Dave Porter on Cave Island: or, A Schoolboy's Mysterious Mission

“They must have a lot of valuable jewelry there, Dave.”

“Oh, yes, they have. But it is all locked up in the safes at night.” Dave thought of the Carwith diamonds, but remembered his promise not to mention them to anybody.

As the boys turned another corner they came face to face with a fat man, who was struggling along through the snow carrying two heavy bundles.

“Hello!” cried Dave. “How are you, Mr. Rowell?”

“Bless me if it isn’t Dave Porter!” cried Amos Rowell, who was a local druggist. “Out rather late, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So am I. Had to visit some sick folks and I’m carrying home some of their washing. Goodnight!” and the druggist turned down one road and Dave and Roger took the other.

Inside of five minutes more our hero and his chum were at the entrance to the Wadsworth mansion. Just as they were mounting the steps, and Dave was feeling in his pocket for his key, a strange rumble reached their ears.

“What was that?” asked the senator’s son.

“I don’t know,” returned Dave, in some alarm. “It sounded to me as if it came from the direction of the jewelry works!”

CHAPTER X – WHAT HAPPENED AT THE JEWELRY WORKS

“The jewelry works?” repeated Roger.

“Yes. What did it sound like to you?”

“Why, like a blast of some kind. Maybe it was at the railroad.”

“They don’t work on the railroad at night – especially in this cold weather, Roger. No, it was something else.”

Both boys halted on the piazza and listened. But not another sound out of the ordinary reached their ears.

“Might as well go in – it’s getting pretty cold,” said the senator’s son.

Dave unlocked the door and they entered the mansion. A dim light was burning in the hallway. While they were taking off their caps and coats Dave’s father appeared at the head of the stairs.

“Got back safely, did you?” he questioned.

“Yes, dad; and everything in the city was all right,” answered the son. “I’ll bring the package up to you.”

“Never mind – I’ll come down and put it in the safe,” answered Mr. Porter. “By the way,” he went on, “what was that strange noise I just heard?”

“That is what we were wondering,” said Roger. “It sounded like a blast of dynamite to me.”

“Maybe something blew up at the powder works at Fenwood,” suggested Dave. The works in question were fifteen miles away.

“If it did, we’ll hear about it in the morning,” returned Mr. Porter, as he took the package Dave gave him and disappeared into the library, turning on the electric light as he did so.

The boys went upstairs and started to undress. Phil had been asleep, but roused up at their entrance. The boys occupied a large chamber, with two double beds in it, for they loved to be together, as at school.

“Listen to that!” cried Dave, as he was unlacing a shoe.

“It’s the telephone downstairs!” cried Phil. “My, but it’s ringing to beat the band!” he added, as the bell continued to sound its call.

The boys heard Mr. Porter leave the library and go to the telephone, which was on a table in an alcove. He took down the receiver.

“Yes! yes!” the boys heard him say. Then followed a pause. “You don’t mean it! When, just now? Was that the noise we heard? Where did they go to? Wait, I’ll call Mr. Wadsworth. What’s that? Hurry!” Then followed another pause. “Cut off!” they heard Mr. Porter mutter.

“Something is wrong!” murmured Dave.

Mr. Porter came bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. Dave and the other boys met him in the hallway.

“What is it, Dad?” asked the son.

“Robbers – at the jewelry works!” panted David Porter. “I must notify Mr. Wadsworth!” And he ran to a near-by door and pounded on it.

“What is it?” came sleepily from the rich manufacturer. He had heard nothing of the telephone call, being down deep in the covers because of the cold.

“Mr. Wadsworth, get up, get up instantly!” cried Mr. Porter. “You are wanted at the jewelry works. I just got something of a message from your watchman. Some robbers have blown open your safes and they attacked the man, but he got away long enough to telephone. But then they attacked him again, while he was talking to me! We’ll have to get down there at once!”

“Roger, did you hear that?” gasped Dave. “That’s the noise we heard!”

“Yes, and they attacked the watchman,” responded the senator’s son.

“I’m going back there,” went on Dave. “The others will have to stop and dress. Maybe we can catch those rascals.”

“Yes, and save the watchman, Dave!”

By this time Mr. Wadsworth had appeared, in a bath-robe, and Dunston Porter also showed himself. Dave slipped on his shoe again and fairly threw himself into his coat, and Roger also rearranged his toilet.

“Wait – I’ll go with you!” cried Phil.

