of a sto——But never mind, I'll tell it another time," he broke off, hastily, as he saw a look of disgust on the others' faces.
"I don't believe they are around," said Dave. "They probably boarded the first train that went over the bridge."
"Just what I think," returned the senator's son.
"Think them fellers set the fire?" asked Mr. Platt, curiously.
"We feel certain of it," replied Roger. "They are old school enemies of ours," he added. "It's only one more score we've got to settle with them," he continued, to his chums, and shut his teeth with a snap.
Nothing further could be learned concerning the mysterious visitors, and finally the boys went back to the Morr mansion, to get ready for the evening celebration. This came off as scheduled and proved a big success. Fully a hundred town folk were present, besides some from the lake and elsewhere. There were rockets and Roman candles and wheels galore, as well as several set pieces. Some fire balloons were also liberated. Senator Morr had engaged a local band of eight pieces, and if the music was not of a high order it was certainly patriotic, and that counted for a good deal.
Of course the other boys had to hear all about the proposed trip West and, incidentally, about the lost Landslide Mine. From his father and mother Roger got some more details concerning the missing property. A map was produced, and also some papers, and the son was advised to hunt up an old miner and prospector named Abe Blower.
"Abe Blower knew your Uncle Maurice well," said Mrs. Morr, to her son. "They were friends for years. I am sure if you can find Mr. Blower he will do all he can for you, and for me, too."
"Then I'll do what I can to find him, first of all," answered Roger.
At last came the time when Dave must leave the Morr home and return to Crumville. He was going alone, but he promised to keep in constant communication with the others.
"I wish I was going on that western trip," said Shadow, wistfully. "You'll have barrels of fun, and if you do locate that Landslide Mine—well, it will be a big feather in your cap."
"I'd like to go, too," said Buster.
"I reckon we'd all like to go," cried the others, in concert.
"Well, there is just this much about it," returned Dave. "Anybody who has the price can go on that personally-conducted tour to Yellowstone Park, and, so far as I am concerned, you can go from there into the mountains and look for the mine."
"Why, of course!" burst out Roger. "If any of you want to go, just say the word."
This brought on a discussion lasting nearly an hour. In the end several of the lads said they would see what they could do, and would write about it later, or telegraph.
"Say, but wouldn't it be grand if we could locate that lost mine!" cried Phil, enthusiastically.
"Well, we'll have a try at it," returned Dave.
At last came the time for Dave to leave. Some of the others had already gone. Roger drove his chum down to the railroad station in the runabout. The two were alone. Dave noticed that the senator's son seemed unusually thoughtful.
"What's up, Roger?" he asked, at last. "You don't seem quite like yourself."
"Oh, I don't know that I ought to say anything, Dave," was the hesitating answer.
"If there is anything I can do——"
"No, it isn't that." Roger gave a deep sigh. "I wish we could locate that mine!" he murmured.
"So you were thinking about that? Well, we may have luck. Let us hope so," and Dave smiled.
"I might as well tell you how it is," continued Roger, as he drove up to the little railroad station. He looked around, to make sure that no outsiders were listening. "You know father comes up for re-election this fall."
"Oh, does his term as senator run out?"
"Yes. Well, there is a movement on foot to put somebody else in his place. If they do that—well, he'll be out, that's all."
"What will he do then?"
"That's just it. I don't know what he can do. He used to be in an office business, but he gave that up to go into politics. Now, if he gets out, he will have to start all over again."
"Hasn't he anything at all—I mean any business?"
"Not anything regular. He dabbles a little in real estate."
"Then I hope they don't put him out, Roger."
"And—er—that isn't all, Dave. I wouldn't tell anybody but you—and maybe Phil. He has spent a lot of money while in politics—it costs a good deal to live in Washington. I heard him tell mother about it. If he goes out, it will go hard with him. Now, if we had that mine, and it was as valuable as they think it is——"
"I see, Roger. We'll have to do our level best to find the mine."
