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

The shipowner's son read the letter Dave had received with interest.

"Sure, that's from Link Merwell! I know his handwriting almost as well as I know my own," he declared. "He always makes those funny little crooks on his capital letters. I guess that shows what kind of a crook he is," and Phil grinned at his little joke. "What are you going to do about this, Dave?"

"I don't see that there's anything to do about it. As I told Roger, if Link shows himself around here I'll do all I can to place him in the hands of the authorities and see to it that he goes to jail."

"It's a beastly shame that any one should write such a note as that," went on the shipowner's son. "You are not a 'poorhouse nobody,' and everybody knows it."

"I've been wondering what Link Merwell can have up his sleeve," came from Roger. "He certainly must be up to something, or he wouldn't send such a letter as that."

The matter was talked over for a little while longer by the three boys, and then they rejoined the others.

Jessie declared that her headache was now gone completely, and the young folks spent the rest of the evening in the Basswood bungalow, where Belle played the piano and Luke favored them with several selections on his banjo and his guitar. They also sang a number of songs, and altogether the evening ended quite pleasantly. The cloud that had come up between Dave and Jessie seemed to have vanished, much to their own satisfaction, and to that of their friends.

On the following morning Mr. Basswood announced that he had to return to Crumville for a few days on business. He said that as soon as he arrived home he would get into telephone communication with Mr. Aaron Poole and acquaint him with the fact that some sort of a wild man had visited the vicinity of Bear Camp.

"Of course we may be mistaken as to the identity of that individual," said Ben's father. "He may not be Wilbur Poole at all."

"You want to be sure, Dad, and let Nat's father know that," said Ben, "because if Mr. Poole spent money up here looking for his brother, and then found out that the wild man was somebody else, he would never forgive either himself or you for the outlay." And at this frank statement those who knew how miserly the money-lender of Crumville was laughed outright.

Mr. Basswood departed for Carpen Falls in the middle of the forenoon. As it promised to be a warm, clear day, one of the young folks suggested that they go in bathing at a little sandy beach a short distance below the bungalows. This suggestion was eagerly seconded, and as a consequence, a little later on, the young folks donned their bathing outfits and soon were having great sport in the water, with the older folks sitting on a fallen tree not far away watching them.

"Oh, but it's cold!" declared Jessie, after her first plunge.

"You'll get used to it after a bit," returned Dave. "Just strike out lively, and that will help to keep your blood in circulation."

"Come on for a race!" shouted Luke, who was splashing around in great shape.

"A race it is!" called back Phil.

"Where shall we race to?" questioned Roger.

"If you are going to race, I'll be the referee and timekeeper," announced Dunston Porter.

It was decided that the boys should swim from the beach to a rock standing out of the water on the far edge of the cove.

"First fellow to stand up on the rock wins the prize," announced Phil, and then he added quickly: "Girls, what's the prize?"

"A fresh flapjack to the boy who bakes it," announced Belle, gaily.

"Say, speaking of flapjacks puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow, who was wading around in water up to his ankles. "Once there were two old miners who were in a camp in the mountains. They got to disputing as to who could make the best flapjacks. Says one of them – "

Shadow did not finish the story he had started to tell. Unbeknown to him, Roger had come up behind, and was now on his hands and knees in the water. Luke gave the would-be story-teller a quick shove; and over went Shadow backwards, to land in the shallow water with a resounding splash.

"Flapjack number one!" cried Luke, gaily. "Say, Shadow, what are you making so much noise about?"

"I'll noise you!" roared the former story-teller of Oak Hall, as he scrambled to his feet.

Then he started to rush after Luke, but Roger caught him by his ankle, and down he went into the water with another splash, this time sending the spray flying clear to those sitting on the fallen tree.

"Here! Here! You boys stop that!" cried Mrs. Wadsworth. "We haven't any umbrellas."

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to shower you," pleaded Shadow. "Anyway, it was Roger's fault."

"If you are going to race, start in!" ordered Dunston Porter.

"Well, what's the prize?" queried Roger, doing his best to keep out of Shadow's reach.

"The fellow who wins gets the hole in the doughnut," returned Dave, gaily.

"All ready! Line up!" ordered Dunston Porter, and after a general scramble and amid much merriment, the boys lined up. Then came the order "Go!" and all of them struck out lustily for the rock that marked the goal.

