Dave cleared the last hurdle and came in a winner. Page 87.Dave cleared the last hurdle and came in a winner.—Page 87.
With a mighty leap Dave cleared the last hurdle, and came in a winner. Then the others finished in the order named, excepting that Gus Plum was so disgusted that he refused to take the last hurdle, for which some of the boys hissed him, considering it unsportsmanlike, which it was.
"My shoe got loose," said the bully, lamely. "If it hadn't been for that, I should have won." But nobody believed him.
"Dave, the way you went ahead was simply great," cried Phil. "It was as fine a hurdle race as I ever saw."
"Yes, and he helped me, too," said Cashod. "I was thinking Plum would go ahead, until Porter laughed at him. It was all right," and Cashod bobbed his head to show how satisfied he was.
If Nat Poole had been disgusted Gus Plum was more so, and he lost no time in disappearing from public gaze. The two cronies met back of the gymnasium.
"You hurt Porter about as much as I hurt Basswood," Plum grumbled. "If you can't do better than that next time, you had better give up trying."
"Oh, 'the pot needn't call the kettle black,'" retorted Poole. "You made just as much of a mess of it as I did. We'll be the laughing stock of the Porter crowd now."
"If they laugh at me, I'll punch somebody's nose. As it is, I've got an account to settle with Porter, and I am going to settle it pretty quick, too."
"What do you mean?"
"He jeered me while we were in the race. He has got to take it back, or there is going to be trouble," muttered the bully, clenching his fists.
In his usual bragging way Gus Plum let several students know that he "had it in" for Dave, and this reached the country boy's ears the next day directly after school.
"I am not afraid of him," said Dave, coolly. "If he wants to find me, he knows where to look for me."
Shortly after this Dave and some of his chums took a walk down to the boathouse dock. There they ran into Plum, Poole, and several of their admirers.
"Here is Porter now!" said one boy, in a low voice. "Now is your chance, Gus."
"Yes, let us see you do what you said," came from another.
Plum had not expected an encounter so soon, but there seemed to be no way of backing out, so he advanced quickly upon Dave, and clenched his fists.
"You can fight, or apologize," he said, loudly.
"Apologize, toyou?" queried Dave, coolly.
"Yes, to me, and at once," blustered the bully.
"I am not apologizing to you, Plum."
"Then you'll fight."
"If you hit me, I shall defend myself."
"Hit you? If I sail into you, you'll think a cyclone struck you. If you know where you are wise, you'll apologize."
"On the contrary, Plum, I want to let you and all here know what I think of you. You are a bully, a braggart—and a coward!"
Dave's eyes were flashing dangerously, and as he gazed steadily at Plum, the latter backed away a step.
"You—you dare to talk to me like that?"
"Why not? Nobody ought to be afraid to tell the truth."
"Oh, don't stand gassing!" burst out Nat Poole. "Give it to him, Gus—give it to him good and hard."
"I will!" cried the bully, and making a quick leap, he delivered a blow straight for Dave's face.
Had the blow landed as intended, the country boy would undoubtedly have sustained a black eye. But Dave ducked slightly, and the bully's fist shot past his ear. Then Dave drew off and hit Plum a stinging blow on the chin.
"A fight! A fight!" was the rallying cry from all sides, and in a twinkling a crowd assembled to see the impromptu contest.
"Dave, if you fight, and Doctor Clay hears of it, you'll get into trouble," whispered Roger. "You know what his rules are."
"I am not going to fight, but I'll defend myself," was the calm answer.
"Maybe you're afraid to fight," sneered Nat Poole, who stood close by.
Before the country youth could answer, Gus Plum sprang forward and aimed another blow at Dave's face. Dave ducked, but was not quite quick enough, and the fist of his enemy landed on his ear.
This aroused the boy from Crumville as never before. The look on the bully's face was such as to nerve him to do his best, and, casting prudence to the winds, he "sailed in" with a vigor that astonished all who beheld it. One fist landed on Plum's nose and the other on the bully's chin, and down he went in a heap against the boathouse.
"Have you had enough?" demanded Dave, his eyes fairly flashing.
"No!" roared the bully, and scrambling up, he rushed at Dave, and the pair clenched. Aroundand around the little dock they wrestled, first one getting a slight advantage and then the other.
