Kitobni o'qish: «Dave Porter and His Double: or, The Disapperarance of the Basswood Fortune», sahifa 2
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 another. Soon the fiery grays broke from their mad gallop into a trot, and a minute later Dave had no trouble in bringing them to a halt. There they stood in the snow and the furrows of the field, snorting, and emitting clouds of steam from their nostrils.
“Hold ’em, Dave, while I get out and go to their heads!” cried Ben, and an instant later was out in the snow and had hold of the steeds. Each of the horses was trembling a little, but the run seemed to have done neither of them any harm.
“Oh, Dave! Dave!” gasped Jessie. She tried to go on, but could not.
“Oh, how thankful I am that you did not attempt to go around that corner!” came from Laura. “If you had tried that we would have been upset and maybe all killed!” and she shuddered.
“It was just the right thing to do, Dave,” was Ben’s comment. “But I don’t know that I would have thought of it. You are a quick thinker, and I guess we have you to thank for saving our lives.”
“Well, we’ve broken down somebody’s fence,” returned Dave, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll have to fix that, I suppose.”
“Huh! What’s a broken fence to saving one’s neck!” snorted Ben. “Besides, we only busted a couple of rails, and they are not worth a great deal.”
“Dave, do you think it will be safe to ride behind that team any more?” questioned Laura.
“I’m going to do it,” he answered promptly. “No team of horses is going to get the better of me!”
“I think, now that they have had this run, they’ll tame down a little,” said Ben. “Besides that, the rest of the road to Coburntown is almost straight and flat.”
“Yes, and as soon as we get on a straight road I’ll give them all the running they want,” answered Dave. “I’ll guarantee that by the time we reach town they’ll be just as meek as any one would want them.”
With Ben still at their heads the team was turned around and led to the roadway once more. There the horses were tied to a tree near by, and then Dave and Ben spent a little time in repairing the damage done to the fence.
“I wish we could find out who those fellows in the auto were,” said Ben, when they were once again on the way. “They ought to be fined for speeding.”
“I doubt if we’ll be able to locate them,” answered Dave. And he was right–they never saw or heard of the reckless automobilists again.
As has been mentioned, beyond the hill the road to Coburntown was almost straight and level. And here for over two miles Dave allowed the grays to go along at a good gait, although keeping his eyes on them continually, so that they might not get beyond control. As a consequence of this additional burst of speed, when they came in sight of the town for which they were bound, the grays were quite docile and willing to behave themselves properly.
“Now if you say so, I’ll take you girls around to the French Shop,” suggested Dave, “and then Ben and I can drive around to Mr. Wecks’s shoe-store.”
This was agreeable to Laura and Jessie, and in a few minutes the girls were left at the door of the establishment where Laura had said she wished to match some ribbon. Then the two boys started for the shoe-dealer’s shop. Dave had already acquainted Ben with the particulars of his errand to the place.
“What are you going to do if Wecks says you really had the shoes?” questioned the son of the real estate dealer, when they were on the way to the shoe store.
“But how can he say that when I haven’t been near the place, Ben?” returned Dave.
“I don’t know. But I do know that people have sometimes had things charged to them at the stores which other people got.”
“Humph! Well, I sha’n’t pay for any shoes that I did not get,” answered our hero, simply.
Mr. Wecks’s establishment was at the far end of the main street of Coburntown; so the lads had half a dozen blocks to cover before they reached the place.
“Hello, it’s closed!” exclaimed Ben, as they came in sight of the store; and he nodded in the direction of the show window, the curtain of which was drawn down. The curtain on the door was also down, and on the glass was pasted a sheet of note paper.
“Some sort of notice. I’ll see what it is,” answered Dave, and, throwing the reins to Ben, he left the sleigh. Soon he was reading what was written on the sheet of paper:
Closed on account of death in the family.
William Wecks.
“Somebody dead. That’s too bad!” mused Dave. “I wonder who it can be?” and then he passed into a barber shop next door to find out.
“It’s Mr. Wecks’s father–a very old man who lived back in the country from here,” explained the barber. “Mr. Wecks went up there last night, and he doesn’t expect to come back until after the funeral, which will probably be day after to-morrow.”
“I don’t suppose his clerk is around?” questioned Dave.
