Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

"It's on the table," returned the girl, motioning with her hand. And then she added impetuously: "Oh, Dave, I can't believe it's true, I simply can't! Why, it's the most dreadful thing that ever came up! I am sure there must be some mistake!"

"I – I can't understand it," Dave stammered in return, and then picked up the communication which had been sent by special messenger from Carpen Falls. The letter ran as follows:

"Dear Dunston:

"A most astonishing thing has come up, and I wish you would return to Crumville at once; and it might be well to bring Mr. Wadsworth with you.

"I cannot go into all the details because I am completely upset. Briefly stated the matter is this: A young man named Ward Porton – the same fellow who was in Crumville some time ago with Link Merwell – has written to me, stating that he has every reason to believe that he is the real Dave Porter, and that our Dave is somebody else. His story is that he was left in a poorhouse at Lumberville, Maine, by an old woman who obtained him from Sandy Margot, who told her the child had been under the care of Polly, his wife. The claim is also made that Sandy Margot had in reality stolen two children, little boys, at about the same time, and the theory is advanced that the other boy was the one dropped from the train at Crumville. The young man states that he has gone into the matter very carefully, and has a number of proofs which he will submit whenever called on to do so. He adds that he feels sorry for Dave, but hopes that I will find in him as good a son, and also hopes that Laura will like him as well as a brother.

"I am so upset that I hardly know what to think or what to do. If this young man's story is true, then all of us have made a sad mistake, and what Dave is to do in the matter I don't know. Come on as soon as possible and help me to get to the bottom of this terrible mix-up.

"Your affectionate brother,David Breslow Porter."

Dave read this letter with care, and then allowed the communication to slip from his fingers. If his mind had been in a whirl before, it was more so now, and for the moment he could hardly think straight. If he was not Dave Porter, who was he? A thousand ideas ran riot through his brain.

"Oh, Dave! it can't be true; can it?" came half-pleadingly from Laura.

"I don't know," he answered dumbly. "I don't know."

"But, Dave, I thought that you and Uncle Dunston proved your identity completely, even before you found father and met me."

"I always supposed we did prove it, Laura," he answered. "We went into the matter very carefully at that time. Nothing was ever said about Sandy Margot stealing two little boys. I always supposed he had taken only one child."

"And to think this other young man is a perfect stranger," went on Laura, dolefully. "There is no telling what sort of a person he is."

"He's no stranger to me. I helped to pull him out of the water when the steam yacht was on fire," answered Dave. "I guess he's all right as far as that goes, although I don't think much of his keeping company with Link Merwell."

"Do you suppose it can be a plot hatched up by Link Merwell?"

"I don't know what to think. This news stuns me. I've got to consider it. Maybe I had better go back to Crumville, too."

"No, Uncle Dunston said you had better stay here – at least for the present. He said if they wanted you they could send you word."

"Oh, all right," and now Dave's voice showed a faint trace of bitterness. "Maybe they don't want me around, if they have really settled it that I am not the real Dave Porter."

"Oh, Dave! Don't want you around!" Laura sprang to her feet, and coming over to him, caught both his hands in her own. "Don't talk that way. Even if they should prove that you are not my brother, I shall always think just as much of you."

"Thank you for saying that, Laura," he returned, with much emotion. "It's nice to know that there is somebody who won't go back on me."

"I don't believe anybody will go back on you, Dave – you have always been so good. Oh, I think this is dreadful – just dreadful!" and Laura showed signs of bursting into tears once more.

"Where are Jessie and Mrs. Wadsworth, and Mrs. Basswood?"

"I think Jessie went over to the other bungalow with her mother. She was as much upset as I was."

"Does she think the story is true?"

"She hopes it isn't. But of course she can't do anything – and I can't do anything either."

"Well, I don't see what I can do." Dave took a turn up and down the room, and then sank on a chair. "This just knocks me endwise. I can't even seem to think straight," he added, helplessly.

"You poor boy!" Laura came over and brushed back the hair from his forehead. "You don't know how this hurts, Dave. Oh, it can't be true!"

"I wonder how long I've got to wait before I hear from Crumville?"

"I am sure I don't know. I think, though, we'll get word just as soon as they know anything definite."

