"This is awful!" gasped Phil, shaking his head dolefully. "Say, Dave, I can't stand it!"

"Wait until we hear what the constable has to say."

"He won't say anything—he'll just drag us to the Oakdale lockup!" put in Ben.

"I wonder what my dad will say to that, when he hears of it?" murmured Roger. "The newspapers are bound to make a spread of it. 'Son of a U. S. Senator Jailed for Blowing Up a Hotel!' or something like that. Oh, it makes me sick!"

Plainly the majority of the students were very nervous. The only one who kept calm was Dave, and even he was much disturbed. All walked along the road, keeping a sharp eye out for the appearance of Paul Hickson.

"Here he comes!" cried Phil, as a covered wagon came along the road, driven by the keeper of the Oakdale jail. On the front seat beside the driver were the constable and Jason Sparr.

"Hi, you boys!" shouted the constable, as the wagon came closer. "I want to see you!"

"What do you want?" demanded Dave, stepping to the front.

"We want you, for one!" cried the hotel-keeper. "Be careful, Hickson, that none of 'em get away!" he added.

"I don't know one from tudder," said the constable, doubtfully.

"This is just the bunch we are after, unless I am mistaken," went on the hotel man. "That is Lawrence there, and Basswood, and this is Porter, and I think that is Morr," and he pointed to the various students.

"Good enough. Boys, in the name of the law, I call on you to halt," declared the constable, pompously.

"Mr. Sparr, what does this mean?" demanded Dave.

"It means that I am going to have the whole bunch of you arrested!" shouted the hotel man, harshly. "You blew up my hotel, and I can prove it! I've got the evidence against every one of you! I am going to have you arrested right now and sent to prison!" And he shook his fist at the boys.

"The evidence against us?" faltered Phil.

"Yes, sir, the plain, clear evidence," went on the hotel-keeper, dramatically. "I've got you just where I want you. I am going to send every one of you to prison for five or ten years!"



CHAPTER XVIII

THE MEETING ON THE ROAD

There was an intense silence, following the announcement of Jason Sparr that he intended to send Dave and his chums to prison for attempting to blow up the hotel. In the meantime the hotel man and the constable got down from the seat of the covered wagon.

"I've got the warrants fer the arrest, boys," said Constable Hickson, somewhat importantly.

"Mr. Sparr, I'd like a word with you," said Dave, as calmly as he could speak under the circumstances.

"I ain't got no more to say than I've said," returned Jason Sparr, stubbornly. "You done it, and I can prove it! The constable is going to do his duty and arrest you!"

"Dave, I—I won't stand for it!" whispered Phil, hoarsely. "It's terrible! I—I can't stand it!" And he began to back away.

"Hi, there! stop!" yelled the hotel man. "Stop him, Hickson! Don't let him get away!"

"You sha'n't arrest me for nothing!" cried the shipowner's son, and like a flash he turned around and started off on a run.

"Come back here, Phil!" called out Dave. "Come back! You are making a mistake by running away!"

But Phil did not hear, nor did Ben and Buster, who had also taken to their heels. Roger ran a few steps, then halted, and came back to our hero's side.

"You are right, Dave," he said. "It's best to face the music."

Phil, Ben, and Buster had turned towards Oak Hall. Phil was in the lead, but the others soon caught up to him.

"Wha—what are you go—going to d—do?" panted Ben.

"I'm not going to let them arrest me!" answered Phil. "I didn't do it, and I'm not going to jail."

"Let us hide until we can get our folks to help us," suggested Buster. The thought of going to a lockup filled him with dread.

"I'm going to notify my folks, too," said Ben.

"The trouble is, I don't know where my folks are just now," came from the shipowner's son. "My father went on a trip on one of his vessels and mother is visiting relatives."

The boys had kept on running on the road. But now, as they saw the constable after them, they turned and dashed into a side-path leading to the river.

"A motor-boat!" cried Ben, a few seconds later.

"It's the Kingsley boat," added Buster. "I know Tom will let us use it—he said I could do it once. Let us go across in it."

All leaped on board, and Ben started up the engine while Buster took the wheel. There came a put! put! as the fly-wheel was turned over, and the little craft, which belonged to a boy living on the river-bank, headed out into the Leming River.

In the meantime, while Constable Hickson was running after the fugitives, Jason Sparr and the driver of the covered wagon confronted Dave and Roger.

"Don't you try to run!" bawled the hotel-keeper.

"I'm armed," added the keeper of the town lockup, suggestively.

"I don't intend to run, Mr. Sparr," answered Dave.

"Why should we run, since we have done nothing wrong?" added the senator's son. He tried to follow Dave's example and remain calm, but he was tremendously disturbed.

"Did those three fellows do it alone?" queried the hotel man, eagerly. "If they did, you had better confess to it, and clear yourselves."

"None of us are guilty," answered Dave.

"I know better."

"You do not. Since we didn't do it, Mr. Sparr, I don't see how you can prove that we did,—unless you have manufactured some evidence against us," went on our hero, pointedly, a new idea coming into his head.

"I ain't manufactured no evidence!" bawled Jason Sparr. "Didn't that young rascal of a Lawrence say he'd get square with me, and didn't all of you say the same? Wasn't you down to the blowing up of the bridge, right where they had all that dynamite stored? Wasn't some of the dynamite sticks stolen? Didn't you fellows come right by the hotel afterwards? Wasn't the blowing up done by clockwork, made to go off hours after it was set? You can't tell me! You are guilty. Besides, I got other evidence—I got a letter," added the hotel-keeper, shrewdly.

"A letter? About us?"

Jason Sparr nodded.

"Saying we were guilty?"

"Yes."

"Who wrote it?"

"Never mind that. You're guilty, and you know it. Just wait till Hickson comes back with them others and I'll show you a thing or two," continued the hotel man, harshly.

"Mr. Sparr, I said I wanted to talk to you, and I do want to," said Dave, after a pause. "You will find it to your advantage to listen to me. You have got this whole thing settled in your own mind, but you are dead wrong. You intend to have us locked up for something we didn't do. To have us locked up will blacken our characters and blacken the reputation of Oak Hall. My folks are respectable people, and so are the folks of the other boys. Do you think they will stand for this sort of thing? And do you think Doctor Clay will stand for it? If you do, you are greatly mistaken. If you have us arrested on this charge, which is absolutely false, I'll get my folks to sue you for false imprisonment and defamation of character, and I know the other fellows will do the same. And you can rest assured that the charges against you will be pushed to the limits of the law."

At this plain talk Jason Sparr's jaw dropped. Several times he was on the point of interrupting, but thought better of it.

"Well, now—er——" he stammered when Dave had finished.

"My father is a United States senator," said Roger. "You don't suppose he will let a matter like this pass unnoticed? If you do anything to besmirch our family name, you'll take the consequences."

"Your father is a United States senator?" faltered Jason Sparr.

"He is, and Dave's father is a rich man, and so is Phil Lawrence's father. Of course, our money has nothing to do with it, excepting that it will enable us to stand up for our rights in the courts, and get able lawyers to defend us. We are innocent of all wrongdoing. If anybody is in the wrong it is you, for you cheated Phil Lawrence out of the money he advanced to you for that spread we were to have at your hotel."

"Cheated him!" cried the hotel-keeper.

"That is what it amounted to, for you took his money and gave him nothing in return."

"He called the spread off——"

"He did not, and we can prove it," said Dave, following up what he thought looked like an advantage. "Why, if he wanted to do it, Phil could have you locked up for swindling."

"What, me? Locked up?" cried the hotel man.

"Certainly. Why not? It's as reasonable as your charge against us—more reasonable, in fact, for you kept his money and gave him nothing in return," went on our hero, warmly.

"Well, now what do you know about that?" grumbled Jason Sparr, turning to the driver of the covered wagon. But the lockup man merely shrugged his shoulders. Privately he was of the opinion that the boys were not such rascals as had been pictured.

"If those fellows wasn't guilty, why did they run away?" continued Jason Sparr, after an awkward pause.

"Because you scared them," responded Roger. "I would have run away myself if it hadn't been for Dave."

"Humph!"

All looked along the road. Constable Hickson had disappeared, having followed the runaways down to the river. Presently he came back, out of breath from his exertions.

"Did you get 'em?" queried the hotel-keeper, eagerly.

"No, they got away in a motor-boat."

"A motor-boat!" repeated Dave and Roger, and looked at each other in astonishment.

"Yes, went up the river out of sight," said Paul Hickson. "Too bad! But we've got two of 'em, anyway," he added, looking at our hero and the senator's son.

"I wanted Lawrence more than I did the others," grumbled Jason Sparr. He was doing some deep thinking and his face showed that he was much disturbed.

"Mr. Sparr, just remember what I said," remarked Dave, pointedly. "If you go ahead, take my word for it, it will cost you dear."

"Say, Hickson, we'll drop this matter for the present," said the hotel-keeper, in a low tone.

"Drop it?" ejaculated the constable. "Ain't you goin' to have these two took up?"

"Not just now. I—er—I want to get more evidence first, if I can. We can get them any time we want them."

"But who is going to pay me for my trouble? I've got them warrants to serve right in my pocket, and——"

"I'll fix that up with you," answered the hotel man, in a whisper. "Come on. We can come back later." And then the hotel man said something to the driver of the wagon. The latter merely nodded and got back to his seat. Jason Sparr climbed up beside him, and the constable slowly followed.

"I don't understand——" went on the constable; but Jason Sparr merely pinched his arm, and he stopped short.

"Just remember, this ain't settled yet!" cried the hotel-keeper, to Dave and Roger. "I'm going to look into it a bit deeper before I make a move, that's all. I know some of you done it, and I'll have you in prison for it yet, see if I don't!" And he shook his head grimly; and then the covered wagon was turned around, and the three men drove off in the direction of Oakdale.

"Oh, Dave, do you think they'll come back?" cried Roger, when the men were out of hearing.

"There is no telling what they will do, Roger. But you can make up your mind to one thing—Sparr won't come back until he has more evidence than he has at present."

"But how can he get evidence? Surely you don't think Phil and the others guilty, even if they did run away."

"No, I think Phil and the others are as innocent as we are. But I can't understand some things. Somebody used that dynamite and somebody wrote a letter to Sparr about us. The question is, Who was it?"

"Could it be Nat Poole?"

"I don't think Nat would be bad enough to try to blow up a hotel."

"It certainly was an awful thing to do." Roger drew a long breath. "What shall we do now, go back to school?"

"We might as well. If we don't, old Haskers will be after us again."

"Do you think Phil and the others will come back?"