"Break away!" cried some of the students. "Break away!"
"I'll break, if he'll break!" panted Dave. Plum said nothing, for he was doing his best to get the country boy's head in chancery, as it is termed; that is, under his arm, where he might pummel it to his satisfaction.
But Dave was on his guard, and was not to be easily caught. He knew a trick or two, and, watching his opportunity, led Plum to believe that he was getting the better of the contest. Then, with remarkable swiftness, he made a half-turn, ducked and came up, and sent the bully flying clean and clear over his shoulder. When this happened both were close to the edge of the dock, and, with a cry and a splash, Gus Plum went over into the river.
"Gracious! did you see that fling!"
"Threw him right over his head into the river!"
"The fellow who tackles Dave Porter has his hands full every time!"
So the comments ran on. In the meantime Dave stood quietly on the edge of the dock, watching for the bully, and trying to regain his breath.
Plum had disappeared close to the edge of the dock, and all the bystanders expected him to reappear almost immediately. But, to their surprise, he did not show himself.
"Where is he? Why doesn't he come up?"
"He must be playing a trick on Porter. Maybe he is under the dock."
"No, he can't get under the dock. It is all boarded up."
"He must have struck his head on something, or got a cramp, being so heated up."
Dave continued to wait, and as his enemy did not come to light, a cold chill ran over him. What if Plum was really hurt, or in trouble under water? He knew that the bully was not the best of swimmers.
"There he is!" came in a shout from one of the boys, and he pointed out into the stream, to where Gus Plum's body was floating along, face downward.
Dave gave one look and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. By the side of the dock was a rowboat, with the oars across the seats. He made a bound for it.
"Come," he said, motioning to Roger, and the senator's son followed him into the craft. They shoved off with vigor, and Dave took up the oars. Then another boat put off, containing Poole and two other students.
A few strokes sufficed to bring the first rowboat up alongside of the form of the bully. Plum had turned partly over and was on the point of sinking again, when Roger reached out and caught him bythe foot. Then Dave swung the rowboat around, and after a little trouble the two got the soaked one aboard.
Gus Plum was partly unconscious, and a bruise on his left temple showed where his head had struck some portion of the dock in falling. As they placed him across the seats of the rowboat, he gasped, spluttered, and attempted to sit up.
"Better keep still," said Dave, kindly. "We don't want the boat to go over."
"Where am I? Oh, I know now! You knocked me over."
"Don't talk, Plum; wait till we get back to shore," warned Roger.
A few strokes took the boat back to the dock, and Dave and Roger assisted the dripping youth to land. Gus Plum was so weak he had to sit down on a bench to recover.
"You played me a mean trick," he spluttered, at last. "A mean trick!"
"That's what he did," put in Nat Poole, who had also returned to the dock. "I guess he was afraid to fight fair."
"I suppose you wanted to drown me," went on the bully of Oak Hall.
"I didn't want to drown you, Plum—I didn't even want to push you overboard. I didn't think we were so close to the dock's edge."
"Humph! It's easy enough to talk!" GusPlum gazed ruefully at his somewhat loud summer suit. "Look at my clothes. They are just about ruined!"
"Nonsense," came from Roger. "They need drying, cleaning, and pressing, that's all. You can get the job done down in Oakdale for a dollar and a half."
"And who is going to pay the bill?"
"Well, if you are too poor to do it, I'll do so," answered Roger.
This reply made the bully grow very red, and he shook his fist at the senator's son.
"None of your insinuations!" he roared. "I am not poor, and I want you to know it. My father may have lost some money, but he can still buy and sell your father. And as for such a poorhouse nobody as your intimate friend there, Porter——"
"For shame, Plum!" cried several.
"Oh, go ahead and toady to him, if you want to. I shan't stop you. But I'd rather pick my company."
"And so would I," added Nat Poole. "I once heard of a poorhouse boy who was the son of a thief. I'd not want to train with a fellow of that sort."
Dave listened to the words, and they seemed to burn into his very heart. He came forward with a face as white as death itself.
"Nat Poole, do you mean to insinuate that I am the son of a thief?" he demanded.
"Oh, a fellow don't know what to think," replied the Crumville aristocrat, with a sneer.
"Then take that for your opinion."