At that moment came a timid knock on the door, and Laura opened it to admit Jessie. The appearance of the girl showed that she was much upset. Her face was tear-stained and her hair awry.

"Oh, Dave!" was all she said. And then coming straight toward him, she threw her head on his shoulder and burst into a fit of weeping.

"There, there, Jessie! Don't you cry so," he said, soothingly. "I am sure it will be all right."

"But Da-Dave, hasn't Laura to-told you?"

"Yes, she has told me."

"And did you read that letter?"

"Yes."

"But it can't be true, Dave! Oh, tell me it can't be true!" went on the girl, pleadingly.

"I can't tell you whether it is true or not, Jessie, for I don't know," answered the boy, as bravely as he could. "I suppose they'll investigate the matter at Crumville and at that place in Maine, and let me know." He looked at her curiously. "What if they prove I am not the real Dave Porter, Jessie – will you care very much?"

"Care? Of course I'll care, Dave! But don't misunderstand me," she added, quickly. "Even if they prove you are not the real Dave Porter, it won't make any difference to me. I shall think just as much of you, no matter who you are."

"Do you really mean that?" and he clutched her tightly.

"I certainly do! What difference will it really make? You will be yourself, no matter what your name is."

"I know, Jessie, I'll be myself; but who will I be? Perhaps I'll be a 'poorhouse nobody' after all," and he smiled bitterly.

"Never!" returned the girl, emphatically. "You'll never be a nobody, Dave. You are too true, both to yourself and to those around you. You'll make a name for yourself in this world even if they take your present name away from you;" and as she spoke the girl's words rang with earnestness.

A great and peculiar joy seemed to creep over Dave, and despite the blackness of the situation, his heart for the moment felt light. He gazed with emotion at both Laura and Jessie.

"If that's the way you feel about it – and Laura says she feels the same – I'm not going to worry just yet," he answered.

CHAPTER XXVII

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT

That evening the sole topic of conversation at Bear Camp was the news concerning Dave. The other lads could not bear to question Laura or Jessie on the subject, knowing how badly both of them must feel; but they asked Belle to tell all she knew, and also quizzed Mrs. Wadsworth and Mrs. Basswood.

"It's the worst state of affairs I have ever known," was the way the jewelry manufacturer's wife expressed herself, in private to Roger and Phil. "We, as you know, think the world and all of Dave, and we don't want him to drop back and become a nobody, even in name. He is a splendid boy, and no matter what happens we shall always think as much of him as we ever did."

"I think all his friends will stick to him," answered Roger. "At the same time, this will cut him to the heart; and what he'll do if they really prove he isn't Dave Porter, I don't know."

"Maybe the Porters will continue to keep him in the family as an adopted son," suggested Phil. "That is, if this report really proves to be true, which I don't believe will happen."

"I have always thought a great deal of Dave, ever since he saved Jessie from that gasoline explosion," returned Mrs. Wadsworth. "Should they find out that he is not a Porter, I think I would be strongly in favor of my husband adopting him."

"Say, that wouldn't be half bad!" burst out Phil, "and the suggestion does you credit, Mrs. Wadsworth. Personally, I think Dave is the finest fellow in the world."

"I am sure we all think that," added Roger. "Since he went to Oak Hall he has made a host of real friends, and I don't think one of them will desert him."

While this conversation was going on, the other boys were talking to our hero, doing their best to cheer him up and to convince him that, no matter what happened, they would stick to him.

"You take it from me," declared Luke, "this is some scheme gotten up by Link Merwell and this other fellow!"

"Certainly it's a scheme!" added Shadow. "It puts me in mind of a story I once heard about a fellow down South who stole three watermelons, and – But, oh, pshaw! what's the use of trying to tell a story now? I'm going to cut them out until we get this thing settled," he added, in disgust.

"Don't you worry, Dave. I am sure it will come out all right in the end," was what Ben said, speaking with an apparent conviction that he did not by any means feel.

"You're all kind, fellows, and I appreciate it very much," answered Dave. "But this is a blow to me. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a little walk by myself and think it over." And thus speaking, the youth withdrew from the crowd, and walked slowly to the lake and along a footpath bordering the shore.

"It's the rankest shame I ever knew!" declared Ben, when the others were left to themselves. "If I had that Ward Porton here I'd wring his neck."

