Dave Porter in the Far North: or, The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

"The next time we meet you'll see him go down and out," added the tall boy. "He won't be in it a minute after I once get at him."

Word was sent to Mike Marcy about his mule, and the farmer sent an answer back that the mule was now at home again, safe and sound. The mean fellow did not add one word of thanks for the information given to him.

"That's like Marcy," said Dave. "If he thanked me for anything I think I'd drop dead."

"Some men hardly know how to be civil," answered Phil.

During the next few days word also came from Dodsworth Sadler that he was on the trail of Blodgett and Volney and hoped to catch them before many days. He added that he had evidence to convict the swindlers if he could only lay his hands on them.

"That lets you and me out," said Dave to Gus Plum. "I don't think you'll ever hear another word from the two rascals."

"If it hadn't been for you I should have paid them that money," said the former bully, gratefully. "And they would have kept me in their power if they could."

Dave was anxiously awaiting a letter from his uncle, and when it came he could scarcely take time to tear open the communication, so eager was he to know its contents. The letter was very brief and simply asked the boy to come home on the following Saturday, and added that if he really wanted to go to London he could do so. Dave was to show the letter to Doctor Clay, in order to get the necessary permission to leave the Hall.

"I shall be sorry to have you go, Master Porter," said the principal of the academy. "But I can understand how you feel about your father and sister, and it will perhaps be better for you to go in search of them than to sit down here and be on pins and needles over it;" and Doctor Clay smiled kindly.

"Then you are really going to London!" cried Phil, when he heard the news. "Wish I was going, too!"

"So do I, Phil," answered Dave. "We'd have as good a time as we did on your father's ship in the South Seas."

"I am going to write to my folks about this at once," said Roger. His heart was set on going to England with his chum.

As soon as Dave's friends heard that he was going away once more, several began to plan a celebration for him.

"Let us hold a special meeting of the Gee Eyes, for Dave's benefit," said Sam Day; and so it was voted.

The Gee Eyes, as my old readers know, was a secret organization that had existed at Oak Hall for a long time. The words stood for the two letters G and I, which in turn stood for the name of the club, Guess It. The club was organized largely for fun, and this fun consisted mainly in the initiation of new members.

At one time Gus Plum had been at the head of a rival organization called the Dare Do Anything Club, but this had been broken up by Doctor Clay because of the unduly severe initiation of a small boy, named Frank Bond, who had almost lost his reason thereby. Now Gus had applied for membership in the Gee Eyes and had said that he would stand for any initiation they offered.

"I have half a mind to take Plum up," said Phil Lawrence, who was the Honorable Muck-a-Muck, otherwise president, of the club. "He deserves to be put through a strong course of sprouts for what he did to Frank Bond."

"All right, I am willing for one," said Buster Beggs, who was the secretary, under the high-sounding title of Lord of the Penwiper. "But we will have to ask the others first."

A canvass was made and it was decided to initiate Gus Plum on Friday night, after which the club was to celebrate the departure of Dave in as fitting a style as the exchequer of the organization permitted. Plum was duly notified, and said he would be on hand as required. "And you can do anything short of killing me," he added, with a grin.

"It will make Plum feel better if he suffers," said Dave. "He hasn't got Frank Bond off his mind yet." Which statement was true. Plum and Bond had made up, and the former bully now did all in his power to aid the small, timid fellow in his studies and otherwise.

The club met in an old boathouse down the river. It was a bright moonlight night and about twenty members were present, all attired in their red robes and black hoods with yellow tassels. As before, some of the members had wooden swords and others stuffed clubs. Around the boathouse were hung a number of pumpkin lanterns, cut out in imitation of skulls.

For the initiation of Gus Plum one of the club members had composed a new chant, which was sung slowly and impressively as the former bully of Oak Hall was led in by Buster Beggs and Sam Day.

"Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dall!Here's the victim, see him fall!Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dees!Down upon his bended knees!Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly deet!Bind his hands and bind his feet!Hoopra! hoopra! Dilly dive!Let us cut him up alive!"Punch him, crunch him, smash him up!Let him drink the poison cup!Let him groan and let him raveAs we put him in his grave!"

As this strange doggerel was sung the masked students danced fantastically around Gus Plum, slapping him with their swords and clubs. Then of a sudden he was tripped up, bound hands and feet, and marched out of the boathouse. Here a bag was tied over his head, so that he could not see a thing, although the bag had holes in the rear, so that he would not be suffocated.

