"Good-morning, sir," said the farmer, bowing to the doctor and then to the boys. "Excuse me for being in such a hurry, but I thought you would like to know."

"I'll be glad to hear what you have to say, Mr. Morrison," replied the master of the school. "Sit down," and he pointed to a handy chair.

"It's about that wild man, Doctor Clay!" exclaimed the farmer, dropping into the seat and mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. "It's something terribul, the way he carries on. He 'most scared my wife to death!"

"He has been to your place again?"

"Yes, sir, last night. He was in the barn, and he jumped out at my wife and said he was going to blow the fort to pieces! She got so scared she dropped her pailful of milk and ran to the house. I got mad and got my shotgun, but the fellow had skipped out before I could catch sight of him."

"What time was this?"

"Just about six o'clock. But that ain't all. This morning I started for town, intending to tell the constable and the justice about it, when all of a sudden, when I was passing the end of your property, I see the wild man down there, behind a tree."

"Just now?" asked Dave, eagerly.

"Not more'n a quarter of an hour ago. That's why I stepped in here. He's a dangerous man, Doctor Clay, and I think he ought to be rounded up!" went on Henry Morrison, earnestly.

"You are right, he certainly ought to be put under restraint," answered the master of Oak Hall. "I will see to this at once. Will you assist in the hunt, Mr. Morrison?"

"Of course—if I don't have to go alone. I don't think it is safe for anybody to tackle him alone, he's that wild and dangerous."

"Can we take part in the search?" asked Phil, eagerly. "Oh, do let us do it, Doctor Clay!" he pleaded.

"I suppose so, if you will promise to be careful. Mr. Morrison, can you point out the exact spot where you saw the man?"

"Of course I can."

"Then we will at once make up a searching party."

Doctor Clay could act quickly when the occasion demanded, and inside of ten minutes a searching party was made up, composed of Dave and his chums, Mr. Dale, Horsehair, and several men who chanced to be working around the grounds.

"Oh, I hope we catch him and are able to prove that he blew up the hotel dining-room," said Phil to Dave.

"So do I, Phil."

Henry Morrison led the way, and it was not long before the spot was gained where he had seen Wilbur Poole. From that point a path ran from the river back into the woods.

"Maybe he took that path," suggested our hero, and several thought the same.

"I think we had better scatter," suggested Mr. Dale, who had been placed in charge by the doctor. "By doing that we can cover a wide range of territory in a comparatively short space of time. And keep as quiet as possible, for should he hear us he will most likely start and run."

"If he didn't run when he saw Mr. Morrison," murmured Buster. "He may be miles away already."

The crowd separated into pairs, Dave and Phil going together and Roger going with Ben, and Buster with Horsehair. All had armed themselves with sticks, and Mr. Dale carried a pair of handcuffs, and one of the hired men had a rope.

Deeper and deeper into the woods went the party, spread out in a long line. They had examined the river-front and felt fairly certain that the wild man had not left by boat.

"Looks like a wild-goose chase," remarked Phil, with a sigh, after a half an hour had passed.

"Oh, we don't want to give up yet," answered Dave. "Why, it isn't much after ten o'clock. We can stay out till noon, at least."

"I'd stay out all day, if I thought we could catch him," returned the shipowner's son, promptly.

Presently the boys espied a small stone house, standing beside a brook which flowed through the woods into the river. In the house lived an old man who made his living by making baskets and fancy articles of birch bark.

"Let us see if old Herick is around," suggested Dave. "He may be able to tell us something."

They found the old man hard at work on a fancy basket. He looked surprised when thus suddenly confronted by the students.

"Did I see a wild man?" he queried, in reply to their question. "I guess I did,—at least he acted queer enough. He danced up here, made a deep bow, and told me the army would be along in four minutes. Then he made another bow and walked off, as stiff as a drum-major."

"When was this?" demanded Dave.

"About half an hour ago."

"And which way did he go?" put in Phil, eagerly.

"That way," and the old basket-maker pointed up the brook. "Walked right in the water, too. I was going to follow him at first but then I didn't think it was any use."

The boys waited to hear no more, but telling old Herick to watch for the other searchers and tell them about the wild man, they set off up the brook as fast as they could travel.

As the chums progressed they looked to the right and left, wondering if Wilbur Poole had kept to the tiny watercourse or taken to the woods, which were now exceedingly dense.

"I see his footprints!" cried Phil, as they passed a sandy stretch. "Anyway, those marks look fresh."

"I fancy you are right, Phil, and if so, he can't be very far ahead of us."

They went on, following the windings of the stream until it became less than a foot wide. It came to an end at a number of springs among the rocks.

"Fine, cold water," announced Dave. "Here is a chance for a good drink, Phil."

Both were drinking their fill when a loud voice suddenly challenged them.

"Ha! What are you doing at my fountain?"

Both looked up hurriedly and saw the wild man standing on the highest of the rocks. He had his arms folded and was glaring at them sternly.

"Oh!" murmured Phil. "Say, Dave, there he is! What shall we do?"

"Let us try to make friends with him," suggested Dave. "If we don't, he may run away, and he can easily do that in these thick woods."