"I guess we'd all like to do that," responded Shadow. "Nevertheless, if he is the real Dave Porter you can't blame him for trying to prove it."

"There is only one thing about it that troubles me," said Luke. "Don't you remember that all of those who saw this Ward Porton agreed that he looked very much like Mr. Dunston Porter?"

"Yes, but Dave looks like Dunston Porter, too," came quickly from Ben.

"It's queer that he resembles his uncle more than he does his father," was Shadow's comment. "Maybe this Ward Porton resembles Mr. David Porter."

"Well, it's fierce; that's all I've got to say," declared Ben. "And what Dave is going to do if they prove he isn't the real Dave Porter is something I don't like to think about. In those days when we first went to Oak Hall, you'll remember how bitter he felt when some of his enemies referred to him as that 'poorhouse nobody,' and how eager he was to clear up the mystery of his identity, even though it cost him a trip to the South Sea Islands."

Dave walked on and on along the lake shore, paying little attention to where he was going. His mind was in a state bordering on bewilderment. In a faint, uncertain way he had anticipated some such calamity, but now that the blow had fallen, the matter looked almost hopeless to him. Had he followed his own inclinations, he would have made preparations to return to Crumville at once.

"But evidently they don't want me there," he told himself, bitterly. "They want to solve this mystery without my interference. And if they do make up their minds that I am not the real Dave Porter, I wonder how they will treat me? Of course, they may be very kind to me – the same as Laura and Jessie and the others up here. But kindness of that sort isn't everything. I don't want any one to support me if I haven't some claim on him." And then Dave shut his teeth hard, clenched his hands, and walked on faster than ever.

Finally tired out because he had been on his feet since early morning, Dave sat down on a flat rock to rest. As he did this, he heard the put-put of a motor, and presently around a bend of the shore showed the headlight of Mr. Appleby's motor-boat.

"I wonder if they are simply going down to the end of the lake, or whether they are going to stop at our place," said Dave, to himself. "I'd rather they wouldn't stop at Bear Camp to-night, when everything is so upset."

As the motor-boat swung around, the headlight flashed full upon our hero and there followed an exclamation from the manager of the moving-picture company, who was at the wheel of the craft, with two men beside him.

"Hello there, Porter! What are you doing – fishing?"

"No, I just came down here to sit on the rock and do a little thinking," answered Dave.

"We are making a little trip around the lake," went on Mr. Appleby. "I was going to stop at your dock and deliver a letter that came in our mail by mistake. It's a letter for you, so I might as well give it to you now."

"A letter for me, eh?" answered Dave.

"Yes, here you are!" went on Mr. Appleby, as the motor-boat came to a standstill close by. "I'll put it in the newspaper and you can have that too, as we have read it;" and suiting the action to the word, the man placed the letter in the folds of the paper and tossed the latter ashore.

"Will you stop?" questioned Dave.

"Not to-night. We are going to make a call on the other side of the lake. I just thought I'd give you the letter, that's all," and then, with a pleasant good-bye, the manager steered his motor-boat out into Mirror Lake again.

It was too dark to read the letter without a light, and as Dave did not happen to have even a match, he walked back to the bungalows. The lanterns were hung out on the porches as was the custom, and under the light of one of these he looked at the communication he had received.

"It's from Crumville!" he exclaimed to himself, eagerly, as he looked at the postmark. But then, as he recognized the handwriting, his face fell. "It's only from Nat Poole."

The communication from the money-lender's son was a long one, containing much news which it will be unnecessary to give here. There was, however, one paragraph in the letter which Dave read with great interest.

"I am sorry if you put yourselves out trying to catch that wild man thinking he was my Uncle Wilbur. As I told you, my uncle got away from the sanitarium and they had quite a job to locate him. They found him up in the vicinity of Oak Hall, at one of the houses where he had once stayed. They got him to return to the sanitarium without any trouble, and the doctors think that he is now doing finely."

"Hello, Dave! what are you reading?" remarked Roger, coming up.

"Here's a letter from Nat Poole," and our hero told how he had received it. "You can read it for yourself. They have found Wilbur Poole, and have put him back in the sanitarium."