“No. The funeral gave him a holiday, and he was glad of it. He’s out of town, too;” and having thus expressed himself, the barber turned to wait upon a customer who had just come in, and Dave returned to the sleigh.
“If that’s the case, you’ll have to let the matter rest until the next time you come to Coburntown, or else you’ll have to write to Mr. Wecks,” said Ben.
“I’ll be coming over again before very long,” answered Dave. “But, just the same, I’d like to have this matter settled.”
While Dave was speaking to his chum a man passed him on the sidewalk, looking at him rather fixedly. This man was Mr. Asa Dickley, the proprietor of the largest gentlemen’s furnishing establishment of which Coburntown boasted. Our hero knew the man fairly well, having purchased a number of things at his place from time to time, and so he nodded pleasantly. Mr. Asa Dickley nodded in return, but with a rather sour expression on his face. Then he glanced at Ben, and at the handsome sleigh and still more stylish team of horses, and passed on muttering something to himself.
“Mr. Dickley didn’t look very happy,” was Dave’s comment, as he and Ben entered the sleigh.
“I don’t think he likes my father very much,” answered the son of the real estate dealer. “He wanted to get a piece of property here very cheap, and my father found another customer for the place at five hundred dollars more.”
“I see, Ben. Just the same, why should he give me such a hard look? Of course, I haven’t been in his place of business for a good while. But he can’t expect me to buy all my furnishing goods from him.”
“Well, you know how it is, Dave–when you buy some things from some storekeepers they think they are entitled to your whole trade. However, I shouldn’t let the matter worry me.”
“Not much! I’ve got other things to think about. Don’t forget that I expect next month to take that examination in civil engineering. That’s what is on my mind just now.”
“Oh, you’ll pass, don’t worry, Dave. Just think of what a brilliant showing you made at Oak Hall.”
“True. But my studies in civil engineering have been a good deal harder than anything I tackled at school. If it wasn’t for Mr. Ramsdell, the old civil engineer who is coaching Roger and me, I don’t know how I would possibly have gotten along.”
“If you pass the examination, what will you do next?”
“Roger and I will go out on some constructive work and thus get a taste of real engineering. Mr. Ramsdell thinks he can get us positions with the Mentor Construction Company of Philadelphia, who are now doing a good deal of work in Texas–laying out railroads and building bridges.”
“In Texas? Say! that’s quite a distance from here.”
“So it is, Ben. But it is not as far as I expect to get some day. If I ever make anything of civil engineering I hope some day to be able to do some great work in other parts of the world–maybe in Mexico or South America.”
“Say, that will be great!” cried Ben, enthusiastically. “You’ll have a fine chance to see the world. You must take after your uncle, Dave. He was always a great fellow to travel. Think of how you located him years ago away down on that island in the South Seas!”
“It sure was a great trip! And some day I’d like to take it over again. But just now I’ve got to put in all my time on this civil engineering proposition. I think I’ll be lucky if I pass and get that chance to go to Texas.”
CHAPTER IV
WARD PORTON AGAIN
A quarter of an hour later the girls had finished their shopping and rejoined the boys. Then it was decided that the party should go on to Clayton, six miles farther. They were told that the road was in excellent condition, and this proved to be a fact, so that the sleighing was thoroughly enjoyed.
It was growing dark when they drove down the main street of Clayton, and, although a bit early, all agreed to Dave’s suggestion that they get dinner at the leading restaurant–a place at which they had stopped a number of times and which they knew to be first-class.
“What a pity Roger couldn’t come along,” said Jessie to Dave just before sitting down to the sumptuous meal which the boys had ordered. “I know he would have enjoyed this very much.”
“No doubt of it, Jessie,” answered Dave, who well knew what a fondness for his sister the senator’s son possessed. “But, as you know, Roger had to go home on a business matter for his father. Senator Morr is very busy in Washington these days, so Roger has to take care of quite a few matters at home.”
“Isn’t it queer that he doesn’t want to follow in the footsteps of his father and take up politics?” went on the girl.
“Senator Morr didn’t want him to do it. And, besides, Roger has no taste that way. He loves civil engineering just as much as I do.”
“It’s a wonder you and he didn’t persuade Phil Lawrence to take it up, too, Dave.”
