Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel. Stratemeyer Edward
have some spending money."
"But not as much as you'd like; ain't that so?"
"Oh, I could spend more – if I had it," answered Dave, trying to find out what the other was driving at.
"Well, supposing I promised to give you some money to spend, Porter, how would that strike you?"
Dave was astonished, the suggestion was so entirely unexpected. But he tried not to show his feelings.
"Would you give me money, Gus?" he asked, calmly.
"Yes, I would – if you'd only promise to keep quiet."
"How much?"
"Well – I – er – I'd do the right thing. Did Phil Lawrence see me on the river?"
"No."
"Any of the other boys?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then you were alone." Gus Plum drew a sigh of relief. "Now, let us come to terms, by all means. I'll do the square thing, and you'll have all the pocket money you want."
"But how much are you willing to give me?" queried Dave, his curiosity aroused to its highest pitch.
"I'll give you" – the bully paused, to add impressiveness to his words – "I'll give you fifty dollars."
"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Dave. He was bewildered by the answer. He had expected Plum to name a dollar or two at the most.
"Ain't that enough?"
"Do you think it is enough?" asked the country boy. He scarcely knew what to say. He was trying to study the bully's face.
"Well – er – if you'll give me your solemn word not to whisper a word – not a word, remember – I'll make it a – a hundred dollars."
"You'll give me a hundred dollars? When?"
"Before the end of the week. I haven't the money now, but, if you want it, I can give you ten dollars on account – just to bind the bargain," and the bully drew two five-dollar bills from his vest pocket. "But, remember, mum's the word – no matter what comes."
He thrust the bills at Dave, who merely looked at them. Then the country boy drew himself up.
"I don't want a cent of your money, Gus Plum," he said, in a low, but firm, voice. "You can't bribe me, no matter what you offer."
The bully dropped back and his face fell. He put his money back into his pocket. Then he glared savagely at Dave.
"Then you won't come to terms!" he fairly hissed between his teeth.
"No."
"You had better. If you dare to tell on me – breathe a word of what you saw that night – I'll – I'll make it so hot for you that you'll wish you had never been born! I am not going to let a country jay like you ruin me! Not much! You think twice before you make a move! I can hurt you in a way you least expect, and if I have to leave this school, you'll have to go, too!" And shaking his fist at Dave, Gus Plum strode off, leaving Dave more mystified than ever before.
CHAPTER VIII
SHADOW HAMILTON'S CONFESSION
"I simply can't understand it, Phil. Gus Plum was frightened very much, or he would never have offered me a hundred dollars to keep quiet."
Dave and his chum were strolling along the edge of the campus, an hour after the conversation recorded in the last chapter. The boy from the poorhouse had told Phil all that had occurred.
"It is certainly the most mysterious thing I ever heard of, outside of this mystery about Billy Dill," answered Phil. "Plum has been up to something wrong, but just what, remains to be found out."
"And what about Shadow Hamilton?"
"I can't say anything about Shadow. I never thought he would do anything that wasn't right."
"Nor I. What would you advise?"
"Keep quiet and await developments. Something is bound to come to the surface, sooner or later."
"Hello, you fellows, where are you bound?" came in a cry, and looking up they saw a well-known form approaching.
"Ben!" cried Dave, rushing up to the newcomer and shaking hands warmly. "When did you come in? And how are all the folks at Crumville? Did you happen to see Professor Potts and the Wadsworths?"
"One question at a time, please," answered Ben Basswood, as he shook hands with Phil. "Yes, I saw them all, and everybody wants to be remembered to you. Jessie sends her very sweetest regards – "
"Oh, come now, no fooling," interrupted Dave, blushing furiously. "Tell us the plain truth."
"Well, she sent her best regard, anyway. And all the others did the same. The professor is getting along finely. You'd hardly know him now, he looks so hale and hearty. It did him a world of good to go to live with the Wadsworths."
"You must have had a pretty nice vacation," observed Phil.
"Yes, although it was rather short. But, say, have you fellows heard about Plum's father?" went on Ben Basswood, earnestly.
"We've heard that he lost some money."
"Yes, and he has tied himself up in some sort of underhanded get-rich-quick concern, and I understand some folks are going to sue him for all he is worth. That will be rather rough on Gus – if his father loses all his money."
"True enough," said Dave. "But tell us all the news," he continued, and then Ben related the particulars of affairs at Crumville, and of a legal fight between his father and Mr. Aaron Poole, in which Mr. Basswood had won.
"That will make Nat more sour on you than ever," observed Phil.
"Maybe; but I can't help it. If he leaves me alone I'll leave him alone."
The following day passed quietly at Oak Hall. Gus Plum and Nat Poole kept by themselves. Shadow Hamilton appeared to brighten a little, but Dave observed that the youth was by no means himself. He did not care to play baseball or "do a turn" at the gym., and kept for the most part by himself.
Saturday passed, and on Sunday a large number of the students marched off to three of the town churches. Dave, Roger, and Phil attended the same church and Ben went with them, and all listened to a strong sermon on Christian brotherhood, which was destined to do each of them good.
"It makes a fellow feel as if he's got to help somebody else," said Roger.
"Well, it is our duty to help others," answered Dave. "The fellow who isn't willing to do that is selfish."
"You've certainly helped Macklin, Dave," said Ben. "I never saw such a change in a fellow. I'll wager he is more than happy to be out of Gus Plum's influence."
"I'd help Plum, too, if he'd let me," said Dave, and then gave a long sigh.
Two days later there was a sensation at the school. Doctor Clay came into the main classroom in the middle of the forenoon, looking much worried.
"Young gentlemen, I wish to talk to you for a few minutes," he said. "As some of you may know, I am the proud possessor of a stamp collection which I value at not less than three thousand dollars. The stamps are arranged in three books, and I have spent eight years in collecting them. These books of stamps are missing, and I wish to know if anybody here knows anything about them. If they were taken away in a spirit of fun, let me say that such a joke is a poor one, and I trust the books will be speedily returned, and without damage to a single stamp."
All of the boys listened with interest, for many of them had inspected the collection, and they knew that stamp-gathering was one of the kind doctor's hobbies.
"Doctor, I am sorry to hear of this," said one boy, named Bert Dalgart, a youth who had a small collection of his own. "I looked at the collection about ten days ago, as you know. I haven't seen it since."
"Nor have I seen it," said Roger, who also collected stamps.
"Is there any boy here who knows anything at all about my collection?" demanded the doctor, sharply. "If so, let him stand up."
There was a pause,