At first Ben, who had taken but little interest in the horseplay just enacted, kept well to the front. Ben had always been a good swimmer, and many a time he and Dave had raced each other in Crumville Creek.

"You fellows won't be in it!" he shouted merrily.

"Don't you be too sure of that," returned Luke. "This race isn't over yet."

"You fellows had better save your wind," spluttered Phil, who at that instant came up alongside of Shadow. There followed a great splashing of water, and suddenly Ben disappeared from view.

"Hey, you! Who fouled me that way?" roared the leader. "Whoever caught me by the foot ought to be put out of this race."

"Must have been a whale, Ben," answered Roger, mischievously.

"I'll whale you if you do it again," was the answer. And then all of the boys stopped talking and with renewed vigor bent to the task of trying to win the race.

Soon half the distance to the rock was covered. Ben was still in the lead, with Roger and Phil close behind him. Luke and Shadow had dropped so far to the rear that they gave up all hope of winning.

"Here is where I leave you fellows," announced Phil, and made a sudden spurt that soon placed him slightly in advance of Ben.

"Hi! hi! don't leave me this way!" yelled Roger, and he, too, put on a burst of speed, followed a second later by Dave.

On and on, through the cool, clear waters of Mirror Lake plunged the four boys. The goal was now less than fifty feet away.

"O my, see how hard they are swimming!" came from Laura.

"Ben was ahead, but I think Roger is up to him," announced Mrs. Basswood.

"Those four lads are pretty well bunched up," remarked Dunston Porter.

"Shadow and Luke have dropped out of it," announced Belle. "Gracious, how those others are swimming! Wouldn't you think it was for a prize of a thousand dollars?"

The four who had remained in the race were now less than five yards from the goal, a large flat rock that was joined to the mainland by a series of other rocks.

"Here is where I win!" declared Ben, and threw himself forward with all the strength left to him.

"Not much!" came from Phil.

"Count me in!" panted Roger.

"Also yours truly!" added Dave.

And then the four, lining up side by side, struck out fiercely, each doing his level best to touch the rock first. It was a neck-and-neck race, and in a moment more four hands went up on the rock at practically the same time.

"I win!"

"Not much, my hand was here first!"

"Oh, look!"

"Don't climb up on that rock!"

"What's the trouble?"

"What is it?"

"It's a snake, and a big one!" yelled Dave. "Back away from the rock, boys, just as fast as you can!"

CHAPTER XVIII

A CRY FROM THE CLIFF

"It's a snake sure enough!"

"My, what a big one!"

"No climbing on that rock for me!"

Such were some of the cries which rent the air as the four youths dropped back into the lake and lost no time in getting away from the spot which had been the goal of the swimming race.

"Say, Dave, what sort of a snake do you suppose that was?" queried Roger.

"Did he drop into the water?" questioned Ben, anxiously. "If it's a water snake maybe it's after us."

"I don't know what kind of snakes are to be found around here," returned Dave. "But it was dark in color and I think all of four or five feet long."

"Say, who won this race, anyhow?" came from Phil, as the boys swam around not far from the rock.

"I should say the snake did," laughed Dave.

In the meantime Dunston Porter, noticing that something unusual was going on in the vicinity of the goal, had leaped up and was running along the edge of the cove.

"What's the matter over there?" he yelled.

"A snake, Uncle Dunston," called back Dave. "Better get a shotgun and go after it."

"O dear! did you say a snake?" came from Laura, in dismay.

Acting on Dave's suggestion, Dunston Porter hurried back to one of the bungalows. He reappeared with a shotgun, and lost no time in making for the vicinity of the rock where the reptile had been seen. In the meanwhile the four boys rejoined Luke and Shadow, and all swam back to the dock.

"Oh, Dave, are you sure the snake didn't drop into the water after you?" questioned Jessie, and her face showed her anxiety.

"No, it retreated to the rocks further back," was the answer.

"Was it a poisonous snake?" asked Mrs. Basswood.

"I am sure I don't know."

"If there are snakes in these woods I don't think I'll care to go out very much," commented Laura, with a shiver.

"Snakes will just spoil everything," added Jessie, dismally.