"Why not? As soon as they have time to think it over they'll realize it is best to face the music," answered Dave.

He and Roger returned to Oak Hall. They had missed one class, but fortunately that was one presided over by Mr. Dale, and he readily excused them when they said they had had some personal matters of importance to attend to, and would explain later.

"It is bound to come out, sooner or later," said Dave to his chum. "So we might as well take Doctor Clay and Mr. Dale into our confidence."

"I suppose you are right," answered the senator's son. Nevertheless, he heaved a deep sigh, as he thought of what might be the outcome of the trouble. What if, after all, Jason Sparr should concoct some sort of evidence against them and send them all to prison?



CHAPTER XIX

LOOKING FOR THE RUNAWAYS

When Dave and Roger went to the midday meal in the dining-room they looked all over for Phil, Ben, and Buster, but the three were not in sight.

"Dave, they haven't come back yet."

"So I see," returned our hero, and he was much disturbed. He ate sparingly, and the senator's son also had but little appetite for the meal.

"Say, what's become of those chaps?" questioned Shadow.

"I'll tell you later," answered Dave. "Don't say anything now—and tell the others to keep quiet, too."

But such a happening could not be kept quiet, and soon it was whispered around that Phil, Ben, and Buster were missing. This presently got to the ears of Andrew Dale, and the head assistant teacher sought out Dave for an explanation.

"I understand you went out with Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs this morning, Porter," said the teacher. "They are not yet back. Do you know where they went?"

"They went off in a motor-boat, that is all I know about that part of it, Mr. Dale. Roger Morr and I would like to speak to you and Doctor Clay in private. It is very important," went on our hero.

"Very well. Come at once to the office and I will call the doctor."

A little later found the two youths in the office with Doctor Clay and his head assistant. There, as briefly as he could, Dave told his story, and Roger corroborated what was said. The head of the school was deeply interested and not a little alarmed.

"This is certainly serious," he declared, with a grave shake of his head. "It reflects not only on you but on this school. I must look into this at once." And then he asked many questions, and Andrew Dale did the same.

"Running away makes it look bad for Lawrence, Beggs, and Basswood," remarked Mr. Dale. "They should have stood their ground, as Morr and Porter did."

"That hotel man and the constable probably scared them so they did not know what they were doing," returned Doctor Clay. He turned to the boys. "You have no idea where they went?"

"No, sir, excepting that they went up the river in the Kingsley motor-boat. They know Tom Kingsley quite well and he lets them use the boat once in a while."

"Do you think you could find them, if I let you off to do so?"

"We could try, sir."

"Then you may go at once. Tell them it was very foolish to run away, and urge them to come back at once," added Doctor Clay.

A little more conversation followed, and then Dave and Roger left the office and started on the search for the runaways.

"We ought to have a motor-boat ourselves, to follow them up the river—that is, if they went any distance," said the senator's son.

"We might try to borrow one, Roger."

"Not Nat Poole's—he wouldn't lend it to us."

"I know that."

The two students walked to the river and looked up and down the stream. A rowboat and a sailboat were in sight, but that was all.

"There is Jack Laplow in his sloop," cried Dave, mentioning a riverman they knew. "The wind is blowing up the stream. Maybe he'll take us along."

They hailed the riverman, who made a living by doing all sorts of jobs on the stream. He did not have much to do just then and readily agreed, for a small amount, to take them up the river and bring them back.

"We want to find some fellows who are in the Kingsley motor-boat," explained Dave. "Have you seen anything of them?"

The riverman had not, but said he would help to watch out for the lads. Dave and Roger hopped aboard the sloop, and soon the little craft was standing up the Leming River, with Jack Laplow at the tiller.

It was a warm, clear day, and had the boys not been distressed in mind, they would have enjoyed the sail immensely. But as it was, they were very sober, so much so in fact that the old riverman at length remarked:

"What's wrong—somebody hurt, or are ye going to a funeral?"

"No funeral," answered Dave, with a forced laugh. "But we are in a hurry to find those three fellows."

"Well, I don't see no motor-boat yet," answered Jack Laplow.

"One thing is certain: if it went up the river it's got to come down," said Roger.

"They may get out and send it back," answered our hero.

"But, Dave, surely you don't think——" But Dave put up his hand for silence and nodded in the direction of the boatman; and the senator's son said no more.

A mile and a half were covered, and they were just passing one of the many islands in the river, when Jack Laplow gave a shout.

"There is the motor-boat now!"

"Boat ahoy!" shouted Dave, and then, as they drew closer, he saw that it was really the Kingsley craft. He was chagrined to see that only a man was on board, a fellow who was running the boat very slowly.

"Where are those boys who were aboard?" demanded our hero, as the motor-boat came closer.

"Is this your boat?" asked the man on board, in return.

"No, but my friends were on that boat. Where are they?"

"Left the boat at Snog's Point, and hired me to bring her back. I don't know much about motor-boats, so I'm running kind o' slow," explained the man.

"Snog's Point?" repeated Roger. "Where were they going?"

"Don't ask me, for I don't know. They was in a tremenjous hurry, I know that. It's all right, ain't it?" went on the man, quickly.

"Oh, yes, it was all right," answered Dave. And then they allowed the man to go on his way.



"Want to go up to Snog's Point?" asked the man of the sloop.

"Yes,—and as quickly as you can get there," replied Dave.

As the wind was in the right direction, it did not take long. The Point was a rocky cliff with a stretch of sand at its base. Here the boys jumped ashore.

"Want me to wait for you?" asked the riverman.

"Wait for half an hour," said Dave. "Then, if we are not back, you can go back;" and so it was arranged.

In the sand our hero and Roger could plainly see the marks of the motor-boat and many footprints. They followed the footprints to a road leading through a stretch of woods, and then came out on a highway leading to Barrelton.

"The town is about half a mile from here. Wonder if they went there?" mused Roger.

"Maybe we can learn something at the nearest farmhouse," suggested Dave.

They hurried on, and presently reached a farmhouse set close to the road, with a barn on the other side. At a grindstone a tall, thin boy was sharpening a sickle.

"Yes, I saw them fellers," he drawled, when asked about the runaways. "They was walking to town to beat the cars. I thought they must be in one o' them cross-country races, or something like that."

"Come on!" cried Dave to his chum. Then he turned back suddenly. "Do you know anything about the trains from Barrelton?"

"Ain't many trains from there," answered the youth at the grindstone.

"But do you know what there are?"

"There's a train north jest about due now."

"And what is next?"

"A train south a leetle after four o'clock. An' the freight goes through at seven."

"Hurry, Roger!" cried Dave.

"Do you think they'd take a train, Dave?"

"I don't know—I hope not."

The two boys set off on a run, taking it easy at first, so as not to get winded. They passed a number of farms and presently came in sight of Barrelton, so called because of the barrel factory located there. From a distance they had heard the whistle of a locomotive, and knew that the north-bound train had stopped at the station and gone on.

"There is the station!" cried Dave, pointing up the railroad tracks. They continued to run and did not stop until they gained the platform. Here they met the ticket agent.

"The train just went, didn't it?" asked Dave, and as the agent nodded, he went on: "Did three young fellows like ourselves get on?"

"If they did, I didn't see 'em," answered the man.

"Oh!" cried Roger, "maybe they didn't take the train, after all."

"Let us hope so."

Somewhat out of breath, the two boys tramped around Barrelton, looking for Phil and the others, and asking about them. But nobody appeared to have seen the runaways, and not a trace of them was to be found anywhere.

"All we can do is to get something to eat and take the other train for Oakdale," said Roger, after they had satisfied themselves that the runaways were nowhere in that vicinity. The walking around had made him hungry.

They procured some pie and milk at a little stand near the station, and shortly after four o'clock took the way train for Oakdale and walked to the school. They went directly to the doctor's office. The master of Oak Hall listened patiently to what they had to tell.

"I am sorry you did not find them," he said, gravely. "It was very foolish of them to run away, very. I trust they will come back of their own accord soon."

"Will you see Mr. Sparr about the matter?" asked Dave.

"Yes, Porter. And I wish you and Morr to go with me."

The interview took place that evening, the boys and the doctor driving down to the hotel after supper. Jason Sparr treated the master of the Hall politely but said very little.

"When I make my next move I'll have a lawyer," he said. "I know somebody tried to blow up my hotel, and I think it was some of your boys—that Lawrence boy especially. But I ain't going to have 'em arrested until I can prove it."

"Very well," answered Doctor Clay. "And in the meantime, you had better keep quiet, or you may have a suit for damages on hand."

On the day following there was something of a sensation. The weekly newspaper issued in a nearby town came out with a thrilling account of the dynamiting of the dining-room of the hotel. In the account appeared the following:

"There is strong evidence pointing to the fact that the outrageous deed was perpetrated by some schoolboys who held a grudge against Mr. Sparr. They are known to have been present at the blowing up of the old stone bridge, and were seen near the shanty where the sticks of dynamite were kept, and one boy of the town says he saw a young man coming from the shanty with something in his hand. Mr. Sparr has the authorities at work and is piling up his evidence, and the arrest of the rascally schoolboys may be hourly expected. It is said that some of the boys have run away, but the authorities have an idea where they can be located. The town committee is thinking of offering a reward for the capture and conviction of the rascals. For the safety of our citizens, the Weekly Globe-Leader hopes the evil-doers will soon be apprehended."

No names were mentioned in this account, but everybody in Oakdale and vicinity knew that the boys of Oak Hall were alluded to, and there was much talk over what might be done. Doctor Clay felt the disgrace keenly, and Dave and Roger were equally affected.

"What are we going to do, Dave?" asked the senator's son.

"I don't know," returned our hero. "But we've got to do something, that's certain."



CHAPTER XX

THE WILD MAN AGAIN

"Roger, I have an idea!"

"What is it, Dave?"

"I may be mistaken, but I've been thinking that perhaps that wild man did the blowing up at the hotel."

"What makes you think that?" questioned the senator's son, putting down the book he had been trying to study.

A day had passed after the events recorded in the last chapter, and so far no word had come in concerning Phil and the other runaways. Doctor Clay had sent for a private detective to assist in locating them and also to try, if possible, to clear up the mystery concerning the hotel affair.

"Well, in the first place, it would be just like a crazy man to do such a thing, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps."

"In the second place, I have heard that the wild man was seen around when the bridge was blown up."

"Is that so? Who saw him?"

"Mr. Tyson, the farmer who lives near the bridge."

"Why didn't he try to capture the fellow?"