“Can’t wait, Phil – every second is precious!” answered our hero. “You can follow with the men.”

“Take the gun, or a pistol – you may need it,” urged the shipowner’s son, as he started to dress.

In a corner stood Dave’s double-barreled shotgun, loaded. He took it up. Roger looked around the room, saw a baseball bat in another corner, and took that. Then the boys ran out into the hallway, where the electric lights were now turned on full. The whole house was in a hubbub.

“We are dressed and we’ll go right down to the works,” said Dave. “I heard what father said, Mr. Wadsworth. We’ll help Tony Wells, if we can.” And before anybody could stop him, he was out of the house, with Roger at his heels.

“Be careful, Dave!” shouted his uncle after him. “Those robbers may be desperate characters.”

“All right, Uncle Dunston, I’ll watch out.”

“If you chance to see a policeman, take him along. I’ll come as soon as I can get some clothing on.”

Tired though they were, the two boys ran all the distance to the jewelry works. When they got there they found everything as dark and as silent as before. They had met nobody.

“How are you going to get in?” asked Roger, as they came to a halt before the main door.

Dave tried the door, to find it locked. “Let us walk around. The thieves may be in hiding somewhere,” he suggested.

They made the circuit of the works, once falling into a hole filled with snow. Nothing unusual met their eyes, and each gazed questioningly at the other.

“It can’t be a joke, can it?” suggested Roger. “Nat Poole might – ”

“No, I’m sure it was no joke,” broke in our hero. “Wait, I’ll try that little side-door. I think that is the one the watchman generally uses.”

He ran to the door in question and pushed upon it. It gave way, and with caution he entered the building. All was so dark he could see absolutely nothing.

“I guess we’ll have to make a light,” he said, as his chum followed him. “Wait till I see if I have some matches.”

“Here are some,” answered Roger. “Wait, I’ll strike a light. You keep hold of that gun – and be ready to use it, if you have to!”

The senator’s son struck one of the matches and held it aloft. By its faint rays the boys were able to see some distance into the workshop into which the doorway opened. Only machines and work-benches met their gaze. On a nail hung a lantern.

“We’ll light this,” said Dave, taking the lantern down. “You can carry it, and I’ll keep the gun handy.”

With lantern and gun held out before them, and with their hearts beating wildly, the two youths walked cautiously through the workshop. They had to pass through two rooms before they reached the entrance to the offices. The light cast curious shadows on the walls and the machinery, and more than once the lads fancied they saw something moving. But each alarm proved false.

“Why not call the watchman?” suggested Roger, just before entering the offices.

They raised their voices and then raised them again. But no answer came back.

“Would he telephone from the office?” asked the senator’s son.

“I suppose so – although there is another ’phone in the shipping-room.”

The boys had now entered one of the new offices. Just beyond was the old office, with the two old safes, standing side by side.

“Look!” cried Roger, in dismay.

There was no need to utter the cry, for Dave was himself staring at the scene before him. The old office was in dire confusion, chairs and desks being cast in various directions. All of the windows were broken out and through these the chill night air was entering.

But what interested the boys most of all was the appearance of the two old safes. The door to each had been blown asunder and lay in a twisted mass on the floor. On top of the doors lay a number of boxes and drawers that belonged in the safes. Mingling with the wreckage were pieces of gold and silver plate, and also gold and silver knives, forks, and spoons.

“Here is where that explosion came from,” said Dave. “What a pity it didn’t happen when we were in front of the works! We might have caught the rascals red-handed!”

“Listen! I hear somebody now!” exclaimed Roger. “Maybe they are coming back.”

“No, that is my father who is calling!” replied our hero. “I’ll let him in.”

He ran to the office door, and finding a key in the lock, opened it. Roger swung the lantern, and soon Dave’s father and his uncle came up, followed by Mr. Wadsworth, who, being somewhat portly, could not run so fast, and had to be assisted by Phil.

“What have they done?” gasped the manufacturer. “Tell me quickly! Did they blow open the safes?” He was so agitated that he could scarcely speak.

The boys did not reply, for there was no need. Mr. Wadsworth gave one look and then sank down on a desk, too overcome to make another move.

“Did you see anything of the robbers, Dave?” asked his father.

“Not a thing.”

“And where is the watchman?”

“I don’t know.”

“Strange, he must be somewhere around. He told me of the robbery and then he said that they were coming after him. Then the message was suddenly cut off.”