It was a telling blow, delivered with a passion that Dave could not control. It took Nat Poole squarely in the mouth, and the aristocrat went down with a thud, flat on his back. His lip was cut and two of his teeth were loosened, while the country's boy's fist showed a skinned knuckle.
"Whoop! did you see that!"
"My! what a sledge-hammer blow!"
"Poole is knocked out clean!"
Such were some of the comments, in the midst of which Nat Poole sat up, dazed and bewildered. Then he gasped, and ejected some blood from his mouth.
"You—you——" he began.
"Stay where you are, Nat Poole," said Dave, in a voice that was as cold as ice. "Don't you dare to budge!"
"Wha-what?"
"Don't you dare to budge until you have begged my pardon."
"Me? Beg your pardon! I'd like to see myself!"
"Well, that is just what you are going to do! If you don't, do you know what I'll do? I'll throwyou into the river and keep you there until you do as I say."
"Here, you let him alone!" blustered Plum, starting to rise.
"Keep out of this, Plum, or, as sure as I'm standing here, I'll throw you in again, too!" said Dave.
"Dave——" whispered Roger. He could see that his friend was almost beside himself with passion.
"No, Roger, don't try to interfere. This is my battle. They have been talking behind my back long enough. Poole has got to apologize, or take the consequences, and so has Plum. I'll make them do it, if I have to fight them both!" And the eyes of the country boy blazed with a fire that the senator's son had never before seen in them. "I don't deny that I came from the poorhouse, and I don't deny that I know nothing of my past," went on Dave, speaking to the crowd. "But I am trying to do the fair thing, every boy here knows it, and—and——"
"We are with you, Dave!" came from the rear of the crowd, and Luke Watson pushed his way to the front, followed by Phil, Shadow, and Buster Beggs.
"Dave Porter is one of the best fellows in this school," cried Phil.
"And Plum and Poole are a couple of codfish," added Buster.
"I—I—am a codfish, am I?" roared Plum.
"You are, Gus Plum. You say things behind folks' backs and try to bully the little boys, and in reality you are no better than anybody else, if as good. You make me sick."
"I'll—I'll hammer you good for that!"
"All right, send me word when you are ready," retorted Buster.
In the meantime Dave was still standing over Nat Poole. Suddenly he caught the aristocratic youth by the ear and gave that member a twist.
"Ouch! Let go!" yelled Nat Poole. "Let go! Don't wring my ear off!"
"Will you apologize?" demanded Dave, and gave the ear a jerk that brought tears to Poole's eyes.
"I—I—oh, you'll have my ear off next! Oh, you wait—oh! oh! If I ever get—ouch!"
"Say you are sorry you said what you did to me," went on Dave, "or into the river you go!" And despite Poole's efforts, he dragged the aristocrat toward the edge of the dock.
"No! no! Oh, I say, Porter! Oh, my ear! I don't want to go into the river! I—I—I take it back—I guess I made a mistake. Oh, let me go!"
"You apologize, then?"
"Yes."
"Then get out, and after this behave yourself," said Dave, and gave Nat Poole a fling that senthim up against the boathouse with a bang. In another instant he was by Gus Plum's side. "Now it's your turn, you overgrown bully," he continued.
"Wha-what do you mean?" stammered Plum, who had looked on the scene just enacted with a sinking heart.
"I mean you must apologize, just as Poole has done."
"And if I won't?"
"I'll thrash you till you do—no matter what the consequences are," and Dave hauled off his jacket and threw off his cap.
"Would you hit a fellow when he is—er—half drowned?" whined the bully.
"You're not half drowned—you're only scared, Plum. Now, then, will you apologize or not?" And Dave doubled up his fists.
"I—I don't have to. I—I—oh!"
The words on Plum's lips came to a sudden end, for at that instant the country boy caught him by the throat and banged his head up against the boathouse side.
"Now apologize, and be quick about it," said Dave, determinedly.
"Oh, my head! You have cracked my skull! I'll—I'll have the law on you!"
"Very well, I'm willing. But you must apologize first!" And Plum's head came into contact with the boathouse side again, and he saw stars.
"Oh! Let up—stop, Porter! Don't kill me! I—I—take it back! I—I apologize! I—I didn't mean anything! Let up, please do!" shrieked Gus Plum, and then Dave let go his hold and stepped back.