"He did, but in the excitement of the blowing up the wild man slipped him. And that isn't all. Mr. Tyson saw him coming from the vicinity of that shanty where the dynamite was kept."

"Say, that is certainly interesting!" cried the senator's son. "When did you learn all this?"

"Less than an hour ago. Mr. Tyson brought some vegetables to the school and I had a talk with him."

"Did he think the wild man blew up the hotel?"

"No, he didn't connect the two."

"Hum! What do you think of doing about it?"

"I hardly know. I wish we could round up the wild man."

"Plenty of folks wish that."

"I think he hangs out somewhere along the river, or on one of the islands."

"Maybe Nat Poole knows."

"I hardly think so—although I am sure Nat wants to find the fellow—why, I can't imagine."

During those trying days, Job Haskers was as harsh and dictatorial to Dave and Roger as ever, and several times he passed sneering remarks about those who were missing.

"You may think as you please, Doctor Clay," said he to the master of the Hall. "I feel sure in my mind that Lawrence and those other boys are guilty. I do not think Mr. Sparr would accuse them if he was not pretty sure of his ground."

"Well, he has not dared to have those warrants served," replied the doctor, dryly.

"Because he is afraid there will be a great deal of money used in the case to fight him."

"Mr. Haskers, do you stand up for Mr. Sparr? I thought you had had some difficulty yourself with him once?"

"That was but a small affair. I think he is perfectly honest and that he wants to do what is right."

"Possibly. But he did not treat Lawrence very fairly in the matter of that dinner that was ordered."

"That was a mistake, and Mr. Sparr lost as much as he got. Yes, I think those boys guilty, and in the end you will find out that I am right," added Job Haskers as he went off, smiling grimly to himself, as if it was a pleasure to him to have the boys thus accused.

The next morning came another surprise. On getting up Dave noticed that something was missing from the dormitory. Phil's suit-case was gone, likewise a portion of his clothing, and also the valises of Ben and Buster, and part of their outfits.

"Well, this beats the Dutch!" exclaimed Roger, on learning the news. "Who took them, do you suppose?"

"Don't ask me, Roger."

"Maybe they came themselves and got them," suggested Sam.

"If they did, wouldn't we hear them?" asked Gus.

"Talk about a mysterious disappearance," cried Shadow. "Say, this puts me in mind of a story. Once some fellows——"

"Oh, stow it, Shadow!" cried the senator's son. "Let's get busy and try to find out what this means. Maybe they are back at the school."

All of the boys dressed hastily and took a look around. But they could find no trace of the runaways. Yet the traveling-bags and the clothing were certainly gone.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the place was haunted!" cried Luke.

"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Polly Vane, looking scared. "I don't wish to see any ghosts."

Doctor Clay was informed of what had occurred, and he had another search conducted. But it was all to no purpose—the things were missing, and that was all there was to it.

It may well be imagined that with so much going on it was next to impossible for Dave and Roger to study. Yet they did their best, not wishing to drop behind again as they had during the trip to Cave Island. Job Haskers did not let up on them, and many a time they wished he would leave Oak Hall and that they might never see him again.

One afternoon Roger came to Dave in great haste and beckoned for him to come outside.

"I think we had better follow Nat Poole," said the senator's son. "I think there is something in the wind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Nat has been packing a valise and he has put in the strangest things—some clothing, some bottles of medicine, some rope, and a thing that looks like a crown made of brass."

"A crown made of brass? Oh, Roger, maybe that wild man—who calls himself the King of Sumatra——"

"That's the idea, Dave, I see you've caught on. Come on, before Nat gets away from us."

Our hero needed no further urging, and soon he and Roger were on their way to the gymnasium, where the senator's son had, by pure accident, seen Nat Poole packing the things mentioned in his handbag.

As they approached, they saw the money-lender's son trundle out a bicycle he owned and mount it, swinging his valise over his shoulder by a strap. He looked back to see if he was being observed, but Dave and Roger were on guard and quickly dove out of sight behind some bushes.

"We'll have to follow on our own wheels," said Dave.

Their old bicycles were still in the gymnasium. They were not in very good condition, but the tires were air-tight and that was enough. Without delay, they trundled the machines out, and leaping into the saddles, pedaled after Nat.

The course of the money-lender's son was along the river road, and he followed this for the best part of a mile. Then he branched off on a side-road leading to what were known as the Chester Hills. It was hard work pushing the machine up the hills, but Nat kept at it steadily, and Dave and Roger followed. Strange to say, the money-lender's son did not once look back after leaving the school. Evidently he was of the opinion that nobody had observed his departure, or, if so, had taken no particular notice of it.

From the top of one of the hills, Nat struck off on another side-road, leading to a little valley. Here was a brook, and at a point where it widened out, a small and really beautiful island. In the center of the island a cabin had been built by some sportsman, and a rustic bridge connected the resort with the shore.

Reaching the rustic bridge, Nat dismounted, and with his valise still over his shoulder, walked towards the cabin. As he did this Dave and Roger came quite close and they, too, dismounted, keeping in the shelter of some trees near by.

"Stop! I command you, in the name of the King of Sumatra, to stop!"

The call came from the cabin, and a second later the wild man appeared. He was clad in a blue pair of trousers and over his shoulder was thrown a big red blanket. On his head rested a crown made of a tin pail cut into sharp points.

"I salute you, King of Sumatra!" called out Nat, making a low bow.

"Ha! it is my servant that speaks," said the wild man. "Bow low, bow, I tell you!" and he flourished a wooden sword that he held in one hand.

"It is the wild man, sure enough!" whispered Roger, in great excitement.

"And evidently he has been expecting Nat," returned Dave. "Let us get closer and see what is up."

They advanced with care until they were behind a tree at the very foot of the rustic bridge. In the meantime Nat had gone forward, bowing low at every step.

"I have brought you something, my king!" cried the money-lender's son. "Something of great importance to you."

"What is it?" demanded the wild man, his curiosity excited.

"A new crown. It is of gold, a beautiful crown."

"Ha! ha! that is well! The King of Sumatra needs a new crown!" cried the wild man, strutting up and down in front of the cabin. "Give it to me, that I may see if it fits." And he held out his empty hand.

"Let us go into the cabin, and you can sit in your chair of state while I place it on your head," said Nat, in a soothing, persuasive voice. "You will like it, I know."

"Did you bring your army with you?" demanded the wild man, suspiciously.

"No, I am all alone—the army is at Oakdale," answered Nat.

"Again 'tis well. Come in, and I will sit on the throne," and with a sweeping gesture of welcome, the wild man stepped back into the cabin, and Nat Poole followed.

"Now, what do you make of this?" whispered Roger, looking at Dave in wonder.

"I have an idea, Roger," answered our hero. "Nat knows that man; in fact, he is well acquainted with him. I think he is going to try to make him a prisoner."

"A prisoner? Oh, I see; for the glory of it, eh?"

"No, to get him back to some sanitarium as quietly as possible. I think Nat would like to do it without anybody around here being the wiser."

"Oh! Then maybe the fellow is some relative of the Pooles."

"Possibly, or a close friend. But come on, let us see what happens. We ought to try to capture the man ourselves."

"To be sure. But I don't see how we are going to do it. We are unarmed, and they say crazy folks are fearfully strong."

"We'll have to watch our chances."

The cabin had a window as well as a door, and to the former the two boys crawled. Peering through a vine that grew over the opening, they saw that the wild man had seated himself on a rude bench which he called his throne. It was covered with a tattered carpet and some cabalistic signs in blue chalk. Nat had placed his valise on the ground and was opening it. He brought out the crown and also the rope, but took care to conceal the latter under his coat.

"Now you must close your eyes and sit perfectly still while I place the crown on your head," said the money-lender's son. "I will have to do it from behind, for that is the way they do it in England and Germany."

"Do they do it in Russia that way, too?" demanded the wild man, and his eyes took on a glowing look as he gazed at the brass crown.

"Of course."

"Then let it be so." And the wild man sat back on the bench and closed his eyes, and stroked his straggly beard.

Quickly Nat stepped behind the man, and while he fumbled with the crown with one hand, he brought out the rope with the other. He was greatly excited and his hands trembled.

"Now sit perfectly still while I count fifty," said the money-lender's son. "Then when I——"

He did not finish, for at that instant the wild man let out a sudden yell and leaped to his feet. He ran to the doorway; and the next moment came face to face with Dave and Roger.



CHAPTER XXI

SOMETHING OF A CLEW

"Ha! ha! you are the army sent to capture me, are you? But I am not to be captured! Take the cannons away! Bring up the artillery! Forward the light brigade! Victory for the King of Sumatra! Oh, if only I had a company of trained monkeys I would show you how to fight!"

Thus speaking, the wild man danced around before Dave and Roger, swinging his wooden sword close to their heads. Indeed, our hero had to dodge back, to keep from being hit.

"Hello, you here?" cried Nat, coming from the cabin. "You followed me, did you?" He scowled deeply. "It's just like you, Dave Porter!"

"Nobody shall follow the King of Sumatra!" went on the wild man, with a cunning look at the three students. "Away! Out of my sight!" he yelled.

He dashed past Dave and Roger, moving towards the rustic bridge. Our hero caught him by the arm, but received a blow in the face that staggered him. Roger also tried to catch the man, but he was too quick, and a second later was on the bridge.

"Come back!" bawled Nat. "Come back, Uncle Wilbur! Don't you know me? Come back, please! We won't hurt you!" And then he set off after the wild man, who was running along the road beyond the bridge.

"Dave, did you hear that?" gasped the senator's son. "He called the wild man Uncle Wilbur!"

"Yes, I heard him," returned our hero. "No wonder he has been after him, Roger. Come on, let us see if we can't catch him."

The chums started after the wild man and the money-lender's son. The way was along the road, but presently the wild man turned into a stretch of woods. He could run like a trained athlete, and easily outdistanced Nat, who kept calling after him.

When Dave and Roger came up they found the money-lender's son leaning against a tree, out of breath and much disgusted.

"Couldn't get him, eh?" queried Roger.

"No, you fellows scared him off," growled the money-lender's son.

"I am sorry if we did that," said Dave.

"You had no right to butt in," grumbled Nat. "What did you follow me for, anyway?"

"Because we thought you were after the wild man, that's why," answered Roger.

"Humph!"

"So he is your Uncle Wilbur," went on our hero, after a pause, and he turned a look of sympathy at Nat as he spoke.

"Who told you that?"

"You called him Uncle Wilbur."

"I—I guess you are mistaken," stammered Nat, growing red in the face.

"No, we heard you as plain as day," put in the senator's son.