“It looks like foul play to me,” said Dunston Porter, seriously. “We had better light up and investigate thoroughly.”

He walked to a switchboard on the wall and began to experiment. Presently the electric lights in the offices flashed up and then some of those in the workshops were turned on.

By this time Oliver Wadsworth was in front of one of the shattered safes. An inner door, somewhat bent, was swung shut. With trembling fingers the manufacturer pulled the door open and felt into the compartment beyond.

“Gone! gone!” the others heard him mutter hoarsely. “Gone!”

“What is it?” asked Mr. Porter.

“The casket – the Carwith casket is gone!” And Mr. Wadsworth looked ready to faint as he spoke.

“Were the jewels in it?” questioned Mr. Porter.

“Yes! yes!”

“All of them?” queried Dave.

“Yes, every one. I placed them in the casket myself before we locked up for the day.”

“Maybe the casket is on the floor, under the doors,” suggested Dave; but he had little hope of such being the case.

All started a search, lasting for several minutes. But it was useless, the casket with its precious jewelry had disappeared. Oliver Wadsworth tottered to a chair that Phil placed for him and sank heavily upon it.

“Gone!” he muttered, in a strained voice. “Gone! And if I cannot recover it, I shall be ruined!”

CHAPTER XI – LOOKING FOR THE ROBBERS

All in the offices listened with interest to Oliver Wadsworth’s words.

“The jewels were probably what the rascals were after,” was Mr. Porter’s comment. “Evidently they did not touch any of the gold plate or silverware.”

“That shows they must have known the jewels were here,” said Dunston Porter.

“Couldn’t they find out about them from the workmen?” questioned Dave.

“I suppose so – although it is a rule of the works for the men to keep silent regarding precious stones. No one but myself and the general manager are supposed to know just what we have on hand.”

“We must get busy and see if we cannot follow the robbers!” cried David Porter. “No use in wasting time here now. Let us scatter in all directions. One can go to the railroad station and the others to the roads leading out of town. We may pick up some clew.”

“The police, we’ll have to notify them!” said Roger.

“Yes! yes! Call the police up on the telephone!” ejaculated Mr. Wadsworth, starting to his feet.

Dave ran to the end of the office, where a telephone rested on a stand. The shock of the explosion had severed the wires.

“It’s out of commission,” he said. “I’ll have to use the one in the shipping-room.”

He left the offices, and made his way through two of the workrooms. Phil went with him and so did Roger.

“This will be a terrible blow for Mr. Wadsworth,” was the comment of the shipowner’s son.

“He said if he didn’t get the jewels back it would ruin him,” added Roger.

“Oh, we must get them back!” cried Dave. “Why, they are worth a fortune!”

In the shipping-room all was dark, and the boys had to first light a match and then turn on the electric illumination. The telephone was near by.

“Ruined!” cried our hero, as he beheld the wrenched-away receiver and transmitter.

“Here is where they must have caught the watchman while he was telephoning to Mr. Wadsworth!” said Phil.

“That must be it, Phil. We’ll have to go to the police station, or find another telephone.”

The boys rushed back to the offices and told of what they had discovered. Then Phil and Roger volunteered to run to the police station, over a quarter of a mile away.

“If you’ll do that, I’ll go to the railroad station,” said Dave. “I may be able to pick up some clew. The twelve-fifteen train is almost due and those rascals may try to board it. If I see anybody that looks suspicious, I’ll have him detained.”

“Don’t get into trouble!” called his father after him.

“I’ll try to take care of myself, Dad,” he answered.

Dave ran the whole distance to the depot. As he went along he kept his eyes wide open for a possible appearance of the robbers, peering down side-streets and alleyways, and into vacant lots. But he saw nobody until close to the station and then he received a sudden hail from in front of a coal office.

“Hi, you! Where are you going in such a hurry?” And a man in a dark blue uniform stepped into view, night-stick in hand.

“Just the man I want to see!” cried our hero. “I guess you know me, Mr. Anderson. Come on down to the depot, quick! We must get there before the train comes in!”

“Why, it’s Dave Porter!” exclaimed the policeman. “What’s the row, Dave?”

“Mr. Wadsworth’s jewelry works has been robbed. They have just gone to notify headquarters. I thought maybe the robbers might try to get away on the train. We want to stop any suspicious characters.”