"To the river with him!" came the loud command. "An icy bath will do him a world of good."

Now if there was one thing Gus Plum hated, it was ice-cold water for bathing purposes, and the suggestion of such a bath, in the open air, with the thermometer below the freezing point, caused him to shiver.

"Now, see here – " he began, and then shut his lips tightly. Come what might he resolved to utter no complaint.

"What sayest thou?" demanded a voice by his side.

"Wouldst thou beg off?" demanded another.

"No, I'll take my medicine, no matter what it is," answered the former bully, doggedly.

CHAPTER XIII

AN INTERRUPTED INITIATION

"He's full of grit this time," whispered Phil to Dave.

"Oh, Plum isn't the boy he used to be, I am certain of that," was the low answer.

Before long the students reached a point on the river front where there was a heavy clump of bushes. In a hollow between the bushes a fire had been built, and on the bushes had been hung some horse blankets, to keep off the wind.

As the members of the Gee Eyes reached the hollow they saw two boys wrapped up in overcoats stealing away into the woods close by.

"Hello, who are those chaps?" cried Roger.

"One of them looked like Nat Poole to me," answered Dave.

"Wonder what they are doing here?"

"Came to see what was going on, I suppose."

"I don't like fellows like Nat Poole to be hanging around," remarked Buster Beggs.

The fire had been burning low, but now it was stirred up and more dry branches were piled on top, creating a roaring blaze. By the flickering glare the masked figures looked decidedly fantastic.

Up to that moment the club members had been undecided what to do with Gus Plum. Some were in favor of taking off his shoes and socks and letting him down into the river through a hole in the ice, wetting him up to his knees. Others wanted him to crawl on his hands and knees to another spot on the river, quarter of a mile away. Still others wanted to make a snow house and shut him inside for awhile, letting him breathe through a piece of gaspipe which had been brought along. Others wanted him to make a ten minutes' speech on "What Mackerels Have Done for Astronomy," or some subject equally "deep."

"Let us have the speech, at least first," suggested Dave.

"All right, give us the subject," answered Phil, after a consultation with the other officers.

"All right, I will," answered Dave, after a moment's thought. "Better take the bag off his head first."

This was quickly removed, and Gus Plum was made to stand up on a rock close to the fire.

"Wretch, listen!" came from one of the masked figures. "It is decreed that thou must speak for ten minutes by the second-splitting watch on a subject that shall be given to thee. Shouldst thou fail, it will be a whacking with staves for thine. Dost thou agree?"

"Speak on what?"

"Here is the subject," said Dave, in a disguised voice that was thin and piping: 'If a Pail Lets Out Water When it Leaks, Why Doesn't a Boat Do the Same Thing?'" And a snicker went round at this question.

"Thou hast heard the subject. Art prepared to discourse?" asked one of the Gee Eyes.

"Sure thing," answered Gus Plum, after a moment of thought. He struck an attitude. "My subject is a most profound one, first broached by Cicero to Henry Clay, during the first trip of the beloved pair to Coney Island."

"Hurrah! Hooroo!" came from one of the club members.

"Cicero had been speaking to just such a crowd of convicts as I am now addressing – thieves, murderers, and those who had failed to shovel the snow from their sidewalks during the months of July and August," continued Gus Plum.

"Convicts is good," murmured Roger.

"The boat running to Coney Island had slowed up to a walk, which caused Cicero to grow impatient, as he wanted a ride on the shoot-the-chutes. Henry Clay, along with Napoleon and a Roman sausage-maker named Hannibal, were in the bow of the craft trying to solve the fifteen puzzle by the aid of a compass and a book on etiquette. Suddenly a great commotion arose to a height of a mile or more. The boat sank to the bottom of the sea, turned over three times, and came to the surface again. A shriek arose from one of the ladies, Cleopatra's waiting-maid: 'I have lost my knitting overboard.' 'Man the pumps!' cried Cicero, and then tied his sandals around his neck for a life-preserver. Henry Clay drew a Henry Clay from his pocket and began to smoke vigorously. Hannibal said he would turn cannibal if the boat went down again. Cleopatra said she would die happy if only they would start up the phonograph, and Homer did so, with that beautiful ode entitled, 'Why Eat Turkey When Corned Beef Is So Cheap?'"