"You haven't any right to pry into my affairs, Roger Morr! You nor Dave Porter either!"

"Perhaps not," answered Roger.

"Look here, Nat, if we can help you we'll do it," came from Dave. "I suppose, if that man is your uncle, you wish to get him back to the—er—the sanitarium as quickly and as quietly as possible; is that so?"

"Wouldn't you want to do that, if he was your uncle?" asked the money-lender's son, flushing deeply.

"Certainly. But it looks, now, as if you couldn't do it alone."

"I might have done it, if you hadn't come up and queered my game."

"He didn't see us until he ran out of the cabin," said Roger. "He just got a wild streak on, that's all. I don't think you could have managed him alone. He wouldn't let you tie him up with that rope."

"Well, he's gone, that's sure," grumbled Nat. "I'm going back to the cabin for my valise."

"He may come back," suggested Dave.

"I don't think so. But I'll wait and see. I hung around once for him—on that island—but he never came back. It isn't often he visits the same spot twice. That's the reason the authorities around here haven't caught him."

"What is his name, Nat?"

"Wilbur Poole, if you must know. He is my father's half-brother."

"Where did he come from?"

"From the Blossmore Sanitarium, in New York state. It's a private place, near Lake Erie. He lost a lot of money several years ago in a speculation in Sumatra tobacco and that made him crazy, and that is why, I suppose, he calls himself the King of Sumatra."

"Did you know he was missing when you heard of the wild man?" questioned Dave, with interest.

"No, I did not, for the sanitarium people did not notify us that he had gotten away. I suppose they thought he would stay near the institution and that they would be able to get him again. I can't imagine what brought him away out here, excepting that I went to see him once, when he was somewhat better, and I told him about Oakdale and our school. I knew he called himself the King of Sumatra, and that is why I got interested in the wild man as soon as I heard you mention that name. Then, when the handkerchief was found, I was sure the man was my uncle."

"And you put the hole in the handkerchief," said our hero.

"Yes, because—well, I didn't want folks to find out from the Blossmore authorities that the man was my uncle," answered Nat, casting down his eyes. "I thought I might be able to catch him and send him back on the quiet. I didn't want the whole school talking about it."

"I can understand your feelings, Nat," said our hero, kindly. "And if I can help you in the matter, I'll do it."

"I suppose you'll tell everybody he's my uncle," came bitterly from the money-lender's son.

"No, I won't. But I think Doctor Clay ought to know it."

"And what of your folks?" asked Roger. "Do they know?"

"I sent my dad a letter about it last week. But he is away on business, so I don't know when he'll get it or what he'll do. I didn't let the Blossmore folks know because I don't think my uncle ought to go back to that place. He ought to be put in an institution where they are more strict, so he can't get away again."

"You are right there," said Dave.

"Nat, don't you know it is highly dangerous to allow that man at large?" asked the senator's son, after a pause, during which the three boys turned their footsteps towards the island cabin.

"Oh, I don't think he is as dangerous as some folks imagine," was the reply. "He has never actually harmed anybody yet. But he scares 'em."

"He may have committed some deeds of which you know nothing."

At these suggestive words from the senator's son Nat turned pale.

"What do you mean? Have you heard anything, Roger?"

"I hate to hurt your feelings any further, Nat, but I must be honest with you. Dave and I have an idea that he was the one who blew up the dining-room of Sparr's hotel."

"Oh, impossible!"

"What Roger says is true," said Dave, gravely. "I am sorry for you, Nat, but that is the way it looks to us. He was seen around the old stone bridge when it was blown up, and around the shanty where the dynamite was kept, and he has been in Oakdale several times, so we have heard."

"Oh, he wouldn't do such a thing! He couldn't!" cried the money-lender's son, in genuine distress.

"An insane man is liable to do anything, Nat," said Roger. "Why, he might have set off that dynamite without realizing the consequences. The best thing we can do is to organize a regular search for him, and round him up as quickly as possible."

"I suppose that is so," groaned Nat. "But, oh, how I do hate the exposure!"

"You mustn't take it too hard, Nat," said Dave. "Remember, neither you nor your family are responsible for his condition of mind."

It did not take the three students long to reach the little cabin. While Nat was packing up the things he had brought along, Dave and Roger looked over the place. The wild man had had but few things, none of them worth mentioning. There was a newspaper and an old magazine, showing that Wilbur Poole occasionally indulged in reading.

"Hello, look here!" cried Roger, as he turned the magazine over. "Well, I declare!"

"What is it?" asked Dave and Nat, in a breath.

"Here's a picture, drawn in blue pencil. It is marked Fort, but it looks like Sparr's hotel."

"And look what it says!" cried Dave, eying the crude drawing. "'Powder House to be blown up'! That's the dining-room, as plain as day!"

"And down here it says, 'Dynamite will do it easily,' and signed, 'King of Sumatra.' Dave, he did it, and this proves it."

"It certainly looks that way, Roger."

"Let me see that drawing!" burst out Nat, and would have snatched it from Roger's hand had not Dave stopped him.

"You can look at it, Nat, but you must give it back," said our hero.

"What for? My uncle drew that and I have a right to it."

"No, I am going to hand this over to Doctor Clay and then to the Oakdale authorities. It may be needed to clear Phil, Ben, and Buster."

"Hurrah, Dave, that's the talk!" cried Roger, with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn't think of it, but that is just what is needed to clear 'em! We'll knock Jason Sparr's accusations into a cocked hat!"

"You let me see that drawing!" shouted Nat, making another grab for it. "I've got a right to it—if my uncle made it."

"You can look at it, but you can't handle it," said Dave, and he gave Roger a look that the senator's son well understood. Both knew that the money-lender's son could not be trusted with such an important bit of evidence.

The drawing was held up, but Nat was not permitted to get too close to it. He looked it over carelessly and then his lip curled.

"Huh! I don't think my uncle drew it," he said.

"And we think he did," returned Dave.

There was a sudden silence after this. Each boy was busy with his thoughts. Dave felt particularly light-hearted.

"This ought to clear Phil and the others," he reasoned. "And they can come back to school without delay and finish the term and graduate."

Having packed up his things, Nat got out his bicycle and prepared to ride back to Oak Hall, and the others did the same.

"Going to give me that drawing?" asked the money-lender's son, just as he was ready to start off.

"No, we are going to turn it over to Doctor Clay," said Roger.

"All right, have your own way," growled Nat.

As in coming to the cabin, the money-lender's son took the lead in the return to Oak Hall. Dave and Roger kept close behind and occasionally spoke of the happenings in guarded tones. When the school was reached all left their bicycles in the gymnasium.

"Going to Doctor Clay now?" demanded Nat.

"We might as well," said Dave. "The sooner he knows of this, the better for everybody."

"All right."

Doctor Clay was somewhat surprised to see the three boys, dusty and tired-looking, enter his private office. He listened with close attention to their tale of visiting the cabin and encountering the wild man, and looked completely astonished on learning that the man was Nat's uncle.

"I am sorry for you, Poole," said he, kindly. "But such things will happen and you must make the best of it. It is not your fault."

Then Dave and Roger told of the finding of the old magazine with the drawing and writing, and Doctor Clay shook his head sorrowfully.

"Too bad! Too bad!" he murmured.

"But this clears Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs," cried Dave. "And it clears Roger and myself."

"Yes! yes! so it does, Porter!"

"Don't you believe it, Doctor Clay!" cried Nat, leaping to his feet. "It does nothing of the sort! That paper is no kind of evidence at all!" And thus speaking, the money-lender's son glared defiantly at Dave and Roger.



CHAPTER XXII

AFTER THE RUNAWAYS

"Why, Nat, what do you mean?" demanded Dave.

"I mean just what I say!" declared the money-lender's son. "This is a frame-up, nothing more! I understand it all now, although I didn't at first."

"What do you mean by 'a frame-up,' Poole?" demanded Doctor Clay.

"I mean that they took this magazine and the drawing to the cabin, that is what I mean, Doctor Clay. They found out somehow that my—er—that the wild man was there, and they got up this scheme to make it look as if he had blown up the hotel,—and they did it just to clear their cronies and themselves."

"Nat, you know that is not true!" exclaimed Roger. "I found the magazine with the drawing on a shelf in the cabin."

"Yes, that is what you said, but I don't believe it, Roger Morr. I think you put the magazine there yourself—you or Dave Porter."

"We did nothing of the kind," cried our hero.

"I think you did—and I think Jason Sparr will think so, too, when he hears the story. It's a frame-up, just to clear yourselves and your cronies," added Nat, with a sneer.

"Nat, you ought to be——" began Roger, in high anger, when Dave stopped him. Our hero looked at Doctor Clay.

"What Roger says is the absolute truth, Doctor Clay," said our hero. "He found that magazine on a shelf in the cabin where the wild man was staying, and that drawing and the wording were on it, just as you see. More than that, we can prove that the wild man was around the old shanty where the dynamite was kept, and that he was seen in Oakdale several times."

Dave was interrupted here by Nat, and a wordy war lasting several minutes followed. Finally Doctor Clay said he would take the magazine and keep it, and that he would notify the authorities in what locality the wild man might be found, provided he had not gone away further than expected.

"I am inclined to believe the story told by Morr and Porter," said he somewhat sternly to Nat Poole. "But this matter cannot be cleared up until we find your uncle. When captured, the unfortunate man will most likely speak of the blowing up in some way or another, if he is guilty."

"I don't think so," answered Nat; but his manner showed that he was much disturbed. Then Dave and Roger were dismissed, and the master of the school took Nat with him to Oakdale, to see what could be done towards rounding up Wilbur Poole in the near future.

"Well, Dave, what is the next move?" asked the senator's son, as the two were alone in the lavatory, washing up after the long bicycle ride.

"I wish I could find Phil and the others and get them to come back here," responded our hero. "It is a great mistake for them to stay away."

"I believe you—it looks just as if they were guilty. I wonder that they don't come back on their own account, now they have had a chance to think it over."

"I think they saw that article in the newspaper, Roger, and it scared them worse than ever. Maybe they imagine the officers of the law are waiting to gobble them up."

"If we only had some trace of them!"

"I've got an idea I am going to follow up."

"What sort of an idea?"

"I was thinking of that baggage that left here. Maybe it was shipped to some point."

"You'll have a job tracing it up."

"I can try it, anyway," answered our hero.

A day slipped by and nothing more was said about the affair by Doctor Clay or Nat Poole. Then Nat left the school, telling some friends he was going home for a week's rest.

"Most likely he is after his uncle," was Roger's comment, and Dave agreed with him.