"Now, Gus Plum, listen to me," said the country boy. "Let this end it between us. If you don't, let me tell you right now that you will get the worst of it. After this, keep your distance and don't open your mouth about me. I shan't say anything to Doctor Clay about this, but if you say anything, I'll tell him all, and I know, from what he has already said, that he will stand by me."
"Maybe he doesn't know——"
"He knows everything about my past, and he has asked me to stay here, regardless of what some mean fellows like you might say about it. But I am not going to take anything from you and Poole in the future; remember that!" added Dave, and then he picked up his cap and jacket, put them on, and, followed by Phil, Roger, and a number of his other friends, walked slowly away.
The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.
"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think they'll do about it?"
"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son. "They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.
But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a small class, made up of those who were wealthy, who passed him by and snubbed him, not wishing to associate with anybody who had come from a poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of hismany friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end, no matter what the cost.
If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the multitude of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority. But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.
"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."
"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"
On the following Saturday evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side. The young student was evidently excited over something.
"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want to join the fellows in the gym."
"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think I've discovered something, but I am not sure."
"Well, out with it."
"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my bicycle, to get some shirts at the furnishing store there. Well, when I came out ofthe store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the post-office on the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and began to read them."
"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.
"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces and scatter the bits in the grass. When he went away, I walked over to the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course, you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."
"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."
"Yes, but this is not his private affair—to my way of thinking. It concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.
Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta— w York," and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem— —nett Street, Sa——"
"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.
"That is what I thought."
"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"
"No."
"Were the letters addressed to him?"
"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the written-on portions of the envelopes."
"Did Plum see you?"
"Not until later—when I was on my way back to the Hall."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."
After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.
"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."
"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made to return them?"
"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor won't dare to say anything to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing. Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."
A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy was rather scared, but tolda fairly straight story, and turned over the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all attention.
"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you would keep it to yourself."
"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."
"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would do as asked, and later on did so.
The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of the class as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts, Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his few valued possessions.
On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He drank one glass of water, and an hour later got up to drink another, only to find the water pitcher empty.
"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he toldhimself. "And if I catch the fellow who salted my hash——"
He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher, made his way through the hallway to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher, started to return to dormitory No. 12.
As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pass along the other end of the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his head.
"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy passed close to a dimly burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"
He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind Shadow. Then, of a sudden, he beheld the boy swing around and put out his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was fast asleep.
"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what had I best do?"
There was no time to think long, for the sleep-walker was already descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to him.
"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any noise."
"Oh, I'm too sleepy for fun!" murmured Roger.
"This isn't fun, it's important. Come, I say!"
Thus aroused, the senator's son rolled from his couch and hurried into his clothing. In a few minutes both boys had their shoes and caps on, and along the hallway they sped, and down the back stairs. The door below was unlocked, but closed. Soon they were out in the rear yard of the Hall, and there they beheld Shadow Hamilton walking slowly in the direction of the boathouse.
"Who is it?" whispered Roger.
"It is Shadow. He is walking in his sleep. I want to find out where he is going and what he'll do."
"Humph! This certainly is interesting," answered the senator's son.
"Whatever you do, Roger, don't arouse him, or there may be an accident," cautioned Dave. "Let him go his own way."
"But he may hurt himself, anyway."
"No, he won't. A sleep-walker can walk a slack wire, if he tries it, and never tumble. Haven't you heard of them walking on the ridge pole of a house? I have."
"I've read about such things. And I know they say you mustn't arouse them. He is going into the boathouse!"
The chums ran forward and reached the doorway of the boathouse just as Shadow Hamilton was coming out. The somnambulist had a pair ofoars, and he stepped to the edge of the dock and untied one of the boats and leaped in.
"I must find them!" they heard the youth mutter to himself. "I must find them and bring them back!"
"Did you hear that?" asked Roger. "What is he talking about?"
"That remains to be found out. Come, let us follow him," returned Dave.
They procured two pairs of oars, and were soon in another boat and pulling behind Shadow Hamilton. The boy who was asleep seemed to possess supernatural strength, and they had no easy time of it keeping up with him. His course was up the Leming River, past Robbin's Point, and then into a side stream that was rather narrow, but almost straight for a distance of two miles.
