Kitobni o'qish: «Dave Porter and His Double: or, The Disapperarance of the Basswood Fortune»

PREFACE

“Dave Porter and His Double” is a complete story in itself, but forms the twelfth volume in a line issued under the general title of “Dave Porter Series.”

This series was begun some years ago by the publication of “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” in which my young readers were introduced to a wide-awake American lad at a typical American boarding-school.

The publication of this volume was followed by “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” to which portion of our globe the lad journeyed to clear up a question concerning his parentage. Next came “Dave Porter’s Return to School,” telling of additional happenings at Oak Hall; “Dave Porter in the Far North,” where he went on a second journey looking for his father; “Dave Porter and His Classmates,” in which our young hero showed what he could do under most trying circumstances; “Dave Porter at Star Ranch,” in which he took part in many strenuous adventures in the Wild West; “Dave Porter and His Rivals,” in which the youth outwitted some of his old-time enemies; “Dave Porter on Cave Island,” giving the details of a remarkable sea voyage and strange doings ashore; “Dave Porter and the Runaways,” in which the boy taught some of his school chums a much-needed lesson; “Dave Porter in the Gold Fields,” whither he went in search of a lost mine; and finally “Dave Porter at Bear Camp,” which was located in the Adirondack Mountains, and where we last left him.

In the present volume we find our hero in a new field of activity. Having graduated from school, he has taken up the study of civil engineering, and while engaged in that calling in Texas he becomes mixed up in most unusual happenings, the particulars of which are given in the pages that follow.

Once more I wish to thank my young readers, and many of their parents, for all the kind things they have said regarding my stories. I trust that the reading of the present book will not only please but also profit the young folks.

Edward Stratemeyer.

March 1, 1916.

CHAPTER I
OFF FOR A SLEIGH-RIDE

“What is the matter, Dave? You look rather mystified.”

“I am mystified, Laura,” replied Dave Porter. “I have a letter here that I can’t understand at all.”

“Whom is it from?” questioned Laura Porter, as she came closer to her brother, who was ensconced in the largest easy-chair the Wadsworth library contained.

“It’s from a shopkeeper in Coburntown, Mr. Wecks, the shoe-dealer. He wants to know which pair of shoes I have decided to keep, and asks me kindly to return the pair I don’t want.”

“Well, what of that, Dave?” continued his sister, as the youth paused with a wrinkle on his forehead. “Can’t you make up your mind which pair of shoes you want to keep?”

“I certainly can not, seeing that I haven’t had any shoes from Wecks’s store,” returned Dave, with a faint smile. “I haven’t been in his place for nearly a year, and the last time I was there I bought a pair of rubbers and paid for them.”

“Oh, then the letter must be meant for somebody else, Dave. Mr. Wecks has got his customers mixed.”

“Perhaps so. But in the letter he speaks of the two pairs of shoes I took away with me. That looks as if somebody had gotten two pairs of shoes in my name.”

“Well, as we are going out sleighing this afternoon, why don’t you drive to Coburntown and drop into his shop and explain matters?” suggested the sister.

“I guess that would be best, Laura.” Dave folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket. “How soon will you be ready?”

“Inside of quarter of an hour.”

“And how about Jessie?”

“She was almost ready when I came downstairs.”

“Good! Then we can get an early start and have a good long ride besides stopping at Coburntown, where I suppose you and Jessie can do a little shopping while I am at Wecks’s store.”

“That will be fine, Dave! I would like to match some ribbon, and the only place I can do it is in the French Shop in Coburntown;” and thus speaking Laura Porter hurried out of the room to get ready for the sleigh-ride.

Dave had proposed the ride just before lunch, and the young people living at the Wadsworth mansion had telephoned over to the Basswood home, asking if Ben Basswood would accompany them.

“Sure I’ll go–be glad to!” Dave’s former school chum had answered over the wire. “I haven’t a thing to do this afternoon, and a first sleigh-ride of the season will tickle me to death.”

“Oh, I don’t want it to kill you, Ben,” Dave had answered gaily. “Just the same, you be ready for us when we come over;” and to this Ben had agreed.

Although it was still early in the winter, there had been a heavy fall of snow two days before and now the roads in and around Crumville were in excellent condition for sleighing. The musical sound of sleigh-bells could be heard in all directions, and this had made Dave anxious to get out on the road, even though he had to spend most of his time indoors studying, as we shall learn later.

Dave had already given orders to the hostler connected with the Wadsworth estate, and now this man brought to the front of the mansion a fine, big sleigh drawn by a pair of sleek-looking, high-stepping steeds. The sleigh was well provided with heavy robes to protect its occupants from the cold.