“Oh, Phil couldn’t do that. You know his father’s shipping interests are very large, and Mr. Lawrence wants Phil to take hold with him–and Phil likes that sort of thing. He is planning right now to take several trips on his father’s ships this summer.”
“When does that examination of yours come off, Dave?”
“About the middle of next month.”
“And if you really pass, are you going to work away down in Texas?” continued the girl, anxiously.
“If I can get the position,–and if Roger is willing to go along.”
“I don’t like to have you go so far away;” and Jessie pouted a little.
“Well, it can’t be helped. If I want to be a civil engineer I’ve got to take an opening where I can get it. Besides, Mr. Ramsdell thinks it will be the best kind of training for Roger and me. He knows the men at the head of the Mentor Company, and will get them to give us every opportunity to advance ourselves. That, you know, will mean a great deal.”
“Oh, but Texas, Dave! Why, that is thousands of miles away!”
“Not so very many thousands, Jessie,” he answered with a little smile. “The mails run regularly, and I trust you will not forget how to write letters. Besides that, I don’t expect to stay in Texas forever.”
“Yes, but when you come back from Texas, you’ll be going off to some other far-away place–South America, or Africa, or the North Pole, or somewhere,” and Jessie pouted again.
“Oh, say, let up! I’m not going to South Africa, or to the North Pole either. Of course, I may go to Mexico or South America, or to the Far West. But that won’t be so very soon. It will be after I have had considerable experience in civil engineering, and when I am older than I am now. And you know what sometimes happens to a fellow when he gets older?”
“What?”
“He gets married.”
“Oh, indeed!” Jessie blushed a little. “And then I suppose he goes off and leaves his wife behind and forgets all about her.”
“Does he? Not so as you can notice it! He takes his wife with him–that is, provided she will go.”
“Oh, the idea!” and now, as Dave looked her steadily in the eyes, Jessie blushed more than ever.
Where this conversation would have ended it is impossible to say, but at that moment Laura interrupted the pair, followed by Ben; and then the talk became general as the four sat down to dinner.
The horses had been put up in a stable connected with the restaurant, and after the meal it was Dave who went out to get them and bring them around to the front of the place. He was just driving to the street when his glance fell upon a person standing in the glare of an electric light. The person had his face turned full toward our hero, so that Dave got a good look at him.
“Ward Porton!” cried the youth in astonishment. “How in the world did that fellow get here, and what is he doing?”
Like a flash the memory of the past came over Dave–how Ward Porton had tried to pass himself off as the real Dave Porter and thus relegate Dave himself back to the ranks of the “nobodies.”
Dave was crossing the sidewalk at the time, but as soon as he had the team and the sleigh in the street he jumped out and made his way towards the other youth.
“I think I’ll interview him and see what he has to say for himself,” murmured Dave to himself. “Maybe I’ll have him arrested.”
Ward Porton had been staring at our hero all the while he was turning into the street and getting out of the sleigh. But now, as he saw Dave approaching, he started to walk away.
“Stop, Porton! I want to talk to you,” called out our hero. “Stop!”
“I don’t want to see you,” returned the other youth, hastily. “You let me alone;” and then, as Dave came closer, he suddenly broke into a run down the street. Dave was taken by surprise, but only for a moment. Then he, too, commenced to run, doing his best to catch the fellow ahead.
But Ward Porton was evidently scared. He looked back, and, seeing Dave running, increased his speed, and then shot around a corner and into an alleyway. When Dave reached the corner he was nowhere in sight.
“He certainly was scared,” was Dave’s mental comment, as he looked up and down the side street and even glanced into the alleyway. “I wonder where he went and if it would do any good to look any further for him?”
Dave spent fully five minutes in that vicinity, but without being able to discover Ward Porton’s hiding-place. Then, knowing that the others would be wondering what had become of him, and being also afraid that the grays might run away again, he returned to where he had left the sleigh standing.
“Hello! Where did you go?” called out Ben, who had just emerged from the restaurant.
“What do you think? I just saw that rascal, Ward Porton!” burst out Dave.
“Porton! You don’t mean it? Where is he?”
“He was standing under that light when I drove out from the stable. I ran to speak to him, and then he took to his legs and scooted around yonder corner. I went after him, but by the time I got on the side street he was out of sight.”