"Do you know where this stream leads to?" questioned Roger.
"I do not."
"Almost to the old castle that we visited last winter on our skates, the day we caught that robber and saved Billy Dill. The river makes half a dozen twists and turns before the castle is reached, but this is a direct route and much shorter."
"Can it be possible that Shadow is going to the old castle?" queried the country boy.
"I'm sure I don't know. We'll learn pretty soon."
As my old readers know, the place referred to was a dilapidated structure of brick and stone which had been erected about the time of the Revolutionary War. It set back in a wilderness of trees, and was given over largely to the owls and to tramps. It belonged to an unsettled estate that had gone into litigation, and there was no telling if it would ever be rebuilt and occupied in a regular way.
It was dark under the trees, but by pulling close to the boat ahead, Dave and Roger managed to keep Shadow Hamilton in sight. As soon as the somnambulist came near to the castle he ran his boat up the bank, leaped ashore, and stalked toward the building.
"He has disappeared!" cried Roger, softly.
"I see him," answered Dave. "Come!" and he led the way into the old structure and to the very rooms where the encounter with the robber and with Billy Dill had occurred.
Scarcely daring to breathe, they watched Shadow move around in an uncertain way, touching this object and that, and opening and shutting several closet doors, and even poking into the chimney-place.
"Gone! gone! gone!" they heard him mutter. "What shall I do? What shall I do?" And he gave a groan.
Five minutes passed and the sleep-walker leftthe castle and hurried to his boat. His course was now down the stream toward the Hall, and Dave and Roger followed, as before. At the dock the boats were tied up, the oars put away, and Shadow Hamilton went back to the room from which he had come. Peering in, Dave and Roger saw him undress and go to bed, just as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
"I should not believe it, had I not seen it with my own eyes."
It was in this fashion that Roger expressed himself on the following day, when discussing the affair of the night previous with Dave. Shadow was around, as usual. He looked sleepy, but otherwise acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"It certainly is remarkable," was Dave's comment. "The question is, what made him go to the castle? I think I know, but I cannot speak about it. But I'll tell you what I should like to do, Roger: go up to the castle while it is daylight and take a thorough look around."
Roger was willing to do this, and the upshot of the talk was that Dave and the senator's son paid the old brick-and-stone structure a visit on the following Saturday half-holiday, taking Phil and Ben with them. They went up in a boat by the short route, arriving there about half-past three o'clock.
There was not a soul about the deserted mansion, and the few birds flew away at their approach. Itwas a clear, sunny day, and they lost no time in throwing every door and window wide open, so that they might have the full benefit of the light and fresh air.
"Here is the room in which he moved around the most," remarked Roger, gazing around earnestly. "But I can't say that I see anything unusual, do you?"
They were all searching around, and after a few minutes had passed Ben uttered a low cry and held up a small object, almost covered with dust and dirt.
"A class pin!" cried Dave. "We must see if we can find any more of them."
It was not long before Phil came upon two pins sticking on a board of a closet. Then Roger ran into the next room and, after a short hunt, uncovered a flat pasteboard box with several more of the class pins, each a bit tarnished by the dampness, but otherwise uninjured.
"He must have come for the pins," said Ben. "That solves the mystery of how they disappeared from Mr. Dale's possession."
"Here is a postage stamp!" ejaculated Phil, and held it up. "It's an old German issue," he added. "And here are half a dozen others, all evidently torn from a sheet. Boys, Shadow must have taken the doctor's collection!"
Dave said nothing to this, for he had discovereda cupboard in a corner, tightly closed and with the wooden button of the door missing. He now opened the door of the cupboard with a knife.
"Hello, what's in there?" asked Roger, who was behind him.
"Seems to be some clothing," answered Dave, and hauled forth some loose garments and also an old satchel. The garments formed part of a sailor's garb, and the satchel was marked on the bottom with the name, "William Dill."
"It's Billy Dill's missing outfit!" cried Dave, eagerly. "Oh, Roger, how glad I am that I have found this! It's the best yet!"
All the boys were interested, for they knew Dave's story and the tale of the strange sailor. As Dave ran to the light with the satchel, they crowded around him.
"I think I am fully justified in opening this grip," said the country boy. He was so agitated he could scarcely speak.
