“I thought of that, Roger, and I’ll leave each of them my signature on a card. I know that Ward Porton doesn’t write as I do.”
This idea was followed out, the boys spending the best part of an hour in going around Coburntown. Then they drove back to Crumville, and there Dave visited some other establishments with which he was in the habit of doing business.
All the storekeepers were much interested in what he had to tell, and all readily agreed to have Ward Porton detained if he should show himself. At each place Dave left his signature, so that there might be no further mistake regarding his identity.
After that several days passed quietly. Both Dave and Roger were applying themselves to their studies, and as a consequence saw little of Ben except in the evenings, when all the young folks would get together for more or less of a good time.
“Any more news about that fortune in Chicago?” 57 asked Dave, one evening of the Basswood lad.
“Not very much,” answered Ben. “Father telegraphed that he was hunting for some things that belonged to Mr. Enos. He said that as soon as he found them he would tell us all about it.”
“That certainly is a strange state of affairs.”
“Strange? I should say it was!” cried the other. “Mother and I are just dying to know what it all means. One thing is certain––Mr. Enos did not leave his fortune in stocks or bonds or real estate, or anything like that.”
On the following day came additional trouble for Dave in the shape of a communication from a hotel-keeper in Coburntown. He stated that he had heard through Asa Dickley that Dave was having trouble with a party who was impersonating him, and added that a person calling himself Dave Porter was owing him a bill of fifteen dollars for five days’ board.
“Isn’t this the limit?” cried Dave, as he showed the letter to his father and his Uncle Dunston.