"If mother had the mine she could let dad use the money in any way he pleased. But if we haven't got the mine to fall back on, and dad gets out of politics—well, it is going to make hard sledding for us."
"Roger, if it gets too bad, don't you hesitate to come to us!" cried Dave, quickly. "I am sure my father, and my Uncle Dunston, would be only too glad to help you out."
"Thank you, Dave; but I don't think it will get to be as bad as that," answered the senator's son. And then the train came along and Dave had to bid his chum good-by.
The car was only half filled with people, so Dave had a double seat to himself. He placed his suit-case in the rack overhead and then sank down by the window, to gaze at the swiftly moving panorama and give himself up to thought.
"Hello, Dave!"
The youth looked up, to see, standing beside him, Nat Poole, the son of the money-lender of Crumville—a tall, awkward youth with a face that was inclined to scowl more than to smile. In the past Nat had played Dave many a mean trick, and had usually gotten the worst of it. Nat had been in the class with our hero, but had failed to pass for graduation, much to his chagrin.
"Hello, Nat!" cried Dave. He put as much warmth as possible in the salutation, for he felt sorry for the boy who had failed. "Bound for home?"
"Yes." The money-lender's son hesitated for a moment. "Want me to sit with you?"
"Certainly, if you like," and Dave shoved over to make room.
"Been visiting an old aunt of mine," explained Nat as he sat down. "Had a slow time of it, too, over the Fourth. Where have you been?"
Dave told him. "We had a dandy time, too," he added.
"It must have been fine." Nat gave a sigh. "I wish I had been—but what's the use? You fellows wouldn't care for me."
"What were you going to say, Nat?"
"I might have been there myself, if I hadn't—well, if I hadn't made a big fool of myself!" burst out the money-lender's son. "Yes, that's what I did, made a fool of myself! Uncle Tom told me the plain truth."
"I thought you said you'd been visiting an aunt."
"So I have, but she's married again,—married a man named Tom Allen, a merchant. He knows father, and he flocked it into the old man in great shape," and Nat actually chuckled. "Told me just what kind of a man dad was—hard-fisted and miserly—somebody nobody loved or wanted to associate with. And he warned me not to grow up the same way—not to think money was everything, and all that. He said a boy ought to be known for his real worth, not his dollars and his clothes."
"He's right there, Nat."
"Yes, he opened my eyes. And when he asked me about Oak Hall, and you fellows, and how I had missed passing, he told me the truth about myself. I—well, I resented it at first, but by and by I got to thinking he must be right, and the more I thought of it, the more I made up my mind that I had been a big fool. And then I made a resolve——" Nat stopped and gave a gulp.
"A resolve?"
"Yes. I resolved that, the first time I met you, Dave, and the others, I was going to eat humble pie and tell you just what I thought of myself." The son of the money-lender was in a perspiration now and mopped his face with his handkerchief.
Dave hardly knew how to reply. Here was Nat Poole in certainly an entirely new role.
"I am glad to know you are going to turn over a new leaf," he returned. "I hope you make a success of it."
"Do you really, Dave?" There was an eager note in Nat's voice.
"Sure I do, Nat. You'd be all right, if—if——"
"Go ahead, give it to me straight, just as Uncle Tom did."
"Well, if you wouldn't be quite so conceited and stuck-up, and if you'd buckle down a bit more to studying."
"That's what I am going to do—buckle down to study next fall. And if I show any conceit in the future, well, I want you and Ben Basswood, and Roger and Phil, and all the others, to knock it right out of me," went on the money-lender's son, earnestly. "My eyes are open and I'm going ahead, and I don't want to slip backwards."
"I'll help you all I can, Nat," and Dave held out his hand, which the other grasped vigorously.
"This talk with Uncle Tom woke me up," went on Nat, a moment later. "When I get home, I am going to try to wake dad up, too. It's going to be no easy task, but I'll do it. I know ma will be on my side—she was never after the money like dad was. I am going to prove to him that he has got to do something else besides get money."
