exercises at Oak Hall, Dave receiving high honors.
Our hero had promised Roger Morr that he would pay the senator’s son a visit. During this time Dave heard of a gold mine belonging to Mrs. Morr which had been lost because of a landslide. All the boys went out West in an endeavor to relocate this claim. Their adventures were both numerous and hazardous, and once more Dave fell in with Link Merwell. But all went well with our young friends, and they had a glorious time visiting Yellowstone Park and other points of interest.
“Now you fellows have got to come on a little trip with me,” Phil Lawrence had said after he, Dave and Roger, with the others, had returned again to the East. There was a small steamer belonging to Mr. Lawrence that was tied up at Philadelphia getting ready for a trip to Portland, Maine. The voyage up the Atlantic coast had been productive of several unlooked-for results. On the way those on the boat had discovered another vessel in flames. This was a craft being used by a company of moving-picture actors, and some of the latter in their panic had leaped overboard. Our young friends, as well as some of the sailors on their ship, had gone to the rescue; and among others had picked up a young man, Ward Porton by name. Much to the surprise of Roger Morr and Phil Lawrence, Ward Porton had looked a good deal like Dave. Not only that, but many of his manners, outwardly, were similar to those of our hero.
Following the trip up the coast, it had been decided by the Wadsworths and the Basswoods to spend part of the summer in the Adirondacks, at a spot known as Mirror Lake. Thither all of the young people and some of the older ones went to enjoy themselves greatly and to meet with a number of strange happenings, all of which have been related in detail in the volume preceding this, entitled “Dave Porter at Bear Camp.”
The boys fell in with a wild sort of creature whom they at first supposed to be a crazy uncle of Nat Poole, the son of a miserly money lender of Crumville. Later, however, the man was found to be a missing uncle of Phil Lawrence, for whom the Lawrence family had been seeking for a long time.
Although Dave Porter did not know it at the time, the moving-picture company to which Ward Porton belonged had also numbered among its members Dave’s former school enemy, Link Merwell. From Link, Ward Porton, who was the good-for-nothing nephew of a Burlington lumber dealer, had learned the particulars concerning Dave’s childhood and how he had been placed in the Crumville poorhouse and listed as of unknown parentage.
This had caused Porton to concoct a clever scheme, and to Mr. Porter he announced himself as the real Dave Porter, stating that our hero was really and truly the nobody that years before everybody had thought him.
This announcement had come like a thunderbolt to poor Dave, and for the time being he knew not what to do or say. The others, too, especially his sister Laura and his dear friend, Jessie, were almost equally affected. But they clung to him, refusing to believe the story that Ward Porton was circulating.
“You take it from me–this is some scheme gotten up by Link Merwell and this other fellow,” declared one of Dave’s chums. And on the strength of this declaration the youth took it upon himself to do some clever investigating. From one of the moving-picture actresses Dave learned much concerning Ward Porton’s past, and then, in company with some of his chums, he journeyed to Burlington, where he met Mr. Obadiah Jones, the uncle of Porton, and asked the lumber dealer if Ward were his real nephew or not.
“Yes, he is my real nephew–the son of my youngest sister, who married a good-for-nothing army man,” replied Obadiah Jones; and then gave many particulars. He stated that his sister’s name had been Clarice Jones Porton, and that years before she had married a certain Lieutenant Porton of the United States Army, an officer who had been discharged because of irregularities in his accounts. He further stated that the mother of the young man was dead, and what had become of the worthless father he did not know further than that it had been stated he had joined some revolutionists in Mexico.
Dave had gotten Mr. Jones to sign a paper stating the exact truth concerning Ward Porton, and with this duly witnessed had returned to Bear Camp. All present were glad to know that the cloud hanging over his name had been cleared away. His sister Laura and her friend Jessie hugged him over and over again in their delight.
Then came news that Link Merwell had been captured, and later on this misguided young man was sent to prison for his share in the crime at the jewelry works. A hunt was instituted for Ward Porton, but he had taken time by the forelock and disappeared.
“I don’t believe Ward Porton will ever bother you again, Dave,” said Roger one day. But the surmise of the senator’s son proved incorrect, as we shall see. Ward Porton was to show himself and make more trouble than he had ever made before.
CHAPTER III
THE TEAM THAT RAN AWAY
“Oh, Dave, the gully!” cried his sister Laura. “If we go into that we’ll all be killed!”
“Please keep quiet, Laura,” flung back her brother in a low, tense voice. “These horses are scared enough as it is.”
Dave was doing his best to bring the spirited grays out of their mad gallop. But they had not been out of the stable for the best part of a week, and this, combined with the scare from the roar of the automobile, had so gotten on their nerves that to calm them seemed next to impossible. On and on they flew over the packed snow of the hard road, the sleigh bouncing from side to side as it passed over the bumps in the highway.
Jessie was deadly pale and had all she could do to keep from shrieking with fright. But when she heard Dave address his sister in the above words, she shut her teeth hard, resolved to remain silent, no matter what the cost. Ben was worried as well as scared–the more so because he realized there was practically nothing he could do to aid Dave in subduing the runaways. The youth on the front seat had braced both feet on the dashboard of the sleigh, and was pulling back on the reins with all the strength of his vigorous muscles.
Thus fully a quarter of a mile was covered–a stretch of the hill road which fortunately was comparatively straight. But then there loomed up ahead a sharp turn, leading down to the straight road through the valley below.
“Dave–the turn!” gasped Ben, unable to keep himself from speaking.
“I see it. I’ll do what I can,” cried the young driver; and then pulled on the reins more strongly, if possible, than before.
Closer and closer to the dreaded turn in the road the sleigh approached, and as it drew nearer the girls huddled in their seats almost too terror-stricken to move. Ben sprang up, totally unconscious of doing so.
“Can you make it, Dave, do you think?” gasped the real estate man’s son, when the turn was less than a hundred feet away.
“I don’t think I’ll try,” was the unexpected answer. “Hold fast, everybody! We’re going through the fence!”
The turn in the road led to the left, and as they approached it Dave relaxed his hold on the left rein and pulled with might and main on the right. This brought the team around just a trifle, but it was enough to keep them from attempting to follow the road–something which would undoubtedly have caused the slewing around of the sleigh and probably its overturning. As it was, the team left the roadway, and the next instant had crashed through a frail rail-fence and was floundering along in the deep snow of a ploughed-up and sloping field beyond.
“Whoa there!” cried Dave, soothingly. “Whoa, Jerry! Whoa, Bill!” And thus he continued to talk to the team while the sleigh bumped along through the deep snow and over the uneven ground.
Running away on the smooth surface of the highway had been one thing; keeping up such a gait over a ploughed field and in snow almost a foot deep was quite