As soon as he could get the time Dave went to Oakdale to see if he could find any trace of the baggage belonging to Phil and the others who had run away. He made many inquiries but without success, and was on the point of returning to the school when he happened to think of an old man named Dowling, who did some trucking and who knew Buster Beggs very well.

"We'll go around to Dowling's place," said he to his chum.

They found the old man in a little shanty behind his house which he called his office. It had an old easy-chair and a desk, and on the wall was a telephone.

"How do you do, boys," he said, politely. "What can I do for you? Want some baggage shipped?"

"No, I came for some information, Mr. Dowling," said Dave. "Have you shipped any baggage for Buster Beggs lately?"

At the mention of the fat student's name the old expressman started.

"What do you want to know that for?" he demanded.

"I've a very good reason, Mr. Dowling. I want to do Beggs a favor."

"Reckon you want to find him, eh?"

"Yes."

"So do some other folks;" and the old man chuckled.

"Well, we are his friends, and we want to find him for his own good."

"Who be you, if I may ask?"

"I am Dave Porter, and this is Roger Morr. Buster Beggs is our friend, and so are Phil Lawrence and Ben Basswood. They ran away and it was foolish for them to do it. Now we want to find them and get them to come back here."

"It was foolish for 'em to run away—I said thet all along," murmured the old expressman.

"Then you know where they are?" put in Roger quickly.

"No, I don't."

"But you took their baggage away, didn't you?" questioned Dave, for he could see that the old man was holding something back.

"I allow as how I moved some things for 'em, yes," was the cautious reply.

"When they ran away?" pursued Dave.

The old expressman nodded.

"Who got those bags from Oak Hall?" asked Roger.

"Thet's a secret," and now the old man really chuckled, as if he thought it was a good joke.

"You did!" declared Dave, bound to get at the truth.

"No, I didn't. Buster did—carried 'em down on his back, one at a time, in the middle o' the night, an' nobuddy knew it! Say, they could walk off with yer hull school if they wanted to!" And the old expressman chuckled again.

"You were waiting for him?" continued Dave.

"Might be as I was."

"And you took the baggage to the depot?"

"Maybe I did."

"And had them checked on railroad tickets?"

"No, Buster went one way, and the bags went tudder—leas'wise so I was given to understand. Maybe he done it to put me off the track," continued Isaac Dowling.

"But where did the bags go to?" demanded Dave. "Come, out with it, Mr. Dowling. I give you my word that I am acting for Buster's good. I wouldn't get him into trouble for the world. He is my chum, and so are those other boys my friends."

"Well, you look honest, boy, so I'll tell ye. The baggage was sent by express to a place called Camptown Falls, in Maine."

"Camptown Falls!" cried Roger. Then he looked at Dave, who nodded, to show that he understood.

"Did Buster say he was going elsewhere?" queried Dave.

"He didn't say so, exactly. But he mentioned Boston, an' I thought he was goin' there."

"He left on the train?"

"No, he didn't! He went off in the darkness, an' that's the last I see o' him," concluded Isaac Dowling, as a hail came for him to come into the house.

"Camptown Falls," said Dave, when he and Roger were alone. "Can they have gone to that out-of-the-way spot?"

"It would be the place Buster would pick out, Dave. He has often spoken of going camping up there."

"He must have mentioned Boston just to throw old Dowling off the track."

"More than likely. And to think he took those bags away while we slept!"

"I wonder where Phil and Ben were at the time?"

"I don't know. Maybe they were at that camp."

Much excited over what they had learned, Dave and the senator's son returned to Oak Hall. They had expected to interview Doctor Clay and were chagrined to learn that he had gone to New York on important business and would not return for two days. Mr. Dale had been left in charge of the school.

"Roger, do you know what I think of doing?" said our hero. "I've a good notion to get permission to leave the Hall and go after Phil and the others. I think I can get them to come back."

"Want me to go along?"

"That will hardly be necessary. Besides, I'd like somebody to stay here and watch Nat Poole, if he comes back. Do you know, I've a notion that Nat knows more about this affair than he would like to tell."

"He certainly acts that way."

"I am going to see Mr. Dale."

Our hero had a long talk with the head assistant, and the upshot of this was that he got permission to go to Maine, to look for the runaways. He was to be gone no longer than was absolutely necessary.

It did not take our hero long to prepare for the trip. He packed a few things in a suit-case and then he was ready. He consulted a map and some timetables, and found he could leave Oakdale on the first train in the morning, and by making two changes, reach Camptown Falls about two o'clock in the afternoon. Nobody but Roger and Mr. Dale knew that he was going away.

"Got money enough, have you, Dave?" questioned the senator's son.

"Yes, Roger."

"It's a wild kind of a spot, so Buster told me."

"I am not afraid of that—if only I can locate the boys," answered our hero.

"How are you going to look for them?"

"I don't know yet—I'll find out after I get there."

It must be confessed that Dave slept but little that night. His mind was filled with what was before him. He felt that he had quite a mission to perform, first in locating the runaways and then in persuading them to return to Oak Hall to face the music.

He had an early breakfast, Roger eating with him, and then the buggy, driven by Horsehair, was brought around and he got in, and a minute later he was off, the senator's son waving him an adieu from the porch of the school.

Dave found the first train he rode on but half filled with passengers, and he had a double seat to himself. He changed at the Junction, and about noon reached Lumberport, where he was to take the train on the little side-line for Camptown Falls. At Lumberport he got dinner, at a hotel frequented by lumbermen. He sat at a long table with half a dozen men and listened to their talk with interest when he heard Camptown Falls mentioned.

"Yes, they tell me there is great danger of the dam giving way just above Camptown Falls," one of the men said. "Doxey reported it hasn't been safe for a week."

"Say, if that dam gave way it would do a lot of damage below the Falls," said another.

"It certainly would," replied a tall lumberman. "It would wipe out some of those camps on Moosetail Island. I rather guess the water would cover the whole island."

"Somebody ought to warn the campers," said another.

"Oh, I guess they know it already," was the answer.

Dave arose from the table feeling very uneasy. He remembered the name, Moosetail Island, now. Buster had once mentioned it, stating he had camped there and would like to go again. Were the runaways there now, and in danger of the dam, should it break?



CHAPTER XXIII

AT THE CAMP

At last the train came that was to take our hero to the railroad station of Camptown Falls. It was merely a flag station, but the conductor said he would stop there for any passenger who might wish to get off. The railroad was a single-track affair, running through the woods and across the country stretches, and the train consisted of one passenger car and several freights.

Dave looked at the passengers and counted them. There were just an even dozen, and of these, ten were men, farmers and those in the lumber business. One, a bright young fellow, sat near our hero, and Dave resolved to ask him if he knew anything about Camptown Falls and the summer camps in that vicinity.

"Yes, I know all about the Falls," said the young lumberman. "I work not over three miles from there—at Cropley's—the station this side of Camptown. There ain't any town, not since the Jewell Lumber Company busted up. Some folks camp out there, down along the river and on Moosetail Island, but there aren't near as many as there used to be."

"Somebody said the dam above Camptown Falls was dangerous?" said Dave.

"I think it is myself, and I can't understand how they allow folks to camp along the river and on that island. If that dam ever broke it would be good-by to anybody on the island, I'm thinking."

"Have you been up to the island lately?"

"I was there about a week ago."

"Who were there then, do you know?"

"A couple of men from Portland and half a dozen young fellers from Springfield. There was another camp, with some women in it, but I didn't get around to that, I only heard of it. There are half a dozen camps along the right bank of the river, but they are on high ground, and if the dam broke it isn't likely the water would reach 'em," continued the young lumberman.

The train rolled along at a rate of twenty miles an hour, making stops at stations and crossroads. Here and there a person got on or off, and by the time Camptown Falls was reached Dave had the passenger car almost to himself.

The train halted for but a minute and our hero alighted, suit-case in hand. Much to his surprise, not a soul was about the little depot, which looked old and dilapidated. There was a stretch of fields beyond the track, and farther on he made out the glistening waters of the river, and in the center the woodland stretch known as Moosetail Island.

"Well, this surely is Lonesome Land!" Dave murmured to himself, as the train rumbled out of sight and he was left utterly alone. "And not another train until eight o'clock to-morrow morning! I'll have a fine time of it to-night if I don't meet those fellows, or run across some camp where they will take me in."

Dave looked at the sky and this did not tend to increase his good spirits. When he had left Oakdale it had been warm and clear; now dark clouds were forming overhead and it looked as if it might rain before long.

"Well, I've got my raincoat and a waterproof cap, and that is one comfort," he told himself. "But I had better hurry up and see if I can't find Phil and the others before it gets too dark. I wish there was somebody here who could tell me where to go."

He looked around for a sign of some habitation. Far across the river he saw a column of smoke, coming up from among the trees, but that was all. The only building in sight was the deserted depot.

There was something of a path leading from the depot to the river, and Dave followed this. But soon the path seemed to divide, and the various branches became more indistinct at every step, especially as it was rapidly growing darker and darker.

"I'll strike a straight course for Moosetail Island," Dave said to himself. "I'll surely find some people camping out there, and they may be able to tell me about the boys, if they are here."

As he approached the river, going down a small hill, the way became stony, and he had to walk with care, for fear of going into some hole, or twisting an ankle. It was hard work, especially with the suit-case, and he half wished he had hidden the baggage somewhere near the depot.

"I was a big chump that I didn't bring some lunch along," he reasoned. And then he had to smile at himself, as he remembered how he had imagined that he might put up at some hotel in Camptown Falls! He had not dreamed that the place would prove such a lonely one. It was certainly an ideal spot for runaways who wished to remain undiscovered.

Presently Dave found himself at the bank of the river, a wide but shallow stream, filled with sandbars, rocks, and piles of driftwood. Not a great distance off was the end of Moosetail Island.

It was now so dark that our hero could see but little. As he stood at the edge of the river, he heard a patter on the leaves of the trees and knew it had begun to rain.

"Wonder how they get to the island?" he mused. "They must either use canoes, or else wade across, or ford along the stones."

He moved along the river-bank, and soon came to a point where the stones in the river seemed to stretch in a line from the bank to the island.

"I guess I'll try it here," he told himself. "But I think I had better leave the suit-case behind."

He placed the case in a tree, sheltering it as much as possible from the rain, which was now coming down at a lively rate. Then, donning his raincoat and waterproof cap, he set out over the rocks in the river, leaping from one to the next and heading for the island.

It was no easy journey, and when but half-way to Moosetail Island Dave slipped and went into the stream up to his knees. He floundered around for a moment, splashing the water into his face and over his coat and cap.

