"The huntin' season will be openin' to-morrow," announced Tad Rason, in reply to a question from Phil. "I'm bound down the lake now to meet a party of hunters comin' from Albany. I take 'em out every season, actin' as guide."
"Perhaps we'll get you to go out with us some day," said Roger.
"All right, boys. I'll be glad to go, if I ain't got any job with them other fellows," announced the old hunter.
Although he was not willing to admit it to the others, Dave was greatly worried over the news brought by Tad Rason. Coupling it with what he had heard from Link Merwell and Nat Poole, he could reach but one conclusion, which was that in some way Ward Porton was going to try to prove that the boy from the Crumville poorhouse was not the real Dave Porter.
"Maybe he'll come along with a story that he is the real Dave," thought our hero, bitterly. "He said he was raised in a poorhouse, just like myself, but he also said it was away down East and not anywhere near the vicinity of Crumville. How he is going to get around that is beyond me. I don't think he'll be able to make anybody believe his story. Just the same, I wish this thing hadn't come up. I'd like to forget those poorhouse days entirely." And at the remembrance of those bitter times, Dave sighed deeply.
"Dave, you look awfully worried," said Jessie, that evening when the boys were getting ready for their next day's tramp. "What is the trouble?"
"Oh, it isn't much," he answered, evasively. "I was just thinking over what Link Merwell said."
"Dave, don't let him worry you so!" cried the girl, sympathetically. "He is a bad boy, and everybody knows it."
"But he said some things that I don't like at all, Jessie. I don't like him to call me a poorhouse nobody."
"Dave, don't you mind him! I don't care if you did come from the poorhouse. I think just as much of you anyway," and Jessie's eyes showed her earnestness.