While the boys and girls were dressing the report of a shotgun rang out.

"If that was Uncle Dunston shooting, he must have found Mr. Snake," were Dave's words.

"I hope he did find the snake," answered Roger. "If that reptile was left prowling around in this vicinity, none of the ladies would want to go out."

"And I wouldn't care much about going out myself," added Luke.

Having finished dressing, the boys lost no time in following Dunston Porter toward the rock which had been the goal of the swimming race. They found the old hunter and traveler searching through the brushwood back of the rocks.

"Did you get it, Uncle Dunston?" questioned Dave.

"I did," was the reply. "What's left of that snake is over yonder," and Mr. Porter pointed with his hand. "I'm looking around here to see if there are any more of them, but I rather fancy that is all there is."

The charge from the shotgun had fairly torn the reptile to pieces, for when Dunston Porter had fired the snake had been coiled up, evidently ready for an attack.

Arming themselves with clubs and stones, the boys joined Dunston Porter in the hunt for more reptiles, but their search was unsuccessful; and a little while later all returned to the bungalows.

"Did you find any other snakes?" asked Jessie, after she had been told about the one that had been killed.

"No, and I don't think there are any others," answered Mr. Porter.

"Well, I hope there are not," put in Laura, "but if there are I wish you had found them."

"We can't find what isn't there," said Luke, with a grin.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," burst out Shadow.

"Wow!" ejaculated Roger. "Here comes another!"

"Oh, say! this is a good one," pleaded the would-be story-teller. "It's about an old college graduate who was a regular fiend for football. He would undergo almost any hardship for the sake of getting to a game. Well, one time there was a great contest on between two of the big colleges, and although old Bixby nearly broke his back to get there, he didn't arrive until late. 'Say, how is it going?' he puffed to a gate-keeper. 'Nothing to nothing, middle of the second half,' answered the gate-keeper. 'Is that so?' returned old Bixby. 'That's good! I haven't missed anything,' and he passed in." And at this anecdote there was a general laugh.

In the afternoon while the young folks were enjoying themselves in various ways around the bungalows, they heard the put-put of a motor, and looking out on Mirror Lake, saw the craft belonging to the moving-picture company manager approaching, loaded with the furniture that had been borrowed.

"Here they come with our things!" cried Ben. "Looks like a house moving; doesn't it?"

They saw that the boat was in sole charge of Mr. Appleby, and as the craft drew closer the moving-picture manager gave them a cheery hail.

"Going into the moving business instead of moving pictures, eh?" cried Dave.

"I thought I might as well bring this stuff back while I had a chance," answered the manager, and soon brought his motor-boat to a standstill beside the dock. Then the boys made short work of taking the furniture back to the bungalows.

"I've got news for you, Mr. Porter," announced the moving-picture man, after the job was finished. "I've seen that young rascal, Link Merwell."

"You have!" exclaimed Dave, eagerly. "Up at your camp?"

"That's it."

"Did you make him a prisoner?" asked Phil.

"I didn't get the chance. He was evidently on his guard, and as soon as I told him what I knew, and that I was going to hand him over to the authorities, he ran straight into the woods, and that was the last any of us saw of him. He even left his suitcase and a light overcoat behind."

"Well, it's too bad he got away," returned our hero. "I thought sure if he had the audacity to show himself here we'd get a chance to capture him."

"I was foolish not to make him a prisoner as soon as he appeared," answered Thomas Appleby. "But I didn't think he would run away in that fashion, leaving his outfit behind. Besides, what he'll do in the woods behind our camp is a mystery to me. I asked old Tad Rason if there were any roads back there, and he said not within a couple of miles; so Merwell stands a good chance of losing himself completely."

"Great Scott! Supposing he should get into the woods and be unable to get out again!" burst out Roger.

"Well, such things have happened," answered Luke. "I heard only last winter of a man who was lost in the Maine woods."

"Yes, and Tad Rason told of two brothers who were lost up here in the Adirondacks for over three weeks," returned Mr. Appleby. "When they were found they were almost starved to death and next door to crazy."

"If anything like that should happen to Link, he will have nobody to blame but himself," announced Roger.

"Did he know we were up here?" queried Dave.