"Where's the pail that leaked?" came from the crowd.

"Stick to the subject."

"Is the boat leaking yet?"

"Be not afraid," answered Gus Plum, solemnly. "By the chronometer I have still seven minutes before the boat and pail sink out of sight forever. However, the pail was there, sitting, like a hen, on the larboard mast, filled with gooseberries, which Pocahontas had picked at dawn, in company with General Grant and King Henry the Sixty-second. Looking at this pail, John Paul Jones slapped his sailor thigh and asked, 'Why is a gooseberry?' a question which has come resounding down the ages – Oh, thunder! Do you want to blow me to pieces!"

Crack! bang! crack! boom! came four loud reports, and the fire was scattered in all directions. Bang! came another report, and Dave received some burning fagots in the face. Gus Plum was hurled from the rock upon which he had been standing. Boom! came a report louder than any of the rest, and what was left of the camp-fire flew up in the air as if a volcano were under it.

All of the club members were dumbfounded, for nobody had expected anything of this sort. Half a dozen of the boys had gone down and in a twinkling the robes Roger and Ben wore were in flames. The fire lay in all directions, and now came two smaller reports and Dave saw a fair-sized fire-cracker fly apart.

"Somebody put fire-crackers under the fire," he cried. "Big ones and little ones." And then, seeing Ben in flames, he rushed to the assistance of his chum.

It was no easy matter to put out the fire, and before Ben was out of danger Dave got a blister on one hand. In the meantime Gus Plum had leaped towards Roger.

"Roll over!" he cried, and tripped the senator's son up. Then he began to beat the flames out with his hands and with the bag that had been over his head. Roger had gotten some hot ashes in his face, and he was confused and half blinded thereby.

The excitement lasted nearly five minutes, and when it was over the boys stood there with their hoods and robes off, gazing at each other nervously.

"Who did this?" demanded Phil.

"That was too much of a good thing," said Shadow. "Why, some of us might have been burned to death."

"Kind of rough initiation," remarked Gus Plum, dryly. "But I didn't catch it as much as Roger and Ben."

"That wasn't down on the programme," returned Dave. "At least, it wasn't so far as I am concerned."

"I didn't know of it!" cried Buster Beggs.

"Nor I!" "Nor I!" came from one after another of the other members of the Gee Eyes.

"Who started the fire?" asked Phil.

"I did," answered Sam Day. "I just got some wood together and lit it, that's all."

"Was there anything on the ground?"

"Not a thing, so far as I noticed."

"Here is part of a big cannon cracker," said Dave, holding up the still burning paper. "That was big enough to blow off a fellow's hand or foot."

"Say, don't you remember those fellows we saw running away!" exclaimed Roger.

"To be sure!" was the quick answer. "Nat Poole was one."

"Who was the other?"

"He looked like Link Merwell to me," said Buster Beggs.

"Then we've got an account to settle with Poole and Merwell," said Roger. "Just look at how my hands and my neck are blistered!"

"And my hand," said Ben. "Oh, how it smarts! I'll have to put some oil and flour on it."

"Let us declare Plum's initiation finished," said Phil. "Then we can hunt up those fellows who played this dirty trick on us."

Phil's suggestion was at once adopted, and the club members scattered through the woods, to look for those who had hidden themselves. In a very few minutes Sam Day set up a shout:

"Here is one of them!"

"And here is the other!" called out Gus Plum and Ben, simultaneously.

"You let go of me, Sam Day!" came in the voice of Nat Poole. "I didn't do anything! Let me go!"

"You come along with me, Nat Poole," answered Sam, sternly. "Just look how that hand is burnt!" And in his anger Sam gave the other boy a smart box on the ear.

"Oh! Don't, please don't."

"You'll yell worse than that when we are through with you," answered Sam.

"You bet he will," said Buster Beggs. "I got a hot cinder in my right eye."

"Don't, please don't!" shrieked Nat Poole. He was a coward at heart, and the attitude of those around filled him with sudden terror. "I didn't do it, I tell you."

"Then who did?" demanded Dave.

"Oh, I – I can't tell you. I – I – "

"Yes, you can tell," said Shadow, and gave Poole's ear a twist. The story-teller of the school had gotten some hot ashes in his mouth, which had put him in anything but a gentle humor.