“The jewelry works robbed? You don’t say! All right, I’ll go right along. Hope we can catch ’em!” And Officer Anderson swung up beside Dave, and both continued on a dog-trot to the depot.

Nobody but the station master was in sight. Dave and the policeman thought it best to keep out of sight.

“You stay at one end and I’ll stay at the other,” said the officer. “If you see anybody suspicious, whistle twice and I’ll come on the double-quick.”

At last they heard the train coming. Nobody had appeared, but presently Dave caught sight of a burly figure sneaking beside several empty freight cars on a side-track. He gave the signal for aid and then sneaked after the man. By this time the train had rolled into the little station.

Only a well-known young man of Crumville alighted, accompanied by an elderly lady, his mother. There were no passengers to get aboard, and the conductor swung his lantern for the engineer to go ahead again.

At that moment the burly fellow near the freight cars made a dive for the trucks of a baggage car, with the evident intention of stealing a ride. He had almost reached the trucks when Dave came up behind him and hauled him back.

“Not so fast!” said our hero, firmly. “I want to talk to you.”

“Hey, you let me alone!” growled the burly fellow. He was ragged and unshaven and evidently a tramp.

“Where did you come from?” went on Dave, and he continued to hold the man, while the train moved off.

“Wot business is that o’ yours?” was the sulky return. “Wot did yer make me miss that train for?”

“You’ll find out in a minute or two,” answered our hero, and just then Officer Anderson came running up.

“Got somebody, have you?” he panted.

“I guess he is only a tramp,” was Dave’s reply. “But we may as well hold him and see what he has got to say.”

“It’s Applejack Joe,” said the policeman, as he eyed the prisoner. “We warned him out of town this morning. What was he going to do, steal a ride?”

“I think so. I caught him making for the trucks of a baggage car.”

“That’s Joe’s favorite way of riding,” chuckled the policeman.

“I can’t see why that young feller had to stop me,” growled the tramp. “You folks wants me to git out, an’ when I start yer hold me back.”

“Why didn’t you go this morning, if you were told to go?” asked Dave.

“Say, I don’t move as swift as some folks. Wot’s the use? Take yer time, is my motter.”

“Where have you been for the last three or four hours?” asked the policeman.

“Where have I been? It won’t do you no good to know, cap’n.”

“Well, you tell us, just the same,” said Dave. “I want to know if you have seen any other men sneaking around town to-night. If you have, it may pay you to tell me about it.”

“Provided we can land on those other chaps,” put in the officer.

“Oh, I see; somethin’ wrong, hey?” And the tramp leered unpleasantly. “Want to pull me into it, mebbe.”

“You are pulled in already,” answered Officer Anderson.

“Oh, don’t arrest me, an’ I’ll tell you everything I know!” pleaded Applejack Joe. He had once been in the Crumville jail in winter and found it very cold and uninviting, and he wanted no more of it.

“What do you know?” questioned Dave. “Answer quick. There has been a big robbery here, and if you can help us to catch the men maybe you’ll get a reward.”

“Reward? Say, I’m your huckleberry, young man. Wot do I know?” The tramp rubbed his unshaven chin. “Yes, that’s them, I’m sure of it,” he murmured, half to himself.

“Who?” demanded Dave, impatiently.

“Them two fellers I see down at Casterbury’s stock-farm this afternoon. They had a bag wot looked suspicious to me, an’, say; did they use dynamite, or somethin’ like that?”

“They did!”

“Then that’s them! Cos why? Cos when they walked past where I was hidin’, I heard one of ’em say, ‘Be careful o’ that, we don’t want it to go off an’ git blowed up.’”

“Two men?” came from the policeman. “Did you know them?”

The tramp shook his head.

“Never set eyes on ’em before. But I see ’em after that, down back of that jewelry works over there,” and he threw up his hand in the direction of Mr. Wadsworth’s place. “Say, is that the place they robbed?” he continued, with some show of interest.

“Yes,” answered Dave. “Now tell me how those fellows looked.”

“I can’t tell yer that, exactly, fer my eyesight ain’t none too good, I git so much smoke an’ cinders in ’em from the railroad. But they was kinder young fellers, I think, and putty good educated – not common fellers like me. Somethin’ like yerself. An’ they was dressed putty good, long overcoats, and soft hats wot was pulled down over their faces.”

“Did you hear them speak any names?” asked Officer Anderson.

“Nary a name.”

