A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST
"Everything ready?"
"Yes, so far as I know."
"Then we are off! Good-by, everybody!"
"Good-by! Take care of yourself, Dave!"
"I will!"
There was a tooting of an automobile horn, a chorus of cries and
cheers, a waving of caps, and then the big touring car that had been
drawn up in front of the Wadsworth mansion rolled from the piazza
steps through the spacious grounds; and Dave Porter and his chums were
once more on their way to boarding school.
To those who have read the previous volumes of this line of stories
Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the benefit of new
readers allow me to state that Dave was a wideawake American lad, now
well along in his school years.
When a small child our hero had been found one day, walking along the
railroad tracks near the town of Crumville. He could tell nothing
about himself, and as nobody came to claim him, he was taken to the
local poorhouse, where he remained a number of years. Then he was
bound out to a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who
was farming for his health. The professor did what he could for the
lad, but soon got into difficulties with a mean money-lender named
Aaron Poole, and would have lost his farm had it not been for
something out of the ordinary happening.
On the outskirts of the town lived a wealthy jewelry manufacturer,
Oliver Wadsworth. Mr. Wadsworth had a daughter named Jessie, and one
day, through an explosion of an automobile tank, the little miss was
in danger of being burned to death, when Dave came to her assistance.
This so pleased the Wadsworths that they came not only to the boy's
aid but also helped Caspar Potts.
"The lad shall go to boarding school and get a good education," said
Oliver Wadsworth. And how Dave was sent off has already been related
in the first book of this series, entitled "Dave Porter at Oak Hall."
At the school he made many warm friends, including Roger Morr, the son
of a United States senator; Phil Lawrence, the offspring of a wealthy
shipowner; Buster Beggs, who was fat as he was jolly, and Maurice,
otherwise "Shadow" Hamilton, who would rather spin yarns than eat. He
also made some enemies, not the least of whom were Gus Plum, a great
bully, and Nat Poole, son of the money-lender already mentioned. Plum
had since reformed, but Nat was as overbearing and dictatorial as
ever.
The great cloud resting over Dave in those days was the question of
his identity, and when some of his enemies spoke of him as "that
poorhouse nobody" he resolved to find out who he really was. Getting a
strange clew, he set forth on his travels, as described in "Dave
Porter in the South Seas," where he found his uncle, Dunston Porter.
Then he came back to Oak Hall, as told of in "Dave Porter's Return to
School," and next went to the Land of the Midnight Sun, as set forth
in "Dave Porter in the Far North," where he was gladdened by a
long-hoped-for meeting with his father.
"They can't say I'm a poorhouse nobody now," he told himself, and went
back to Oak Hall once again, as set forth in "Dave Porter and His
Classmates." Here he made more friends than ever, but he likewise made
enemies, the most bitter of the latter being one Link Merwell, the son
of a ranch-owner of the West. Merwell did his best to get Dave into
trouble, but in the end was exposed and had to leave the school.
Vacation time was now at hand, and through Laura Porter, our hero's
newly-found sister, Dave and his chums were invited to visit some of
Laura's friends in the Far West. Laura Porter and Jessie Wadsworth
went along; and what a grand time the young folks had can be realized
by reading "Dave Porter at Star Ranch." The boys went hunting and
fishing, and learned to do some broncho-riding, and they likewise fell
in with Link Merwell again and showed that bully up in his true
colors.
"Back to the grind now!" said Dave, after the vacation was over, and
back he did go, to Oak Hall, as told of in "Dave Porter and His
Rivals." That term was a lively one, for some lads came there from
another school, and they, led by Nat Poole, tried to run matters to
suit themselves. But when the newcomers lost an important football
contest, Oak Hall woke up to the true condition of affairs, and Dave
and his chums quickly regained their places on the eleven, and then
won a grand victory. During this time Link Merwell, in company with
another bad boy named Nick Jasniff, became a student at Rockville
Military Academy, a rival institution of learning. Both bullies did
their best to make trouble for our hero, but, as before, he exposed
them, and this time they had to flee to escape arrest.
When the Christmas holidays came around Dave went back to Crumville,
where he and his family and old Caspar Potts now lived with the
Wadsworths. At that time Mr. Wadsworth had at his jewelry works some
rare diamonds, waiting to be reset. Directly after Christmas came a
startling robbery. The diamonds were gone, and it was learned by Dave
that if they were not recovered, not only would Mr. Wadsworth be
ruined, but that his own father and his uncle would be seriously
crippled financially, as they had gone on a bond for the return of the
gems.
At first, clews to the robbers were scarce, but soon Dave made a queer
discovery, and followed this up by another, as set forth in the volume
preceding this, entitled, "Dave Porter on Cave Island." He and his
chums became satisfied that Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff had
committed the theft, and they followed the evil pair, first to Florida
and then to Cave Island, so named because of the numerous caverns it
contained. The evil-doers were caught and the diamonds recovered, but,
at the last moment, Link Merwell managed to escape.
"Let him go," said Dave. "He acts as if he wanted to turn over a new
leaf."
"I am glad it wasn't Jasniff," returned Phil. "He is the worse of the
pair."
"Right you are," agreed Roger.