"I wish you luck, Nat," replied Dave. He could not help but smile when he thought of the hard-fisted money-lender, and what he might say when his son went at the task of making him more kind and benevolent.
"And, by the way, Dave, now I am going to turn over a new leaf, I want to tell you about a letter I received some time ago," went on Nat, after a pause, during which the train stopped at a station to take on some passengers.
"A letter?"
"Yes. You'd never guess who it was from."
"Gus Plum?"
"No, Link Merwell."
"Link Merwell!" exclaimed our hero, in surprise. "What did he write to you about, Nat? Not that diamond robbery?"
"Oh, no, he had precious little to say about that, for he must know I knew he and Jasniff were guilty. He wrote about you. It was a long letter—nearly eight pages—and he spoke about what you had done to get him and me into trouble."
"I never tried to get you into trouble, Nat."
"I know it. But I used to think you were trying to do it. Well, Link wrote about it, and he wanted to know if I would help him in a scheme to pay you back. He said he had a dandy scheme to pay you off."
"Oh, he did?" said Dave, with interest. "What was the scheme?"
"He didn't say."
"What did you answer?"
"I didn't answer the letter. I kept it to think about. Then, yesterday, after my last talk with Uncle Tom, I made up my mind to wash my hands of Link Merwell, and I burned the letter up."
"I'm glad you washed your hands of Merwell, Nat," replied Dave, with warmth. "He is not the sort for any respectable fellow to associate with. But about that letter. Have you any idea what he was going to do?"
"No. All he said was, 'If you will join with me we can pay Dave Porter off good and get him in the biggest kind of a hole.' I guess you had better keep your eyes open, Dave."
"I am doing that already."
"I—I made up my mind I'd tell you—when I got to Crumville," faltered the money-lender's son. "I didn't want you to suffer at his hands."
"I've got my eyes open already," was Dave's reply. "Let me tell you something, Nat." And then he related the particulars of the affair at Lake Sargola, and told about the burning of the garage.
"And to think Job Haskers is with him!" cried Nat. "Say, they'll make a team, won't they!"
"Yes, for I'm thinking that Haskers is about as bad as Merwell," answered Dave.
After that came a pause, neither youth knowing exactly what to say. Then Nat cleared his throat.
"I—I'd like you to do me a favor," he stammered.
"All right, Nat. What is it?" returned our hero, promptly.
"If you get the chance will you tell Ben Basswood and the other fellows how I'm going to be—er—different after this? And will you tell your sister and Jessie, too? I don't want them to—to—think I'm wanting to do anything more that's mean. I want to be—be, well, friendly—if they'll let me," and Nat's face grew very red as he made the admission.
"I'll tell them all—the first chance I get," promised Dave. "And I am sure they will be pleased. Why, Nat, I know you can turn over a new leaf, if you want to. Look at Gus Plum, how mean he used to be, and what a bully! And look at him now. He's a first-rate fellow. You can do it if Plum can, can't you?"
"I'm going to try, anyway."
"And I'll help you all I can—and there's my hand on it," answered Dave, and then the two lads shook hands.
A talk lasting all the way to Crumville followed. As they rolled into the station Nat left rather hastily, going to the rear of the car, while Dave went forward. The money-lender's son knew Dave expected to meet his sister and friends and he did not, just then, wish to face the party.
"There's Dave!" cried Jessie Wadsworth, as she caught sight of him through a car window.
"Hello, everybody!" cried the youth, as he swung himself from the car steps. He gave Jessie's hand a tight squeeze and then kissed his sister. "How are you?"
"Oh, fine!" came from both girls.
"Hello, Davy!" cried a merry voice, and Dunston Porter, the lad's uncle, came striding forward from an automobile near by. "How did you leave Senator Morr and his family, and are you ready for that trip through Yellowstone Park?"