"Phew! this is lots of fun!" was his grim comment, as he at length found himself on a flat rock, catching his breath. "Well, I am half-way over, anyway."

The remainder of the distance proved easier traveling, and ten minutes later our hero stood on the island. It was now raining steadily, and the darkness of the storm had settled everywhere.

"I guess the best thing I can do is to move right around the shore of this island," he reasoned. "By doing that I am bound to strike one of the camps, sooner or later."

He moved along as rapidly as the rocky shore of Moosetail Island permitted. He had to proceed with care, for there were many dangerous pitfalls.

At length his heart was gladdened by the sight of a rude log cabin, set in the trees a little back from the water. He hurried to it and found the door and window closed. Evidently the spot was deserted.

"Nobody here," he murmured, and his heart sank for the moment, for he could see that the camp had not been used for a long time. Then he went on, the rain in the meanwhile coming down harder than ever. The downfall made him think of the dam that was said to be weak. What if the present storm should make that structure give way?

"I wish we were all out of this," he murmured. "I wonder if it would do any good to call?"

He set up a yell and listened, and then he yelled again. From a long distance came an answering cry.

"Hurrah, that's somebody, anyway!" he exclaimed. "I hope it was one of the boys!"

He stumbled in the direction of the cry. Then he yelled once more, and again came the answering call. But now Dave was sure it was a man's voice, and he was somewhat disappointed.

"Where are you?" he called out, a moment later. "Where are you?"

"This way! Come this way!" was the reply, and soon Dave passed through a patch of timber and around some rocks and reached a spot where there was a tiny cove, with a stretch of fine sand. Facing the cove was a neat log cabin with a small lean-to, the latter containing a tiny stove.

A tall, good-natured man stood in the lean-to, peering out into the rain. He watched Dave's approach with interest. He looked to be what he was, a camp-cook and general worker.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, as Dave hurried in out of the rain and shook the water from his cap. "I thought you were one of our crowd."

"What camp is this?" questioned our hero, eagerly.

"Well, it ain't no camp in particular," answered the man, with a grin. "It's jest a camp."

"But who is stopping here?"

"Three young fellers and myself."

"Are their names Beggs, Lawrence, and Basswood?"

"You've struck it. Maybe you are a friend to 'em?" went on the man, inquiringly.

"I am, and I have come a long distance to find them," returned Dave, and his tone of voice showed his relief. "Where are they?"

"They left the camp right after dinner an' they ain't back yet. When you called I thought it was one of 'em, although they didn't expect to be back much before supper-time. But now it's rainin' I guess they'll come back sooner."

"How long have they been here?"

"Most a week now, I guess. I didn't come till day before yesterday. I didn't have nothin' to do an' they give me a job, cookin' an' like that," returned the man.

He invited Dave to make himself at home, and our hero was glad enough to go inside and take off the wet raincoat and also his shoes and socks. The baggage belonging to Phil and the others was in the cabin, and he helped himself to dry garments and a dry pair of slippers.

"We are all school chums," he told the man. "My name is Dave Porter."

"Oh, I heard 'em talkin' about you!" cried the camp-worker, and then said his own name was Jerry Blutt, and that he was from Tegley, just across the Canadian border.

"We are not far from the border here, are we?" asked our hero.

"About six miles, thet's all," answered Jerry Blutt, and this reply gave Dave another idea. More than likely Buster and the others had chosen this spot so that, if pursued by the officers of the law, they could flee into Canada.

Jerry Blutt said the three lads had spent their time in various ways, occasionally going fishing and swimming. They had also written some letters and gone to the railroad station to mail them in the box placed there for that purpose.

"Have they been having a good time?" asked Dave, curiously.

"I can't say as to that, Mr. Porter. They did seem mighty worried over something," answered the camp worker, and from this our hero felt certain that the man had not been let into the secret of why the runaways were there at all.

Half an hour went by and it continued to rain as hard as ever, while the sky remained dark and the wind blew with more or less violence. Time and again Dave went to the cabin door, to peer out into the storm, but each time he turned back disappointed. His chums were not yet in sight.

"They'll be surprised to see me," he thought. "I wonder if they will listen to reason and go back with me? Supposing they refuse to return? I'd hate to go back alone."

Then he questioned Jerry Blutt about the dam above the Falls. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"It ain't safe, so they tell me," he said. "But it's been that way a long time, so maybe it won't break away yet awhile. But I'd hate to be on the river when she does go."

"Are there any other camps on this island?" went on our hero.

"Not now. There was some other folks, two or three parties, I was told, but they all moved out yesterday an' the day before. Maybe they got afraid o' the dam," concluded the camp-worker.



CHAPTER XXIV

OUT IN THE STORM

"This is getting to be something fierce!"

It was Dave who uttered the words, about five o'clock in the afternoon. He was looking out of the door of the cabin, and beside him stood Jerry Blutt.

The storm had kept up without intermission, the rain coming down in a perfect torrent, and the wind blowing in fitful gusts from the east. It was raw and depressing, and our hero could not help but shiver as he looked out on the turbulent waters of the river.

"It's a pity them fellers ain't got back," said the camp-worker, with a slow shake of his head. "It ain't nice to be out in sech a downpour as this, an' with sech a wind! Might a tree blow down on 'em!" And he shook his head again.

Dave was even more distressed than the man. He could not get that dam out of his mind. Such a heavy fall of rain would certainly cause a great flow of water, and if the structure was weak, most anything bad was liable to happen.

"As soon as the boys get back I'll urge them to leave here," he told himself. "If that dam breaks we want to be on high ground, where the flood can't reach us."

"'Pears to me like the river was gittin' putty high," remarked Jerry Blutt, a little later, as he watched the water in the cove closely.

"Well, it would rise some with all this rain coming down," returned Dave.

"So it might,—but I don't know. I wish this camp was on the shore, instid o' this island."

"So do I," answered Dave, bluntly.

A fire had been started in the stove and a lantern lit, and Jerry Blutt rather reluctantly began preparations for the evening meal. But he kept peering out of the doorway of the cabin, and from the lean-to, and his eyes always rested on the river, with its rain-swept, swollen surface.

"I don't like it at all!" he said, finally. "I wish we had moved over to the shore."

"Don't you think it is safe to stay here?"

"It ain't as safe as it might be. If I was alone——" The man stopped short.

"What would you do?"

"I hate to say it, but I think I'd go over to the shore, till the storm was over and I knew jest how thet dam was a-goin' to act."

"Well, I don't blame you," answered Dave. "And if you want to go, go ahead."

"Want me to go alone?"

"If you wish to go, yes."

"But it ain't no safer fer you than it is fer me."

"That's so, too. But I want to see those other fellows—in fact, I must see them. If I went to the shore I might miss them."

"You could come back later on."

"But I want to warn them of the danger from the dam."

"You could write a letter and stick it up where they couldn't help but see it. Then—— What's that?"

The camp-worker stopped short, as a distant cry reached their ears, sounding out above the wind. An instant later the cry was repeated.

"That is Ben Basswood's voice!" cried Dave. "They must be coming back!"

Soon another voice sounded out, and our hero recognized Buster Beggs's tones. He ran to the cabin door. All was dark outside, and the rain was being driven in sheets by the wind.

"Hello! hello!" he yelled, and catching up the lantern, he swung it out in one direction and another. Then he saw two forms approaching on the run, each dripping with water.

"Ben! And Buster!"

"Why, if it isn't Dave!"

"Where in the world did you come from?"

"Where is Phil?" demanded our hero.

"He is somewhere behind us," answered Buster. "Oh, what a time we've had!" and entering the cabin, the fat youth sank down on a bench all but exhausted.

"We've had to tramp for over two miles in this rain," explained Ben. "And of course we had to ford to the island. Say, the current is something fierce now! And the water is getting higher every minute!" he added.

"Did you say Phil was behind you?" demanded Dave. He still held the lantern on high.

"I thought he was—sure, he must be," answered Ben. "Give him a hail, will you? I'm too tired," and he sank on the bench beside Buster.

"Phil! Phil!" yelled our hero, at the top of his lungs. "This way! This way!" and he swung the lantern to the right and left.

"Did you say the river is rising?" demanded Jerry Blutt. "How high is it? Over the White Bar yet?"

"Yes, the Bar is a foot under water," answered Ben. "Oh, this is a great storm!"

"A foot under water!" murmured the camp-worker. "Say, we better git out! First thing you know this hull island will be under! An' if thet dam breaks——"

"Oh, the dam!" gasped Buster. "I forgot about that! They say it isn't safe at all! That is why all the other campers got out! Yes, we must leave the island and go to the shore." He turned to Dave. "Did you come alone?"

"Yes, Buster. I'll tell you all about it later. But now we must find Phil."

"I thought he was right behind me," came from Ben. He looked greatly distressed. "I wonder if anything happened to him? Maybe he slipped off the rocks into the river!"

"We must look for him!" cried Dave, and reached for his coat and cap. "Show me the way you came, Ben."

Ben was nothing loath, and side by side the two chums ran outside into the storm, and in the direction of the upper end of the island. They had gone but a short distance when they reached a low spot and here suddenly found themselves in water several inches deep.

"Hello, you are taking me into the river!" cried Dave.

"This isn't the river!" answered Ben, with a gasp. "Gosh! how the water is rising! This was dry when I came over it before!"

"Dry!" ejaculated our hero. "Ben, are you sure?"

"Positive! Say, the water is rising to beat the band! I guess we had better get out! If we don't we'll have to swim for it!"

"Phil! Phil! Where are you?"

Standing in water up to his ankles, our hero called again and again, and Ben joined in the cry. The lantern was flashed in all directions. But nothing was seen or heard of the missing student.

"I am sure he started to follow us across the river," said Ben. "Buster was in front, I came next, and Phil was in the rear. I asked him twice if he was all right and he said he was. Then it blew so hard, and the rain got so heavy, none of us said any more. Oh, Dave, what shall we do?"

"I don't know Ben—wish I did."

"Do you think he slipped off the rocks and was—was—drowned?"

"I hope not."

"If he was, wouldn't it be terrible?"

"Yes."

A cry came from behind them, and Buster appeared, followed by Jerry Blutt.

"Where is Phil?" demanded the stout youth.

"We don't know."

"The water is terribly high, and Jerry thinks we had better move to the shore. He says we might be drowned if that dam should break."

"Don't you think we ought to find Phil first?"

"Sure—if we can. Maybe he went back, when he found out how the water was rising," went on the stout youth, hopefully.

"I don't think he'd desert us," answered Ben. "That isn't Phil's style."