"If we could only notify the others!"

"You can go back if you wish, while I talk to him."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Oh, I reckon I can take care of myself," answered Dave.

"Do you not know I gave a million dollars for these fountains?" went on the wild man.

"Well, they are worth it," answered Dave, calmly. "It is very good water. Why don't you have it bottled, Mr. Poole?"

"Who calls me Poole? I am the King of Sumatra. My army is following me."

"To blow up another fort, I suppose," said Phil, as he commenced to back away.

"Yes."

"Then I must go, for I don't want to be blown up," and, so speaking, Phil commenced to retreat.

"The fort is not here—it is in Oakdale, close to the other fort," said the wild man, and now he came down from the big rock and stood quite close to Dave. There was a strange look of cunning in his eyes, and Dave had to shiver, although he did his best to keep calm.

"In Oakdale," said Dave, slowly. "Say, you blew up that hotel fort in fine shape, didn't you?"

"Ha! ha! so I did! But I was discovered, worse luck, I was discovered!" continued the wild man, with a sad shake of his head. "The enemy saw me!"

"Somebody saw you?" queried our hero, with interest.

"Yes, worse luck. But it shan't happen again. Next time I shall go masked. I have my mask here." And Wilbur Poole pulled from his pocket a mask made of a bit of blue cloth. "I will show you how I wear it." And he fastened it over his face by means of a couple of strings.

"Fine! fine!" cried Dave, in pretended delight. He wished to humor the man until Phil returned with the others. "It couldn't be better. You ought to patent that kind of a mask."

"I will patent it soon, after the other fort is down."

"You just said somebody saw you when you blew up the other," continued our hero. "Who was it?"

"Ha! that is a state secret. Only the cabinet must know of it—the cabinet and the man who makes shoes."

"I am sorry you won't let me in on your secrets," said Dave. "I want to help you. Won't you hire me as a clerk?"

"How much do you want a week?" demanded the wild man, in a business-like tone.

"How much will you give?"

"To a good clerk forty dollars."

"Then I'll take the job."

"Very good. Your name is Crusoe, isn't it—Robinson Crusoe?"

"You've got it."

"If I give you the job, you must have your hair shaved off," continued the wild man, looking at Dave's hair critically.

"All right, I'll have that done when we reach a barber shop."

"It isn't necessary to wait!" cried Wilbur Poole. "I am a barber."

"You?"

"To be sure—I have a certificate from the Emperor of Siam. See here!"

The wild man put his hand into an inner pocket and suddenly brought forth a pair of long shears.

"I can cut your hair and shave you," he announced. "Just sit down on yonder throne and I'll start to work." And he pointed to a flat rock.

The sight of the sharp-pointed shears was not a pleasant one, and when the wild man invited him to sit down Dave felt very much like running away. The man evidently saw how he felt, and suddenly caught him by the arm.

"Sit down!" he thundered. "I won't hurt you. I am an expert barber."

"Let us talk about the job first," said Dave, trying to keep his wits about him, although he was terribly disturbed. He wondered how long it would be before Phil would return.

"What do you want to know?"

"Will you cut my hair in the latest fashion?"

"I never cut hair in any other way."

"And will you curl the ends? I like curls."

"If you want them, although they make a man look girlish," answered the wild man.

"And will you——" went on Dave, when Wilbur Poole suddenly grabbed him by both arms and forced him backwards on the flat rock.

"I'll go to work at once!" cried the wild man. "Sit still!" And he flourished the shears before our hero's face.

Dave felt a chill run down his backbone. But a moment later he felt a thrill of relief, as from the bushes behind the wild man stepped Phil, Mr. Dale, and several others.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CAPTURE OF THE WILD MAN

"Now then, you may go to work," said our hero, as he saw Mr. Dale come up close behind the wild man. "But sharpen the scissors first, please."

"I will," was Wilbur Poole's answer, and he opened up the shears and commenced to stroke them back and forth on a rock near by.

An instant later the wild man was jerked over backwards and the dangerous shears were snatched from his grasp. He commenced to struggle, but the whole crowd surrounded him, and before he could realize the situation his hands were made fast.

"It is treachery, base treachery!" he groaned. "My army has betrayed me!" And he commenced to weep.

"What a terrible state of mind to be in!" murmured Roger. "He is certainly as crazy as they make 'em!"

"I guess you are right," answered Phil. "But I am glad we have got him."

"He spoke about the blowing up of the hotel," said Dave. "And he said somebody saw him do it."

"Who was it?"

"He didn't mention any names."

"Maybe he was simply wandering in his mind," suggested Ben.

"I don't think so," returned Dave. "I think, if he was questioned long enough, we could get the truth out of him. He doesn't seem to be crazy all the time."

"It's a terrible thing for the Poole family—to have such a crazy man in it," was Buster's opinion; and the other lads agreed with him.

The prisoner was marched along the brook, past the home of old Herick, and then down the river-road. By this time all the searchers had come together, including Henry Morrison and some outsiders.

"I'm mighty glad you've got him," said the farmer. "And I hope he don't get away from you."

