"I don't see why," declared the shipowner's son. "I think we are letting him off mighty easy."

"He feels as if he had been forced into doing what we want," went on Dave. "I think he looks at it as if you had used that Mrs. Breen incident as a club over him."

"Well, it was a club in one sense, Dave."

"I know it, Phil, and, although I am glad we have won out and gotten that extra time, still I am sorry that you and Ben went to him as you did."

"Humph! did you think I was going to sit still and be put back into a lower class?"

"Maybe it might have been better if you had gone to Doctor Clay."

"I don't think so," replied Phil, shortly; and then the school-bell rang again and all the boys had to go to their next classes.

In spite of the cloud that thus hung over the affair, every one of the chums was glad of the extra time in which to make up the lost lessons. Not one of them had to grind away as hard as before, and Dave took a little time off, in which to send a letter to his father and another to Jessie.

The next day was warm and pleasant and, after school-hours, Roger proposed to Dave that they take a walk up the woods road back of the school.

"All right, a walk in the woods will do us good," was the answer. "Shall we ask some of the others?"

"If you wish," and in the end Phil went along, and also Buster Beggs and Gus Plum.

"My, but I had a run-in with old Haskers this afternoon," said the stout youth. "I came close to carrying the matter to the doctor."

"What was it about?" questioned Dave.

"Oh, nothing at all, to my way of thinking. I went to the library to get a book and he accused me of wasting my class time. He was very ugly. I won't stand for much more of it," grumbled Buster.

Dave said no more, but he and Roger exchanged glances. Evidently the irate instructor was going to "take it out of somebody," as the saying goes.

The boys walked on and on, along the road, until Oak Hall was left far behind. Soon Buster forgot his troubles, and the crowd were chatting gayly of many things.

"Call for candidates for the baseball team next Saturday," announced Gus Plum. "I hope we get up a team this year that knocks the spots out of Rockville Military Academy and all the other institutions we cross bats with."

"Are you going to try for the nine this term, Gus?" questioned Dave.

"Sure! Why not? You'll try, won't you?" went on the big youth, in surprise.

"No, I've decided not to go into athletics this term, Gus. I want to give all my time to my studies."

"Yes, but the nine needs you, Dave!" put in Buster. "I heard some of the fellows talking about it only yesterday. They had you slated for your old position."

"Well, if Gus wants to play, he can fill the box," answered Dave.

"But we need more than one pitcher," insisted Buster.

"There are plenty of new students coming along. I hear Thomas is a good one, and so is Ennis."

"I'm not going to play, either," said Roger. "I want to graduate with all the honors possible."

"How about you, Phil?"

"I—I think I'll play," answered the shipowner's son, rather lamely. "I'll see about it later."

"Well, I don't want to neglect my studies," said Gus Plum. "But I have done some hard work this winter and so I am pretty well ahead. I didn't lose time going to Cave Island, you know," he added, with a smile.

"Well, it was worth it—losing that time," answered Dave. "It saved Mr. Wadsworth from ruin, and that's a good deal."

"If the baseball nine——" commenced Buster, and then broke off short. "What was that?" he demanded, as a cry from a distance broke on the ears of all.

"It's a woman's voice!" cried Dave, quickly. "She is calling for help! Come on and see what is the matter!" And he started off on a run, with his school chums at his heels.



CHAPTER IX

THE KING OF SUMATRA

The boys had been traveling along a broad highway that ran to a town on the other side of the woods. The trees were thick and so were the bushes, with here and there a big rock, covered with the dead vines of the summer previous.

At one point some distance ahead was an old stone house, standing where another road ran in the direction of the river. This house had not been inhabited for years, and the doors and windows were gone, and the falling of the chimney had smashed in a large portion of the sloping roof.

It was from in front of the old house that the cries for assistance came, and now the boys heard two voices, both somewhat girlish in tones.

"Oh, let me go! Please, let me go!" came, wildly.

"You have no right to touch us!" was added, in another voice.

"What's the matter?" called out Dave, as loudly as he could. But in his mind there had already flashed an inkling of what was going on. For some time past the wild man of that locality had not shown himself. Now, perhaps, he was again at his old tricks.

"Oh, make him go away!" screamed a girlish voice, and then, as our hero made a turn of the road, he caught sight of two girls standing near the old stone house. Back of them was another figure, that of a tall, powerful man, but this figure disappeared as if by magic, behind the ancient building.

"Why, Miss Rockwell!" exclaimed Dave, as he recognized a young lady from town whom he knew well. "And you, too, Miss Feversham! What is the matter?"

"That man—the wild man!" panted Vera Rockwell. "He—he—stopped us!"

"He wanted our purses!" added Mary Feversham, the other young lady.

"Where is he?" asked Roger and Phil, in a breath.

"He just ran behind the house—I saw him," answered Dave. "Did he hurt you any?" he went on, anxiously, for he and Vera and Mary were good friends.

"No, but he—he scared us so!"

"Let us go after him!" put in Phil, quickly. He had taken Mary Feversham out a number of times and the two were well acquainted. "Come on!" and he started around the house.

All of the others were not slow to follow. Behind the building they came upon a mass of weeds and bushes and in their midst the remains of an old well, long since caved in. What had once been a path led to the side road before mentioned.

"That's the way he must have gone—down the side road!" cried the shipowner's son.

"Supposing we see if we can catch him?" suggested Dave. "But somebody ought to go back, and stay with the girls," he added thoughtfully.

"I'll go back," answered Phil. He was only too glad of a chance to talk to Mary, not having seen her for a long time.

"If that fellow comes back, whistle for us," advised Roger.

Dave was already on the side road with Buster and Gus beside him, and the senator's son quickly followed.

"Don't go too fast or I—I can't ke—keep up with you!" panted Buster.

"Do you see anything of him, Dave?" queried Roger.

"Not yet, but there is a turn just ahead. When we make that we'll be able to see almost to the river."

All of the students sped on, the stout lad doing his best to keep up with the others. They reached the turn with Dave a step or two in advance.

"There he is!"

"I see him! Say, he's wild-looking enough!"

"He is making for the river!"

"We ought to be able to catch him. We are four to one."

Dave and Roger pressed forward with increased speed and poor Buster fell somewhat behind.

"I'm coming as fa—fast as I ca—can!" blurted out the fat youth. "Go on—I'll get there sooner or later!"

"Pick up a stick, if you see one," cried Dave, to Roger and Gus. "We may have a hot fight on our hands. That man ought to be in jail, or in an asylum."

As they sped along, the three kept their eyes open and each presently armed himself with a fair-sized club. The wild man was running like a deer, pausing occasionally to turn and brandish his long arms at them savagely. They could see that his clothing was in tatters and that his hair and beard were long and unkempt.

"Hi! stop!" called out Dave, although he had but little hope of causing the man to halt. "We want to talk to you."

"Go back! Beware! Go back, or it will be the worse for you!" called the wild man. "Leave the King of Sumatra alone!"

"The King of Sumatra?" repeated Roger. "Say, he's crazy sure enough, to imagine himself that!"

The boys continued after the wild man and urged him to stop. But instead of heeding them, he ran on the faster.

"He's an athlete, when it comes to running," remarked Dave, as he tried in vain to get closer to the man.

"They say crazy people are always strong," answered the senator's son.

"I've go—got to gi—give up!" panted Gus, and came to a halt. "Go—got a pa—pain in my side!" And he put his hand over his hip.

"All right, we'll manage alone!" cried Roger. "I don't think we can catch that fellow anyway," he added, half under his breath.

Another turn of the woodland road brought the Leming River into plain view, at a point where the stream was both wide and deep. The wild man kept sprinting along and it was impossible for the boys to draw any closer to him.

"Shall we threaten to shoot him if he won't stop?" asked Roger. Neither of the lads carried firearms.



"No, he might do some shooting on his own account,—if he is armed. Come on, he may fall, or something like that."

Inside of three minutes more the wild man gained the shore of the river and disappeared around a point of rocks and brushwood.

"Be careful, Dave," warned Roger. "He may spring out at you with a club."

"I've got my eyes open," was the ready reply.

Both advanced with caution, and soon came up to the nearest of the rocks. With clubs ready for use, the two youths continued to move forward. Then they came to a sudden halt. The wild man was no longer in sight. What had become of him?

"Maybe he ran into the woods," suggested Roger.

"Perhaps, but—hark!" And our hero held up his hand. From a distance came a scraping sound, like something sliding over a rock.

"Look!" called out the senator's son. "He's got a boat! There he goes!"

Dave turned in the direction pointed out by his chum. Both saw a small rowboat sweep out from under some brushwood. In it stood the wild man, using an oar as a pole on the rocks.

"Stop!" cried Dave. "Stop, or you may be sorry for it."

"You can't catch the King of Sumatra!" yelled the wild man, and flourished his arms and made a hideous face at them. Then he sat down on the middle seat of the craft, placed the oars in the rowlocks, and commenced to row rapidly down the stream.

"Well, that's the end of the chase," remarked Dave, in some disgust.

"That's right, since we haven't any boat," returned Roger. "Wonder where he got that craft? I don't think he bought it."

"It isn't likely. Probably he saw it somewhere along the river and simply appropriated it." And this proved to be true.

The boys watched the wild man until a bend of the stream hid rower and craft from view. Then they turned back in the direction of the old stone house.

"Did you get him?" demanded Buster, who was waiting with Gus at the point where he had dropped out of the race.

"No," answered Roger, and told why.

"He sure is a cute one," went on the stout youth. "Say, if they don't catch him soon, he'll have this whole neighborhood scared to death."

The students soon reached the old house. Here they found the two girls and Phil, the latter with a heavy stick in his hand, ready for any emergency. The girls had calmed down a little, but were still much agitated.

"We were to come home in my uncle's carriage," said Mary Feversham. "But the horse got a lame foot and so we decided to walk. We had heard of the wild man, but did not think we would meet him. Oh, it was dreadful!"

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" asked Dave.

"Oh, no, but he frightened us so! He danced around us and caught us by the arms, and he wanted us to give him money! Oh, it was dreadful!"

"He ought to be in an asylum," said Dave. And then he and Roger related how the wild man had escaped.

"I sha'n't go out alone again," said Vera Rockwell. "That is, not until that man is captured."

"We'll take you both home," said Phil, promptly, looking at Mary.

"But we don't want to keep you from what you were going to do," said Vera.

"Oh, we were only out for a walk," replied Dave. "We'll walk to town with you. Maybe we'll hear something more of this strange fellow."