“Have you seen the two men during the last hour or so?” asked Dave.

“No, ain’t see ’em since I spotted ’em back of the jewelry factory. That was about seven, or maybe eight o’clock.”

“Did they go into the works then?”

“No, they just stood by the back fence talkin’. I thought they had somethin’ to do with that new buildin’ going up there, so I didn’t think nuthin’ more about it.”

“I see. Well, Joe, I guess you had better come with us for the present,” went on Dave. “We’ll want your testimony.”

“It ain’t fair to arrest me!” whined the tramp.

“We won’t call it arrest,” went on Dave, before the policeman could speak. “You’ll be detained, that’s all, and I’ll see that you don’t lose anything by it.”

“All right then, if that’s the way you’re goin’ to put it,” answered Applejack Joe resignedly. “But I hope you’ll see to it that I gits something to eat an’ a warm place to sleep.”

“I’ll remember,” returned our hero.

There seemed nothing now to do but to return to the jewelry works and this Dave did, taking the tramp and the officer with him. When they arrived they found the chief of police there, with two officers. The chief was questioning Mr. Wadsworth and the distracted manufacturer was telling what he knew about the crime that had been committed.

The arrival of those from the depot, and what the tramp had to tell, put a new face on the matter. One of the officers said he had seen the two strangers with the tool-bag, but had put them down for traveling salesmen visiting Crumville on business.

“They are undoubtedly the guilty parties,” said the chief. “The only question is: Where did they go to?”

“Well, they didn’t take that twelve-fifteen train,” answered Dave.

“Then they either got out of town by the use of a horse or an auto, or else they are here yet,” said Mr. Wadsworth. “Oh, catch them! Catch them if you can! I must get those jewels back! I’ll give a big reward for their safe return.”

“Have you heard from Phil or Roger yet?”

“No, Dave.”

“They may bring in some word.”

“Let us hope so,” groaned the manufacturer.

“What became of the watchman?”

“That is a mystery. Perhaps they carried him off and threw him into the river, or something like that!”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be as rascally as all that!” returned Dave, in horror.

“Perhaps. Some robbers are very desperate characters.”

At that moment came a cry from one of the workrooms, where one of the officers had gone to take a look around.

“What is it, Carr?” called the chief of police.

“Here’s poor Tony Wells,” was the answer. “He’s in bad shape. Better somebody run for a doctor at once!”

CHAPTER XII – THE TELLTALE CIGARETTE BOX

The watchman was indeed in bad shape. He had been found thrown under a workbench, and just returning to consciousness. He had a cut over his left ear and another on his forehead, from which the blood had flowed freely.

“Must have struck him with a club, or an iron bar,” was the opinion of the chief, as the injured man was carried into the office and placed on some chair cushions. Here his wounds were washed and bound up, while one officer ran to get a doctor who lived not a great distance off.

It was some little time before Tony Wells, who was nearly seventy years of age, opened his eyes to stare around him.

“Don’t – don’t hit me again!” he murmured. “I – I didn’t touch you!”

“It’s all right, Tony!” said the chief. “Those fellows are gone. You’re among friends.”

“They – knocked me down!” gasped the old watchman. “I – I – tried to telephone – after the explosion, but – but – ” He could not go on, and suddenly relapsed again into unconsciousness.

“Poor fellow!” said Mr. Wadsworth, tenderly. “We must do what we can for him.”

“Is anything missing besides the jewels?” asked Dave, while they were waiting for the doctor to come, and waiting to hear from the others who had gone out.

“No, Dave. But that is enough. If they are not recovered, I shall be ruined.”

“Can they hold you responsible for the loss?”

“Yes, for when I took the jewels to re-set I guaranteed the safe return of each jewel. I had to do that because they were afraid some workmen might try to substitute other jewels not so good – which is sometimes done.”

“And you said they were worth seventy-five thousand dollars?”

“All of that.”

“Those robbers certainly made a haul.”

“It drives me crazy to think about it,” groaned Oliver Wadsworth.

“Perhaps the others who went out will catch them,” answered our hero, hopefully.

Soon the doctor arrived and took charge of old Tony Wells, whom he knew well. As Wells was a widower, living alone, the doctor said he would take the old man to his own home, where he could have constant attention.

“He is already in a fever,” said the physician. “We had better not try to question him at present. It will only excite him the more.” And a little later the sufferer was placed on a litter and carried to the doctor’s residence.