"He won't get away," answered Mr. Dale.

"The women of this district have been afraid to go out alone," went on Henry Morrison. "They'll be glad to know he's been captured."

"We'll have to let the Pooles know right away," said Dave.

"I fancy Doctor Clay will send a telegram," answered Mr. Dale. "And in the meanwhile we'll have to take the prisoner to the Oakdale lockup."

It was nearly noon when the crowd reached Oak Hall. The wild man had but little to say. His capture had evidently broken his spirit, and he was inclined to cry. But when Doctor Clay asked him if he would like to have something to eat, he brightened up wonderfully.

"It is a sad case," said the master of the Hall. "But under proper treatment I think he can be cured."

The news quickly circulated throughout the school that the wild man had been caught and that he was Wilbur Poole, an uncle to Nat, and all the boys were anxious to catch a sight of the strange individual. The teachers and servants were likewise curious, and looked at him as he ate his dinner in a corner of the dining-hall, surrounded by those who had captured him and who were watching, to see that he did not get away. He was not allowed to use a knife and fork, but his food was cut up for him and served with a spoon.

The only person at Oak Hall who did not come in to see the wild man was Job Haskers. When asked about this, the dictatorial teacher shrugged his shoulders.

"Some of the boys are wild enough for me," he said. "I want nothing to do with the insane."

"It is a sad case," said the teacher who was addressing Job Haskers.

"There are many just as bad," responded the other, coldly. "It is up to the Poole family to look after that man and see that he doesn't break out again."

It was decided to take the wild man down to Oakdale in the school carryall, to be driven by Horsehair. Mr. Dale was to go along, and so were Phil, Dave, Ben, Buster, and Doctor Clay.

The carryall was brought around to the side entrance of the school, and Wilbur Poole was told that he was about to take a ride through the country. He walked through the hallway willingly enough, but suddenly, on turning a corner, set up a shout.

"You! you! I have found you at last!" he cried, rushing forward. "You are the one who exposed me! Base soldier that you are! You have ruined the whole army!" And in a sudden fit of passion he ran up to Job Haskers and caught him by the throat.

"Le—let g-g-go!" gasped the teacher, and tried to shake the man off. Then the others ran up, and Wilbur Poole was dragged back and handcuffed.

"Do you know that man?" asked Dave, struck by a sudden idea.

"Yes! yes!" groaned the wild man. "He exposed me! The army is lost!"

"How did he expose you?"

"He saw me do it."

"Do what?"

"Blow up the fort-hotel. Oh, what a base villain he was to look on!" groaned the wild man, and suddenly commenced to weep.

"What is—the—er—man talking about?" stammered Job Haskers, and all saw him turn pale.

"He says you saw him blow up Sparr's place," said Dave, pointedly.

"It is false, absurd!" said the teacher. "I—er—I never saw the rascal before."

"He isn't a rascal, Mr. Haskers. He is simply out of his mind," remonstrated Mr. Dale. "He is not accountable for his actions."

"Well, he ought not to say such things," returned the dictatorial teacher.

"You saw me—you know you did!" cried Wilbur Poole. "You spoiled everything! I might have blown up many forts if it hadn't been for you!" And he shook his head dolefully.

"Take him away," said the teacher, and turned his back on the wild man.

"Dave, I think the wild man speaks the truth!" whispered Phil to our hero.

"Possibly, Phil. I think the matter will bear investigation."

"And if old Haskers saw the thing done, why didn't he tell about it. Do you think that letter—"

"It struck me that such might be the truth, Phil. But don't say anything until you are sure."

"He was down on us—ever since we mentioned that affair with the Widow Breen," went on the shipowner's son.

"I'd like to see that letter Jason Sparr got—saying we were guilty," returned our hero. "Maybe Doctor Clay can get hold of it."

All the way to Oakdale the boys spoke of the case in whispers. Phil was quite sure Job Haskers had seen Wilbur Poole blow up the hotel and equally sure that the dictatorial teacher had written the letter to the hotel-keeper stating he, Dave, and their chums were guilty.

"He thought we'd be locked up, or at least that we'd be sent away from the school and he would be rid of us," said Phil. "He is growing afraid of us! Oh, if we can prove that he did it, I'll make it hot for him!"

"If he did such a thing as that, he ought to be discharged from Oak Hall," was Ben's comment.

"I'll get my father to sue him for damages," put in Buster.

"Well, don't be hasty," advised Dave. "There may be some mistake—although I think not."

At Oakdale, Wilbur Poole was turned over to the authorities, who placed him in a comfortable room attached to the lockup. As it was known that he was insane, he could not be counted a criminal, and the majority of the people pitied him and hoped that some day he would be restored to his right mind.

A telegram was sent to the Poole family, and the next day came a reply that some men would come to take Wilbur Poole away to a sanitarium. It was established beyond a doubt that he had used the dynamite to blow up the dining-room of Sparr's hotel, and, consequently, our hero and his chums were cleared of that charge, much to their satisfaction.

"I wonder if Nat will come back?" said Shadow. "I should think he would hate to do it."

"I don't think he will," said Luke.