All turned back on the road that led close to Oak Hall, and after discussing the wild man from various points of view, the conversation turned to other matters. The girls told of what they had been doing during the past holidays and asked the boys about themselves.

"I heard that that horrid Jasniff is under arrest," said Vera to Dave. "I am glad of it. It is a pity that Merwell got away."

"Perhaps," answered our hero. "But, somehow, I sometimes think that Link Merwell will turn over a new leaf."

Vera looked back, to make sure that none of the others were near.

"Just like Mr. Plum, I suppose you mean," she whispered. "Oh, it was splendid, what you did for him, Dave!"

"Oh, I didn't do much for Gus."

"My brother thinks you did. He heard the whole story. It was brave and noble of you, it was indeed!" And Vera's face showed her earnestness.

"Well, Gus has turned out a nice fellow. I wish Merwell would turn out as good."

"But he helped to take those jewels."

"That is true—and that will always be a black mark against him," said Dave, soberly.

Soon all reached the outskirts of Oakdale and there, at one of the corners, the boys left the girls.

"Pretty late!" cried Gus Plum, consulting the watch he carried. "We'll have to hike back lively, if we don't want to be marked up for tardiness."

"We can get an excuse, if we tell about the wild man," said Buster. "I've hurried all I'm going to."

"We'll certainly have a yarn to spin when we get back to the school," was Phil's comment.

At the entrance to the campus the boys, who were a little late, met the first assistant to Doctor Clay. As my old readers know Mr. Dale was as pleasant as Job Haskers was disagreeable.

"Had a fine walk, boys?" he asked, with a smile.

"We had an adventure," answered Dave, and then he and his chums told what it was.

"Well! well! that wild man again," mused the instructor. "This is getting truly serious. I was hoping he would leave this neighborhood. And so he calls himself the King of Sumatra? That is strange."

"It certainly is strange," answered Dave.

But how strange, our hero was still to find out.



CHAPTER X

NAT POOLE WANTS TO KNOW

That evening Dave was on his way to the school library, to consult a certain work of reference, when he ran into another student who suddenly grasped him by the shoulder. It was rather dark where the pair confronted each other, and for the instant our hero did not recognize the fellow.

"What do you want?"

"I want to speak to you for a minute, Dave Porter," said the other, in a voice that trembled a trifle.

"Oh, it's you, Nat," answered Dave, as he recognized the son of the Crumville money-lender. "What do you want?" He rather imagined that the youth wished to pick another quarrel with him.

"I—I want to talk in private with you," returned Nat, and looked around, to see if anybody else was near.

"What about?"

"You were out walking this afternoon and met that wild man, so I heard."

"That is true."

"You tried to catch him, didn't you?"

"Yes, Roger Morr, Buster Beggs, Gus Plum, and I did our best to collar him, but he was too fast for us. He ran down to the river, got into a rowboat, and rowed away."

"So I heard. And I heard something else," continued the boy from Crumville. "When you called to the man to stop he answered back, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Will you please tell me what he said?" And Nat's voice had an eager ring in it.

"He told us to beware and go back, or we'd get into trouble."

"Didn't he say something more than that?"

"Oh, yes, a great deal more."

"He called himself something, didn't he?"

"Yes. Look here, Nat, what is this to you? Why are you so interested?" queried Dave, for he could easily perceive that the other youth was more than ordinarily anxious to know the particulars of what had occurred.

"I—I—want to—er—know, that's all. Did he call himself anything?"

"Yes; he thinks he is the King of Sumatra."

"He called himself that?" asked Nat, with increased excitement.

"Yes, two or three times. But see here, Nat——"

"Will you please tell me how he looked? Was he tall and rather thin?"

"Yes."

"And what kind of hair did he have?"

"Brownish-red, as near as I could make out, and very long. And he had rather a long beard and a large nose," went on our hero.

At this brief but accurate description of the wild man, Nat Poole paled a trifle and uttered something of a gasp.

"Whe—where did he go?" he faltered.

"He rowed down the river just as fast as he could. I don't know how far he went, for the bend hid him from view," answered our hero. "Say, Nat, do you think you know that man?"

"Why—er—know him? Of course I don't know him," was the stammered-out reply. "But I—I think—maybe—I've met him." And then, to avoid further questioning, Nat Poole hurried away. Our hero could do nothing but stare after him.

"That is mighty queer," mused Dave, as he turned into the library to consult the reference book. "If Nat doesn't know the man, why was he so anxious? He acted scared to death when I said the fellow called himself the King of Sumatra."

Dave remained in the school library for a half an hour and then joined Phil, Roger, and the others in Dormitory Number Twelve. He found the students discussing a talk Roger had had with Nat Poole only a few minutes before.

"Nat called me out in the hallway," said the senator's son. "He wanted to know all about that wild man, and he wanted to make dead certain that he had called himself the King of Sumatra."

"That is certainly queer—on top of what happened to me," said Dave, and told of the interview he had had.

"Well, this is a puzzle," declared Phil, slowly. "What do you make of it, Dave?"

"I think Nat imagines he knows the wild man."

"That's the way it looks to me," added the senator's son.

"Say, you don't suppose that wild man has anything to do with the fellows Nat used to train with—Jasniff, Merwell, and that crowd?" questioned Buster.

"It's possible, but I don't think so," returned our hero. "He is surely a crazy individual, and as nobody around here seems to know him, he must be a stranger to these parts."

"But what would make Nat so interested?" asked little Chip Macklin.

"Give it up," answered Roger.

"Maybe he has something to tell, but won't tell it to us," ventured Phil. "He may go right to the doctor."

But if Nat Poole went to the master of Oak Hall, or to anybody else at that institution, the boys did not hear of it. He asked no more questions about the wild man, and when any of our friends came near him he immediately walked away, thus avoiding an interview.

The proposed meeting of the athletic committee of Oak Hall was held on Saturday afternoon in the gymnasium and was well attended. An even twenty names had been put up for the regular baseball nine of the institution. Of these names, fifteen belonged to old students and five were those of newcomers to Oak Hall. As he had said he would do, Gus Plum had handed in his name, and so had Sam Day and some of our other friends. But Dave, Phil, and Roger were conspicuous by their absence.

"See here, Porter, you're going to play, aren't you?" asked the former manager.

"No," answered Dave, quietly but firmly.

"Why not?"

"Well, in the first place, I have too many back lessons to make up, and in the second place, I hope to graduate this coming June, and I want to make a record for myself, if possible."

"But you can do that and play on the nine, too," urged the manager.

"I don't think so. I'd like to play," continued our hero, wistfully, "but I don't see how I can."

"This isn't fair, Porter. We really need you."

"Oh, it isn't as bad as that," returned Dave, with a faint smile. "You've got Gus Plum to pitch, and some of the others. There are plenty of good ball-players here this term."

"I don't know about that," answered the manager, with a grave shake of his head. "I wish you'd come in."

"Not this year," said Dave; and then the two separated.

Phil and Roger were likewise urged to try for the nine, but they followed Dave's example. Then a tentative nine was formed, with Gus Plum as pitcher, and also a "scrub" nine, with one of the newcomers to Oak Hall in the box. Practice was to start on Wednesday afternoon of the following week.

"Too bad we couldn't take part," sighed the shipowner's son. "I'd like to wallop the Rockville Military Academy fellows just once more!"

"Well, we can't have everything," answered Dave. "I want to graduate with the highest possible honors, and that means plenty of hard boning."

"And a fellow can't bone and play ball, too," added Roger.

"We might—if old Haskers would be easy on us," murmured the shipowner's son.

"Now, see here, Phil," said Dave, almost sternly. "Don't ask Haskers for any more favors. He has done all that can reasonably be expected of him."

"All right, just as you say," grumbled Phil. But his manner showed that he was not altogether satisfied.

A week went by, and Dave and his chums applied themselves diligently to their studies. During that time nothing more was heard of the wild man, and the excitement concerning that strange individual again died down. But the folks living in the vicinity of the woods back of Oak Hall were on their guard, and it was seldom that women and children went out alone.

The boys were doing very well in their studies, and Dave received warm words of encouragement from Andrew Dale. He had made up nearly all the back lessons imposed upon him by Job Haskers, and that dictatorial teacher could not help but be satisfied over the showing made. Roger was also doing well, and poor Phil was the only one who was backward, although not enough to cause alarm.

"I'll get there, but it comes hard," said the shipowner's son. "I should have asked old Haskers for more time."

"Don't you do it," answered Dave. "Come, I'll help you all I can." Which he did.

One day there came a letter to our hero which gave him great satisfaction. He read it carefully, and then hastened off to communicate the news to Phil, Roger, and Ben.

"It's a letter from my Uncle Dunston," he explained to his chums. "If you will remember, he said he would hire a lawyer to take up that Mrs. Breen case against Professor Haskers."

"What does he say?" asked Roger, quickly.

"I will read it to you," answered Dave, and read the following:

"You will be glad to learn that Mr. Loveland, one of our lawyers, has gotten a settlement for Mrs. Breen out of your teacher, Mr. Haskers. He had quite a time of it, Haskers declaring that he did not owe as much as the widow said he did. The lawyer said he would sue for the full amount, and then Haskers came to see him. Mr. Loveland says the teacher wanted to learn who had hired him to stir the matter up, and mentioned some students' names. But the lawyer gave him no satisfaction at all, and at last Haskers paid up in full, took his receipt, and got out. I instructed Mr. Loveland to put his charges for services on our bill, so Mrs. Breen will get the entire amount collected. I am going to take it to her in person, and see to it that it is wisely invested for her benefit."

"Good!" cried the senator's son. "That will help the old lady a great deal."

"Say, I'll bet old Haskers was sore when he forked over that money," was Ben's comment. "No wonder he's been looking like a thundercloud lately."

"Yes, and he'd let out on us—if he dared," said Phil. "But he doesn't dare."

"Don't be too sure of that, Phil," said Dave, seriously. "There is no telling what he will do—later on, when he thinks this affair has blown over."

"Humph! I am not afraid of him," declared Phil, recklessly.

"If he tries any of his games we'll expose him," added Ben.

"Better go slow," advised Roger. He, too, felt that Job Haskers might become very vindictive.

Spring was now at hand, and a week later came the first baseball game of the season. It was a contest with Esmore Academy from Daytonville and held on the Oak Hall grounds. Quite a crowd was present, including some of the town folks. Gus Plum was in the pitcher's box for the Hall, and Sam Day was on first base, and Chip Macklin on third.

