AFTER THE RUNAWAYS
“Why, Nat, what do you mean?” demanded Dave.
“I mean just what I say!” declared the money-lender’s son. “This is a frame-up, nothing more! I understand it all now, although I didn’t at first.”
“What do you mean by ‘a frame-up,’ Poole?” demanded Doctor Clay.
“I mean that they took this magazine and the drawing to the cabin, that is what I mean, Doctor Clay. They found out somehow that my—er—that the wild man was there, and they got up this scheme to make it look as if he had blown up the hotel,—and they did it just to clear their cronies and themselves.”
“Nat, you know that is not true!” exclaimed Roger. “I found the magazine with the drawing on a shelf in the cabin.”
“Yes, that is what you said, but I don’t believe it, Roger Morr. I think you put the magazine there yourself—you or Dave Porter.” 211
“We did nothing of the kind,” cried our hero.
“I think you did—and I think Jason Sparr will think so, too, when he hears the story. It’s a frame-up, just to clear yourselves and your cronies,” added Nat, with a sneer.
“Nat, you ought to be––” began Roger, in high anger, when Dave stopped him. Our hero looked at Doctor Clay.
“What Roger says is the absolute truth, Doctor Clay,” said our hero. “He found that magazine on a shelf in the cabin where the wild man was staying, and that drawing and the wording were on it, just as you see. More than that, we can prove that the wild man was around the old shanty where the dynamite was kept, and that he was seen in Oakdale several times.”
Dave was interrupted here by Nat, and a wordy war lasting several minutes followed. Finally Doctor Clay said he would take the magazine and keep it, and that he would notify the authorities in what locality the wild man might be found, provided he had not gone away further than expected.
“I am inclined to believe the story told by Morr and Porter,” said he somewhat sternly to Nat Poole. “But this matter cannot be cleared up until we find your uncle. When captured, the unfortunate man will most likely speak of the blowing up in some way or another, if he is guilty.” 212
“I don’t think so,” answered Nat; but his manner showed that he was much disturbed. Then Dave and Roger were dismissed, and the master of the school took Nat with him to Oakdale, to see what could be done towards rounding up Wilbur Poole in the near future.
“Well, Dave, what is the next move?” asked the senator’s son, as the two were alone in the lavatory, washing up after the long bicycle ride.
“I wish I could find Phil and the others and get them to come back here,” responded our hero. “It is a great mistake for them to stay away.”
“I believe you—it looks just as if they were guilty. I wonder that they don’t come back on their own account, now they have had a chance to think it over.”
“I think they saw that article in the newspaper, Roger, and it scared them worse than ever. Maybe they imagine the officers of the law are waiting to gobble them up.”
“If we only had some trace of them!”
“I’ve got an idea I am going to follow up.”
“What sort of an idea?”
“I was thinking of that baggage that left here. Maybe it was shipped to some point.”
“You’ll have a job tracing it up.”
“I can try it, anyway,” answered our hero.
A day slipped by and nothing more was said 213 about the affair by Doctor Clay or Nat Poole. Then Nat left the school, telling some friends he was going home for a week’s rest.
“Most likely he is after his uncle,” was Roger’s comment, and Dave agreed with him.
As soon as he could get the time Dave went to Oakdale to see if he could find any trace of the baggage belonging to Phil and the others who had run away. He made many inquiries but without success, and was on the point of returning to the school when he happened to think of an old man named Dowling, who did some trucking and who knew Buster Beggs very well.
“We’ll go around to Dowling’s place,” said he to his chum.
They found the old man in a little shanty behind his house which he called his office. It had an old easy-chair and a desk, and on the wall was a telephone.
“How do you do, boys,” he said, politely. “What can I do for you? Want some baggage shipped?”
“No, I came for some information, Mr. Dowling,” said Dave. “Have you shipped any baggage for Buster Beggs lately?”
At the mention of the fat student’s name the old expressman started.
“What do you want to know that for?” he demanded. 214
“I’ve a very good reason, Mr. Dowling. I want to do Beggs a favor.”
“Reckon you want to find him, eh?”
“Yes.”
“So do some other folks;” and the old man chuckled.
“Well, we are his friends, and we want to find him for his own good.”
“Who be you, if I may ask?”
“I am Dave Porter, and this is Roger Morr. Buster Beggs is our friend, and so are Phil Lawrence and Ben Basswood. They ran away and it was foolish for them to do it. Now we want to find them and get them to come back here.”
“It was foolish for ’em to run away—I said thet all along,” murmured the old expressman.
“Then you know where they are?” put in Roger quickly.
“No, I don’t.”
“But you took their baggage away, didn’t you?” questioned Dave, for he could see that the old man was holding something back.
“I allow as how I moved some things for ’em, yes,” was the cautious reply.
“When they ran away?” pursued Dave.