"What will you do if he does come back, Phil?" asked Gus.

"I don't know, Gus. Of course, I'll let him know what I think of him for spoiling my plans for a spread. But I hate to be hard on him, because of this disgrace about his uncle."

"Yes, that's a terrible thing," was Chip Macklin's comment. "I'd hate to have a crazy man in my family."

"Well, such things can't be helped," put in Polly Vane. "The Poole family will have to make the best of it."

It was several days later when Nat Poole showed himself. Phil and Dave did not see him until later, and both were struck by the change in his appearance. He looked haggard and much older, and his arrogance was completely gone.

"Got back, eh?" said Phil, walking up to him.

"Yes," returned the money-lender's son, and his voice sounded hollow.

"What have they done with your uncle, Nat?" asked Dave, kindly.

"Put him in another sanitarium, where he will have the best of care and doctoring."

"I hope he gets well."

"We all hope that." Nat swallowed a lump in his throat and then looked gloomily at Phil. "Well, you got the best of me," he said, shortly.

"How the best of you?" demanded the shipowner's son.

"I understand you found out about that spread."

"I did."

"Well, I'll pay for the damage done—as soon as I get the money. I haven't any now—Dad's got too much to pay on Uncle Wilbur's account." Nat swallowed another lump in his throat. "I'm sorry I did it now, Phil, honest I am," he went on, brokenly.

"Well, if that's the case, let us drop the matter, Nat," was the instant reply. "I don't believe in hitting a fellow when he is down. You haven't got to pay me anything. The whole thing is past and gone,—and that ends it."

"Thank you." Nat wanted to say something more, but his voice suddenly broke and he turned away to hide his emotion, and then walked away.

"He's hit and hit hard," said Roger, in a low voice.

"And you did well to drop that matter, Phil," added Dave. "Maybe Nat has learned a lesson he won't easily forget."

Dave was right about the lesson Nat Poole had learned. He was deeply humiliated, both by the exposure concerning the feast and by what had been learned concerning his insane uncle, and for a long time was quite another boy.

It may be added here that at a new sanitarium, and under first-class medical treatment, a marked change came over Wilbur Poole, and in less than a year he was completely cured of his weakmindedness. With a nurse as a companion he went into the country to rest both body and mind, and later on came out into the world again as well as anybody. Strange to say, he remembered nothing of calling himself the King of Sumatra, nor of blowing up Jason Sparr's hotel. But others did not forget about the blowing up, and the damage done had to be settled for by Mr. Aaron Poole, who was his brother's guardian and manager of his estate for the time being.



CHAPTER XXIX

A BIT OF EVIDENCE

"Dave, what do you make of this?"

"Well, to tell the truth, Phil, I don't think much of it."

"You don't think it is a clew?"

"Do you?"

"It's rather faint, I must confess."

"Oh, I don't think there is anything to it," declared Ben.

"There is something, but not a great deal," came from Roger. "I don't see how you are going to follow it up."

This talk between the boys occurred after Dave, Phil, Ben, Roger, and Buster had called upon Jason Sparr and the justice and insisted on seeing the letter the hotel man had received which stated that the boys were guilty of blowing up the dining-room of his hostelry.

The hotel man had treated them kindly, for he was in dread that the boys would get their folks to sue him for damages. He had offered to pay back the money taken from Phil for the spread, and the shipowner's son had taken the amount, to which he was justly entitled.

The examination of the letter had revealed next to nothing. It was evidently written in a disguised hand, but some of the letters looked like Job Haskers's handwriting. In the corner of the paper some sort of an advertisement had been torn off, only the letters, "blisher" showing.

"I think those letters are part of the word, 'Publisher,'" Dave had said. "This letter was evidently penned by somebody who used some publisher's blank."

"Maybe Job Haskers had those blanks," Phil had exclaimed. "Remember, he said he published or was going to publish something once upon a time."

The boys talked it over, but could reach no conclusion. Jason Sparr told how the letter had come to him, but this added no new light on the subject.

"Well, it was a nasty trick, no matter who played it," said Dave.

"I sha'n't rest until I find out who did it," retorted Phil.

All were resolved to watch Job Haskers and also Nat Poole. But while doing this they had to turn once more to their studies. Phil, Ben, and Buster had to work harder than ever, and so did Dave, to make up for the time lost during their absence. But Doctor Clay was kind to them, and for once Job Haskers did not say anything, although he showed that he expected them to "toe the mark," as Roger expressed it.

Several weeks slipped by, and during that time Oak Hall played several games of ball. One game of importance was won, and this was celebrated in a befitting manner. Dave attended the games, and so did Phil and Roger, but none of the three allowed the sport to interfere with their studies. All were "in the grind," and resolved to graduate that coming June with the highest possible honors.

During those days Dave received many letters from home. His folks and friends were glad to know that the wild man had been captured and the mystery of the blowing up cleared away. Jessie sent him a very warm letter in particular, congratulating him for bringing back the runaways, and saying she hoped he would have no more trouble during the final term at Oak Hall. She added that she and all the others expected to come to the school at graduation exercises.