"I hope we win!" cried Dave.

"I hope you do," answered Vera Rockwell, who was present with some other girls. "But why are you not playing?" she went on.

"Not this term," said our hero, with a smile, and then he spoke of his studies.

"I suppose it is noble of you to give up this way," she said. "But—I'd like to see you play."

The contest proved a well-fought one, and was won by Oak Hall by a score of eight runs to five. At the conclusion there was a great cheering for the victors.

"This means bonfires to-night!" cried Roger, as the gathering broke up.

"Yes, and a grand good time!" added Buster Beggs.



CHAPTER XI

BONFIRE NIGHT AT THE HALL

It was certainly a night long to be remembered in the annals of Oak Hall,—and for more reasons than one.

At the start, several bonfires were lit along the bank of the river, and around these the students congregated, to dance and sing songs, and "cut up" generally. None of the teachers were present, and it was given out that the lads might enjoy themselves within reasonable bounds until ten o'clock.

"Let's form a grand march!" cried Gus Plum. "Every man with a torch!"

"Yes, but don't set anything on fire," cautioned Roger.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "A fellow went into a powder shop to buy some ammunition. He was smoking a pipe, and the proprietor——"

"Whoop! Hurrah for Shadow!" yelled somebody from the rear, and the next instant the story-teller of the Hall found himself up on a pile of barrels which had not yet been set on fire.

"Now then, tell your yarns to everybody!" came the cry.

"Speak loud, Shadow!"

"Give us all the details."

"Tell us the story about the old man and the elephant."

"No, give us that about the old maid and the mouse."

"Let us hear about the fellow who was shipwrecked on the Rocky Mountains."

"Or about how the fellow who couldn't swim fell into a flour barrel."

"Say, what do you take me for?" roared Shadow. "I don't know any story about the Rocky Mountains, or a flour barrel either. If you want to hear——"

"Sure we do!"

"That's the very yarn we've been waiting for!"

"Say, Shadow, won't you please tell it into a phonograph, so I can grind it out to my grandfather when I get home?"

"Is that the story that starts on a foggy night, at noon?"

"No, this one starts on a dusty day in the middle of the Atlantic."

"Say, if you fellows want me to tell a story, say so!" grumbled Shadow. "Otherwise I'm going to get down."

"No! no! Tell your best yarn, Shadow."

"All right, then. Once two men went into a shoe store——"

"Wow! That's fifty years old!"

"I heard that when a child, at my grandson's knee."

"Tell us something about smoke, Shadow!"

"And fire. I love to hear about a fire. It's so warm and——"

"Hi! let me get down! Do you want to burn me up?" yelled the story-teller of the school, suddenly, as, chancing to glance down, he saw that the barrels were on fire. "Let me down, I say!" And he made a leap from the barrels into the midst of the crowd.

Shadow landed on the shoulders of Nat Poole, and both went down and rolled over. In a spirit of play some of the students near by covered the rolling pair with shavings and straw. Shadow took this in good part and merely laughed as he arose, but the money-lender's son was angry.

"Hi, who threw those dirty shavings all over me?" he bawled. "I don't like it."

"Don't mind a little bath like that, Nat!" called one of the students.

"But I do mind it. The shavings are full of dirt, and so is the straw. The dirt is all over me."

"Never mind, you can have a free bath, Nat," said another.

"I'll lend you a cake of soap," added a third.

"I don't want any of your soap!" growled the money-lender's son. "Say, the whole crowd of you make me sick!" he added, and walked off, in great disgust.

"Phew! but he's touchy," was the comment of one of the students. "I guess he thinks he's better than the rest of us."

"Let's give him another dose," came the suggestion, from the rear of the crowd.

"Shavings?"

"Yes, and straw, too. Put some down his neck!"

"Right you are!"

Fully a dozen students quickly provided themselves with shavings and straw, both far from clean, and made after Nat, who was walking up the river-front in the direction of the boathouse.

Before the money-lender's son could do anything to defend himself, he found himself seized from behind and hurled to the ground.

"Now then, give it to him good!" cried a voice, and in a twinkling a shower of shavings, straw, and dirt descended upon poor Nat, covering him from head to foot.

"Hi! let up!" spluttered the victim, trying to dodge the avalanche. But instead of heeding his pleadings the other students proceeded to ram a quantity of the stuff into his ears and down his collar. Nat squirmed and yelled, but it did little good.

"Now then, you are initiated into the Order of Straw and Shavings!" cried one merry student.

"Just you wait, I'll get square, see if I don't," howled Nat, as he arose. Then he commenced to twist his neck, to free himself from the ticklish straw and shavings.

"Come on and have a good time, old sport!" howled one of his tormentors; and then off the crowd ran in the direction of the bonfires, leaving Nat more disgusted than ever.

"I'll fix them, just wait and see if I don't!" stormed the money-lender's son to himself, and then hurried to the Hall, to clean up and make himself comfortable.

In the meantime the march around the campus had begun, each student carrying a torch of some kind. There was a great singing.

"Be careful of the fire," warned Mr. Dale, as he came out. "Doctor Clay says you must be careful."

"We'll take care!" was the cry.

The marching at an end, some of the boys ran for the stables and presently returned with Jackson Lemond, the driver of the school carryall, commonly called Horsehair, because of the hairs which clung to his clothing.

"Come on, Horsehair, join us in having a good time."

"Give us a speech, Horsehair!"

"Tell us all you know about the Wars of the Roses."

"Or how Hannibal crossed the Delaware and defeated the Turks at the Alamo."

"I can't make no speech," pleaded the carryall driver. "Just you let me go, please!"

"If you can't make a speech, sing," suggested another. "Give us Yankee Doodle in the key of J minor."

"Or that beautiful lullaby entitled, 'You Never Miss Your Purse Until You Have to Walk Home.' Give us that in nine flats, will you?"

"I tell you I can't make a speech and I can't sing!" shouted out the driver for the school, desperately.

"How sad! Can't speechify and can't sing! All right, then, let it go, and give us a dance."

"That's the talk! A real Japanese jig in five-quarter time."

There was a rush, and in a twinkling poor Horsehair was boosted to the top of a big packing-case, that had been hauled to the spot as fuel for one of the bonfires.

"The stage!" announced one of the students, with a wave of his hand. "The World-Renowned Horsehairsky will perform his celebrated Dance of the Hop Scotch. Get your opera glasses ready."

"What's the admission fee?"

"Two pins and a big green apple."

"I can't dance—I ain't never danced in my life!" pleaded the victim. "You let me go. I've got to take care o' my hosses."

While he was speaking Buster Beggs had come up behind Horsehair and placed something attached to a dark string on the box, between the driver's feet. It was an imitation snake, made of rubber and colored up to look very natural.

"Oh my, look at the snake!" yelled several, in pretended alarm.

"Where? where?" yelled Horsehair.

"There, right between your feet! He's going to bite you on the leg!"

"Take care, that's a rattler sure!"

"If he bites you, Horsehair, you'll be a dead man!"

"Take him off! Take him off!" bawled the carryall driver, and in terror he made a wild leap from the packing-box and landed directly on the shoulders of two of the students. Then he dropped to the ground, rolled over, got up, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him in the direction of the stables. A wild laugh followed him, but to this he paid no attention.

"Well, we are certainly having a night of it," remarked Dave, after the fun had quieted down for a moment. He spoke to Roger.

"Where is Phil?" asked the senator's son.

"Went off with Ben, I think."

"Where to?"

"I don't know."

"It's queer how much they keep together lately; isn't it?" continued Roger.

"Oh, I don't know. Of course that affair with Haskers may have something to do with it," answered our hero, slowly.

"I wish Haskers would leave this school, Dave."

"Oh, it won't make much difference to us, if we graduate, whether he stays or not."

"I know that. But, somehow, I don't think he is a good man to have here, even if he is a learned instructor. He never enters into the school spirit, as Mr. Dale does."

"Well, we can't all be alike."

"Would you keep him, if you were in Doctor Clay's shoes?"

"I hardly think so. Certainly not if I could find another teacher equally good."

The boys walked on until they found themselves at the last bonfire of the line, close to where the school grounds came to an end. Here was a hedge, and beyond were the woods reaching up from the river.

"Nobody down by this bonfire," remarked Dave. "Say, this is careless work," he added. "The wind might shift and set the woods on fire."

"I didn't think they'd start a fire so far from the others," answered his chum.

"Let us kick it into the water," suggested our hero, and this they started to do, when, unexpectedly, a voice hailed them, and they saw a student sitting in a tree that grew in the hedge which separated the campus from the woods.

"Let that fire alone!" the youth called, angrily.

"Why, it's Nat Poole!" exclaimed Roger, in a low voice. "Whatever is he doing in that tree?"

"I am sure I don't know," returned Dave.

"Is he alone?"

"He seems to be."

"Do you hear what I say?" went on the money-lender's son. "Leave that fire alone."

"Did you build it?" asked Dave.

"I did, and I want you to leave it alone."

"All right, Nat, if you say so," answered Roger. "We thought it had been abandoned and that it might set fire to the woods."

To this Nat Poole did not reply. Plainly he was annoyed at being discovered in his present position. Dave and Roger looked around, to see if anybody else was in the vicinity, and then, turning, walked in the direction of the other bonfires.

"What do you make of that, Dave?" asked the senator's son, presently.

"It looked to me as if Nat was waiting or watching for somebody, Roger."

"So it did. The question is, Who was it?"

"I don't know. But I've got something of an idea."

"Some of the students?"

"No. That wild man."



CHAPTER XII

PLANS FOR A SPREAD

"That wild man?" exclaimed the senator's son, stopping short to stare at Dave.

"Yes."

"How do you make that out?"

"Because I think Nat is interested in the fellow, although just how I won't pretend to say. But you'll remember how excited he got when he found out that the wild man called himself the King of Sumatra."

"Oh, I see. You think he knows the fellow and thought that the bonfire might attract him to the place."

"Yes. I've heard it said that crazy folks were sometimes attracted by the sight of fire. Maybe Nat has heard the same and wants to see if it will work in the case of this man."

"Shall we go back and see what happens?" suggested Roger.

Dave mused for a moment.

"Would it be just right to play the spy, Roger?"

"Well, this isn't playing the spy in the ordinary sense of the term, Dave. That wild man ought to be locked up."

"But it may not be the wild man he is looking for."

"Oh, let us go back a little while, anyway," urged the senator's son.