"It was Link Merwell. He put the crackers under the fire and let the fuses stick up," said Poole.

"You're a fine sort to blab!" sneered Merwell. "Since you're willing to tell so much, I'll tell something too. He bought the fire-crackers."

"Is that true, Poole?" questioned Roger.

"Ye – yes, but I – I didn't know – "

"He knew what I was going to do with them," broke in Link Merwell. "It was only a joke."

"So is that a joke, Merwell," answered Roger, and hauling off he boxed the tall youth's right ear. "If you want to make anything out of it, do so. Look at my hands and neck. You went too far."

Merwell's face blazed and he looked as if he wished to annihilate the senator's son.

"Humph! I suppose you think you can do as you please, with your own crowd around you," he muttered. "You don't know how to take a joke."

"I can take a joke as well as anybody, but not such a perilous trick as that."

"It's on a par with the joke of the fellow who put gunpowder in a poor Irishman's pipe," broke in Shadow. "It put the Irishman's eyes out. I don't see any fun in that."

"I think we ought to give them both a good licking!" cried a boy named Jason, and without more ado he took his wooden sword and gave Poole a whack across the back. Then he turned and whacked Merwell.

It was a signal for a general use of the wooden swords and stuffed clubs, and in a moment the two unlucky students were surrounded, and blows fell thick and fast. Poole yelled like a wild Indian, but Merwell set his teeth and said nothing, only striking back with his fists when he got the chance. Dave took no part in the onslaught, nor did Ben and Phil. As soon as he saw a chance Nat Poole ran for his life. Link Merwell stood his ground a little longer, then he too retreated, shaking his fist at the members of the Gee Eyes.

"Just wait!" he fairly hissed. "I'll get square for this, if it takes me a lifetime!"

CHAPTER XIV

GOOD-BYE TO OAK HALL

"I'll wager Merwell is the maddest boy Oak Hall ever saw!" said Shadow, when the excitement had subsided.

"Poole is a sneak, and no mistake," said Sam. "I wonder if he'll go and tell old Haskers or Doctor Clay?"

"He won't dare – for he is afraid we will tell about the fire-crackers," answered Dave. "Yes, he is a sneak."

"I don't see, now, how I could ever make a friend of him," declared Gus Plum. "Now, in one way, I like Merwell – he's a fighter and he doesn't care who knows it."

"Yes, but he's got a wicked temper," observed Roger. "He reminds me of Nick Jasniff. They would make a team."

"Where did he come from, anyway?" questioned Messmer.

"From some ranch out West. His father is a big cattle-owner. He is used to life in the open air, and one of the fellows says he can ride like the wind."

"We must watch him," declared Phil.

"I can't do that – since I am going away," answered Dave. "I'll have to leave you chaps to fight it out."

"Do you think they'll come back or send Haskers?" asked Buster Beggs.

"It might be wise to leave this spot," answered Phil. "There are plenty of places we can go to."

It was decided to move, and several baskets which had been stored away in the bushes were brought forth.

"I've got an idea!" cried Henshaw. "Let us go to that old barn on the Baggot place. Nobody will disturb us there."

"I want to fix up my burns first," said Roger.

"So do I," said Ben. "Come on to the Hall – we can join the crowd later."

So it was arranged, and while the senator's son and Ben went off in one direction the remaining members of the Gee Eyes took another, which led them over a small hill and through an old apple orchard.

The Baggot place had not been used for several years. The house was nailed up, but the big barn stood wide open and had often been the resort of tramps. But during the hunt for the robber, Pud Frodel, and his tool, all the tramps had been rounded up and driven away.

Several of the students had brought their pumpkin lanterns with them, and these were hung up on convenient nails.

"Say, a small stove wouldn't go bad," suggested Messmer. "It's mighty cold in here."

"Let us settle down in some hay," suggested Phil. "That will keep us warm, especially if we shut the doors and windows tight."

The baskets which had been brought along were filled with good things, and these were speedily passed around. The boys fell to eating with avidity, for the adventures of the evening had made them hungry. Then Dave was called upon for a speech.

"I hardly know what to say, fellow-students," he began, after a cheering and hand-clapping. "You have treated me royally to-night, and I do not intend to forget your kindness. I am sorry that I am going to leave you, but you all know what is taking me away – "

"We do, and we hope you'll find your folks," put in Phil.