"Now it is up to me to make good," said Dave, after reading this letter several times. "Dad expects it, and Jessie, and everybody, and I am not going to disappoint them."

But it was no light task to remain at the top of the senior class, or even near it, for there were bright seniors in plenty, including the studious Polly Vane, who seemed the brightest of all. But Dave plugged away, day after day, resolved to keep at it until the very last. He was writing on his theme and had it about half finished.

"One month more and it will all be over but the shouting," said Roger one day, as he came into the room where Dave was studying.

"All over but the shouting or weeping," returned Phil, who was present. "I am afraid some of the fellows will do more weeping than cheering," he added, grimly.

"Let us hope that everybody passes," said Dave, looking up with a quiet smile.

"Such a thing has never been done," said Ben. "Somebody is bound to drop by the wayside—I hope it isn't yours truly," and he sank his head again into his book.

"I think old Haskers is commencing to tighten the screws again," said Buster. "He let up for a while, after the wild man was caught, but yesterday and to-day—phew! we caught it, didn't we?"

"We sure did!" cried Phil. "I can't understand that man. Why is he a teacher when he just naturally hates boys?"

"That's a conundrum that can't be answered," said the senator's son.

"Well, we won't weep on leaving him," remarked Luke, dryly.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "Once on a time a man in an auto ran into a boy carrying a cat in a basket. He didn't hurt the boy much but he killed the cat. Says he, 'I am sorry, my boy, and I'll pay you for the cat. How much?' 'I—I don't know,' blubbered the boy. 'Will two dollars do?' asked the man. 'Yes,' says the boy, and took the money. 'Were you taking the cat home?' asked the man, when he was ready to drive on. 'No,' said the boy. 'I was going to take him down to the canal and drown him!'" And there was a smile over Shadow's yarn.

It had been a blustery day, and as night came on the wind increased in violence, until it fairly howled around Oak Hall. It tore through the branches of the oaks that gave the place its name, until it looked as if some of the trees might be broken off by the fury of the elements.

"My gracious! I never saw such a wind!" cried Roger, as he came in from a trip to the gymnasium.

"It must be fierce at sea," returned Dave, who was with him. "I am glad I am on shore. The newspapers will tell about wrecks along the coast to-morrow."

Nobody thought of going out that evening, and the boys put in the time studying and reading. The windows rattled, and occasionally a shutter banged, and a good night's rest seemed out of the question.

"My, what a night for a fire!" remarked Phil, while he and his chums were undressing.

"Don't mention such a thing!" returned Ben, with a shiver. "It would burn down everything!"

At last the boys retired. A few dropped off to sleep, but Dave was not one of them. He had studied hard and was restless, and the fury of the elements added to his nervousness.

At last he could stand it no longer to remain in bed, and got up to sit in an easy-chair for awhile.

He was just crossing the dormitory floor when there came an extra heavy blast of wind outside, followed by a crash, as one of the giant oaks standing close to the school building was broken off near the top. Then came another crash, a jingling of glass, and a sudden wild cry for help.

"Hello, something's gone through a window!" Dave muttered. "Maybe it's in the next room!"

He ran to the window and looked out. Just below the window-sill he saw some branches of the broken tree. He looked down and noted that the tree-top had gone into the window of the room below.

"What's the row?" cried Roger, springing up and rubbing his eyes.

"Is the roof caving in?" asked Phil.

"Some tree-branches came down and went through the window right below us," answered Dave. "Listen!"

All did so, and heard the cry for help repeated.

"It's Job Haskers calling!" said the senator's son. "He uses the room below us now."

"Let us see if he is hurt," suggested another of the boys.

Clad in their pajamas, the boys flocked out into the hallway, there to be joined by others. Word was passed around of what had occurred, and all made their way to the door of the instructor's apartment. They heard him yelling for help with all his might.

The door was locked, and Dave and some others put their shoulders to the barrier and forced it open. All was dark in the room, and the wind was rushing around, sending books, pictures, and other things in all directions.

Several matches were struck, and at last a sheltered light was lit. Doctor Clay, Mr. Dale, and some of the other teachers had now arrived, and instructors and students gazed curiously at the scene before them.

The top of the tree had come straight through the big window of the apartment, crashing down on a bureau and a writing-desk, smashing both flat. Some branches of the tree rested on the side of the bed, pinning Job Haskers against the wall, as if in a cage.



"Help me! Save me!" spluttered the terror-stricken teacher. "I am being crushed to death!"

"All hands to the tree!" shouted Mr. Dale, and showed what he meant. Boys and men took hold of the tree-branches and pulled them to one side.

"Are you much hurt, Mr. Haskers?" asked Doctor Clay, kindly.

"I—I don't know, I think so!" gasped the teacher. His face was white and he was shivering from fright.

"Can't you crawl under the branches?" asked Mr. Dale. "Here, come this way."

He showed how it could be done, and trembling from head to feet, the scared teacher got out from under the tree-top. His face and one shoulder were scratched, but otherwise he appeared to be unhurt. But all were forced to acknowledge that he had had a narrow escape.