They retraced their steps until within fifty feet of the bonfire and then walked to the shelter of the hedge. They thought they had not been seen, but they were mistaken.

"Humph! so you think you are going to spy on me, after all!" cried a voice, and Nat Poole came towards them, with a deep frown on his face.

"It's rather queer you are in the tree," answered Roger, somewhat sharply.

"It's my affair, not yours, Roger Morr!" roared the money-lender's son. Then, without another word, he walked to the bonfire, kicked the blazing sticks into the river, and strode off in the direction of the Hall.

"He's good and mad," was Roger's comment.

"And we didn't learn anything, after all," added our hero.

Dave and his chum rejoined the merry throng at the other bonfires. But the celebration in honor of the baseball victory was practically at an end, and a little later the students retired, to skylark a little in the dormitories, and then settle down for the night.

A week passed, and Dave stuck to his studies as persistently as ever. During that time he sent off several letters, and received a number in return, including one from Jessie, which he treasured very highly and which he did not show to his chums.

"Here is news of Link Merwell," said Luke Watson, one day, as he came along with a letter. "It's from a friend of mine who knows Merwell. He says he saw Link in Quebec, Canada, at one of the little French hotels in the lower town."

"What was Merwell doing?" questioned Dave, with interest.

"Nothing much, so my friend writes. He says Link was dressed in a blue suit and wore blue glasses, and he thought his hair was dyed."

"Evidently doing what he could to disguise himself," was Phil's comment.

"My friend writes that he saw Merwell only one evening. The next day he was missing. He made inquiries and says he was at the hotel under the name of V. A. Smith, of Albany, New York."

"He does not dare to travel around under his own name," remarked Shadow. "Say, that puts me in mind of a story," he went on, brightening up. "Once a chap changed his name, because——"

"Say, cut it out," interrupted Phil. "We want to hear about Merwell."

"There isn't any more to tell," said Luke. "My friend tried to find out where he had gone but couldn't."

"He must be having a lonely time of it—trying to keep out of the hands of the law," murmured Dave.

"And maybe he hasn't much money," said Buster. "His father may have shut down on him."

Gus Plum listened to all this conversation without saying a word. But down in his heart the former bully of Oak Hall was glad that he had cut away from Merwell and Jasniff, and turned over a new leaf, and he resolved then and there that, come what might, he would never again turn aside from the path of right and honor.

"Say, why don't you listen to my story?" pleaded Shadow, and then related a somewhat rambling tale of a man who had changed his name and, later on, lost some property because of it.

Another day slipped by and it was one of particular interest to Dave and Roger, for in the morning they made up the last of the back lessons imposed upon them by Job Haskers. They had done exceedingly well, but the harsh teacher gave them little credit. Phil and Ben had still three days' work, but Professor Haskers said nothing of this.

"He doesn't dare," declared the shipowner's son.

"That's right," chuckled Ben. "We could give him a good black eye before this whole school if we wanted to."

Dave had already finished up the back lessons for the other teachers, so he was now free to spend his time on what was ahead of him. He was as enthusiastic as ever to make a record for himself, and pitched in with a will, and his enthusiasm was caught by Roger, who also resolved to do his best.

"Whoop! hurrah! What do you think of this?" came from Phil, late one afternoon, after the mail had been distributed. "Somebody hold me down! I guess I'm going to fly! Or maybe I'm only dreaming!" And he began to caper around gayly.

"What is it all about, Phil?" asked Dave. "Hit your funny-bone?"

"Money, boys, money! That's what it is about," replied the shipowner's son. "I've got five thousand dollars, all my own!"

"Five thousand dollars!" gasped Buster.

"All your own?" queried Gus Plum.

"Where did you get it?" asked another.

"Why, it's this way," answered Phil, when he could calm down a little. "About two years ago a great-uncle of mine died, leaving considerable money. He was interested in various enterprises and his death brought on legal complications and some litigation. He left his money to a lot of heirs, including myself. My father and I never thought we'd get anything—thought the lawyers and courts would swallow it all. But now it seems that it has been settled, and yours truly gets five thousand dollars in cash."

"When do you get it, Phil, right away?" asked Buster.

"Well,—er—I, of course, don't get it until I am of age. It's to go in the bank."

"Oh!"

"Won't you get any of it until then?" asked Shadow. "Your dad might let you have a little, just to celebrate——"

"That's just it—just what he has done!" cried Phil. "I've got—— But wait," cried the shipowner's son, interrupting himself. "I'll plan this thing out. You shall all be my guests later on," he added, mysteriously.

"Will you give a spread?" asked Chip Macklin.

"Don't ask questions, only wait," returned Phil. And that was all he would say on the point, although he talked freely about his inheritance.

The next morning Phil and Ben were seen in earnest conversation, and that afternoon the two boys left the school as soon as they could get away, bound on an errand to Oakdale.

"We ought to get a dandy spread for a dollar or a dollar and a half a head," said Phil, as they hurried along. "And twelve at a dollar and a half will be only eighteen dollars."

"The music will cost something," said Ben.

"Yes, I'm counting on two pieces, a harp and a violin, for ten dollars. That's the price Professor Smuller charges."

The boys were bound for the Oakdale Union House, a new hotel which had just been opened by a man named Jason Sparr. It was a nice resort, without a bar, and catered to the better class of people, including the students at Oak Hall and at the Military Academy.

The boys found the hotel proprietor glad to see them, and willing to set any kind of a spread that they were able to pay for. Trade was not yet brisk, and Jason Sparr said he would do his best to serve them. He was a smooth, oily man, and a fellow who wanted all that was coming to him.

"I can set you an elegant table for eighteen dollars for twelve," said he. "I'll give you oysters, fish, two kinds of meat, several vegetables, salad, ice-cream, coffee, and also nuts, cake, olives, celery, and other fixings."

"That's the talk!" cried Phil, enthusiastically. "Just make a nice spread of it, and you can have all our trade in the future."

"You'll be well pleased," answered Jason Sparr.

"Can we have a private dining-room?"

"To be sure—the blue room over yonder," and the hotel man showed the boys the apartment.

"I want some flowers, too," said Phil. "You can put two dollars' worth of roses on the table."

"Very well—that will make an even twenty dollars."

"When do you want me to pay?"

"Such spreads are usually paid for in advance," answered Jason Sparr, shrewdly. He did not intend to take any chances with schoolboys.

"All right, here is your money," answered the shipowner's son, and brought forth one of the two crisp twenty-dollar bills his father had mailed to him, with the good news of his fortune.

"Tell him about the music," suggested Ben.

"Oh, yes, I thought I'd have Professor Smuller furnish some music—harp and violin."

"Fine! They can sit in the alcove, and we'll put some of our palms around them," returned Jason Sparr.

"Remember, this is for next Saturday night, seven o'clock sharp," said Phil.

"I've got it down," returned the hotel proprietor, as he wrote in his book.

"And don't say anything to anybody about it. I want to surprise my friends."

"Very well, mum's the word," and the hotel man looked very wise and knowing.

Leaving the place, Phil and Ben sought out the home of Professor Smuller, a violinist, who, with a friend who played the harp, often furnished music for dances and other occasions.

"Yes, yes, I can furnish music," said the violinist. "Just tell me what you want." Business was slow and he was glad to get any sort of an engagement.

The matter was explained, and the professor promised to be on hand and bring the harpist with him. He said he could play anything the students desired, including the well-known school songs. He would fill the engagement for the boys for eight dollars, although his regular price was ten. But he would have to have cash in advance.

Again Phil paid out his money, and then, the business concluded, he and Ben left the professor's home and hurried along the road leading to Oak Hall.

"Have you made up your list yet?" asked Ben, when nearing the school.

"Not quite. I'll have Dave and Roger and Shadow and Buster, of course. I'll have to leave out some fellows, but that can't be helped. I can't afford a spread for the whole school."

"Of course you can't."

"I think I'll have Luke and Sam, and maybe Gus and Chip."

As the boys drew closer to the school Ben had to stop to fix his shoe. Both sat down on some rocks, at a turn in the road. They were about to go on again when somebody made the turn of the road, coming from the town. It was Nat Poole.

"Hello! you been to town?" cried Ben, good-naturedly.

"Yes," answered the money-lender's son. "Haven't I a right to go if I want to?" he added, and then hurried on ahead of them.

"Rather peppery," mused Ben. "Say, Phil, there is one fellow you won't invite, and I know it."

"Right you are, Ben," was the ready answer. "All I ask of Nat Poole is, that he leave me alone."

But Nat was not to leave Phil alone, as events were quickly to prove.



CHAPTER XIII

THE CABIN ON THE ISLAND

"Dave, come on out for a row. You haven't been on the river this year."

It was Gus Plum who spoke. He was out in one of the craft belonging to Oak Hall, and hailed our hero as the latter was strolling along the river-bank.

"All right, Gus!" Dave cried, cheerily. "I don't know but that a try at the oars will do me good, after the hard studying I've been doing."

"You are bound to get a high-water mark this term, aren't you?" went on Gus Plum, as he brought the rowboat up to the dock, so that Dave might get in.

"I'd like to graduate with honor, yes."

"What are you going to do after you leave here, Dave?" went on the big youth, as the two rowed up the river.

"I don't know yet. Have you made up your mind?"

"Oh, I think I'll go into business, but I am not sure."

"You won't try for college?"

"No. You see, I don't make much of a fist at learning, so what's the use? But I love business—buying and selling things."

The two boys continued at the oars until the vicinity of Oak Hall was left far behind.

"If we only had a power-boat we might run up to Squirrel Island," remarked Gus.

"Perhaps Nat Poole will lend you his motor-boat," suggested our hero, with a little grin.

"Humph! I'd not ask him," returned the big youth, promptly. "I am done with Nat Poole. I want to stick to my new friends." And the former bully of the school fairly beamed on Dave, who had done so much to make him reform.

"Have you seen the motor-boat this season, Gus?"

"Yes, Nat got it out two days ago. I think he is on the river now."

The boys rowed on, until they came to a bend where there was something of a cove. As they rounded the point they heard the steady put-put! of a gasoline engine not far off.

"There is Nat's craft now!" cried our hero, and pointed ahead.

"He's all alone," was Plum's comment. "He can't have many friends these days, or he'd have some of them along."

"I'd hate to be without friends, Gus, shouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed! But it's Nat's own fault. If he'd only drop his important airs and be more sociable, he'd get along all right."

On and on rowed the two students. It was a clear, balmy day, and they hated to return to the school until it was absolutely necessary.