The old expressman nodded.
“Who got those bags from Oak Hall?” asked Roger. 215
“Thet’s a secret,” and now the old man really chuckled, as if he thought it was a good joke.
“You did!” declared Dave, bound to get at the truth.
“No, I didn’t. Buster did—carried ’em down on his back, one at a time, in the middle o’ the night, an’ nobuddy knew it! Say, they could walk off with yer hull school if they wanted to!” And the old expressman chuckled again.
“You were waiting for him?” continued Dave.
“Might be as I was.”
“And you took the baggage to the depot?”
“Maybe I did.”
“And had them checked on railroad tickets?”
“No, Buster went one way, and the bags went tudder—leas’wise so I was given to understand. Maybe he done it to put me off the track,” continued Isaac Dowling.
“But where did the bags go to?” demanded Dave. “Come, out with it, Mr. Dowling. I give you my word that I am acting for Buster’s good. I wouldn’t get him into trouble for the world. He is my chum, and so are those other boys my friends.”
“Well, you look honest, boy, so I’ll tell ye. The baggage was sent by express to a place called Camptown Falls, in Maine.”
“Camptown Falls!” cried Roger. Then he 216 looked at Dave, who nodded, to show that he understood.
“Did Buster say he was going elsewhere?” queried Dave.
“He didn’t say so, exactly. But he mentioned Boston, an’ I thought he was goin’ there.”
“He left on the train?”
“No, he didn’t! He went off in the darkness, an’ that’s the last I see o’ him,” concluded Isaac Dowling, as a hail came for him to come into the house.
“Camptown Falls,” said Dave, when he and Roger were alone. “Can they have gone to that out-of-the-way spot?”
“It would be the place Buster would pick out, Dave. He has often spoken of going camping up there.”
“He must have mentioned Boston just to throw old Dowling off the track.”
“More than likely. And to think he took those bags away while we slept!”
“I wonder where Phil and Ben were at the time?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they were at that camp.”
Much excited over what they had learned, Dave and the senator’s son returned to Oak Hall. They had expected to interview Doctor Clay and were chagrined to learn that he had gone to New York 217 on important business and would not return for two days. Mr. Dale had been left in charge of the school.
“Roger, do you know what I think of doing?” said our hero. “I’ve a good notion to get permission to leave the Hall and go after Phil and the others. I think I can get them to come back.”
“Want me to go along?”
“That will hardly be necessary. Besides, I’d like somebody to stay here and watch Nat Poole, if he comes back. Do you know, I’ve a notion that Nat knows more about this affair than he would like to tell.”
“He certainly acts that way.”
“I am going to see Mr. Dale.”
Our hero had a long talk with the head assistant, and the upshot of this was that he got permission to go to Maine, to look for the runaways. He was to be gone no longer than was absolutely necessary.
It did not take our hero long to prepare for the trip. He packed a few things in a suit-case and then he was ready. He consulted a map and some timetables, and found he could leave Oakdale on the first train in the morning, and by making two changes, reach Camptown Falls about two o’clock in the afternoon. Nobody but Roger and Mr. Dale knew that he was going away. 218
“Got money enough, have you, Dave?” questioned the senator’s son.
“Yes, Roger.”
“It’s a wild kind of a spot, so Buster told me.”
“I am not afraid of that—if only I can locate the boys,” answered our hero.
“How are you going to look for them?”
“I don’t know yet—I’ll find out after I get there.”
It must be confessed that Dave slept but little that night. His mind was filled with what was before him. He felt that he had quite a mission to perform, first in locating the runaways and then in persuading them to return to Oak Hall to face the music.
He had an early breakfast, Roger eating with him, and then the buggy, driven by Horsehair, was brought around and he got in, and a minute later he was off, the senator’s son waving him an adieu from the porch of the school.
Dave found the first train he rode on but half filled with passengers, and he had a double seat to himself. He changed at the Junction, and about noon reached Lumberport, where he was to take the train on the little side-line for Camptown Falls. At Lumberport he got dinner, at a hotel frequented by lumbermen. He sat at a long table with half a dozen men and listened to their talk 219 with interest when he heard Camptown Falls mentioned.
“Yes, they tell me there is great danger of the dam giving way just above Camptown Falls,” one of the men said. “Doxey reported it hasn’t been safe for a week.”
“Say, if that dam gave way it would do a lot of damage below the Falls,” said another.
“It certainly would,” replied a tall lumberman. “It would wipe out some of those camps on Moosetail Island. I rather guess the water would cover the whole island.”
“Somebody ought to warn the campers,” said another.
“Oh, I guess they know it already,” was the answer.
Dave arose from the table feeling very uneasy. He remembered the name, Moosetail Island, now. Buster had once mentioned it, stating he had camped there and would like to go again. Were the runaways there now, and in danger of the dam, should it break?