THE TRAIL THROUGH THE WOODS
In a minute the servant ushered in a farmer whom the boys recognized as Henry Morrison, a man who had a farm along the river-front, about a mile from Oak Hall.
“Good-morning, sir,” said the farmer, bowing to the doctor and then to the boys. “Excuse me for being in such a hurry, but I thought you would like to know.”
“I’ll be glad to hear what you have to say, Mr. Morrison,” replied the master of the school. “Sit down,” and he pointed to a handy chair.
“It’s about that wild man, Doctor Clay!” exclaimed the farmer, dropping into the seat and mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. “It’s something terribul, the way he carries on. He ’most scared my wife to death!”
“He has been to your place again?”
“Yes, sir, last night. He was in the barn, and he jumped out at my wife and said he was going to blow the fort to pieces! She got so scared she dropped her pailful of milk and ran to the house. 260 I got mad and got my shotgun, but the fellow had skipped out before I could catch sight of him.”
“What time was this?”
“Just about six o’clock. But that ain’t all. This morning I started for town, intending to tell the constable and the justice about it, when all of a sudden, when I was passing the end of your property, I see the wild man down there, behind a tree.”
“Just now?” asked Dave, eagerly.
“Not more’n a quarter of an hour ago. That’s why I stepped in here. He’s a dangerous man, Doctor Clay, and I think he ought to be rounded up!” went on Henry Morrison, earnestly.
“You are right, he certainly ought to be put under restraint,” answered the master of Oak Hall. “I will see to this at once. Will you assist in the hunt, Mr. Morrison?”
“Of course—if I don’t have to go alone. I don’t think it is safe for anybody to tackle him alone, he’s that wild and dangerous.”
“Can we take part in the search?” asked Phil, eagerly. “Oh, do let us do it, Doctor Clay!” he pleaded.
“I suppose so, if you will promise to be careful. Mr. Morrison, can you point out the exact spot where you saw the man?”
“Then we will at once make up a searching party.”
Doctor Clay could act quickly when the occasion demanded, and inside of ten minutes a searching party was made up, composed of Dave and his chums, Mr. Dale, Horsehair, and several men who chanced to be working around the grounds.
“Oh, I hope we catch him and are able to prove that he blew up the hotel dining-room,” said Phil to Dave.
“So do I, Phil.”
Henry Morrison led the way, and it was not long before the spot was gained where he had seen Wilbur Poole. From that point a path ran from the river back into the woods.
“Maybe he took that path,” suggested our hero, and several thought the same.
“I think we had better scatter,” suggested Mr. Dale, who had been placed in charge by the doctor. “By doing that we can cover a wide range of territory in a comparatively short space of time. And keep as quiet as possible, for should he hear us he will most likely start and run.”
“If he didn’t run when he saw Mr. Morrison,” murmured Buster. “He may be miles away already.”
The crowd separated into pairs, Dave and Phil going together and Roger going with Ben, and Buster with Horsehair. All had armed themselves 262 with sticks, and Mr. Dale carried a pair of handcuffs, and one of the hired men had a rope.
Deeper and deeper into the woods went the party, spread out in a long line. They had examined the river-front and felt fairly certain that the wild man had not left by boat.
“Looks like a wild-goose chase,” remarked Phil, with a sigh, after a half an hour had passed.
“Oh, we don’t want to give up yet,” answered Dave. “Why, it isn’t much after ten o’clock. We can stay out till noon, at least.”
“I’d stay out all day, if I thought we could catch him,” returned the shipowner’s son, promptly.
Presently the boys espied a small stone house, standing beside a brook which flowed through the woods into the river. In the house lived an old man who made his living by making baskets and fancy articles of birch bark.
“Let us see if old Herick is around,” suggested Dave. “He may be able to tell us something.”
They found the old man hard at work on a fancy basket. He looked surprised when thus suddenly confronted by the students.
“Did I see a wild man?” he queried, in reply to their question. “I guess I did,—at least he acted queer enough. He danced up here, made a deep bow, and told me the army would be along 263 in four minutes. Then he made another bow and walked off, as stiff as a drum-major.”
“When was this?” demanded Dave.
“About half an hour ago.”
“And which way did he go?” put in Phil, eagerly.
“That way,” and the old basket-maker pointed up the brook. “Walked right in the water, too. I was going to follow him at first but then I didn’t think it was any use.”
The boys waited to hear no more, but telling old Herick to watch for the other searchers and tell them about the wild man, they set off up the brook as fast as they could travel.
As the chums progressed they looked to the right and left, wondering if Wilbur Poole had kept to the tiny watercourse or taken to the woods, which were now exceedingly dense.