"Let us row around Smith Island," suggested our hero, mentioning a small place in the middle of the stream, so named after a farmer who owned it. It was a rocky and somewhat barren spot, and seldom visited by anybody but fishermen.

"All right, but we want to beware of the rocks," cautioned the big youth.

The rowboat was headed up the stream, and soon they came in sight of the island. On one side were a number of bushes, overhanging the river.

"Hello! look there!" cried Dave, a few minutes later, and pointed to the bushes.

"What do you see?"

"A motor-boat. I think it is Nat Poole's."

"Is that so? What brought him here?" questioned Gus, with interest.

"I am sure I don't know. But it's his boat, I am sure of that," went on Dave, after another look at the craft.

"See anything of Nat?"

"No, the boat is empty."

"Let us row in a little closer and see what he is doing," suggested Gus.

"He'll say we were spying on him."

"Humph! Haven't we as much right as he has to visit the island?"

"Of course."

"Then what is the use of keeping away? He may be waiting to play some trick, or something like that."

"Oh, I think not, Gus. Probably he just visited the island out of curiosity. But I'll go in if you say so."

Slowly, so as to avoid the many rocks in that vicinity, the two students brought the rowboat close up to the motor-craft. They looked into the bushes and along the rocks beyond, but saw nothing of Nat.

"Shall we call to him?" asked Gus.

"What for? I don't want to see him."

"Neither do I. His boat is tied good and fast. He must expect to stay on the island quite a while."

The two boys rowed on, past the motor-boat. Then, as they turned a point of rocks, Dave gave a start.

"Well, of all things!"

"What is it, Dave?"

"Look yonder—in between those bushes!"

"Why, it's a rowboat."

"Exactly, Gus, and do you see how it is painted, drab with blue stripes?"

"Of course—a pretty ugly boat, I think."

"Gus, that is the very rowboat used by that wild man—the one he was in when he got away from us that day!"

"Do you really mean it?" gasped the big boy, staring hard at the craft.

"I certainly do—I'd know that boat in a hundred. I never saw another just like it."

"If that's the case, maybe the wild man is on the island!"

"Just what I was thinking," answered Dave. "And I was thinking, too, that——" He stopped short.

"What?"

"Don't you remember how Nat was so anxious to know all about the wild man? And how upset he seemed to be when he heard that the fellow called himself the King of Sumatra?"

"Yes, I remember that. Do you think he came here to find the man?" demanded Gus, quickly.

"It looks so to me."

"My gracious, Dave, I think you are right! Say, there is something mysterious about all this!" cried Gus.

"Exactly."

"Let us go ashore by all means and see what Nat is up to," urged the big youth.

Dave was more than willing, now that he had discovered the rowboat used by the wild man. Perhaps this island was the home of that mysterious individual. If so, what was the money-lender's son doing there? Had he business with the strange creature?

"Maybe we'd better not make any noise," suggested Gus, as the boat was turned in to a convenient landing-place. To this Dave did not reply, but they landed as silently as possible. Then the rowboat was hauled up out of sight between the bushes.

From the craft used by the wild man a rude path ran up from the shore to the rocks beyond. A short distance from the shore the boys saw the marks of a wet foot, coming from the direction where lay the motor-boat.

"That was made by Nat—he got his left foot wet," said Gus.

"I think so myself," answered our hero.

They followed the marks left by the wet foot over the rocks. They headed for the upper end of the island, where there was a small grove of straggly cedar trees. Here the marks faded away completely.

"Well, we know he came this way, anyhow," remarked Gus. "He can't be very far off, for the island isn't very big."

"I see a rude log cabin!" exclaimed Dave, and pointed through the cedars. "Maybe that is where the wild man lives."

"If it is, we want to go slow, Dave. He may attack us."

"But what of Nat, if he is there?"

"He may know the man and have some influence over him."

"I hardly think anybody could have any influence over that man. He is as crazy as can be, and not to be trusted."

The two youths approached the old log cabin slowly, keeping as much as possible in the shelter of the trees. Nobody was in sight, nor did any sound reach their ears.

Presently the students found themselves within fifty feet of the cabin, the door of which stood half open. Each looked at the other.

"I'm going ahead," said Dave, resolutely. He and his companion had provided themselves with sticks, and Gus had also picked up two stones.

"Oh! oh! oh!" came of a sudden, to their startled ears. "Oh dear me!"

"It's Nat!" ejaculated Dave. "Something has happened to him!"

"Maybe the wild man attacked him," added Gus.

"We'll soon see," cried Dave, and started forward on a run.

Soon our hero was at the door of the cabin, which he pushed wide open. Inside all was dark, for it was growing late, and the rude structure boasted of but one small window, stuffed with cedar boughs to keep out the wind.

"Nat, where are you?" cried Dave, as his eyes sought to pierce the semi-darkness.

"Who—who is that calling me?" came, in surprise, from the center of the cabin.

"It is I—Dave Porter! Where are you, and what happened? Where is the wild man?"

"Oh, I'm caught fast—in a trap!" groaned the money-lender's son. "Oh, help me out! My ankle is almost broken!"

"But the wild man—?" queried Gus, who was close behind our hero.

"I—I don't know where he is," gasped Nat. "Oh, say, won't you please help me? My ankle is fast in a trap! Oh, how it hurts!"

"Wasn't the wild man here?" asked Dave, as he got out his match-box to strike a light.

"No—at least, I haven't seen him."

Dave soon had a match lit, and with it set fire to a cedar bough placed in the rude fireplace of the cabin. By the glare of this light he and Gus looked around them and at their fellow-student.

The cabin was unfurnished excepting for a rude bench and a board placed on some piles of stones for a table. In the fireplace were a kettle and a frying-pan, and on the table the remains of a scanty meal of crackers, eggs, and apples. A tin pail, half filled with water, was also handy.

When Dave and Gus turned their attention to Nat Poole they had to stare in wonder. Nat sat on the floor, nursing a bruised ankle that was caught fast between the jaws of an old-fashioned steel animal-trap. The trap was chained to the floor, and the release chain ran to a corner of the fireplace, several feet beyond the sufferer's reach.

"However did this happen?" asked Gus, although he and our hero could easily guess the answer to the question.

"Help me get loose first," groaned poor Nat. "This thing is sawing down to the bone."

Dave saw the release chain, which was held firm by a hook. Stepping over, he unhooked it, and then it was an easy matter to pry the jaws of the steel-trap apart. As soon as this was done, Nat rose slowly to his feet, making a wry face as he did so.

"I'll be lame for life—I know I will!" he groaned. "Oh dear, how it hurts!"

"You take care that you don't get blood-poisoning from it," warned Gus. "When you get home wash it well, and put some peroxide of hydrogen, or something like that on it."

"Blood-poisoning! Oh dear!" and Nat gave another groan.

"Shall we help you back to your boat?" asked Dave.

"If you will."

"Where is the wild man?" questioned Gus, looking around.

"I don't know, and I don't care—just now," answered Nat Poole.



CHAPTER XIV

THE BANDANNA HANDKERCHIEF

Nat Poole could hardly walk on the injured leg, so Dave and Gus supported him as the three left the rude cabin and headed for the shore of the island.

"Do you know where the wild man is?" repeated Gus, who had not been satisfied by the reply given to the question before.

"I do not," snapped the money-lender's son, with a touch of his former tartness. "I haven't seen him."

"But you know that cabin is where he lives," put in our hero.

"I thought so—but I wasn't sure of it."

"Did you see him come ashore, Nat?"

"No—that is, not to-day. I saw him land here yesterday."

"And that is what brought you here to-day?" remarked Gus.

"Yes, if you must know," was the somewhat cold answer.

"See here, Nat, do you know this wild man?" asked Dave, abruptly.

"Me? Know him? How should I know him?" demanded the money-lender's son, but his apparent astonishment did not, somehow, ring nor look true.

"That is what I wanted to find out."

"I don't know him—at least, I don't think I do. I've never seen him close enough to make sure. Maybe he's some fellow who belongs around here. I wanted to find out about him—just as everybody else wants to find out, that's all."

"Want to have him caught and placed in an asylum?" asked Gus.

"It's not my business to place him anywhere," cried Nat, hastily. "For all we know, he may be harmless."

"Not when he stops young ladies on the road and catches folks in steel-traps," answered our hero, with a faint smile.

"Well, that's right, too," grumbled the money-lender's son. "Maybe he ought to be in an asylum."

"I think he is on this island now," went on Dave. "His rowboat is here, anyway."

"Say, I'll tell you what we can do!" cried Gus. "Take his boat with us! Then he can't get away, and we can send the authorities over here to get him."

"That's an idea, Gus!" cried Dave. "We'll do it."

"Would that be fair to the man?" asked Nat. "He—er—he might starve to death—or try to swim to shore and get drowned."

"He can't starve to death in one night, and I don't think he'll drown himself. The authorities can come over here early in the morning and round him up, if he is here."

"I—er—I don't think much of your plan," murmured Nat, and seemed much disturbed.

In about a quarter of an hour the boys reached the island shore, at the spot where Nat's motor-boat was tied up. They helped him get in and start up the engine. He had been told how they had come to the island.

"If you want to, you can tie your boat fast to the stern and ride back with me," he said.

"All right, Nat, we'll do it," answered Dave. "It is getting rather late and it's a pretty stiff row to the school."

The motor-craft was started up and sent along in the direction where the boys had left the Oak Hall rowboat. Their course took them past the spot where the wild man's boat had been tied up.

"Why, look, it's gone!" cried Gus, standing up and pointing to the place.

"True enough," answered our hero. "He must have gone off in it while we were up to the cabin."

"He can't be very far away, Dave."

The boys looked up and down the river, but could catch no trace of the missing rowboat or the wild man. In the meantime, the motor-craft was moving forward, where the other boat had been beached among the bushes.

"That is gone, too!" ejaculated Dave. "He has taken our boat!"

"Oh, do you really think so?" asked Gus. He felt that he was responsible for the craft, as he had taken it from the school boathouse.

"I certainly do think so," said Dave. "It was a neat trick to play."

"It's a wonder he didn't take the motor-boat, too."

"Maybe he didn't know how to run the boat and it was too heavy to start without the engine."

"I guess you are right!" came suddenly from Nat. "Look here!"

He had stooped down to pick something up from the grating on the motor-boat's bottom. If was a torn and dirty bandanna handkerchief.

"The wild man's!" cried Dave. "I remember it."