"You had better take one of the spare rooms, Mr. Haskers," said Doctor Clay, as another blast of wind swept through the room. "You cannot remain here, with this tree-top in the room. And I am afraid we shall have to saw it up to get it out again. You can be thankful that your life has been spared."

"The furniture is smashed!" murmured the teacher.

"Never mind the furniture, so long as you are not hurt. It can be mended, and all the window needs is some new sash."

"My things have been scattered," grumbled the teacher. "A perfect mess!"

"Leave it until morning—you can do nothing to-night," said the doctor; and so it was finally decided, and teachers and pupils trooped off to bed. The broken-in door was closed, but it could not be locked.

The boys had scarcely gotten back to the dormitories when Dave called Phil, Ben, Roger, and Buster to one side.

"Now is our chance," he whispered. "Did you notice that the bureau and the writing-desk in Haskers's room were smashed? It may not be the most honorable thing to do, but I think we are justified in looking his things over and seeing if we can't find some clew to that letter Jason Sparr received."

"Right you are!" declared Phil, promptly, and the others said practically the same.

They waited until the other boys had retired once more, and then, at a signal from Dave, all filed silently into the hallway again and tiptoed their way to the room below. Soon, they were inside and had the light lit, and also a lantern which belonged to Ben's bicycle, and which he had chanced to have on hand.

Silently and with great care the boys went over the many things that had been scattered over the floor—wearing apparel, books, pads, papers, and various articles of more or less value. Presently Phil gave a low cry.

"Look at this!" And he held up several sheets of paper. In one corner were the words:

LATIN MADE EASY

JOB HASKERS, Publisher,

ALBANY, N. Y. "It's the same paper!" cried Dave. "He tore the corner off so that just the letters 'blisher' remained."

"That's pretty good evidence," said Roger.

"I should say it was!" cried Ben. "Wonder what he will have to say about it, when we confront him with it?"

"Let us look for more evidence, while we are at it," came from Buster. And then the midnight search continued.



CHAPTER XXX

THE EXPOSURE—GOOD-BY TO OAK HALL

"Doctor Clay, we must see you about something that is very important."

Thus spoke Dave, the next morning, as he and his chums filed into the doctor's private office after the opening of the school. Job Haskers was not at his class, but in his room, straightening out his things, while some men had been sent up, to get rid of the tree-top and repair the window. The storm was a thing of the past, and no other damage of importance had been done.

"Very well, boys," returned the master of the school, kindly. "Come in and let me know what it is."

The students came in, rather awkwardly it must be admitted, for they had much on their minds and did not know just how the worthy doctor would take it. But they had decided on a course of action, and they had given their word to stick together to the end. Dave, as the natural leader, had been chosen spokesman.

"Doctor Clay, we want to bring up a subject of great importance," said Dave. "Important to us, and to you, and to the whole school. The boys have asked me to speak for them and for myself."

"About what?" demanded the master, somewhat shortly.

"About Mr. Haskers and how he has treated us."

"What has he done now?"

"It isn't what he has done now, Doctor Clay, it is what he did some time ago—did his best to get us into grave trouble," answered Dave, warmly. "You'll remember the letter Mr. Sparr got, stating we were guilty of trying to blow up his hotel. We are now satisfied that Mr. Haskers penned that letter—in fact, we have the evidence to prove it."

"Impossible!"

"No, sir, it is true, and I dare him to deny it. It is an absolute fact, Doctor Clay, and we have come here this morning to inform you that we can no longer attend a school where he is a teacher," went on Dave, firmly.

"But—but you—er—you astound me, Porter! Tell me what you know, or think you know."

In a plain, straightforward manner Dave mentioned the letter and the printing that had appeared on it. Then he told how he and his chums had searched the bedroom after the tree-top crash and found the sheets of paper with that same printing, and he produced them.

"And we also found these, in a corner of the broken writing-desk," he continued. "Some writing by Mr. Haskers, in which he practiced backhand. This writing is just like that which appears in the letter Mr. Sparr got. Compare the two and you will see we are right. Wilbur Poole said Mr. Haskers saw him blow up the hotel, and he told the truth, even if he is weak-minded."

"But why should Mr. Haskers do such an outrageous thing?" asked the master of Oak Hall.

"I will tell you why, sir," returned Dave, and related the affair of the Widow Breen. "That made him very sore on us, and he wanted to get us out of the school. At first he tried it by overworking us in our lessons, and when he found that that didn't work he tried this game of making out that we were criminals."

"Yes, but—but would a teacher of mine stoop so low?" murmured the worthy doctor, shaking his head doubtfully.

"No ordinary teacher would, Dr. Clay. But Mr. Haskers is not an ordinary man—he is very dictatorial and harsh, and he hates boys even though he has to teach them. He isn't a bit like Mr. Dale, or the others."

"We never had any trouble with any teacher but Haskers," put in Phil.

"And if we have to leave Oak Hall I'm going to get my father to sue Haskers for damages," added Roger.

A talk lasting the best part of an hour followed, and at last the worthy doctor had his eyes opened to the unworthiness of his assistant. He scanned the sheets of paper and the writing the boys had brought with interest.