"You're right, Ben," said Dave.

All splashed around in the water for several minutes, but without making any discovery of importance. The river was now rising more rapidly than ever, and the camp-worker showed increased nervousness.

"Ain't no two ways about it—the dam's bust!" he cried, at last. "I'm goin' to git out, an' I advise all o' you to do the same. If you want me to carry anything to shore I'll do it."

"We can't carry any trunks in such a hurry," said Buster.

"Let us carry our suit-cases and bundles," said Ben.

With heavy hearts, Dave and the others returned to the cabin. The water in the cove had now risen so high that it swept the edge of the lean-to.

"Can we get to shore?" asked Buster. "We haven't any boat," he added, turning to Dave.

"We can if you'll hurry," replied Jerry Blutt. "Every minit lost makes it jest so much more dangerous."

In great haste Ben and Buster and the camp-worker gathered together such belongings as they could conveniently carry. The other things were placed in a trunk and hoisted by ropes into a big tree. Then a lantern was tied on a post in front of the cabin and to it was fastened a brief note, for Phil's benefit, stating they had gone to the shore.

"Oh, I hope he is safe!" murmured Dave, anxiously.

"So do I," added his chums.

Jerry Blutt led the way along the shore of the island and then out into the stream. They had the second camp lantern with them, one belonging to Jerry. He led the way from rock to rock, and they followed in single file, Dave bringing up the rear. Ever and anon our hero looked back for some sign of Phil, but without avail.

Once out in the river, all were certain that the dam above Camptown Falls had burst. The water ran with great rapidity and was filled with dirt and debris of various kinds. On the rocks that were low they had all they could do to keep their footing.

The most dangerous part of the river had yet to be passed—a section close to the shore, where the water was deep and the rocks for fording few.

"Mind your footin' here!" sang out the camp-worker. "An' if you slip, look out thet you don't hurt yourselves!"

He was splashing along in water up to his knees, sometimes on the rocks and then again on a sandbar running in that direction. Then he had to make a turn, to avoid a deep portion of the stream, where the current was rapid.

Ben was behind the man and Buster was just ahead of Dave. As all struggled along, there came an extra heavy blast of wind, followed by a perfect deluge of rain.

"Oh!" screamed Buster, an instant later, and peering through the rain, Dave saw him suddenly throw up his arms and slip from a rock. There was a splash, and poor Buster disappeared from view.

"Buster is in the river!" yelled our hero, and then he leaped for the rock from which the stout youth had fallen. He looked down and saw an arm and a head come up.

"Help! hel——" came from the unfortunate one, and then the swift current caught him and turned him over, out of sight.

"Help!" yelled Dave, to attract the attention of those ahead. And then, as he saw Ben turn back, he slipped down on the rock and into the swirling river and struck out after Buster.



CHAPTER XXV

PERILS OF THE FLOOD

"Dave! Dave!" yelled Ben, as he saw our hero disappear into the swiftly-flowing river. "Look out, or you'll both be drowned!"

"What's the trouble?" yelled Jerry Blutt, as he turned back for the first time since leaving the island.

"Buster slipped in, and Dave went after him," answered Ben. "Oh, what shall we do?" he went on, despairingly.

"Here—we'll throw out the rope!" answered the camp-worker, and took from his shoulder a rope he carried.

In the meantime Dave had come up and was striking out with might and main for his chum. Our hero realized that Buster must be hurt, otherwise he would swim to save himself.

"Must have struck on his head, when he went over," he thought, and he was right, poor Buster had done just that and now lay half-unconscious as the current swept him further and further from his friends.

It was too dark to see much, and Dave had all he could do to keep in sight of the unfortunate one. But presently the stout youth's body struck against a rock and was held there, and our hero came up and seized the lad by the arm.

"Buster! Buster!" he called out. "What's wrong? Can't you swim?"

"Hel—help me!" gasped the fat youth. "I—I got a knock on the head. I'm so—so dizzy I do—don't know what I—I'm do—doing!"

The current now tore Buster away from the rock, and he and Dave floated along on the bosom of the river for a distance of fifty yards. It was impossible to do much swimming in that madly-rushing element and Dave wisely steered for shore. He continued to support his friend, who seemed unable to do anything for himself.

At length, when our hero was all but exhausted, his feet struck a sandbar. At once he stood up, finding himself in water that reached to his waist. He caught up Buster and placed the weakened lad over his shoulder. In a dim, uncertain way he saw the shore loom up in front of him, and struck out in that direction.

It was a short but hard struggle. Twice Dave went down, once losing his hold on his chum. But he got up each time and went after Buster in a hurry. Then he made a final dash, came in contact with some bushes, and hauled himself and his burden to temporary safety.

All was dark around the two boys, and the rain came down as pitilessly as ever. But for this they did not, just then, care. They had been close to death, and now they were safe, and that counted for everything.

Poor Buster had received a severe bump on the forehead and had a swelling there of considerable size. But the stunning effect was passing, and he was able to sit up and peer around him.

"Oh, what a crack I got, when I fell over!" he murmured, and then he added, gratefully: "It was a fine thing for you to jump in after me, Dave!"

"Well, I couldn't stand there and see you drown, Buster," answered our hero. "I had to do something."

"Where are the others?"

"Up the stream—unless they went overboard, too."

"Then I suppose we ought to walk that way."

"We will—after we get our breath and you feel strong enough."

"Maybe you can call to them?"

"I'll try."

Dave yelled at the top of his voice, not once but several times. Presently an answering hail arose from a distance, and then Ben came running up, followed by Jerry.

"Dave! Buster! Are you safe?"

"Yes," answered both.

"Oh, I am so glad! We were afraid you were both drowned! How did it happen?"

The two told their story, and then the others told how they had thrown out the rope and had seen Dave disappear in the darkness after Buster.

"I would have jumped in, too, but I didn't see how I could do any good," went on Ben. "Jerry said we had better come ashore and look for you down here. So we did that. My! but it's a fearful flood, isn't it!"

"Yes. I wish we knew where Phil was," and Dave heaved a deep sigh. Had their chum lost his life in that rapidly-rising river?

"Ain't no ust to stay here—gitting wetter an' wetter," said the camp-worker, after a pause. "Besides, if that flood gits wuss it is bound to come up here. We better git further back—up the hill."

"Is there any shelter around here? I mean on high ground?" asked Dave.

"Yes, I know of a cabin up on the hill," answered Buster. "I don't know if I can find it in the rain and darkness, but I can try."

He walked along, through the trees, until he reached a footpath running up from the shore. They followed the path for about a hundred yards, and then came in sight of a long, low, rambling cabin, the home in years gone by of some lumbermen. It was in a dilapidated state, with doors and windows gone, but it would provide a roof over their heads, and that was something.

Entering, the lantern was hung on a nail, and they looked around them. There was a fireplace, with some dry sticks handy, and soon they had a fire started, which added much to the comfort of the surroundings. They hung up the majority of their wet garments and sat close to the blaze, drying themselves.

"If I only knew where to look for Phil, I'd go after him," said Dave. "But to look for him in the darkness is like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack."

"We'll have to go out first thing in the morning," returned Ben.

"Yes, as soon as we can see," added Buster.

The boys who had run away were anxious to learn what Dave had to say about affairs at Oakdale, and in a low voice, while the camp-worker was preparing hot coffee and something to eat, he related what had happened since their departure.

"You made a big mistake to run away," he said, earnestly. "Just because you did that, many folks feel sure you must be guilty. You ought to go right back and face the music."

"I guess you are right, Dave," answered Ben, shamefacedly. "But when Phil said 'run,' I didn't stop to think, but just got out."

"And that is what I did, too," added the stout youth. "But I don't blame Phil any more than I blame myself," he added, hastily.

"Nor do I," said Ben. "We made a big mistake. We should have stood our ground, like you and Roger did."

"Well, you come back with me, and we'll face this to a finish," went on our hero. "But, of course, we've got to find Phil first."

Only the camp-worker slept well that night. The boys were restless, and several times one or another got up, to go to the doorway and listen, thinking he had heard a call from Phil. But the calls were only imaginary, and morning dawned without a sign of the missing one.

It was still raining, but not so hard as before, and by eight o'clock the clouds broke away and the sun commenced to shine. All had an early breakfast, from the stores brought along, and then the party hurried down to the river.

That the dam above Camptown Falls had broken was plainly evident on all sides. During the night the river had risen seven or eight feet, bearing on its bosom many trees and bushes, with here and there the remains of camps that had been located on low ground. Moosetail Island had been swept from end to end, only the higher spots escaping the flood. The waters were now going down, the rush from the broken dam having spent itself.

The boys gave scant heed to the destruction effected by the rain and the broken dam. All their thoughts were centered on Phil. What had become of their chum? Was he dead or alive?

"I wonder if it wouldn't be best to get over to the island and look around?" suggested Dave. "Most likely he went there—thinking you would be at the cabin."

"But how are we to get to the island?" asked Buster. He had no desire to fall into the turbulent stream again.

"Oh, the water is going down rapidly, Buster. I think we can make it by noon."

All walked up and down the river bank, looking in vain for some trace of the shipowner's son. Once they met some people from another camp and asked about Phil. But these folks shook their heads.

"Didn't see a soul," said one of the men.

Jerry Blutt had been looking the situation over carefully, and he said he thought they could get to the island by going up the river a distance.

"Then the current will help us along, and we won't have to fight so hard," said the camp-worker. He did not like the idea of crossing the water, but did not wish to desert the boys.

On the trip they carried the rope, with Jerry at the head and Dave at the rear. All took tight hold, so that if one slipped the others might pull him up.

"Now, take it easy," cautioned the camp man. "This water is runnin' putty swift, even yet."

He had mapped out a course with his eye, and proceeded slowly and cautiously. Once away from the shore, they felt the full force of the onrushing waters and were all but swept from their feet. It was well that they were a good distance above Moosetail Island, for to reach this spot by going straight out in the stream would have been impossible.

It was a long, hard, and dangerous trip, and all drew a deep breath of relief when they finally set foot on the island. At times they had been in water up to their waists and it had looked as if they must surely be swept away. Once a tree branch, coming swiftly along, had caught Dave and literally carried him off his feet for several yards.

They landed at one end of the island, at a point where the bushes were still two feet under water. The evidences of the flood were on every hand, and the water was muddy and filled with broken-away brushwood and trees.

"I guess we had better strike out for the camp," said Dave. "Phil would go there if he went anywhere."

As they advanced one or another gave a loud call. But no answer came back, and this made them look gravely at each other. Was the perilous trip to the island to prove a vain one?