"Is that so? Well, I am glad they caught him." And then Roger read the letter, and went off to spread the news among the other boys.

The next day was a long one for Dave. While Ben and Luke went to Carpen Falls with a letter directed to Phil's father, he spent part of the time dressing the two deer. But his heart was not in the work, and his friends noted his absent-mindedness. Several times he looked down in the direction of the trail leading to Carpen Falls, and they knew he was hoping for some messenger to appear, summoning him to come to Crumville.

"It makes me sick to see Dave so downcast," whispered Ben to Roger, that evening. "I wish we could cheer him up."

"I don't see how we are going to do it. We can't lift that burden from his mind. We have simply got to wait until some word comes from the Porters at Crumville. I don't believe they'll keep Dave waiting any longer than necessary."

"But think of the terrible suspense!"

"I know it. It's too bad!"

The afternoon had been cloudy, and late in the evening it began to rain. Then the wind came up, moaning through the forest in melancholy fashion and sending thousands of whitecaps across the surface of the lake.

"It isn't Mirror Lake to-night," said Belle, with a little shiver. "It's more like Foamy Lake."

"I don't think I'd want to go out in a canoe to-night," returned Phil, who was beside her.

"I think we are going to have quite a storm," said Laura. "Just listen to that wind!"

With fitful gusts tearing around the bungalows, no one felt much like going to bed. About ten o'clock came a hard downpour, lasting for half an hour. Then the wind died away, and gradually the rain ceased.

"I guess the worst of it is over," announced Mrs. Wadsworth, presently. "I think we may as well retire." And shortly after that all of the inmates of both bungalows were in bed.

For a long while Dave could not sleep. As had been the case the night previous, he tumbled and tossed on his couch, thinking of the trouble that had come to him. But at last tired nature claimed its own, and he sank into a profound slumber, from which he did not awaken until some time after sunrise.

"Hello! I must have overslept," he declared, as he leaped up, to see that his chums were almost dressed.

Dave was just finishing his toilet, and the other boys and some of the girls had started to walk down to the dock to look at the lake, when a cry came from the kitchen of the bungalow.

"Mrs. Wadsworth! Mr. Porter!" came a call from the hired girl. "Please come here!"

"What is it, Mary?" asked Mrs. Wadsworth, as she appeared from her own room.

"Sure, ma'am, a whole lot of things are missing!" declared the girl.

"Missing! What is missing?"

"Sure, ma'am, almost everything in the kitchen is missing, ma'am!" and the girl pointed around in a helpless sort of fashion. "All the knives and forks and spoons are gone! And so are some of the pots and pans and kettles!"

"Is that possible?"

"Yes, ma'am. And that ain't all, ma'am. Sure, and most of the things in the pantry and in the ice-box are gone, too!" announced Mary, running from one place to another. "Sure, ma'am, we've been burglarized, ma'am!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

DELLA FORD'S STATEMENT

"Burglars!"

"Did they take any of our valuables?"

"Oh, I wonder if they were in our rooms!"

"Mary, were all the things here when you went to bed?" questioned Mrs. Wadsworth, of the servant girl, who was now in the wildest possible state of excitement, wringing her hands and running from one room to another.

"Yes, ma'am, when I went to bed everything was in its place. I'm sure of it, ma'am."

The boys as well as the girls crowded into the kitchen, and then looked into the pantry, in a corner of which was located the ice-box.

"How about this pantry window, Mary? Did you leave it open last night?" asked Dave, pointing to the window in question.

"Sure, sir, I did not! I always lock up well before I go to bed," answered the girl.

"You didn't open the window this morning?"

"No, sir."

"Then that is where the thief must have come in," remarked Roger.

"I think we had better take a look around and see just how much is missing," advised Phil. "The thief may have cleaned us out more than we imagine."

Upon this, a systematic search was made through all the rooms of the bungalow. In the midst of the work Ben came running over from the other place.

"Say, what do you know about this!" he called out. "Somebody visited our bungalow last night and took nearly all our victuals and our tableware and our kitchen utensils!"

"The same thing happened here, Ben," answered Dave. "We are just sizing up the situation, to find out how much is gone."

"The others are at that now over at our bungalow. I thought I'd run over to tell you. I'll go back and tell them you are in the same fix. This is fierce; isn't it?" And then Ben hurried away.