"I left the senator and his family well," was the answer. "And I am ready for the trip—that is—part of the trip," Dave added, hastily.
"Part of the trip?" cried Jessie. "Why, what do you mean?"
"I'll tell you later. Oh, I've got lots and lots to tell," went on Dave, with a smile. He caught Laura and Jessie by the arms. "See Nat Poole over yonder?" he whispered. "Well, you want to be nice to Nat after this, for he is going to reform."
"Reform?" queried his sister.
"Really?" added Jessie.
"That's what he told me. We had quite a talk on the train. I'll tell you about it later. And I've got a lot more to tell," Dave went on. "All about a lost gold mine that belongs to Mrs. Morr, Roger's mother."
"A lost gold mine!" exclaimed Dunston Porter. "Is this a joke, Dave?"
"No, sir, it's the truth. The strangest tale you ever heard. When we go out to Yellowstone Park we—that is, us boys—are going to look for the mine."
"Of all things!" burst out Laura. "Say, Dave, will you ever settle down? Here I thought you were going to take a nice little personally-conducted tour with us, and you talk of going land knows where to look for a lost gold mine!"
"Is it very far?" asked Jessie, and her face showed some disappointment.
"Oh, it's not very far from Yellowstone Park," answered the youth. "It's in Montana, and you know a corner of the Park is in that State."
All had walked toward the automobile, which Mr. Porter had been running. The girls got in the tonneau and Dave climbed into the front seat beside his uncle. Just as they were about to start, Nat Poole walked past, suit-case in hand, and tipped his hat politely. Both girls smiled and bowed and Mr. Porter nodded. Then the touring-car rolled off in the direction of the big Wadsworth mansion, where, as I have before stated, the Porters resided with the jeweler's family and old Caspar Potts.
As they passed through the main street of Crumville—now built up a great deal more than when Dave had first known it—many persons bowed and smiled to all in the car. Everybody knew the Porters and liked them, and the fact that Dave had once been an inmate of the local poor-house was almost forgotten.
To the youth himself the ride was full of interest. As he sat back in the comfortable seat of the automobile he could not help but think of the many changes that had taken place since he had been found wandering along the railroad tracks, alone and hungry. He had found a father, an uncle, and a sister, and he had made many warm friends, including Jessie Wadsworth, to him the dearest girl in all the world. Certainly he had much to be grateful for,—and he was grateful from the bottom of his heart.
A few minutes of riding, after leaving the center of the town, brought them within sight of the Wadsworth residence, a fine mansion set back from the roadway, with beautiful trees and shrubbery surrounding it. Down at the great gateway stood Professor Potts, now white-haired and somewhat bent, but with a kindly smile of welcome on his face. Dave waved his hat and the old gentleman bowed with old-fashioned courtesy. Then the touring-car swept up to the broad front piazza and Mrs. Wadsworth showed herself.
"Home again, are you, Dave," she said, pleasantly. "I am glad to see you." And then she allowed him to kiss her. There had been a time when Dave had been somewhat afraid of this stately lady of society, but that time was past now, and Mrs. Wadsworth looked on Dave almost as a son,—indeed, it had been this affection for the youth which had caused the two families to live under the same roof.
Dave was soon up in his room, putting away his things and getting ready for dinner, which would be served in half an hour. He was almost ready to go below when he saw Caspar Potts pass through the hallway.
"Well, Professor, how have you been?" he asked, pleasantly.
"Very well, David, very well," was the somewhat slow reply. "It is a very pleasant life here, very pleasant!" And the eyes of the old college professor glistened.
"Got the library in shape now, I suppose?" went on Dave, for he knew that was the old gentleman's hobby.
"Yes, David, we have every book and pamphlet catalogued. And I am adding something new," continued the professor. "I am getting the autographs of many of the writers and pasting them on the fly-leaves. And where a writer dies and I get a printed obituary notice I paste that in the back of the book. I think it adds something to a volume to know about the writer and to have his or her autograph."