In a quarter of an hour they came in sight of the camp. The cove had been blotted out, and the water was eddying around the cabin to a depth of several inches. Mud was everywhere, inside the place and out, and this showed that the flood had swept the spot at a height of several feet.

"We might have stayed here," was Buster's comment. "It didn't hurt the big tree."

"But we didn't know how bad it was going to be," answered Ben. "It might have washed away the whole island."

"Let us go up to the high ground and look for Phil," suggested Dave. "Maybe he went to the highest spot he could find."

The others agreed, and leaving the camp-worker at the cabin, the boys, led by Buster, tramped through the wet and mud to a little hill. Again they set up their calls, but, as before, no answer came back.

"I don't believe he came here," said Ben, at last. "If he was here he would surely hear us."

"Unless he was hurt and couldn't answer," returned Dave.

From the top of the little hill they could see both ends of Moosetail Island and also both shores of the river. As they gazed about them, Dave suddenly gave a shout.

"Look! look!" he cried, pointing to the shore which they had left but a short while before. "There is somebody waving a handkerchief at us!"

"It's Phil!" returned Ben.

"Are you sure?" questioned Buster. "I can see it is a man or a boy, but that is all."

"It looks like Phil," said Dave. "Oh, I hope it is!"



CHAPTER XXVI

BACK TO THE SCHOOL

They waved frantically to the person on the shore, and he waved frantically in return, and at last all were convinced that it must really be their missing chum.

"He must think I am Jerry," said Dave. "Won't he be surprised to see me!"

"He will be, unless he was at the cabin last night and read the note," returned Buster.

"The note wasn't touched," said Ben. "I noticed that it was exactly as we left it."

All gave a parting wave and pointed to the shore, and then left the hill. They made their way down to the cabin, and told the camp-worker what they had seen.

"It must be Lawrence," said Jerry Blutt. "Maybe he'll come over here, instead of waiting for us to go to him."

"Gracious, I never thought of that!" cried Buster.

"We'll be like the men in one of Shadow's stories," said Ben. "One was upstairs in a big office building and one downstairs. The man upstairs went down, and the downstairs man went up, and they kept that up until both stopped, tired out, one upstairs and one down." And the others had to smile at the brief yarn.

All journeyed to the lower shore of the island, where they could get a better view of the spot where the person they thought was Phil had been. They saw the party walking up the river bank, looking for a good place to ford. All shouted loudly and waved their hands to keep him where he was, and he nodded his head deeply, to show that he understand.

"It must be Phil," said Dave. "Oh, how thankful I am that he wasn't carried away by the flood!"

The boys were impatient to get back to the shore, and Jerry Blutt did not blame them. To carry any of the stuff over was still out of the question, and they did not attempt it.

"You can come and get it some day, Jerry," said Buster. "You can ship it to us by express, and we'll pay you for your trouble;" and so it was arranged.

It was as hard to gain the shore as it had been to reach the island, and all were well-nigh exhausted when they finally left the water, not to return again. Phil saw them coming, and when he made out Dave he was almost dumfounded.

"Where in the world did you come from?" he demanded, as he caught our hero by the hand.

"From Oakdale, Phil."

"Did you run away, too?" demanded the shipowner's son.

"Hardly," answered Dave, with a grin. "I came to bring you fellows back. But first tell us, how did you get out of the flood last night?"

"Oh, I had a fierce time of it. I tried to get back to the camp, but stumbled over some tree-roots and went down in a hole and hurt my ankle. When I got up I couldn't see the others, and I must have lost my way. Then it began to rain and get dark, and I didn't know which way to turn. I yelled dozens of times, but I didn't hear any answer. I tried to locate the cabin, but I must have been completely turned around, for I came out on the shore. Then the flood came along, and before I knew it I was floating down the river. I hit a tree and clung to that, and we drifted a mile or more before the tree got stuck on a sandbar. I stayed there, in the rain and darkness, until morning and then waded and swam ashore. I was so tired out I had to rest for awhile, and then I came up here, to try to find out something about our crowd. I was thinking of getting over to the island again when I saw you on the top of the hill. Of course, I thought Dave was Jerry."

"We were scared to death, thinking you had been drowned," said Ben.

"Well, I came pretty close to it," was the serious reply. "No more such flood for me!"

All turned towards the cabin where four of the party had spent the night, and there Jerry was called on to prepare the best meal their limited stores afforded. On the river-bank they had picked up some fish cast up by the flood, and these were broiled, making a welcome addition to the meal.

While the meal was being prepared, and after it had been eaten, Dave had a serious talk with Phil and the others, and all realized the folly they had committed in running away from Oak Hall. Phil in particular, was much disturbed and said he had been thinking of coming back.

"But we saw that article in the newspaper, and it scared us," went on the shipowner's son. "Of course, it didn't mention any names, but we knew it was meant for us. I know now, just as well as the others, that it was a mistake to run away."

"Then, you'll go back with me?" questioned Dave, eagerly.

"Yes."

"And you'll go back, too, Ben and Buster?"

"Yes."

"I am mighty glad to hear it—and I feel that this thing will come out all right in the end," returned Dave.

"By the way, there is one thing I haven't told you, Dave," said Buster, a minute later. "The general excitement drove it clean out of my head. We know who it was that spoiled the feast Phil got up for the crowd."

"You do?" asked our hero, with interest.

"Yes. It was Nat Poole. He went to Rockville and sent those telephone messages to Jason Sparr and that musical professor, calling the whole affair off. He did it because he wasn't invited to take part."

"How did you learn this?"

"I heard it the night I went to the Hall to get our baggage. When I was in hiding, waiting for a chance to go to the dormitory, I saw Nat Poole come in, along with that new student, Will Fasey. They had been out somewhere having a good time, and Nat was telling Fasey how he had sent the telephone messages and queered the feast. I would have pitched into him then and there only I didn't dare expose myself," went on the stout youth.

"But he'll get what is coming to him from me, when I get back to the school," put in Phil. "It was a contemptible piece of business, and I want everybody to know it. Besides, he has got to pay for what I lost by the transaction."

"If it wasn't for that, maybe we wouldn't have been suspected of blowing up the hotel," said Ben. "Then you really think the wild man did it, Dave?"

"Yes."

"But what of that letter Jason Sparr got, saying our crowd was guilty?"

"I don't know what to make of that, Ben. I don't think the wild man could write that."

"Would Nat Poole be bad enough to do it?"

"Maybe. But it was an awful thing to do. I didn't think Nat would be as mean as that."

The boys had dried and pressed their clothing as best they could, and put on clean collars, cuffs, and neckties, and therefore looked quite presentable once more.

"As soon as we get to town we can get cleaned up a little better," said Dave. "So we won't look quite like tramps when we return to the Hall."

"I hate to face Doctor Clay," remarked Phil, dubiously.

"So do I," added Ben and Buster.

"Well, it has got to be done," answered Dave. "So make the best of it. The doctor understands the situation, so I don't think he'll be hard on you."

"I hope they have got the wild man, and that they prove he blew up the hotel," said Phil, wistfully. "That is the only thing that will really clear us."

"Oh, they are bound to get the wild man sooner or later," answered Dave, hopefully.

It was decided to take the one afternoon train from Camptown Falls, and at the proper time the boys walked to the little depot, Dave with his suit-case, and the others with some hand baggage. Instructions were left with Jerry Blutt regarding the other baggage, and the man was paid for his services. He said he was glad that nobody had been drowned in the flood, and added that he was going up to the broken-away dam later on to see how matters looked.

It was a rather quiet crowd that got aboard the train when it came along. The conductor wanted to know how they had fared in the flood, and they told him. At Lumberport the boys had to wait an hour for the next train to Oakdale Junction, and they spent the time in getting a good supper, and in having their shoes shined, and in brushing up generally.

"I'll be glad to get back late at night," said Phil to Dave. "I'd hate to have the whole crowd staring at us when we came in."

At the Junction they waited but a few minutes, and the run to Oakdale did not take long. They were the only ones to get off at the depot, and the spot was all but deserted. But they had telegraphed ahead, and Horsehair was on hand, with a carriage, to meet them.

"Glad to see you young gents back, indeed I am," said the school driver.

"Any news, Horsehair?" asked Dave, as they piled into the carriage.

"Not as I know of."

"Have they got that wild man yet?" questioned Phil.

"No, sir. But they seen him—along the river—day before yesterday. He was sleepin' in a barn. But he got away before the farmer and his man could git him."

"Where was that?" questioned Ben.

"Up to the Morrison place."

"The Morrison place," mused Buster. "I know that family. When I get a chance I am going to ask them about this," he added.

When the boys arrived at Oak Hall they found Doctor Clay sitting up to receive them. He smiled at Dave, but was somewhat cold towards the others.

"It is too late to listen to what you have to say to-night," said he. "All of you may report in my office directly after our opening exercises in the morning."

When the boys went upstairs there were a good many exclamations of surprise, and Roger and the others wanted to ask innumerable questions. But a monitor cut all talk short, and Dave and the runaways got to bed as quickly as possible.

All were up early, and Dave, Phil, and the others had to tell their story before going down to breakfast. Roger and those who had been left behind with him listened eagerly to the tale of the flood and the other happenings.

"I guess Dave got there just in time," said the senator's son. "How about it, Buster?"

"He sure did," said the stout lad, and shuddered to think how close he had been to drowning.

It can well be imagined that Phil, Ben, and Buster did not have much appetite for breakfast. Phil looked around for Nat Poole, but the money-lender's son had not yet returned to the school.

"Now, tell me everything," said Doctor Clay, when the boys at length filed into his office. "As they say in court, we want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"And that is what I'm going to give you, Doctor Clay," answered Phil. "I made a big mistake in running away, and I am glad Dave came to bring us back. I haven't done anything wrong, and I am here to face the music, as the saying goes."

"And so am I," came from Ben and Buster.

Then the boys told their story in detail, omitting nothing, and Dave related how he had gone to Camptown Falls, and how the flood had caught him. In the midst of the narrative came a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in," said the doctor, and one of the servants entered.

"A man to see you, sir," said the servant. "He says it is very important—something about that wild man, sir! He's terribly excited, sir!"

"The wild man again!" murmured the master of the school, while the boys looked at him and the servant with interest. "Show the visitor in and I will hear what he has to say."



CHAPTER XXVII

THE TRAIL THROUGH THE WOODS

In a minute the servant ushered in a farmer whom the boys recognized as Henry Morrison, a man who had a farm along the river-front, about a mile from Oak Hall.