“I see his footprints!” cried Phil, as they passed a sandy stretch. “Anyway, those marks look fresh.”
“I fancy you are right, Phil, and if so, he can’t be very far ahead of us.”
They went on, following the windings of the stream until it became less than a foot wide. It came to an end at a number of springs among the rocks.
“Fine, cold water,” announced Dave. “Here is a chance for a good drink, Phil.” 264
Both were drinking their fill when a loud voice suddenly challenged them.
“Ha! What are you doing at my fountain?”
Both looked up hurriedly and saw the wild man standing on the highest of the rocks. He had his arms folded and was glaring at them sternly.
“Oh!” murmured Phil. “Say, Dave, there he is! What shall we do?”
“Let us try to make friends with him,” suggested Dave. “If we don’t, he may run away, and he can easily do that in these thick woods.”
“If we could only notify the others!”
“You can go back if you wish, while I talk to him.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Oh, I reckon I can take care of myself,” answered Dave.
“Do you not know I gave a million dollars for these fountains?” went on the wild man.
“Well, they are worth it,” answered Dave, calmly. “It is very good water. Why don’t you have it bottled, Mr. Poole?”
“Who calls me Poole? I am the King of Sumatra. My army is following me.”
“To blow up another fort, I suppose,” said Phil, as he commenced to back away.
“Yes.”
“Then I must go, for I don’t want to be blown up,” and, so speaking, Phil commenced to retreat. 265
“The fort is not here—it is in Oakdale, close to the other fort,” said the wild man, and now he came down from the big rock and stood quite close to Dave. There was a strange look of cunning in his eyes, and Dave had to shiver, although he did his best to keep calm.
“In Oakdale,” said Dave, slowly. “Say, you blew up that hotel fort in fine shape, didn’t you?”
“Ha! ha! so I did! But I was discovered, worse luck, I was discovered!” continued the wild man, with a sad shake of his head. “The enemy saw me!”
“Somebody saw you?” queried our hero, with interest.
“Yes, worse luck. But it shan’t happen again. Next time I shall go masked. I have my mask here.” And Wilbur Poole pulled from his pocket a mask made of a bit of blue cloth. “I will show you how I wear it.” And he fastened it over his face by means of a couple of strings.
“Fine! fine!” cried Dave, in pretended delight. He wished to humor the man until Phil returned with the others. “It couldn’t be better. You ought to patent that kind of a mask.”
“I will patent it soon, after the other fort is down.”
“You just said somebody saw you when you blew up the other,” continued our hero. “Who was it?” 266
“Ha! that is a state secret. Only the cabinet must know of it—the cabinet and the man who makes shoes.”
“I am sorry you won’t let me in on your secrets,” said Dave. “I want to help you. Won’t you hire me as a clerk?”
“How much do you want a week?” demanded the wild man, in a business-like tone.
“How much will you give?”
“To a good clerk forty dollars.”
“Then I’ll take the job.”
“Very good. Your name is Crusoe, isn’t it—Robinson Crusoe?”
“You’ve got it.”
“If I give you the job, you must have your hair shaved off,” continued the wild man, looking at Dave’s hair critically.
“All right, I’ll have that done when we reach a barber shop.”
“It isn’t necessary to wait!” cried Wilbur Poole. “I am a barber.”
“You?”
“To be sure—I have a certificate from the Emperor of Siam. See here!”
The wild man put his hand into an inner pocket and suddenly brought forth a pair of long shears.
“I can cut your hair and shave you,” he announced. “Just sit down on yonder throne and I’ll start to work.” And he pointed to a flat rock. 267
The sight of the sharp-pointed shears was not a pleasant one, and when the wild man invited him to sit down Dave felt very much like running away. The man evidently saw how he felt, and suddenly caught him by the arm.
“Sit down!” he thundered. “I won’t hurt you. I am an expert barber.”
“Let us talk about the job first,” said Dave, trying to keep his wits about him, although he was terribly disturbed. He wondered how long it would be before Phil would return.
“What do you want to know?”
“Will you cut my hair in the latest fashion?”
“I never cut hair in any other way.”
“And will you curl the ends? I like curls.”
“If you want them, although they make a man look girlish,” answered the wild man.
“And will you––” went on Dave, when Wilbur Poole suddenly grabbed him by both arms and forced him backwards on the flat rock.
“I’ll go to work at once!” cried the wild man. “Sit still!” And he flourished the shears before our hero’s face.
Dave felt a chill run down his backbone. But a moment later he felt a thrill of relief, as from the bushes behind the wild man stepped Phil, Mr. Dale, and several others.