"You are right—this is Mr. Haskers's hand," he said, slowly. "But is it the same hand that wrote that villainous letter to Mr. Sparr?"

"Compare the two and you will see that we are right," answered Dave.

"I will," answered the doctor; and a little later he set off for Oakdale in his buggy, going alone.

The boys walked down to the gymnasium, resolved to keep out of all classes until the matter had been settled. They had impressed it on Doctor Clay's mind that either Job Haskers must leave the school or they would do so.

It was nearly noon when the master of Oak Hall came back, driving slowly and looking very thoughtful. The boys met him at the entrance to the grounds and he told them to come to the office, and closed the door carefully behind them.

"You were right," he said, almost brokenly. "I have been deceived by this—this—I do not know what to call him! It will make a great stir when the truth is known—and it will hurt the school," he added, with a sigh.

"Why should we make a stir about it?" asked Dave, quickly. "Let him go, that is all we ask. He can resign."

"No, the truth must come out," was the firm reply. "He shall not shelter himself behind you, even for the benefit of the school. I have already told the authorities the facts in the case. If they wish to arrest him they can do so, and you may appear against him, if you wish."

"When will you tell him?" asked Phil, as there came a brief pause.

"At once! And I wish you to be present and hear what is said," returned Doctor Clay. He rang a bell and a servant appeared. "Tell Mr. Haskers to come here immediately."

There was silence after this, the boys not knowing what to say, and the master of the school being busy with his thoughts. Presently the door opened and Job Haskers came in, with a look of curiosity on his face.

"You sent for me, Doctor?" he inquired.

"I did, Mr. Haskers," was the cold reply. "I want your resignation, and I want it at once!"

The master of Oak Hall had gotten to his feet and the two men stood facing each other. Doctor Clay had his jaw set, and never had the students seen him look so determined. He was no longer a kindly schoolmaster, he was a judge, and a stern judge at that.

"You—you want my resignation?" faltered Job Haskers.

"Yes, and at once."

"Why?"

"Because you are not fit to teach here—you are not fit to teach anywhere!" thundered the doctor. "I want your resignation, and then I want you to leave just as soon as you possibly can."

"But—but—I want you to explain. I want——"

"It is not necessary for me to explain, Haskers. You have been found out. You are a despicable villain, and you ought to be in jail. I trusted you, and you have deceived me. More than that, you have tried to get these young gentlemen into serious trouble. Don't deny it, for it will do no good. We have the absolute proof against you, and those proofs are also in the hands of the law. If you don't want to be arrested, you will leave this school as soon as you can get your baggage packed."

"Sir, I want you to know——" commenced Job Haskers, but stopped short, for Doctor Clay had taken a stride forward and was shaking a finger in the teacher's face.

"I will not argue with you, Haskers. For a long time I have not been satisfied with your work, for you did not seem to have the students' interest at heart. You have a good education. But a teacher must have more than that—he must have a heart for his work. Now you are found out, and I want nothing more to do with you. I will give you a check for what is due you up to to-day, and you will sign a receipt in full, and also your resignation, and then I never want to see or hear of you again."

"And suppose I won't resign?" snarled the teacher. "I have a contract——"

"If you don't get out, you'll go to jail."

"And we'll sue you," Dave could not help putting in.

"That's right, we'll push the case as far as the law allows," added Phil.

"Ha! you think you are smart, but you don't know it all," snarled the teacher, but his manner showed his uneasiness. He attempted to argue, but Doctor Clay would not listen, and when he said he would send for a constable, Job Haskers quickly capitulated, signed his resignation, took his check, and hurried away to pack his baggage. He left about an hour later, by the back way, so that none of the students saw him go. An hour after that a man came for his trunks and bags; and that was the last seen or heard of him at Oak Hall.

"Hurrah!" cried Dave, when the affair was at an end. "How glad I am that Haskers is gone! I feel as if a weight had been taken from my head!"

"I guess everybody will be glad," returned Roger, and he was right. Some of the students wanted to get up a celebration in honor of the unpopular teacher's departure, but this was not permitted. But the boys had a time on the quiet, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

With the going away of Job Haskers, and the clearing up of the mystery surrounding the letter, Oak Hall settled down once more to its normal condition. Another teacher came to take the place of the man who had left, and he proved popular all around, and made Doctor Clay wonder why he had not made a change long before.

With their minds free from worry, Dave and his chums buckled down to their lessons, and our hero spent much time over his paper on "The Future of Our Country." Soon the examinations started, and then the boys fell to worrying over how they would fare in this final test.

"Well, I hope I pass," remarked Phil, when the last examination was over. "I don't expect to be near the top. I lost too much, going to Cave Island, and when I ran away."

"Me for the passing mark, too," chimed in Ben.

"Well, I am hoping for something better," said Roger.

"What about you, Dave?" queried Buster.

"I am like Roger, hoping for something better," answered our hero, with a smile. "But I'm prepared to take what comes," he added.

At last came the day when the announcements were to be made. Dave had sent in his theme and he expected to hear from this as well as from his studies. In the meantime, preparations were going forward for the graduation exercises, and visitors were expected from far and near. Nearly all the folks from Crumville were coming, and also the parents of Phil, Roger, and the other seniors.