"Fine, Professor!" cried Dave, and tapped him on the shoulder. "My, but it is nice here! Much better than the old farm, eh, and the poor-house that I came from!"
The old gentleman nodded several times, and the tears stood in his eyes.
"Yes! yes! It is very, very nice. I have found real friends, and I am thankful, very thankful!" And he continued on his way down the hall, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.
On the stairs Dave met Jessie. She was in a fresh dress of white, and had a rose in her hair.
"How pretty you look!" he whispered, as he took her arm. "Just like a—a picture!" And then Jessie blushed and that made her look prettier than ever, if such a thing were possible.
Dave's father and Mr. Wadsworth had come in, and both were glad to see the boy back. Soon dinner was announced, and all sat down to the long table, Dave between his sister and Jessie. It was old Professor Potts who asked grace; and then some rapid-fire conversation followed, the girls and the others demanding to know all about what had happened at Senator Morr's home, and about the lost mine.
"It certainly sounds like a romance!" declared Dave's father, referring to the lost mine.
"But I have heard of such things before," answered his brother. "I know of several valuable mines in South America that were lost through earthquakes. Landslides have not only buried mines, they have buried cities as well."
"Oh, Dave, supposing you went to look for that mine and there was another landslide!" gasped Jessie, and turned pale.
"That's a risk we'd have to run," was his answer. "But I'd be very careful as to where I went, Jessie."
"I don't know about this," put in Mr. David Porter, with a grave shake of his head. "Better take the trip through Yellowstone Park, Dave, and let the Landslide Mine slide," and he smiled, faintly.
"Oh, I promised Roger that I'd go with him,—and Phil is going, too!" pleaded Dave. "We'll be very careful."
"I might go with you myself, only I think I ought to stay with the party to go through the Park," said Dunston Porter.
"Yes, we want you with us!" cried Laura.
"I don't like this at all!" pouted Jessie, and looked somewhat reproachfully at Dave.
"Oh, you mustn't take it that way!" cried the youth. "Why, we'll be with you on the trip to the Park, and then we'll join you on the tour a little later. You are to stay at least four weeks, remember. Well, if we spent two or even three weeks looking for that mine we'd still have a week in the Park—and one can go through in six days, so the circular says."
After that the talk became general, Dave learning more concerning the tour and who from Crumville and vicinity had signed to go, and the others asking for the details concerning the mine, and about the doings of Job Haskers and Link Merwell.
"You steer clear of that rascally teacher and young Merwell," advised Dave's father. "They are a bad lot."
"I'll steer clear if I can," answered Dave. "But if I catch them in any wrongdoing and I can manage it, I am going to have both of them arrested."
"I'd not blame you for that."
After the meal Dave spent a pleasant evening with Laura and Jessie. The three young folks went out on the porch and there, a little later, Ben Basswood joined them. All talked about the trip to Yellowstone Park, and about the Landslide Mine.
"I'd like to go after that mine myself," said Ben. "But I know I can't do it, for I promised mother and my Aunt Kate that I'd stay with them all through the trip."
"Then you'll have to stay with Laura and Jessie, too," returned Dave. "I'll leave them in your care while I am away."
"Oh, Dave, as if Uncle Dunston wasn't going along!" cried his sister.
"Well, you can't have too many protectors, in such a wild portion of our country," and Dave laughed, for he knew as well as did all of them that the trip through Yellowstone Park is a perfectly safe one.
By and by Ben walked around the garden with Laura, while Dave took Jessie. It was moonlight and perhaps some sentimental things were said. Anyway, when Dave and Jessie came back he held her arm and both looked very contented. Then Ben had to go, and Dave walked down to the gateway with him and spoke about Nat Poole.
"Well, if he reforms he's a good one," was all Ben said. He and Nat had been on the outs for a long while.
"He'll do it," answered Dave. "At least, I hope so."