THE BANDANNA HANDKERCHIEF
Nat Poole could hardly walk on the injured leg, so Dave and Gus
supported him as the three left the rude cabin and headed for the
shore of the island.
"Do you know where the wild man is?" repeated Gus, who had not been
satisfied by the reply given to the question before.
"I do not," snapped the money-lender's son, with a touch of his former
tartness. "I haven't seen him."
"But you know that cabin is where he lives," put in our hero.
"I thought so--but I wasn't sure of it."
"Did you see him come ashore, Nat?"
"No--that is, not to-day. I saw him land here yesterday."
"And that is what brought you here to-day?" remarked Gus.
"Yes, if you must know," was the somewhat cold answer.
"See here, Nat, do you know this wild man?" asked Dave, abruptly.
"Me? Know him? How should I know him?" demanded the money-lender's
son, but his apparent astonishment did not, somehow, ring nor look
true.
"That is what I wanted to find out."
"I don't know him--at least, I don't think I do. I've never seen him
close enough to make sure. Maybe he's some fellow who belongs around
here. I wanted to find out about him--just as everybody else wants to
find out, that's all."
"Want to have him caught and placed in an asylum?" asked Gus.
"It's not my business to place him anywhere," cried Nat, hastily. "For
all we know, he may be harmless."
"Not when he stops young ladies on the road and catches folks in
steel-traps," answered our hero, with a faint smile.
"Well, that's right, too," grumbled the money-lender's son. "Maybe he
ought to be in an asylum."
"I think he is on this island now," went on Dave. "His rowboat is
here, anyway."
"Say, I'll tell you what we can do!" cried Gus. "Take his boat with
us! Then he can't get away, and we can send the authorities over here
to get him."
"That's an idea, Gus!" cried Dave. "We'll do it."
"Would that be fair to the man?" asked Nat. "He--er--he might starve
to death--or try to swim to shore and get drowned."
"He can't starve to death in one night, and I don't think he'll drown
himself. The authorities can come over here early in the morning and
round him up, if he is here."
"I--er--I don't think much of your plan," murmured Nat, and seemed
much disturbed.
In about a quarter of an hour the boys reached the island shore, at
the spot where Nat's motor-boat was tied up. They helped him get in
and start up the engine. He had been told how they had come to the
island.
"If you want to, you can tie your boat fast to the stern and ride back
with me," he said.
"All right, Nat, we'll do it," answered Dave. "It is getting rather
late and it's a pretty stiff row to the school."
The motor-craft was started up and sent along in the direction where
the boys had left the Oak Hall rowboat. Their course took them past
the spot where the wild man's boat had been tied up.
"Why, look, it's gone!" cried Gus, standing up and pointing to the
place.
"True enough," answered our hero. "He must have gone off in it while
we were up to the cabin."
"He can't be very far away, Dave."
The boys looked up and down the river, but could catch no trace of the
missing rowboat or the wild man. In the meantime, the motor-craft was
moving forward, where the other boat had been beached among the
bushes.
"That is gone, too!" ejaculated Dave. "He has taken our boat!"
"Oh, do you really think so?" asked Gus. He felt that he was
responsible for the craft, as he had taken it from the school
boathouse.
"I certainly do think so," said Dave. "It was a neat trick to play."
"It's a wonder he didn't take the motor-boat, too."
"Maybe he didn't know how to run the boat and it was too heavy to
start without the engine."
"I guess you are right!" came suddenly from Nat. "Look here!"
He had stooped down to pick something up from the grating on the
motor-boat's bottom. If was a torn and dirty bandanna handkerchief.
"The wild man's!" cried Dave. "I remember it."
"I am glad he didn't get away with my boat," returned the
money-lender's son, drawing a deep breath. "I'll keep this
handkerchief to remember him by."
"Is it marked in any way?" questioned our hero. "Perhaps it has his
name or initials on it."
"Oh, I don't think so," returned Nat. "Let us hurry up and get back to
the school. If we are late, old Haskers will be after us."
"Go on and run the boat as fast as you please, Nat," answered Dave.
"But I want to look at that handkerchief."
Rather unwillingly, the money-lender's son passed the bandanna over.
It was now growing so dark that Dave could see but little.
"Wait, I'll light a match," suggested Gus, and did so, and by the
protected but flickering flare our hero looked the handkerchief over.
In one corner there was a faint stamping.
"Looks like 'Rossmore Sanitarium' to me," said Dave, slowly. "Or it
may be 'Bossmore' or 'Crossmore.' The beginning is too faded to be
sure."
"Bossmore Sanitarium?" queried Nat, and then he became silent and
thoughtful. A little later he asked for the bandanna and placed it in
his pocket.
The run in the motor-boat to the school dock did not take long. As
soon as Nat's craft was properly housed, Dave and Gus assisted the
money-lender's son up the walk and across the campus.