The senator's son and Phil had accompanied Dave to Crumville, and all
had received a warm reception at the hands of those who were waiting
for them. Mr. Wadsworth was delighted to get back the jewels, and
thanked Dave over and over again for what he had done. Dave's father
and his uncle were also happy, and as for Laura, she had to hug her
brother over and over again. Jessie wanted to hug him, too, but her
maidenly modesty prevented this, but she gave Dave a look and a hand
squeeze that meant a good deal, for our hero was her hero, too, and
always had been.
The boys knew they had to go back to Oak Hall, but the older folks had
insisted that they rest up a bit, after their traveling. So they
"rested" by going skating and sleigh-riding for the last time that
season, taking the girls along.
"I've got an idea," said Dave's uncle, one morning, after the snow had
cleared away. "The roads are so fine just now, what is to prevent my
taking you to Oak Hall in the touring car? We can make it in a day, I
think."
"Grand!" shouted Dave.
"Just the thing!" added Phil.
"Couldn't be better," supplemented Roger.
"You can ship your baggage on by express," went on Dunston Porter,
"and then we'll have room enough to take Laura and Jessie, if they
want to go along."
"Fine!" burst out Roger, so quickly that it made Phil wink, and then
the senator's son grew red. "Isn't it all right?" he demanded.
"Sure thing," responded the shipowner's son.
The matter was talked over; and that night it was arranged that the
two girls should go along on the trip, returning later to Crumville
with Mr. Porter. Not to tire Laura and Jessie too much, it was decided
to leave after lunch the next day, stopping over night at Ryeport, and
finishing the trip to Oak Hall the morning following.
"If only the good weather holds out," said Roger, wistfully. And then
he added suddenly: "Who is going to sit in front with your uncle,
Dave?"
"Why, you are, of course," broke in Phil, with a grin.
"Why--er--I----" stammered the senator's son.
"Now, Phil, you know you said you'd like that seat," broke in Dave.
"He's only fooling you, Roger." And then Roger looked quite satisfied,
for, it might as well be confessed, Roger and Laura were very friendly
and liked greatly to be in each other's company. The senator's son had
a manly regard for Dave's sister--the same kind of a feeling that our
hero had for dear little Jessie.
The trunks and suit-cases had been shipped off, and the big
six-cylinder car--a new machine belonging to the Porters--had been
brought around, with Dunston Porter at the wheel, for the old hunter
and traveler had taken a strong liking to autoing. The girls and boys
had piled in, after much handshaking and some kisses, and now the car
was rolling out of the grounds, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth, Dave's
father, and old Caspar Potts standing on the piazza, waving the
travelers adieu.
"Take care of yourself, my boy!" shouted Mr. Porter.
"I will, Dad!" called back Dave. "You take it easy till I get back,"
he added, for he knew that his parent had been working hard of late.
"I hate to see Dave go--he is so full of life and good cheer,"
murmured Mrs. Wadsworth, with a sigh.
"Best lad in the world," added her husband.
"Yes, yes! The very best!" came in a quavering voice from old Caspar
Potts, and the tears stood in his glistening eyes.
"I trust he comes through this year at Oak Hall all right," resumed
Mr. Porter, as, the automobile having disappeared, those left behind
reentered the house. "He wishes to graduate, you know."
"Don't you think he'll come through?" asked the manufacturer,
quickly.
"I'm not sure about it. He has lost so much time--on that trip he and
the others took--you know."
"That is true."
"Oh, Davy will come through, never fear!" cried Caspar Potts. "I know
the lad. If he makes up his mind--well, it's as good as done," and he
nodded his whitened head several times. To the old college professor
who knew him so well, there was no youth quite so clever and manly as
Dave Porter.
In the meantime the big touring car was leaving Crumville rapidly
behind. On the front seat, beside Mr. Porter, sat Phil, waving an Oak
Hall banner and cracking all kinds of jokes. In the back were the two
girls with Dave and Roger. All were well bundled up, for the air,
though clear, was still cold.
"Here is where we make fifty miles an hour!" cried the shipowner's
son, gayly.
"Oh, Phil!" burst out Laura. "Fifty miles an hour! Uncle Dunston,
don't you dare----"
"Phil is fooling," interrupted her uncle.
"That's it--I made a mistake--we are to go at sixty miles an hour,
just as soon as we pass the next chicken coop. We won't dare do it
before, for fear of blowing the coop over. We----"
"Why not make it seventy-five miles while you are at it," broke in
Dave. "Nothing like going the limit." And at this there was a general
laugh.
"There is a bad turn ahead," said Dunston Porter, a minute later.
"They have torn up part of the road around the hill. We'll have to
take it pretty slowly."
The touring car crept up the hill, past several heaps of dirt, and
then started to come down on the other side. Here there was a sharp
curve, with heavy bushes on both sides. Mr. Porter blew the horn loud
and long, to warn anybody ahead that he was coming.
"Look out!" yelled Phil, suddenly. But the warning was not necessary,
for Dunston Porter saw the danger and so did the others. A horse and
buggy were just ahead on the torn-up highway, going in the same
direction as themselves. The horse was prancing and rearing and the
driver was sawing at the lines in an effort to quiet the steed. It
looked as if there might be a collision.