“Is that so! It’s too bad you couldn’t catch him, Dave. I suppose you would have liked to talk to him.”
“That’s right, Ben. And maybe I might have had him arrested, although now that he has been exposed, and now that Link Merwell is in jail, I don’t suppose it would have done much good.”
“It’s queer he should show himself so close to Crumville. One would think that he would want to put all the distance possible between himself and your folks.”
“That’s true, Ben. Maybe he is up to some more of his tricks.”
The girls were on the lookout for the boys, and now, having bundled up well, they came from the restaurant, and all got into the sleigh once more. Then they turned back in the direction of Crumville, this time, however, taking a route which did not go near Conover’s Hill.
“Oh, Dave! were you sure it was that Ward Porton?” questioned his sister, when he had told her and Jessie about the appearance of the former moving-picture actor.
“I was positive. Besides, if it wasn’t Porton, why would he run away?”
“I sincerely hope he doesn’t try to do you any harm, Dave,” said Jessie, and gave a little shiver. “I was hoping we had seen the last of that horrid young man.”
“Why, Jessie! You wouldn’t call him horrid, would you, when he looks so very much like Dave?” asked Ben, mischievously.
“He doesn’t look very much like Dave,” returned the girl, quickly. “And he doesn’t act in the least like him,” she added loyally.
“It’s mighty queer to have a double that way,” was the comment of the real estate man’s son. “I don’t know that I should like to have somebody else looking like me.”
“If you couldn’t help it, you’d have to put up with it,” returned Dave, briefly. And then he changed the subject, which, as the others could plainly see, was distasteful to him.
As they left Clayton the moon came up over a patch of woods, flooding the snowy roadway with subdued light. In spite of what had happened, all of the young folks were in good spirits, and they were soon laughing and chatting gaily. Ben started to sing one of the old Oak Hall favorites, and Dave and the girls joined in. The grays were now behaving themselves, and trotted along as steadily as could be desired.
When the sleighing-party reached Crumville they left Ben Basswood at his door, and then went on to the Wadsworth mansion.
“Did you have a fine ride?” inquired Mrs. Wadsworth, when the young folks bustled into the house.
“Oh, it was splendid, Mamma!” cried her daughter. “Coming back in the moonlight was just the nicest ever!”
“Did those grays behave themselves?” questioned Mr. Wadsworth, who was present. “John said they acted rather frisky when he brought them out.”
“Oh, they were pretty frisky at first,” returned Dave. “But I finally managed to get them to calm down,” he added. The matter had been discussed by the young folks, and it had been decided not to say anything about the runaway unless it was necessary.
On the following morning Dave had to apply himself diligently to his studies. Since leaving Oak Hall he had been attending a civil engineering class in the city with Roger, and had, in addition, been taking private tutoring from a Mr. Ramsdell, a retired civil engineer of considerable reputation, who, in years gone by, had been a college friend of Dave’s father. Dave was exceedingly anxious to make as good a showing as possible at the coming examinations.
“Here are several letters for you, David,” said old Mr. Potts to him late that afternoon, as he entered the boy’s study with the mail. “You seem to be the lucky one,” the retired professor continued, with a smile. “All I’ve got is a bill.”
“Maybe there is a bill here for me, Professor,” returned Dave gaily, as he took the missives handed out.
Dave glanced at the envelopes. By the handwritings he knew that one letter was from Phil Lawrence and another from Shadow Hamilton, one of his old Oak Hall chums, and a fellow who loved to tell stories. The third communication was postmarked Coburntown, and in a corner of the envelope had the imprint of Asa Dickley.
“Hello! I wonder what Mr. Dickley wants of me,” Dave mused, as he turned the letter over. Then he remembered how sour the store-keeper had appeared when they had met the day before. “Maybe he wants to know why I haven’t bought anything from him lately.”
Dave tore open the communication which was written on one of Asa Dickley’s letterheads. The letter ran as follows:
“Mr. David Porter.
“Dear Sir:
“I thought when I saw you in Coburntown to-day that you would come in and see me; but you did not. Will you kindly let me know why you do not settle up as promised? When I let you have the goods, you said you would settle up by the end of the week without fail. Unless you come in and settle up inside of the next week I shall have to call the attention of your father to what you owe me.
“Yours truly,“Asa Dickley.”