"Why, certainly," cried Phil. "Open it, by all means. It may throw light on some things which Billy Dill has been unable to explain."
The satchel was not locked and came open with ease. Inside was a bag containing some loose silver and a roll of forty-six dollars in bankbills. There was also a locket, containing the picture of a motherly old lady, probably the sailor's parent. Under the locket were a small Bible and a work onocean navigation, and at the bottom a thick, brown envelope containing a photograph.
"Let us see whose picture that is," said Phil, and Dave opened the envelope and drew the photograph forth. As he held it up there was a general cry, in which he was forced to join.
"That's the man who looks like you, Dave!" cried Roger.
"What a striking resemblance!" exclaimed Phil.
"And he has the mustache, just as the sailor said," added Ben. "Dave, that man looks enough like you to be your older brother, or your father!"
Dave said nothing, for he was too much overcome to speak. As he gazed at the picture, he began to tremble from head to foot. Taking away the mustache, the face was exactly like his own, only older and more careworn. He did not wonder that Billy Dill had become confused because of the resemblance. He turned the picture over. There was not a scrap of printing or writing on it anywhere.
What was the meaning of this mystery? What was this man to him? Was he the man who had once lost a child through a crazy nurse? In his perplexed state of mind, the questions were maddening ones to the boy.
"What do you think of it, Dave?" asked Phil, after a pause, and the eyes of all the others were turned on the poorhouse boy.
"What do I think of it?" he repeated, slowly. "I think this: I am going to find this man, if he is alive, even if I have to go around the world to do it. He must know something of my past—most likely he is a relative of mine. I am going to be a poorhouse nobody no longer. I am going to establish my identity—and I am going to do that before I do anything else."
Dave spoke deliberately, weighing every word. It was almost as if he was registering a vow. The others saw a look of determination settle on his face, and knew that he would do as he said.
The boy from the country had suddenly lost interest in clearing up the mystery surrounding Shadow Hamilton, and allowed the others to finish the search for class pins and postage stamps. One more pin was found and three rare stamps from Brazil, and then the search was abandoned, and they returned to Oak Hall, Dave carrying the sailor's possessions.
That evening there was an interesting interview in Doctor Clay's office, in which Dave and his friends took an active part. The worthy master of Oak Hall listened to all the boys had to tell with keen attention, and smiled quietly when told how Dave and Roger had first followed Shadow in his somnambulistic feat. He took possession of the class pins and the stamps, and said the latter were undoubtedly from his collection.
"We now have nearly all of the class pins," he said. "But fully nine-tenths of the postage stamps are still missing and they represent a value of at least twenty-five hundred dollars. I am tolerably sure that Maurice Hamilton took them in his sleep, but the question is, did he destroy the others, or did somebody else come along and take them?"
"I believe Chip Macklin came to see you, sir," said Dave, significantly.
"He did, Porter, and I am going to follow that clew up—if it is a clew," answered Doctor Clay, gravely.
After the others had departed, Dave showed the things he had found belonging to Billy Dill. The master of the Hall was as much astonished as anybody over the resemblance between his pupil and the photograph, and examined the picture with care.
"I do not wonder that you wish to investigate this," said he. "I should wish to do so, were I in your position."
"I have simply got to do it, Doctor!" cried Dave. "I shall not be able to settle my mind on a thing until it's done. Would you go home and see Mr. Wadsworth and Professor Potts first, or go direct to that sailor?"
"Why not send a long letter to your friends, telling them what you have told me? You can add that I agree that the photograph resembles youclosely, and that you wish to talk the matter over once again with this William Dill."
As impatient as he was, Dave concluded to follow this advice, and a letter of ten pages was sent to Mr. Wadsworth and to Caspar Potts the next morning. In the meantime, it may be added here, Doctor Clay had a closer watch than ever set on Shadow Hamilton's movements, and he also began a quiet investigation of Gus Plum's doings.
The letter that Dave sent to Crumville created a sensation in the Wadsworth household, and was read and re-read several times by the members of the manufacturer's family and by Professor Potts.
"There is undoubtedly something in this," said the professor. "It certainly is entitled to a strict investigation. If you will permit me, I will run up to Oak Hall to see Dave, and then take him to see this Billy Dill."