"He knew you were somewhere in this vicinity, but he did not know that the camps were so close to each other. I think if he had imagined such to be the case he would have steered clear of this vicinity."

"Was that young actor, Ward Porton, with him?"

"I really don't know whether they came together or not. Porton showed up about two hours before Merwell arrived. Of course, they may have separated just before the camp was reached – Porton not wanting to appear in the company of a fellow you had told him was a crook."

"Is Porton at your camp now?"

"Yes. But he doesn't intend to stay very long. He says he has something else in view, although what it is I don't know. To tell you the truth," and Mr. Appleby lowered his voice a trifle, "I think he is sweet on Miss Ford, and as she doesn't care for him at all and has told him so, it has put his nose out of joint."

"When you spoke to him about Merwell did Porton stand up for the fellow?" continued our hero. He was anxious to learn if possible just how close the companionship of the pair had been.

"He didn't have much to say after I told him all I knew," responded Thomas Appleby. "Previous to that, he remarked that you might be mistaken regarding Merwell – that Merwell had said that Jasniff and somebody else were guilty of the jewelry robbery."

"Humph! he can't put it off on anybody else like that!" cried Phil. "We know beyond a doubt that he and Jasniff committed that crime."

"Perhaps I ought not to blame Ward Porton for sticking up for Merwell," answered Dave. "Link is a mighty slick talker, and he probably told his story to suit himself and got Porton to swallow it. Just the same, Porton is very foolish to chum with him."

"I'll be rather sorry to lose Porton, for he is a clever fellow in the movies," went on the manager. "He wanted to leave in a few days, but I persuaded him to stay for a week at least, so we could finish several dramas in which he is an actor. After he is gone I'll have to get some one to take his place. Any of you young fellows want to have a try at it?" and Mr. Appleby looked full at Dave.

"Oh, I don't know," returned our hero, slowly. And then he saw that Jessie's eyes were turned upon him and that they showed she was troubled. "I don't think I care to take the matter up. You see, I came here for a rest and a good time."

"I wouldn't mind taking a hand at it!" cried Luke.

"You can count me in, too!" added Shadow. "I'd like first-rate to see myself on the screen in a moving-picture show," and his eyes lit up in anticipation.

"Well, you fellows come down some time and we'll talk it over," concluded the manager. "I've got to get back now. We are getting ready to put on quite an important drama to-morrow, and we have got to rehearse a number of scenes. If you folks want to come up and look on, you'll be welcome," he added, to the crowd in general.

When the moving-picture manager had departed, the boys set out to fish along the brook that flowed into Mirror Lake. While getting ready for the sport the conversation drifted around once more to Link Merwell.

"If he is in this vicinity, Dave, you can make sure he'll try to get in on us somehow before he leaves," remarked Phil.

"I don't see what he can do," returned Luke.

"Oh, a fellow like Link can do lots of things!" burst out Ben. "Why, he might even try to burn down the bungalows!"

"Do you think he's as bad as that?" questioned Shadow.

"Yes, I do!" was the flat answer.

Fishing in the vicinity of the lake was not very good, so the boys pushed further and further up the brook, until they reached a point where there was a little waterfall and a pool of considerable size. Here fishing was better, and soon they had quite a number of specimens of the finny tribe to their credit.

"Come on, Dave, let's go up a little farther," pleaded Phil. "I'd like to see what this brook looks like beyond the falls."

"All right, I'll go," answered our hero. "What about you fellows?" he asked, of the others.

"I'll stay here and rest," announced Roger. "I'm tired of scrambling over the rocks."

"So am I," agreed Ben. Shadow and Luke also said they would remain in the vicinity of the pool.

Dave and Phil found it no easy task to follow the brook, which wound in and out among the rocks and brushwood. At one point they had to do some hard climbing, and once the shipowner's son slipped and came close to spraining an ankle.

"Say, I don't believe I'll go much farther, after all," declared Phil. "This is rough and no mistake!"

"It is better walking a little farther on, Phil," announced Dave. "Come on, don't give up this way! Maybe we'll find some extra large fish up there."

Once more they set out, and soon found themselves in a small clearing, backed up by a cliff fifteen or twenty feet in height, and overgrown with brushwood and trailing vines.

"Hark! What was that?" exclaimed Phil, as both came to a halt preparatory to casting their lines into the stream.