“Oh, Dave, I’m so glad to go sleighing!” burst out Jessie Wadsworth, as she came bounding down the broad stairway of the mansion to meet him. “Isn’t it just glorious weather?”

“It sure is,” he answered, as he gave her a warm glance. To Dave, Jessie was the most beautiful girl in the world, and just now, clad as she was in her dainty sealskin coat and her jaunty sealskin hat, she looked more bewitching to him than ever.

“Going for a ride, eh?” came from Dave’s uncle, Dunston Porter, who had just finished a belated lunch. “Well, have a good time, and don’t let that pair of grays run away with you. John was telling me they are feeling quite mettlesome lately. I guess they don’t get exercise enough.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Uncle Dunston. I’m sure I can manage them,” answered Dave.

“Sure you can!” returned his uncle, heartily. “Too bad you couldn’t have asked an old fellow like me to go along,” he continued, making a wry face.

“Why, you can come along if you want to. Can’t he, Dave?” burst out Jessie. “We’d be very glad to have you.”

“He’s only fooling, Jessie,” answered Dave. “You couldn’t hire Uncle Dunston to go sleighing to-day. I saw him cleaning up his shotgun right after breakfast. And I’ll wager he has just come in from hunting and expects to go out again this afternoon. How about it, Uncle–am I right?”

“You’ve got me, Davy,” answered the man, with a grin. “You see, I can’t get over my old habit of going hunting when I get the chance. And now that this snow is on the ground, it’s just fine for tracking rabbits.”

“Did you get any this morning?”

“A few. I didn’t go very far. This afternoon I am going deeper into the woods, and I guarantee to bring back enough to make the biggest rabbit pot-pie to-morrow you ever saw;” and, thus speaking, the uncle hastened away.

He had spent many years of his life roaming the world in quest of game both big and little, and now, though of late years he had done his best to settle down, it was still impossible for him to give up his hunting habit entirely.

Laura soon appeared ready for the ride. Dave had already donned his heavy overcoat, fur cap, and his driving-gloves. He assisted the girls into the sleigh and saw to it that they were well tucked in with robes.

“Have a good time and don’t stay out too late,” were the farewell words of Mrs. Wadsworth, who had come to the door to see them off.

“Well, you know we don’t expect to be back to dinner this evening,” answered Dave. “We can get something to eat at Coburntown, or some other place, and then drive back in the moonlight.”

“Very well, but don’t make it too late,” answered the lady of the mansion. And then Dave took up the reins, chirped to the team, and away the sleigh started out of the Wadsworth grounds and down the highway leading to the Basswood home.

Ben was on the lookout for them, and by the time Dave had drawn up beside the horse-block he was outside to meet them.

“Good afternoon, everybody,” he said gaily, lifting his cap. “This is just fine of you to take me along.”

“Let Ben come in back here with me,” said Laura, “and that will give Jessie a chance to sit in front. I know she always likes to be up ahead,” and Laura smiled knowingly.

“Suits me,” answered Ben, quickly; and then assisted Jessie to make the change, which, however, the miss did not undertake without blushing, for it may as well be admitted here Jessie thought as much of Dave as he did of her.

“Oh, Dave, do you think the grays will behave themselves to-day?” asked the girl, partly to conceal her embarrassment.

“I’m going to make them behave,” he answered, sturdily.

“I don’t believe they have been out of the stable for several days. You know we don’t use the horses nearly as much as we used to, before we got the automobile.”

“I’ll watch them.” Dave looked behind him. “All right back there?”

“Yes,” answered his sister. “But please don’t drive too fast.”

“I don’t believe sleighing will seem too fast after the riding we have been doing in the auto,” answered the brother. He took up the reins again, and once more the turnout sped along the highway.

They made a turn, passed along the main street of Crumville, and also passed the large Wadsworth jewelry works, and then took to a road leading to Coburntown, some miles distant. The air was cold but clear, with the bright sunshine sparkling on the snow, and all of the young people were in the best of humor.

“Say, Dave, how would you like to be back at Oak Hall?” cried Ben, while the sleigh sped along. “Wouldn’t we have the dandy time snowballing each other, and snowballing old Horsehair?”

“So we would, Ben,” answered Dave, his eyes gleaming. “We sure did have some good times at that school.”

“How are you and Roger getting along with your civil engineering course?”

“All right, I think. Mr. Ramsdell says he is greatly pleased with our work.”

“That’s fine. I almost wish I had taken up civil engineering myself. But dad wants me to go into real estate with him. He thinks there is a big chance in that line these days, when Crumville is just beginning to wake up.”

“Hasn’t your dad got a big rival in Aaron Poole?”

