sharply.
"I hope we can go up to the Adirondacks in the autos," said Laura, eagerly. "It will surely make a splendid trip."
"If we go in the autos who is going to drive?" questioned Jessie.
"I'll run our car, and I suppose Dave will run this one," answered Ben. "But we can change off with the other fellows if we want to."
The top of a small hill had been reached, and now the automobile glided down the other side in the direction of the river road. Here the way narrowed a trifle, and Dave had to give all his attention to the running of the car. As the automobile turned in toward the stream, they passed several other touring-cars, and then came in sight of a horse attached to a buggy, the two wheels of which were deep in a ditch.
"Hello! That's Mr. Aaron Poole's buggy!" exclaimed Dave.
"Yes. But it is Nat who is driving," returned Ben.
Mr. Aaron Poole was a rich money-lender, who lived not far from Crumville, and who had a son Nat, who had gone to Oak Hall with Dave and Ben. Mr. Poole was a very grasping man, and in the past he and the Porters had had a number of differences. Nat had been almost as overbearing as his father, but during the early part of the summer he had told Dave that he was going to turn over a new leaf. And since that time our hero had heard that the money-lender's son was quite a different sort of a boy, and growing better every day.
"Hello, Nat! What's the trouble?" questioned Dave, as he brought the automobile to a standstill beside the buggy.
"Trouble enough!" grumbled the money-lender's son. "Did you notice those automobiles that just went by?"
"I certainly did. They were going at some speed."
"They were racing, that's what they were doing!" explained Nat Poole. "They were racing, and they made such a racket that it scared my horse and he landed me here in this ditch."
"It's a good thing they didn't upset you, Nat," said Ben.
"If they upset me, I would make them pay for the damages," retorted the youth in the buggy.
"Did you know them, Nat?" asked Laura, kindly.
"I know one of them. He's a high-flyer from Pittstown. The next time I see him I'll give him a piece of my mind. They've got no right to use this road for a race-track."
"Did they hurt you at all?" queried Jessie.
"I don't know as they did. But this mud in the ditch is mighty sticky, and I don't see how I am going to get out of it," grumbled the money-lender's son.
"Maybe we can give you a lift, Nat," said Dave, and got out of the automobile, followed by Ben. "Here, I'll hold the horse while you get out."
"Be careful. He's mighty skittish," warned the other. "If he gets to kicking he'll smash the buggy into kindling-wood."
"I'm not afraid of him," answered Dave, and took a firm hold on the horse's bridle. Then Nat leaped from the buggy, and he and Ben took hold of the wheels and pushed, while Dave led the horse forward. By this means, in a minute more, the turnout was safe in the middle of the roadway.
"Much obliged to you fellows for this," remarked the money-lender's son, when all danger seemed past.
"Don't mention it, Nat. I am glad to help you," returned Dave, quickly.
"And so am I," added Ben.
"Funny thing," went on the money-lender's son. "I was coming around to your house to see you," and he glanced quickly at our hero.
"Well, you'll have to come, Nat, some time when I am home," answered Dave. "We are going off on another trip next Monday."
"Is that so? Then I'm glad I met you as I did, because I wanted to see you before you went away. I've got some strange news to tell you."
"What is it?"
"Link Merwell is alive. He wasn't killed in that landslide at all," was Nat Poole's astonishing reply.
CHAPTER VI
NEWS OF IMPORTANCE
"Link Merwell!"
"Nat, you must be fooling!" put in Ben.
"Why, we couldn't find a single trace of him after that awful landslide!" went on Dave. "We made a thorough search, too."
"I don't know anything about that," returned the money-lender's son. "But I know Link Merwell is alive. I got a letter from him yesterday."
"Are you sure that it was not an old letter delayed in delivery?" queried Ben.
"No, it was not an old letter. It was dated only a few days ago. It was sent to me from Boston."
"Boston!" cried Laura. "Then he must not only be alive, but he must have followed us East."
"Did he say anything about Job Haskers?" queried our hero.
"He said he didn't know what had become of Haskers. He said they had separated a short while before the big landslide struck them. He was pretty well bruised up, and had to rest in a little mining camp up in the mountains for two weeks."
"This is certainly the strangest news yet," was Dave's comment. "I thought sure that he and Haskers had been swallowed up in that landslide, along with that miner who was with them. Nat, what caused him to write to you? I thought you told me that you had destroyed his last letter without answering it."
"So I did destroy it, Dave, without answering it," returned the money-lender's son. "I was as surprised to hear from him as you would have been. I thought he would know enough to let me alone."
"What did he have to say, Nat?" questioned Ben. "Of course you haven't got to tell us if you don't want to," he added, hastily.
"That's all right. Didn't I tell you I was coming to see Dave? I was going to show him the letter. I've got it in my pocket. Here it is," and Nat brought forth the communication.
The letter was a long and rambling one which need not be reproduced here. In it Link Merwell told something of how he had been caught in the landslide, and how he had escaped and had been carried by some miners to their camp. A search had been made for Job Haskers and the man named Blugg, but without results. Then Merwell had obtained some money (probably from his father), and had come East, where he expected to obtain a position. He added that he was still as bitter as ever against Dave and his chums, and would do his best some day to "square accounts." As in his previous communication to Nat, he wanted to know if the money-lender's son would not aid him in making trouble for our hero.
"The same old Link Merwell!" remarked Dave, after he had read the letter, with Ben looking over his shoulder.
"Wouldn't you think a fellow who had been so close to death would want to reform?" said his chum. "But I suppose Link doesn't know what the word, 'reform,' means."
"Oh, Dave, aren't you afraid he will make you a lot of trouble?" cried Jessie, and her face showed her deep concern.
"I never was afraid of Link Merwell, and I don't believe I ever shall be," returned Dave, quickly. "At heart I think that fellow is a big coward."
"Yes, but you must be careful," warned his sister. "Even cowards know how to strike in the dark,