"I think it was a shout," answered Dave. "Maybe the others are calling to us."

"No, I think the call came from up on the cliff, Dave. Listen, there it is again!"

Both strained their ears and soon heard another cry. This time it was much closer.

"Stop! stop! let me alone!" Such were the words that floated to their ears. "Please don't hit me! Let me alone!"

Dave and Phil looked at each other curiously.

"Who can it be?" questioned the shipowner's son.

"I don't know, but I guess we had better try to find out," answered our hero.

CHAPTER XIX

THE CAPTURE OF LINK MERWELL

"Where did that cry come from, Dave?"

"I think it came from the top of the cliff, Phil. Listen! there it goes again."

Both boys strained their ears once more, and now heard another voice, heavy and threatening.

"Leave this place! Leave at once, I command you! No one has any right to disturb me!"

"Don't hit me, I'll go!" returned the one who had first spoken, and a few seconds later he came into view at the edge of the cliff.

"Hello, it's Link Merwell!" burst out Dave, in amazement.

"Yes, and see, that wild man is after him!" added the shipowner's son.

He was right. Following closely upon the appearance of Link Merwell the boys at the foot of the cliff had seen some brushwood thrust aside, and now appeared the strange fellow who had so frightened the girls some time previously. He was dressed up more fantastically than ever, and had his face smeared with red and yellow. Over his shoulder, suspended by a strap, he carried an old-fashioned fowling piece, and in his hands was a heavy club.

"Go away from here! Go away, I say, and never come back!" cried the strange individual, dancing around wildly and flourishing his club close to Link Merwell's head.

"All right, I'm going! Please don't hit me!" pleaded the youth, who was plainly in terror of his life. And then, in his haste to escape, he took several steps forward.

"Look out there, or you'll have a bad fall!" yelled Dave, in quick alarm.

The warning, however, came too late. Deceived by the brushwood and vines growing at the edge of the cliff, Link Merwell lost his footing, and the next instant came tumbling headlong.

"Ha, ha! I told you to keep away! Now don't come back!" yelled the fantastically-dressed man in the bushes behind the cliff; and then with another yell he suddenly disappeared from view.

Dave and Phil rushed forward fully expecting to find Merwell seriously hurt. But in falling the youth had been fortunate enough to catch hold of some of the trailing vines, and these had stayed his progress somewhat, so that all he received was a violent shaking-up.

"Don – don't let – let him sho – shoot me!" spluttered Link Merwell, as he turned over and scrambled to his feet. Then, for the first time recognizing those who stood before him, his face showed more concern than ever.

"Who's that fellow who attacked you, Link?" asked Dave, quickly.

"I don't know – some crazy old lunatic, I suppose," muttered the former student of Oak Hall. "Is he – he – coming after me?"

"No, he just dashed out of sight," answered Phil. "He's the same chap who nearly scared the girls to death," he added to Dave.

"How do you know? He didn't look like that fellow," returned our hero.

"I recognized him by his voice, even though he is dressed quite differently, Dave. He must be as crazy as they make them."

"Oh, so you know him, do you?" put in Link Merwell, questioningly. He had gotten to his feet and was now straightening out his apparel.

"I must say, Link, I didn't think I was going to have the pleasure of meeting you so soon," said Dave, with a little bit of pardonable sarcasm.

"Humph!" Link Merwell was on the point of saying more, but bit his lip and kept silent.

"So you were on board the steam yacht when she took fire," put in Phil.

"I was."

"Why didn't you show yourself; were you afraid?"

"That was my business. I didn't have to show myself if I didn't want to."

"We know well enough why you didn't show yourself, Link," broke in our hero. "And we also know why you left Mr. Appleby's camp so suddenly. You were afraid of arrest."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody told us. We know it," went on Dave. "You have escaped several times, but I guess we've got you now."

"Hi! don't you dare to touch me!" exclaimed Link Merwell, in fresh alarm. "You haven't got any right to put your hands on me."

"Right or wrong, Link, we are going to make you a prisoner," declared Phil, and advancing he caught the youth who had helped to rob Mr. Wadsworth's jewelry works by the arm.

"You let me go, Phil Lawrence! If you don't it will be the worse for you!" bawled Link, and tried to wrench himself loose.