“Oh, no! Poole isn’t in it any more when it comes to big deals. You see, he was so close and miserly in all his business affairs that a great many people became afraid of him.”

“What has become of Nat Poole?” questioned Laura. “Did he go back to Oak Hall?”

“For a short while only. When his folks found out that he had failed to graduate they were awfully angry. Mr. Poole claimed that it was the fault of the school and so he took Nat away and told him he would have to go to work. I think Nat is working in some store, although where, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s in Crumville or we should have seen him,” said Dave.

“I never want to meet that boy again,” pouted Jessie. “I’ll never get over how meanly he acted toward us.”

“It’s not so much Nat’s fault as it is his bringing up,” remarked Ben. “His father never treated him half decently. But I hope Nat makes a man of himself in spite of the way he used to treat us,” went on the youth generously.

“By the way, Ben, didn’t you say your father had gone away?” queried Dave, a few minutes later.

“Yes, he has gone to Chicago on very important business. It seems an old friend of his–a Mr. Enos, who was once his partner in an art store–died, and now the lawyers want to see my father about settling up the Enos estate.”

“An art store?” queried Dave. “I never knew that your father had been in any such business.”

“It was years ago–before my folks came to Crumville. You see, my father and this Mr. Enos had been chums from early boyhood. My father says that Mr. Enos was a very peculiar sort of man, who was all wrapped up in pictures and painting. He got my father to advance a thousand dollars he had saved up, and on that money the two opened an art store. But they couldn’t make a go of it, and so they gave it up, and while Mr. Enos went West my father came here.”

“Maybe the dead man left your father some money,” suggested Laura.

“That is what my mother said to dad. But he thinks not. He thinks it is more than likely Mr. Enos died in debt and left his affairs all tangled up, and that the lawyers want my father to help straighten them out.”

“I’d like to be able to paint,” said Jessie, with a sigh. “I think some of those little water-colors are just too lovely for anything.”

“Why don’t you take it up? There must be some teacher in Crumville,” returned Dave.

“Let’s both do it!” cried Laura. “I used to paint a little before father and I did so much traveling. I would like to take it up again. It would be very interesting.”

While the young folks were talking, the pair of mettlesome grays had been speeding over the snow of the road at a good rate of speed. Dave, however, had them well in hand, so that there was little danger of their running away.

“We’ll be to Benson Crossroads soon, Dave,” remarked Ben a while later, after they had passed over a long hill lined on either side with tidy farms. “Which road are you going to take–through Hacklebury or around Conover’s Hill?”

“I haven’t made up my mind,” answered Dave. He looked at Jessie. “Have you any preference?”

“Oh, let us go up around Conover’s Hill!” cried Jessie. “That is always such a splendid ride. There is so much of an outlook.”

“Yes, let us go by way of the hill by all means,” added Laura. “It isn’t very nice through Hacklebury, past all those woolen mills.”

“All right, the Conover road it is,” answered Dave; and forward they went once more as fast as ever.

They soon passed the Crossroads, and then took the long, winding road that led around one side of the hill just mentioned. Here travel since the snow had fallen had evidently been heavy, for the roadway was packed down until it was almost as smooth as glass. Over this surface the spirited grays dashed at an increased rate of speed.

“Some team, believe me!” was Ben’s comment. “Mr. Wadsworth ought to put them on a race-course.”

“Papa does not believe in racing,” answered Jessie. “But he always did like to have a horse that had some go in him.”

“Hark!” cried Laura, a moment later. “What is that sound?”

“It’s an auto coming,” announced Ben, looking behind them. “A big touring-car, and whoever is in it seems to be in a tremendous hurry.”

“I wish they wouldn’t cut out their muffler,” was Dave’s comment, as he saw the grays pick up their ears. “They have no right to run with the muffler open.”

As the touring-car came closer those in the sleigh who were able to look back saw that it was running at a great rate of speed and swaying from side to side of the roadway. It contained four young men, out, evidently, for a gloriously good time. Dave did not dare look back to see what was coming. The grays had their ears laid well back and their whole manner showed that they were growing more nervous every instant.

“Hi! Stop that noise!” yelled Ben, jumping up and shaking his hand at the oncoming automobile. But those in the car paid no attention to him. The fellow at the wheel put on a fresh burst of speed, and with a wild rush and a roar the touring-car shot past the sleigh and the frightened horses, and in a few seconds more disappeared around a turn of the road.

As might have been expected, the coming and going of the big machine, with its unearthly roar, was too much for the mettlesome grays. Both reared up wildly on their hind legs, backing the sleigh off to one side of the roadway.