"I will go with you," answered the rich manufacturer. "The outing will do us both good, and I am greatly interested in Dave's welfare. I only trust that there is a happy future in store for him."
"And I say the same, sir, for no boy deserves it more," answered Professor Potts.
A telegram was sent to Dave, and on the following day Oliver Wadsworth and Caspar Potts journeyed to Oakdale. Dave met them at the depot with the Hall carriage.
"There he is!" exclaimed old Caspar Potts, rushing up and shaking hands. "My boy! my boy! I am glad to see you again!" And he fairly quivered with emotion.
"And I am glad to see you," cried Dave, in return. He shook hands with both men. "Mr. Wadsworth, it was kind of you to answer my letter so quickly," he added.
"I knew you would be anxious, Dave. My, how well and strong you look! The air up here must do you good."
"It is a very healthful spot," answered the youth, "and I like it better than I can tell."
"A fine school—a fine school!" murmured Professor Potts. "You could not go to a better."
On the way to the Hall, Dave told his story in detail, and exhibited the photograph, which he had brought with him, scarcely daring to leave it out of his sight.
"It is just as you have said," remarked Oliver Wadsworth. "A most remarkable resemblance, truly!"
"That man must be some relative to Dave," added Caspar Potts. "There could not be such a resemblance otherwise. It is undoubtedly the same strain of blood. He may be a father, uncle, cousin, elder brother—there is no telling what; but he is a relative, I will stake my reputation on it."
The visitors were cordially greeted at Oak Hall by Doctor Clay and made to feel perfectly at home.They were given rooms for the night, and in the morning the doctor and his visitors and Dave had breakfast together.
It had been decided that a visit should be paid to Billy Dill that very afternoon, and by nine o'clock Mr. Wadsworth, Professor Potts, and Dave were on the way to the town where was located the sanitarium to which the sailor had been taken. Dave had the tar's satchel and clothing with him, and the precious photograph was stowed away in his pocket. Just then he would not have parted with that picture for all the money in the world.
"I would advise that you keep that satchel and the picture out of sight at first," said Professor Potts, as he rang the bell of the sanitarium. "Talk to the old sailor and try to draw him out. Then show him his belongings when you think the time ripe."
Mr. Wadsworth and Dave thought this good advice, and when they were ushered into the old sailor's presence, the boy kept the satchel behind him.
"Well, douse my toplights, but I'm glad to see ye all!" cried Billy Dill, as he shook hands. "It's kind o' you to pay a visit to such an old wreck as I am."
"Oh, you're no wreck, Mr. Dill," answered Oliver Wadsworth. "We'll soon have you as right and tight as any craft afloat," he added, falling into the tar's manner of speaking.
"Bless the day when I can float once more, sir. Do you know, I've been thinkin' that a whiff o' salt air would do me a sight o' good. Might fix mysteerin' apparatus," and the tar tapped his forehead.
"Then you must have a trip to the ocean, by all means," said Caspar Potts. He turned to the rich manufacturer. "It might be easily arranged."
"Dill, I want to talk to you about the time you were out in the South Seas," said Dave, who could bear the suspense no longer. "Now, please follow me closely, will you?"
"Will if I can, my hearty." The sailor's forehead began to wrinkle. "You know my memory box has got its cargo badly shifted."
"Don't you remember when you were down there—at Cavasa Island, and elsewhere—how hard times were, and how somebody helped you."
"Seems to me I do."
"Don't you remember traveling around with your bundle and your satchel? You had some money in bankbills and some loose silver, and a work on navigation, and a Bible——"
"Yes! yes! I remember the Bible—it was the one my aunt gave me—God bless her! She, Aunt Lizzie—took care o' me when my mother died, an' she told me to read it every day—an' I did, most o' the time."
"Well, you had the Bible and your satchel and your bundle of clothes," went on Dave, impressively. "And at that time you fell in with a man who afterwards gave you his photograph."
"So I did—the man who looks like you. But I——"
"Wait a minute. Don't you remember his telling you a story about a crazy nurse and a lost child?"
"I certainly do, but——"
Dave drew the photograph from his pocket and thrust it forward, directly before the tar's eyes.
"There is the man!" he cried. "Now, what is his name? Tell me his name, at once!"