"So say we all of us!" sang out Henshaw.

"If I am successful in my search perhaps I'll return to Oak Hall before a great while," continued Dave. "In the meantime I trust you all have good times, and that you may have no more trouble with our enemies. More than this, as I expect to be away during the holidays, I wish each one a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

As Dave concluded there was a round of applause, and the club members drank his health in lemon soda and sarsaparilla. Then some nuts and raisins were passed around, and all prepared to return to Oak Hall.

"We've got to go in quietly, or else there may be trouble," said Phil. "Remember, we don't know what Merwell and Poole will do."

There was no trouble, however, for which Dave was thankful, since he wished to leave the Hall with a clean record. As soon as he reached his dormitory he went to bed, and so did the other occupants of the apartment. And thus his schooldays, for the time being, came to an end.

He was up bright and early and by nine o'clock was ready to enter the sleigh that was to take him to Oakdale station. The boys gathered around to see him off.

"I wish I was going with you," said Phil. "You must write me regularly."

"I'll do that, Phil. And you must tell me all about what happens here."

"Remember, Dave, I'll join you if I possibly can," said Roger. "Let me know where I can telegraph or telephone you."

"Sure, Roger, and if you can join me I'll like it first-rate."

An hour later Dave was on the train and speeding towards Crumville. He had sent word ahead when he would arrive, and at the station he found the Wadsworth sleigh, with Caspar Potts and Jessie Wadsworth awaiting him. The old professor looked hale and hearty, although his form was slightly bent and his hair was gray and white. Jessie, round-cheeked and rosy, was the picture of health and beauty.

"There he is! There's Dave!" cried the miss, and leaped to the sidewalk to shake hands.

"Why, how tall you are getting, Jessie," said the boy, and then blushed, for the handshake she gave him was a very cordial one. "How do you do, Professor?" And he shook hands with the man who had done so much for him in his younger years.

"I am very well indeed, Dave," answered Professor Potts. "Will you sit up here by me, or with Miss Jessie?"

"Dave must come in with me," said Jessie, promptly.

"Did my Uncle Dunston come?" questioned the boy, looking around, for he had fully expected to see his relative.

"No, he has a touch of rheumatism in his left knee," answered Caspar Potts.

"That's too bad."

Dave assisted Jessie to a seat and then got in beside her, and tucked in the handsome fur robe. Off went the team at a spanking gait, past the stores of the town and then in the direction of the Wadsworth mansion. Many looked at Dave as he rode by and thought him a lucky boy – and he certainly was lucky, and thankful for it.

The mansion reached, Dave was warmly greeted by Mrs. Wadsworth, and, later on, by Mr. Wadsworth, who had been to his large jewelry works on business. The lad found his Uncle Dunston in his room, in an easy-chair, with his rheumatic leg resting on a low stool.

"It's not so very bad, Dave," said Dunston Porter, after their greeting was over. "I hope to be around again before long. But it is too bad it should come on at this time, when I had hoped to go to London with you."

Dave sat down, and a conversation lasting the best part of an hour ensued. The boy told all he knew about Nick Jasniff, and showed the letter which Gus Plum had received. Dunston Porter said he had sent several cablegrams to London, but so far had heard nothing of satisfaction.

"I even sent a money order to this Nick Jasniff, thinking he might try to get it cashed, but the order has not been called for. The money was cabled to London and then put in a letter for the General Delivery department. Evidently this Jasniff is keeping shady, or otherwise he has left the city or is living under an assumed name."

"I know pretty much the sort of a chap he is," said Dave. "He likes to go to the theater, and he was a great chap to bowl. If I go over there I am going to hunt up the bowling places, if there are any, and take a look in at the different theaters. If he is in London I ought to run across him some day. And I'll try finding him by letter and by a notice in the newspapers, too."

Dave was a very busy boy for the next few days, perfecting his plans to visit England. Yet he managed to spend several happy hours with the others and especially with Jessie, who now acted more like a young lady than a girl. Truth to tell, Dave thought a great deal of the rich manufacturer's daughter, and Jessie seemed always to want him around, that they might sing together, or play games, or go out for a sleigh-ride.

"You mustn't forget us when you are in London," said Jessie. "I want you to send me some postal cards – the picture kind."