"I am glad he didn't get away with my boat," returned the money-lender's son, drawing a deep breath. "I'll keep this handkerchief to remember him by."

"Is it marked in any way?" questioned our hero. "Perhaps it has his name or initials on it."

"Oh, I don't think so," returned Nat. "Let us hurry up and get back to the school. If we are late, old Haskers will be after us."

"Go on and run the boat as fast as you please, Nat," answered Dave. "But I want to look at that handkerchief."

Rather unwillingly, the money-lender's son passed the bandanna over. It was now growing so dark that Dave could see but little.

"Wait, I'll light a match," suggested Gus, and did so, and by the protected but flickering flare our hero looked the handkerchief over. In one corner there was a faint stamping.

"Looks like 'Rossmore Sanitarium' to me," said Dave, slowly. "Or it may be 'Bossmore' or 'Crossmore.' The beginning is too faded to be sure."

"Bossmore Sanitarium?" queried Nat, and then he became silent and thoughtful. A little later he asked for the bandanna and placed it in his pocket.

The run in the motor-boat to the school dock did not take long. As soon as Nat's craft was properly housed, Dave and Gus assisted the money-lender's son up the walk and across the campus.

"I suppose I've got to report the loss of the rowboat," said Gus, ruefully.

"It wasn't your fault, Gus," answered Dave. "I'll go with you to Doctor Clay."

"I can't go with my lame foot," put in Nat, and he hobbled up to his dormitory, eyed by several curious students, who wanted to know how he had gotten hurt.

The boys found the master of Oak Hall getting ready for supper. He looked at them inquiringly as they entered his study, in answer to his invitation.

"Well! well!" he exclaimed, after listening to their story. "This is certainly odd! I trust Poole was not seriously hurt."

"I think he was more scared than hurt," answered Dave. "The trap scratched his ankle, that's all. I am sure it is not sprained or broken."

"But the rowboat——" put in Gus. "I didn't mean——"

"Do not worry about that, Plum. It was not your fault. I am glad the wild man did not harm you. I think you got off well. After this you must be careful about how you go out after this remarkable creature."

The master of the school then asked for more particulars of the occurrence, and said he would notify the town authorities about the loss of the rowboat, and ask that a general hunt take place for the wild man.

"They ought to be able to round him up sooner or later," he added.

There was considerable excitement in the school when it was learned that the wild man had been heard of again. The boys looked for the strange individual and so did the town authorities and many farmers, but nothing came of the search. Nat was called on to exhibit the bandanna handkerchief and did so. Nobody could make out the first part of the name on it, for the handkerchief showed a small hole where the letters should be.

"That is queer," said Dave, to Roger and Phil, when he heard of this. "That handkerchief did not have a hole there when I looked at it."

"Maybe Nat put the hole there," returned the senator's son.

"Why would he do that?" questioned Phil.

"So that nobody would know what the name of the sanitarium really was. I believe with Dave that Nat knows the man, or knows about him, and is trying to keep something a secret."

"Hum! Maybe you are right," mused the shipowner's son.

Phil had perfected all his arrangements for his spread at the hotel, and his guests for that occasion had been duly invited and all had accepted the invitation. It had been arranged with Mr. Dale that the boys should drive to the hotel in the school carryall, and Horsehair was to have his supper in town and, later on, bring them home. No secret was made of the affair, for this was not necessary.

"I am only sorry for one thing," said Phil to Dave. "That is that I can't have the whole school there. But that would go beyond my purse."

"Well, you'll have enough, Phil, to insure a good time," answered our hero.

The night was clear, with numberless stars glittering in the heavens, when the carryall drove around to the Hall door and the boys piled in. All were in the best of humor, and they left the campus in a burst of song.

"I've been saving up for this!" cried Ben. "Haven't eaten a mouthful for two days!"

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "Once a poor street-boy was invited to a Sunday-school picnic. The ladies fed him all he could hold and then some. At last, when he couldn't eat another mouthful, and saw some cake and pie and ice-cream going to waste, what do you suppose he said?"

"Give it up, Shadow."

"He said, 'Say, missus, please save it fer me, won't yer? I won't eat fer a week, honest, an' then I'll come an' finish it all up fer yer!'"

"Good for the street-boy!"

"Say, Phil, you won't have to save anything for me! I'll eat my share right now!"

"I've been in training for this feed!"

"Shove the horses along, Horsehair; we don't want the soup to get cold."

"I'm a-shovin' 'em along," answered the carryall driver. "We'll git there in plenty o' time."

"Say, Phil, as far as I am concerned, you can have this affair pulled off once a month," remarked Buster.

"Make it once a week," piped in Chip Macklin. And then Luke Watson commenced to sing a popular negro ditty and all joined lustily in the chorus.

On and on rattled the carryall until the lights of Oakdale shone in the distance. The boys continued to sing, while one or two blew freely on the tin horns they carried. Here and there somebody would come rushing to a window, or door, to learn what was doing.

"It's them Oak Hall boys!" cried one old farmer. "My, but they do have high times!"

"So they do," returned his wife. "But they are good boys," she added, for some of them had once aided her in capturing a runaway bull.

With a grand flourish the carryall swept around the last corner and came to a halt in front of the hotel. Phil had hoped to see some extra lights lit and was somewhat disappointed to see only the regular lantern burning.

"I told him to light up freely and he said he would," he whispered to Dave.

"Maybe he thought you meant the dining-room, Phil."

The students piled out of the carryall and waited for Phil, as host, to lead the way into the hotel. All marched up the steps and into the broad hallway. There they were confronted by the hotel proprietor, who came to meet them in his shirtsleeves. He looked completely bewildered.

"Well, we are here for that supper, Mr. Sparr!" cried Phil. "I hope you are all ready for us!"

The hotel man looked at the boys in amazement. His jaw dropped. Then he gasped out the words:

"Well, I'll be jiggered!"



CHAPTER XV

AT THE HOTEL

At once Dave and all the other students who had come to the hotel with Phil, expecting a fine spread, saw that something was wrong. They looked questioningly at the shipowner's son and at the hotel proprietor.

"What's the matter?" demanded Phil, quickly.

"Matter?" repeated Jason Sparr. "That's just exactly what I'd like to know."

"You—you are ready for us, aren't you?" went on Phil, with a sudden catch in his voice.

"Why should I be ready, when you called the whole thing off?" growled the hotel man. "Fine way to do, I must say," he continued, with strong anger in his voice.

"Called the whole thing off?" repeated Phil. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" shouted Jason Sparr. "And after we had everything in fine shape, too! Say, don't you think my stuff is too good to send to the Old Ladies' Home?" he demanded.

"There must be some mistake here, Mr. Sparr," put in our hero. "Phil didn't call this spread off. We are here for it, as you can see."

"But he did call it off—this noon," returned the hotel proprietor. "And he wasn't a bit nice about it, either. When I asked him what I should do with the extras I had ordered he told me to do as I pleased—send 'em to the Old Ladies' Home, or throw 'em away! He didn't act a bit nice."

"Say, you chump, you!" shouted Phil, growing suddenly angry. "I didn't send you any word at all about calling it off. I——"

"Don't you call me a chump, you young rascal!" shouted the hotel man, in equal heat. "I got your message over the telephone——"

"I never sent any," interrupted Phil.

"It must be a trick," cried Roger.

"Who played it?" queried another student.

"Maybe this is the work of some of the Military Academy fellows."

"Like as not."

"But how did they learn that Phil was going to give the spread?"

"Give it up."

"Maybe some of our own fellows did it—some who didn't get an invitation to attend," suggested Chip.

"Would any one be so mean?" asked Buster.

"Some of them might be," murmured Gus.

"I didn't send you any word," went on Phil, in greater anger than ever.

"Well, I got word, and so did Professor Smuller. He was mad, too, because he lost another job taking yours."

"Why didn't you make sure the word was sent by Mr. Lawrence?" demanded Ben. "You could have done that easily enough."

"I didn't think that was necessary. This fellow said——"

"I tell you I didn't send word!" shouted Phil, growing more angry every instant. "You might have known it was a trick."

"Of course, he might have known," added Ben. He lowered his voice. "Say, Phil, if he doesn't give us the supper make him give your money back."

"Sure he's got to give me the money back," cried the shipowner's son.

"See here, you can't bulldoze me!" cried the hotel proprietor. "I've had trouble enough as it is. I got ready for this spread and then you called it off, and you were mighty sassy about it, too. I've lost a lot of money."

A wordy war followed, lasting the best part of a half an hour. Through this it was learned that the hotel man had prepared for the spread, and so had the professor of music. Just after noon telephone messages had come in, calling the whole affair off. Some hot words had passed over the wire, and the hotel man was considerably ruffled. The party talking to Jason Sparr had said that when the spread did come off it would be held elsewhere—intimating that a better place than his hotel could be found.

"It's all some trick, to get my business away from me!" stormed the hotel man. "I won't stand for it!"

"I didn't send the messages, and I either want the spread or I want my money back," declared Phil, stubbornly. And then more words followed, until it looked as if there might be a fight. Finally, in a rage, Jason Sparr ordered the students from his place.

"All right, we'll go, but you haven't heard the end of this!" cried Phil.

"You'll catch it, for treating us so meanly," added Ben.

"Don't you threaten me, or I'll have the law on you!" roared Jason Sparr.

"Perhaps I'll call on the law myself," answered Phil, and then, unable to control himself, he shook his fist at the hotel man. Then all the boys filed out of the place, some bystanders looking on in wonder.

"Well, what do you think of this!" cried Gus, when outside.

"Phil, I wouldn't say anything more just now—you are too excited," said Dave, catching his chum by the arm.

"Yes, but that fellow is as mean as—as dirt!" answered the shipowner's son.

"He hasn't any right to keep Phil's money," said one student.

"Then the feast is called off, is it?" said Buster, with something like a groan in his voice.

"And somebody is going to have the laugh on us!" added Shadow. "Say, this puts me in mind of a story," he added, brightening. "Once some boys were going——"

"Oh, stow it, Shadow!"

"This is no time for stories!"

"I'd rather go down to the cemetery and weep."

"Nobody is going to have the laugh on me," cried Phil. "We'll get something somewhere."

"Right you are!" cried Dave. "I've got it!" he added. "Let us drive over to Rockville and get something at the hotel there. I know the proprietor and he's a nice man."

"Better telephone to him first and make sure," suggested Roger.

"I'll do it," said Phil.