The big assembly room was crowded when the announcements were made. The passing mark was seventy-five per cent., and many of the boys dreaded to think that they might be below that.

"I will read the names in the order of merit," said Doctor Clay, after the opening exercises. "Only two boys have failed to pass for graduation, and they will be conditioned, if they so desire. I am proud of the record." And then the master of the school proceeded to read the list. Polly Vane and Dave had each ninety-six per cent., Roger had ninety-four, Shadow ninety, Sam and Luke each eighty-eight, Phil eighty-seven, Gus eighty-six, and so on down to Buster, who squeezed through with seventy-eight. The boys who had failed to pass were Nat Poole, who had only sixty-eight, and one of his cronies, who was marked sixty-nine.

"It ain't fair! I did as well as lots of 'em," said Nat, when the reading was over. But nobody listened to him, for all knew that the examinations had been just in every particular.

"I will now announce the prizes for the best themes on the subject, 'The Future of Our Country,'" went on Doctor Clay. "The reading of the nine papers handed in has afforded me great pleasure, for all are good and many of them excellent. But I think the best of all is that written by David Porter, and the committee of teachers who have examined the papers agree with me. Porter, I congratulate you, and I will now ask you to come forward and read your meritorious composition to your fellow-students."

And amid a general handclapping our hero went to the platform and commenced to read the theme. Everybody listened with close attention, and loud was the applause when he had concluded. It was certainly a fine paper, and later on Doctor Clay had it published in one of the school journals, where it attracted not a little attention.

Dave was certainly happy and he had good reason to be. He sent word home that night of how he had fared and the next day received several messages of congratulation. One message from Jessie he prized very highly, for she wrote, "You deserve a big hug for coming through so finely. My very best wishes." The other boys also got congratulations; and that night and the night to follow were "bonfire nights," in more ways than one.

"Well, we are rid of Haskers, and also Merwell and Jasniff," remarked Roger to Dave. "We ought to be happy, eh, Dave?"

"Yes, and especially over coming out so well for graduation," answered Dave.

"Do you think we'll ever see Haskers or Merwell again?" questioned Phil.

"I don't know—I trust not," answered our hero. But his wish was not fulfilled. He did meet the pair, and in a most unexpected fashion, as will be related in the next volume of this series, to be called "Dave Porter in the Gold Fields; or, The Search for the Landslide Mine," in which we will learn how Dave went West with some of his chums, and joined an old prospector in a hunt for a lost mine that had been willed to Roger Morr's mother.

The graduation exercises at Oak Hall that year formed a gala event long to be remembered. The school and the campus were crowded, and Dave and his chums surprised even Doctor Clay by "chipping in" and hiring a brass band to play outside, after the exercises were over. The boys also presented their teachers and the master with some volumes of history and poetry, and received numerous gifts in return. From his father Dave got a bank-book, with an amount written therein that was a complete surprise. His sister gave him a neat stickpin and his uncle a set of books, and from Jessie and her folks came a desk set, of solid silver, suitably engraved.

"Well, I think I ought to be the happiest boy alive," said Dave, after the exercises were over, and he had his diploma, tied with a broad ribbon. "I feel just as if I was walking on air."

"And I am glad, too," said his sister Laura, warmly.

"We are all glad," put in Jessie, and gave him her brightest smile.

"Glad and proud, Dave," said his father. "My boy, you have done very well."

And then the whole party went down to the gymnasium, where refreshments were being served to the visitors. And here let us leave Dave Porter, wishing him well.

THE END



DAVE PORTER SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

"Mr. Stratemeyer has seldom introduced a more popular hero than Dave Porter. He is a typical boy, manly, brave, always ready for a good time if it can be obtained in an honorable way."—Wisconsin, Milwaukee, Wis.

"Edward Stratemeyer's 'Dave Porter' has become exceedingly popular." —Boston Globe.

"Dave and his friends are nice, manly chaps."—Times-Democrat, New Orleans.

DAVE PORTER AT OAK HALL Or The School Days of an American Boy

DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS Or The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

DAVE PORTER'S RETURN TO SCHOOL Or Winning the Medal of Honor

DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH Or The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES Or For the Honor of Oak Hall

DAVE PORTER AT STAR RANCH Or The Cowboy's Secret

DAVE PORTER AND HIS RIVALS Or The Chums and Foes of Oak Hall

DAVE PORTER ON CAVE ISLAND Or A Schoolboy's Mysterious Mission

DAVE PORTER AND THE RUNAWAYS Or Last Days at Oak Hall

DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS Or The Search for the Landslide Mine

DAVE PORTER AT BEAR CAMP Or The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

DAVE PORTER AND HIS DOUBLE Or The Disappearance of the Basswood Fortune

DAVE PORTER'S GREAT SEARCH Or The Perils of a Young Civil Engineer

DAVE PORTER UNDER FIRE Or A Young Army Engineer in France

DAVE PORTER'S WAR HONORS Or At the Front with the Fighting Engineers

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers.

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. BOSTON

THE END