Dave Porter and the Runaways: or, Last Days at Oak Hall. Stratemeyer Edward
resumed Dave, looking around the bedroom. He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes to twelve. We are to have lunch at a quarter past, and start at one, sharp.”
“Provided the auto is ready,” interposed Phil.
“It will be – trust my Uncle Dunston for that,” answered Dave. “My, but isn’t it jolly to think we are going back to school in the auto instead of by train!”
“Yes, and to think that the girls and your uncle are going with us!” added Roger.
“Dave, look out for Roger, he’s got his eye on Laura!” said Phil, slyly.
“Oh, you give us a rest, Phil Lawrence!” burst out Roger, growing red. “I guess you’ve got an eye on her yourself.”
“Poor me! Poor me!” murmured Phil, as if talking to himself. “Roger will talk to nobody but Laura, and Dave will see and hear and think of nobody but Jessie, and I’ll be left in the cold! Oh, what a cruel world this is! If only – wow!” and Phil’s pretended musings came to a sudden end, as Dave shied a pair of rolled-up socks at him and Roger followed with a pillow. In another instant a mimic battle was on, with pillows and various articles of clothing for ammunition. Then came another knock on the door and Laura Porter appeared, with a baseball bat in one hand and her brother’s cap in the other.
“Oh dear me!” she cried, and then stopped short, for a red sweater, thrown by Roger at Phil, had missed its aim and landed on her head.
“I beg your pardon, Laura, really I do!” gasped Roger, as he sprang forward and took the sweater from its resting-place. “I – I didn’t mean that for you.”
“Oh, Roger, of course you did!” cried Phil, with a twinkle in his eye. “That’s the way he salutes girls always, Laura.”
“Is this the way you are packing up?” demanded Dave’s sister, with a little smile, while poor Roger grew redder than ever.
“Oh, we were only waiting for you to bring my things, Laura,” answered her brother, coolly. “We’ll be ready in three minutes and a half by the factory whistles.”
“Say, what is this I hear about a wild man?” continued Laura, as she sat down on a chair Roger shoved towards her. “You’ve made Mrs. Wadsworth and Jessie all excited over it.”
“Oh, it isn’t anything,” burst out Phil, quickly. “I made a mistake even to mention it.”
“She came down and told Jessie and me that she was afraid you’d have more trouble, when you got back to school. As if you haven’t had troubles enough already!” And Laura looked affectionately at her brother, and then at his chums.
“Oh, this won’t amount to anything, Laura,” said Dave. “So tell Mrs. Wadsworth and Jessie not to worry about it.”
“But I want to know what it means?” demanded the sister; and in the end Dave and his chums had to relate what they knew about the wild man. As they finished the girl shook her head doubtfully.
“I don’t like that a bit,” she said. “I am sure you’ll get mixed up with that wild man somehow. Why, he might attack you and try to kill you!”
“We’ll be on our guard – when we go near the woods,” answered Roger.
“You had better not go alone,” insisted the girl.
“We seldom travel alone,” said her brother. “Generally Roger, Phil, and I are together, and very often some of the other fellows are with us. But don’t you worry, Laura, and tell Jessie and her mother it will be all right.”
“And there is another thing to be careful about, Dave,” went on Laura, as she prepared to leave.
“What is that?”
“Be careful of how you treat Nat Poole.”
“Why, what do you mean?” cried Dave, and then he added quickly, as he saw that his sister had something on her mind: “What has happened now?”
“I don’t know exactly, Dave. But I got word through Ben Basswood’s cousin that Nat had told Ben he wasn’t going to let you ride over him this term. I think Nat is jealous because you were so successful in that trip to Cave Island.”
“Did you learn of anything Nat intended to do?” questioned Roger, curiously.
“No, excepting that he said he wasn’t going to play second fiddle to your crowd any longer. He tried to get into a quarrel with Ben, but Ben would have nothing to do with him.”
“Did Nat go back to the Hall when it opened?” asked Phil.
“Yes, the same day Ben went back.”
“I am not afraid of Nat Poole,” declared Dave, stoutly. “He is a bully, always was, and I suppose he always will be. I tried to do him a favor the last time I saw him – but he doesn’t seem to have appreciated it.”
“Laura!” called a musical voice, from the stair landing.
“Coming, Jessie!” answered Laura. “Now you boys, hurry – lunch will be served in a few minutes;” and she left the room.
“So Nat Poole wants to make more trouble, eh?” mused Dave, as he resumed packing. “What a chap he is! Why can’t he be decent and mind his own business?”
“Because he isn’t that breed, that’s why,” answered Phil. “He hates to see another fellow become popular. Dave, you take my advice and watch him, when we get back to school.”
“I’ll do it,” answered Dave, thoughtfully.
CHAPTER II
A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST
“Everything ready?”
“Yes, so far as I know.”
“Then we are off! Good-by, everybody!”
“Good-by! Take care of yourself, Dave!”
“I will!”
There was a tooting of an automobile horn, a chorus of cries and cheers, a waving of caps, and then the big touring car that had been drawn up in front of the Wadsworth mansion rolled from the piazza steps through the spacious grounds; and Dave Porter and his chums were once more on their way to boarding school.
To those who have read the previous volumes of this line of stories Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the benefit of new readers allow me to state that Dave was a wideawake American lad, now well along in his school years.
When a small child our hero had been found one day, walking along the railroad tracks near the town of Crumville. He could tell nothing about himself, and as nobody came to claim him, he was taken to the local poorhouse, where he remained a number of years. Then he was bound out to a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who was farming for his health. The professor did what he could for the lad, but soon got into difficulties with a mean money-lender named Aaron Poole, and would have lost his farm had it not been for something out of the ordinary happening.
On the outskirts of the town lived a wealthy jewelry manufacturer, Oliver Wadsworth. Mr. Wadsworth had a daughter named Jessie, and one day, through an explosion of an automobile tank, the little miss was in danger of being burned to death, when Dave came to her assistance. This so pleased the Wadsworths that they came not only to the boy’s aid but also helped Caspar Potts.
“The lad shall go to boarding school and get a good education,” said Oliver Wadsworth. And how Dave was sent off has already been related in the first book of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.” At the school he made many warm friends, including Roger Morr, the son of a United States senator; Phil Lawrence, the offspring of a wealthy shipowner; Buster Beggs, who was fat as he was jolly, and Maurice, otherwise “Shadow” Hamilton, who would rather spin yarns than eat. He also made some enemies, not the least of whom were Gus Plum, a great bully, and Nat Poole, son of the money-lender already mentioned. Plum had since reformed, but Nat was as overbearing and dictatorial as ever.
The great cloud resting over Dave in those