The carryall was brought around again and all piled in and drove down to a drug store where there was a telephone booth. Into the booth went Phil, to communicate with the hotel in Rockville. He came out smiling.

"It's all fixed up and I guess we'll have something this time," he said. "But just wait; I'll fix that mean Jason Sparr, see if I don't!"

"It's quite a drive to Rockville," protested Horsehair, when they told the driver what was wanted.

"Never mind, it will do the horses good," cried Roger. "They are getting too fat standing still."

"Say, Phil," whispered Dave. "If you haven't got money enough along, I can let you have some."

"Good," was the whispered return. "I was going to speak of that, as soon as I got a chance."

The affair at the Oakdale hotel had put something of a damper on the crowd, and all the talk was of how Jason Sparr had acted and who had been mean enough to play such a trick.

"Maybe it was Nat Poole," said Chip.

"What makes you think that?" asked Phil.

"Oh, he is mean enough for anything."

"If Nat did this I'll—I'll mash him!" cried Phil, with energy.

"Can't you find out?" asked Roger.

"I'll try—but most likely the fellow who did it took care to cover up his tracks. Sparr didn't know where the messages came from."

On and on rolled the carryall, until the lights of Rockville appeared in the distance. By this time all of the students were decidedly hungry. They rolled up to the little hotel and those with horns gave a couple of shrill blasts.

This time there was a warm welcome by the host. He came out, bowing and smiling.

"Did the best I could for you, on such short notice," he said, as they entered. "Next time, if you'll only give me a little more time——"

"That's all right, let's have what you've got," cried Buster. He was hungry enough to eat anything.

They were ushered into what was usually the private dining-room of the little hostelry. The table had been spread out and was tastefully decorated with paper chrysanthemums, made by the hotel man's daughter. A parlor-lamp and several others shed light on the scene.

"This looks good!" murmured Roger.

"Wait till you see what we get to eat," answered Sam. "It may be slim—on such short notice."

But he was agreeably mistaken, the spread was all that could be desired. There were oysters on the half-shell, tomato soup, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, lettuce salad, olives, and also coffee, pie, and various cookies. It was served in home style, by the hotel man's daughter and a hired girl.

"Say, this is fine!" cried Buster, smacking his lips.

"Better, maybe, than if we had stayed at the other place," added Dave.

"Only we haven't got the music," said Phil. He was glad that matters had taken such a nice turn, but still angry over what had gone before.

As they had already lost so much time, the boys did not dare linger too long over the spread. Horsehair was given something to eat in another room, and then they set out on the return. Songs were sung and jokes cracked, and Shadow was permitted to tell half a dozen of his best stories. Yet, with it all, the edge had been taken off the celebration, and Phil knew this as well as anybody, and was correspondingly chagrined.

"I'll make that man square up with me, see if I don't," he said to Dave, as they arrived at the school. "I'm not going to lose all that money."

"Well, be careful of what you do, Phil," warned our hero. "Don't get into a fight."

The next day the shipowner's son sent out two sharp letters, one to Jason Sparr and the other to Professor Smuller. He stated that he was not responsible for the trip-up that had taken place, and demanded his money be returned to him, otherwise he would put the matter in the hands of the law.

To these letters came speedy replies. The musical professor said he was sorry a mistake had been made, and he returned the amount paid to him, and he further stated that if he could discover who had played the trick he would make that party settle up.

"That's decent of him," said Phil. "I am going to send him back five dollars for his trouble." And this he did, much to Professor Smuller's satisfaction.

The letter from Jason Sparr was entirely different. He berated Phil for the stand taken, and stated that he would pay back nothing. He added that he had learned how the crowd had gone to Rockville to dine, and said he was satisfied that it was all a trick to get patronage away from his hotel. He added that he had had trouble enough with people from Oak Hall school and he wanted no more of it.

"I guess I'll have to sue him," growled Phil, on showing the letter to Dave and Roger.

"I don't think I'd bother," answered Dave. "Put it down to Experience, and let it go at that."

"If you sued him it would cost as much as you'd get, and more," added the senator's son.

"Humph! I don't feel like swallowing it," growled Phil. "I'll get it out of him somehow."

"He must have lost something—if he got ready for the spread," said Dave.

"Oh, I don't think he lost much. He's a close one—to my way of thinking," responded the shipowner's son.



CHAPTER XVI

THE BLOWING UP OF THE BRIDGE

"Say, this is something fierce, Dave!"

"I agree with you, Roger. I don't see how we are going to do such a long lesson."

"Old Haskers is getting worse and worse," growled Phil. "I think we ought to report it to Doctor Clay."

"Just what I think," came from Ben. "He keeps piling it on harder and harder. I think he is trying to break us."

"Break us?" queried our hero, looking up from his book.

"Yes, make us miss entirely, you know."

"Why should he want us to do that?" asked Roger.

"Then we wouldn't be able to graduate this coming June."

"Would he be mean enough to do that?" asked Dave.

"I think he would be mean enough for anything," responded Phil. "Oh, I am not going to stand it!" he cried.

The boys had just come upstairs, after an extra hard session in their Latin class. All were aroused over the treatment received at the hands of Job Haskers. He had been harsh and dictatorial to the last degree, and several times it had looked as if there might be an outbreak.

The next day the outbreak came. Phil sprang up in class and denounced the unreasonable teacher, and Ben followed. Then Dave and Roger took a hand, and so did Buster and several others.

"Sit down! Sit down!" cried Job Haskers, growing white in the face. "Sit down, and keep quiet."

"I won't keep quiet," answered the shipowner's son. "You are treating us unfairly, Mr. Haskers, and I won't stand for it."

"Neither will I," added Ben.

"Sit down, I tell you!" stormed the instructor.

But none of the students obeyed him, and in a minute more the room was in an uproar. One of the under-teachers heard it, and quickly sent for Doctor Clay.

As the master of Oak Hall strode into the classroom there was a pause. He mounted the platform and put up his hand, and soon all became quiet.

"Young gentlemen, be seated," he said, in his strict but kindly fashion, and instantly every student sat down. Then he turned to the teacher. "Mr. Haskers, what is the trouble?" he asked.

"The trouble is that certain students will not learn their lessons," answered Job Haskers, sourly. "I had to take them to task for it."

"Who are those students?"

"Lawrence, Basswood, Porter, Morr, Beggs——"

"That will do for the present. Lawrence, stand up," ordered Doctor Clay.

Phil did as requested, and the eyes of the entire class were fastened on the shipowner's son.

"Now, Lawrence, what have you to say for yourself?" went on the doctor.

In a plain, straightforward manner, Phil told his side of the story. Several times Job Haskers wanted to interrupt him, but Doctor Clay would not permit this. Then Ben was questioned, and after that the master of the school turned to Dave.

"Is your complaint the same, Porter?"

"Yes, sir."

"And yours, Morr?"

"Yes, sir."

"What have you to say, Beggs?"

"The same. The lessons lately have been altogether too hard—we simply can't get through them. We never had such long lessons before."

"I have given them only the regular lessons," put in Job Haskers.

"Ahem! Let us go over them and see what can be done," responded the doctor. "If the students are willing to work we do not want to overburden them, Mr. Haskers."

A discussion lasting over a quarter of an hour followed, and in the end the lessons were cut down, much to the satisfaction of the whole class, who felt like cheering the head of the school. The only person who was not satisfied was Job Haskers. He was invited to go out with the doctor to his private office, and came back some time later, looking anything but happy.

"I'll wager he got a calling down!" whispered Phil to Dave. "I hope he did."

He was right about the "calling down," as he expressed it. The master of Oak Hall had spoken very plainly to the instructor, and given Job Haskers to understand that he must get along better with the boys in the future, and treat them with more consideration, or he would be asked to resign from the staff of the school.

Several days slipped by and during that time Dave paid close attention to his lessons. He had also a theme to write on "The Future of Our Country," and he devoted considerable time to this, hoping it would receive at least honorable mention, even if it did not win the prize offered for the best production.

"Come on down to town!" cried Roger, one afternoon, as he rushed in, "Big excitement on! Going to blow the railroad up!"

"Blow the railroad up?" queried our hero. "What sort of a joke is this, Roger?"

"No joke, at all. You know the old stone bridge over the creek?"

"Sure."

"Well, the railroad wants to get rid of it and do it quickly, so they can build another, so the contractors are going to blow the old bridge up with dynamite at half-past four o'clock."

"Let's go!" burst out Phil. "It will be a great sight—to see that old bridge go up."

"Right you are!" cried Ben.

All the boys were enthusiastic, and in the end fully fifty students got permission to go down to Oakdale to see the old stone bridge destroyed.

"None of you must go very close," warned Doctor Clay, "for dynamite is powerful stuff—eight times more powerful than gunpowder."

"We'll keep away, don't fear about that," answered several.

"Dynamite isn't to be fooled with," added Dave.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" cried Shadow. "A Dutch laborer working on the railroad was much annoyed by the other laborers coming along and knocking his stiff old derby hat over his eyes. At last he got good and mad and when he saw a chance, he stole a stick of dynamite from the shanty where it was kept. He stuck the dynamite in his hat and then went around to the other laborers. 'Now, chust hit dot hat vonce again of you dare!' he said."

"And nobody dared," added Roger, as a general laugh went up.

"I once saw a fellow take a stick of dynamite and burn it like a torch," remarked Ben. "It gave me a cold chill to see him do it."

"And it didn't explode?" queried Roger.

"No. But I heard afterwards that if he had struck it ever so lightly, it might have blown us all as high as a kite."

"It sure is great stuff," remarked Phil. "Say," he went on suddenly, "I wish they were going to blow up old Sparr's hotel instead of the bridge."

"So do I," added Ben. "He's about as mean as they make 'em."

"That man ought certainly to have something done to him," was Roger's comment.

"Well, he won't make a success of his hotel if he treats everybody as he treated Phil," said Dave.

"He doesn't deserve any success," growled the shipowner's son.

When the students arrived in the vicinity of the old bridge they found a large crowd assembled, including many acquaintances from Rockville Military Academy, and people from the town. Red flags had been placed around, and nobody was allowed to get very close to the old structure.

"There is where they have the dynamite stored," said Phil, pointing to a shanty not far away. "See the sign?"

"That's a good spot to steer clear of," returned Dave, with a grin.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of the stuff," answered the shipowner's son.

In the crowd of men and boys the students became more or less separated. There was a great thrill when the word was passed that everything was in readiness for the blowing up of the old bridge.

"She's going!" cried Roger to Dave.