An examination of the premises showed that all the tableware of value had disappeared, along with two rings which Laura had left on the mantelpiece in the living-room. From the kitchen nearly everything used in cooking was gone, and likewise almost everything from the pantry and the ice-box.

"Oh, my two rings!" burst out Laura. "The diamond that dad gave me and the beautiful ruby from Uncle Dunston!"

"It's too bad, Laura!" declared Jessie.

"That's what it is!" said Dave. "We'll have to get after that burglar, whoever he is."

"This looks to me like the work of some of these people who are camping out in the Adirondacks," announced Roger. "What would an ordinary burglar do with a lot of kitchen utensils, not to mention canned goods and stuff from an ice-box?"

"Maybe they took the stuff from the ice-box to eat," suggested Dave. "It might be that they would rather camp out than run the risk of going to Carpen Falls, or to some of the hotels, for their meals."

Having completed the search in the bungalows, the boys, followed by the others, went outside. Here they discovered a great number of footprints leading back and forth from the pantry window to the edge of the forest. Among some jagged rocks, the trail was lost.

"Looks to me as if there must have been half a dozen fellows in this raid," announced Roger. "What do you think of it, Dave?"

"Either that, or else the fellow who did the job made a dozen trips or more. To me, the footprints look very much alike."

Presently the crowd went over to the Basswood bungalow, and there learned that, among other things, some solid silver tableware which Mrs. Basswood had brought along had vanished.

"I was foolish to bring such expensive silver," declared the lady of the house. "But I thought we could use it if we happened to have visitors. I never dreamed of being robbed up here."

At the Basswood bungalow an entrance to the kitchen and pantry had been effected through the woodshed, the door of which had been broken open. From this shed a trail led up to the jagged rocks previously mentioned.

"The same rascal or the same crowd that did one job did both," declared Dave.

"I don't know what we are going to do for breakfast," declared Mrs. Wadsworth, rather helplessly. "We have next to nothing to cook, and nothing to cook it in."

"We are in the same fix," answered Mrs. Basswood. "It certainly is a terrible state of affairs. I wish my husband was here to tell us what to do."

"Oh, don't worry about something to eat!" cried Dave. "We can go down to Carpen Falls and get whatever we want, and also get some extra kitchen utensils, and don't forget the deer-meat. What worries me is the loss of Laura's rings and Mrs. Basswood's silverware."

"We might go up into the woods and look around," suggested Ben, "although it's mighty wet up there from the rain."

The matter was talked over for a while longer, and in the meantime the ladies and the girls, aided by the hired help, made an inventory of what was left in the way of eatables.

"We can give all of you some coffee and some fancy crackers," said Mrs. Wadsworth.

"And we have found two cans of baked beans," added Mrs. Basswood. "They'll go some distance toward filling up the boys," and she smiled faintly.

"I'll tell you what we might do!" cried Roger. "Supposing four of us fellows jump into the four-oared boat and row up to the Appleby camp? I am sure they have plenty of provisions, and they'll lend us some until we can get in a new lot from Carpen Falls. And maybe they'll lend us a few cooking utensils, too."

"That's the thing to do!" returned Ben. "Come on, let's go up there at once;" and so it was settled.

Dave and Luke accompanied Ben and Roger on the trip; and as the four youths had often rowed together on the Leming River at Oak Hall, they soon covered the distance to the camp of the moving-picture people. They saw the crowd getting ready to depart for the enacting of the final drama in that locality.

"Hello, you're out bright and early in your boat!" cried Mr. Appleby, as he waved his hand to them. "Taking a little exercise, eh?"

"No, we came for assistance," called back Ben.

"Assistance!" repeated the manager. "What's the trouble?"

"We have been burglarized, and we have hardly anything left to eat!" broke in Luke, and at this announcement all of those in the Appleby camp came down to the dock to learn the particulars of what had occurred.

"In one way you have come at just the right time to get those things," said the manager of the moving-picture company to the boys. "We are going to leave here to-morrow to go back to Boston, so we shall want but little of the food that is on hand. And you'll be welcome to use our tableware and kitchen utensils. They belong here in the cottage, so all you'll have to do when you get through with them will be to bring them back."