“Whoa there! Whoa!” cried Dave, and did his best to keep the team in hand. But they proved too much for him, and in an instant more they came down on all fours and started to run away.

CHAPTER II
SOMETHING OF THE PAST

“The horses are running away!”

“Oh, we’ll be killed!”

Such were the cries from the two girls as the mettlesome grays tore along the country highway at a speed that seemed marvelous.

“Dave, can I help you?” asked Ben, anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” answered the young driver between his set teeth. “I guess I can bring them down. Anyway, I can try.”

“What shall we do?” wailed Jessie.

“Don’t do anything–sit still,” ordered Dave. He was afraid that Jessie in her excitement might fling herself from the flying sleigh.

On and on bounded the frightened team. Each of the grays now had his bit in his teeth, and it looked as if it would be impossible for Dave to obtain control of the pair. And, worst of all, they were now approaching a turn, with the hill on one side of the roadway and a gully on the other.

“Better keep them as far as possible away from the gully,” suggested Ben.

“That is what I’m trying to do,” returned Dave, setting his teeth grimly.

Dave Porter was a resolute youth, always doing his best to accomplish whatever he set out to do. Had it been otherwise, it is not likely that he would have occupied the position in which we found him at the opening of our story.

When a very small youth Dave had been found wandering along the railroad tracks near Crumville. He could tell little about himself or how he had come in that position; and kind people had taken him in and later on had placed him in the local poorhouse. From that institution he had been taken by an old college professor, named Caspar Potts, who at that time had been farming for his health.

In Crumville, the main industry was the Wadsworth jewelry works, owned by Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, who resided, with his wife and his daughter Jessie, in the finest mansion of that district. One day the Wadsworth automobile caught fire, and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death, when Dave came to her rescue. This led Mr. Wadsworth to ask about the boy and about Mr. Potts. And when it was learned that the latter was one of the jewelry manufacturer’s former college professors, Mr. Wadsworth insisted upon it that Caspar Potts come and live with him, and bring Dave along.

“That boy deserves a good education,” had been Oliver Wadsworth’s comment, after several interviews with Dave, and as a consequence the youth had been sent off to a first-class boarding-school, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.”

At the school Dave had made a host of friends, including Roger Morr, the son of a United States senator, and Phil Lawrence, the son of a rich shipowner.

Ben Basswood, the son of a Crumville real estate dealer and a lad who had been friendly with Dave for several years, also went to Oak Hall, and thus he and Dave became closer chums than ever.

The great thing that troubled Dave in those days was the question of his parentage. Some of the mean boys in the school occasionally referred to him as “that poorhouse nobody,” and this brought on several severe quarrels and even a fist fight or two.

“I’m not going to be a nobody,” said the youth to himself; and when he received certain information from an old sailor he eagerly went on a quest after his father, as told of in “Dave Porter in the South Seas.” There he managed to locate his uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned much concerning his father, David Breslow Porter, and also his sister Laura.

Coming back from the South Seas, Dave returned to school, and then took a trip to the Far North, whither his father had gone before him. There he had many adventures, as already related in another volume.

Glad to know that he had found, not only so many kind friends, but also several rich relatives, Dave went back again to Oak Hall. His classmates were more than glad to see him, but others were jealous of his success in life, and several of his enemies, including a certain Link Merwell, did all they could to annoy him. The annoyances went from bad to worse, and in the end one boy named Jasniff ran away from school, and the other, Merwell, was expelled.

Dave’s sister Laura had a friend, Belle Endicott, who lived in the Far West, and through this young lady Dave and his chums and also Laura and Jessie received an invitation to spend some time at the Endicott place, known as Star Ranch. While in the West Dave once more fell in with Link Merwell, and this young man, as before, tried to make trouble, but was exposed.

“I hope I have seen the last of Merwell,” said Dave to himself, on returning once again to Oak Hall. But this was not to be, for Merwell became a student at a rival academy, and once more he and some others did all they could to make life miserable for our hero.

When the Christmas holidays came around Dave went back to Crumville, where he and his folks resided with the Wadsworths, who had taken such a liking to the youth that they did not wish to have him live elsewhere. Directly after Christmas came a thrilling robbery of the jewelry works, and Dave and his chums discovered that the crime had been committed by Merwell and his crony, Jasniff. After a long sea voyage to Cave Island, one of the evil-doers was captured, but the other, Link Merwell, managed to make his escape.

During Dave’s next term at school there was much trouble with one of the teachers, who was harsh and unsympathetic, and as a result some of the boys ran away. It was Dave who went after them and who, in spite of a fearful flood, managed to bring them back and make them face the music. Then came the graduation 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.