Boom! came the dull, heavy roar, and the boys saw the stones of the old bridge flying upward in all directions. The ground shook all around them, and the water from the creek was splashed on high. A great cloud of smoke and dust filled the air. Then came silence, followed by a wild cheering from the younger element.

"Certainly a great sight," was Dave's comment.

"Too bad it didn't last longer," sighed Buster.

"It wasn't quite as big as I thought it would be," said Luke. "I thought some of the stones would fly about a mile high."

"Good enough for a free exhibition," put in Gus. "Beats fireworks all hollow."

The boys walked down to the ruins of the old bridge and hung around for the best part of a half an hour. Then, in groups of five or six, they walked to town, to look around there before returning to Oak Hall. Dave and his chums passed Jason Sparr's hotel. He was on the veranda and scowled at them, and Phil and some of the others scowled in return.

"Have you done anything about that Sparr matter yet, Phil?" asked one of the lads.

"No; but I will soon, you wait and see," was the growled-out reply.

On the main street of the town some of the boys separated, to do a little shopping, and then some walked to the school, while others got in the carryall that happened to be at hand. As a consequence some of the students did not get back to Oak Hall until some time after the supper hour.

Dave was alone when he entered the dining-hall and he was surprised to see that neither Phil nor Roger was present. Ben was also absent and likewise Shadow.

"Didn't some of them come in with you?" he asked of Buster.

"Gus and Luke did," was the reply. "I don't know where the others are."

The meal was almost at an end when Phil, Ben, and Roger made their appearance. They had but little to say, but Dave could see that something was wrong.

"Had another wrangle with Jason Sparr," explained Phil, after the meal. "He followed me to one of the stores, and I told him just what I thought of him."

"And he threatened to have Phil arrested for defamation of character," added Ben.

"But he didn't dare to do it," declared the shipowner's son.

"Better let him alone," advised Dave. "You'll gain nothing by keeping in hot water over it, Phil."

That night all of the boys had to study hard, and consequently they retired to their dormitories early. The only exception was Polly Vane, who had to go to Oakdale to meet a relative who would stop off but who was going away again on the midnight train.

The boys studied until ten o'clock and then retired. Dave was completely tired out and his head had hardly touched the pillow when he was sound asleep.

He was awakened about two hours later by the sounds of excited talking. He opened his eyes to behold Polly Vane standing in the dormitory fully dressed, while Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Ben and Roger and some others were just rousing up.

"What's going on?" Dave asked, sleepily.

"A whole lot, if what Polly says is true," answered the shipowner's son.

"But it is true, upon my word!" cried the girlish student. "I heard the explosion myself."

"What explosion?" asked several.

"An explosion in Oakdale, to-night," answered Polly. "Somebody tried to dynamite Jason Sparr's hotel!"



CHAPTER XVII

A SERIOUS ACCUSATION

Instantly there was great excitement in the dormitory, and all of the students crowded around Polly, to learn what he might have to say.

"It was this way, don't you know," said the scholarly youth. "I went to Oakdale to see my uncle, who stopped off on his trip from Portland to St. Louis. He wanted to ask me about some family matters, and he didn't have time to come to the Hall. I went down in the buggy——"

"Oh, never mind that, Polly, tell about the explosion," interrupted Roger.

"Well, I had just seen my uncle to the midnight train and was getting into the buggy to come back when I heard a low boom! coming from the direction of Sparr's hotel. The station-master and I were the only people around, and I asked him what the noise meant, but he said he didn't know. Then he jumped into the buggy with me to find out. We drove to the hotel, and there was excitement enough, I can tell you. The girls and women folks were screaming wildly and Mr. Sparr and some men were running around, not knowing what to do. Soon a crowd began to collect, and then we found out that a wing of the building—where the dining-room is—had been blown up. Some men from the railroad said it had been done by dynamite—the kind used for blowing up that old bridge."

"Was anybody hurt?" asked Dave.

"Nobody but an old man who was sleeping in the house next to the addition. He got so scared he jumped from an upper window and sprained his ankle. Oh, that dining-room is a sight, I can tell you! One end is completely gone—the wall away from the main house—and all the tables and chairs and ornaments smashed! And the roof is full of holes!"

"How was it done?" questioned Gus.

"The dynamite was placed at the side of the dining-room foundation, according to the railroad men, and it was set off by some sort of clockwork," answered Polly.

"And who did it?" asked Shadow.

"They don't know, yet. But Sparr suspects Phil. That is why I woke him up as soon as I came in," continued the girlish student.

"Suspects me!" exclaimed the shipowner's son.

"Yes. He says you are the only one who would do such a thing—you and the crowd who have been backing you up."

"Well, I never!"

"Maybe he means me, too," murmured Ben.

"He does, and all the others in the crowd, too. He thinks it's a plot to get square because he wouldn't give Phil his dinner money back."

"I had nothing to do with it," declared Phil, stoutly.

"Nor I," added Ben.

"Well, I am sure I wasn't in it," said Dave. "I didn't dream of such a thing."

"Nor did I," added Roger and some others.

The news soon spread through several dormitories, and the boys discussed the startling happening in whispers. Phil was greatly disturbed.

"I didn't do it, but I know he'll try to fasten it on me," he told Dave. He did not add that he had written to his father about the affair of the feast and his parent had sent a warning letter back, ordering his son to have nothing more to do with Jason Sparr.

The next morning the news was all over the school. Nat Poole heard of it, and he and some of his cronies declared it as their opinion that Phil and some others were to blame. This brought on a fistic encounter between Ben and the money-lender's son, and the latter got a black eye in consequence.

"You sha'n't say I did it—or had anything to do with it," said Ben, when Nat backed away, having had enough of the battle.

"Humph! just wait till the law has its say!" retorted Nat. "Then maybe you'll get what is coming to you!"

Some of the boys wanted to go to town—to see the damaged hotel—but Doctor Clay would not permit this. In the meantime the wreckage was being cleared away, and the authorities and Jason Sparr were doing their best to locate the author or authors of the crime.

Then came a great surprise, in the shape of a letter delivered in a mysterious way to the hotel-keeper. He was seated in the hotel office in the evening, talking to one of the town constables, when a missive was hurled at him through an open window. He dodged at first, fearing more dynamite, but when he saw it was only a letter, he picked it up and turned it over. It was addressed to him and marked "Private and Personal."

"Wonder what this is?" he mused, and walked over to the light to read the letter. It was written on a single sheet of paper, in lead pencil, and evidently in a disguised hand. It contained but a few lines, as follows:

"If you want to catch the fellows who blew up your hotel have these boys of Oak Hall school arrested at once, Philip Lawrence, Benj. Basswood, David Porter, Roger Morr, and Joseph Beggs. They were together when it was done, and one or more of them surely did it.

"One Who Knows." The hotel-keeper read this letter several times and then stuffed it into his pocket. Then he went into the next room and drew from a drawer several things wrapped up in a newspaper.

"I am going down to see the squire," he said, to the constable. "You can come along, if you want to."

"What was in the letter?"

"The names of the rascals who blew up my hotel."

"What! You don't mean it, Jason!"

"Yes, I do."

"Who sent the letter?"

"That's a secret. But come on, we'll talk it over with Squire Thompson. Ain't no time to waste." And then the hotel man went off to interview the leading legal light of the town.

The conference at the squire's office lasted the best part of two hours. At this Jason Sparr produced the contents of the package, several things picked up near the hotel at the time of the explosion—a tan glove, somewhat worn, two iron rings, an empty paper box marked, "L." in one corner, a whip handle, and a clock-like contrivance which had been used to set off the dynamite. He told of his trouble with Phil and his chums, of the threats made, and produced the letter received so mysteriously.

"Looks kind of plain to me, Squire," he said. "Don't you think so?"

"It isn't for me to say," replied the squire, cautiously. "But if you want to swear out warrants for those boys' arrest——"

"Ain't I justified?"

"Sure you are," put in the constable, who happened to be the squire's brother-in-law. "I wouldn't waste no time on it." He thought he saw in this a job for himself, with some fat fees.

"If you have them arrested, you've got to prove your case," said Squire Thompson, slowly. "It's a serious business, Sparr."

"But this letter says they are guilty."

"Lock 'em up and make 'em confess!" broke in the constable. "Give 'em the third degree!" he added. He had read something of how city criminals were occasionally treated and he wished to air his knowledge.

"I'll do it!" cried Jason Spar. "I'll show 'em they can't insult me and take away my trade and then try to blow up my hotel! I'll have 'em all locked up! Then we can examine 'em one by one, and get 'em tangled up and make 'em confess."

After much trouble, the warrants for the arrest of Phil, Ben, Dave, Roger, and Buster were made out. The constable wanted to serve them at once, but it was decided at the last moment to wait until the next morning, to see if any new evidence regarding the crime might be forthcoming.

The constable went home, sworn to secrecy, but he had to tell his wife and her sister of the affair, and the news got to the ears of a man who boarded with them. This fellow, who was named Andy Prime, chanced to know Dave quite well, our hero having once done him a favor. Early in the morning Prime drove past the school, and seeing Dave on the campus, hailed him.

"Come over here, I want to tell you something, Porter," said Prime, mysteriously.

"What do you want?" asked Dave, good-naturedly.

"Ride a bit with me, will you? I don't want nobody to hear us," went on the man, lowering his voice.

Wondering what was coming, Dave got up on the seat of the man's wagon and they drove to the far end of the Oak Hall grounds. There Andy Prime told of all he had learned.

"Please don't say I told ye!" he pleaded. "It might git me in trouble. But you did me a good turn onct an' I ain't forgot it."

"Thank you, Prime, I won't tell who told me," answered Dave.

"Thet old skinflint o' a Sparr deserved to have his buildin' blown up."

"Perhaps. But we didn't do it, I can assure you of that. If Mr. Sparr has us arrested, he'll get in hot water," answered our hero; and then he got out of the wagon and Andy Prime drove on.

Dave at once carried the news to those immediately concerned. All were very indignant, and some were scared.

"Say, I won't stand for being arrested!" cried Phil, in horror. "It's too much of a disgrace!"

"My folks would never get over it," added Ben.

"It would just about kill my mother, if I was locked up," came from Buster.

"Well, I'll stand it if I have to," said Roger. "But I'll make that fellow suffer for it later!" he added, bitterly.

All thoughts of going to school that morning were abandoned by the five boys. They talked the situation over, and determined to go down the road and await the arrival of the constable, Andy Prime having said that Hickson would come by ten o'clock.