"I suppose I've got to report the loss of the rowboat," said Gus,
ruefully.
"It wasn't your fault, Gus," answered Dave. "I'll go with you to
Doctor Clay."
"I can't go with my lame foot," put in Nat, and he hobbled up to his
dormitory, eyed by several curious students, who wanted to know how he
had gotten hurt.
The boys found the master of Oak Hall getting ready for supper. He
looked at them inquiringly as they entered his study, in answer to his
invitation.
"Well! well!" he exclaimed, after listening to their story. "This is
certainly odd! I trust Poole was not seriously hurt."
"I think he was more scared than hurt," answered Dave. "The trap
scratched his ankle, that's all. I am sure it is not sprained or
broken."
"But the rowboat----" put in Gus. "I didn't mean----"
"Do not worry about that, Plum. It was not your fault. I am glad the
wild man did not harm you. I think you got off well. After this you
must be careful about how you go out after this remarkable creature."
The master of the school then asked for more particulars of the
occurrence, and said he would notify the town authorities about the
loss of the rowboat, and ask that a general hunt take place for the
wild man.
"They ought to be able to round him up sooner or later," he added.
There was considerable excitement in the school when it was learned
that the wild man had been heard of again. The boys looked for the
strange individual and so did the town authorities and many farmers,
but nothing came of the search. Nat was called on to exhibit the
bandanna handkerchief and did so. Nobody could make out the first part
of the name on it, for the handkerchief showed a small hole where the
letters should be.
"That is queer," said Dave, to Roger and Phil, when he heard of this.
"That handkerchief did not have a hole there when I looked at it."
"Maybe Nat put the hole there," returned the senator's son.
"Why would he do that?" questioned Phil.
"So that nobody would know what the name of the sanitarium really was.
I believe with Dave that Nat knows the man, or knows about him, and is
trying to keep something a secret."
"Hum! Maybe you are right," mused the shipowner's son.
Phil had perfected all his arrangements for his spread at the hotel,
and his guests for that occasion had been duly invited and all had
accepted the invitation. It had been arranged with Mr. Dale that the
boys should drive to the hotel in the school carryall, and Horsehair
was to have his supper in town and, later on, bring them home. No
secret was made of the affair, for this was not necessary.
"I am only sorry for one thing," said Phil to Dave. "That is that I
can't have the whole school there. But that would go beyond my
purse."
"Well, you'll have enough, Phil, to insure a good time," answered our
hero.
The night was clear, with numberless stars glittering in the heavens,
when the carryall drove around to the Hall door and the boys piled in.
All were in the best of humor, and they left the campus in a burst of
song.
"I've been saving up for this!" cried Ben. "Haven't eaten a mouthful
for two days!"
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "Once a poor
street-boy was invited to a Sunday-school picnic. The ladies fed him
all he could hold and then some. At last, when he couldn't eat another
mouthful, and saw some cake and pie and ice-cream going to waste, what
do you suppose he said?"
"Give it up, Shadow."
"He said, 'Say, missus, please save it fer me, won't yer? I won't eat
fer a week, honest, an' then I'll come an' finish it all up fer
yer!'"
"Good for the street-boy!"
"Say, Phil, you won't have to save anything for me! I'll eat my share
right now!"
"I've been in training for this feed!"
"Shove the horses along, Horsehair; we don't want the soup to get
cold."
"I'm a-shovin' 'em along," answered the carryall driver. "We'll git
there in plenty o' time."
"Say, Phil, as far as I am concerned, you can have this affair pulled
off once a month," remarked Buster.
"Make it once a week," piped in Chip Macklin. And then Luke Watson
commenced to sing a popular negro ditty and all joined lustily in the
chorus.
On and on rattled the carryall until the lights of Oakdale shone in
the distance. The boys continued to sing, while one or two blew freely
on the tin horns they carried. Here and there somebody would come
rushing to a window, or door, to learn what was doing.
"It's them Oak Hall boys!" cried one old farmer. "My, but they do have
high times!"
"So they do," returned his wife. "But they are good boys," she added,
for some of them had once aided her in capturing a runaway bull.
With a grand flourish the carryall swept around the last corner and
came to a halt in front of the hotel. Phil had hoped to see some extra
lights lit and was somewhat disappointed to see only the regular
lantern burning.
"I told him to light up freely and he said he would," he whispered to
Dave.
"Maybe he thought you meant the dining-room, Phil."
The students piled out of the carryall and waited for Phil, as host,
to lead the way into the hotel. All marched up the steps and into the
broad hallway. There they were confronted by the hotel proprietor, who
came to meet them in his shirtsleeves. He looked completely
bewildered.
"Well, we are here for that supper, Mr. Sparr!" cried Phil. "I hope
you are all ready for us!"
The hotel man looked at the boys in amazement. His jaw dropped. Then
he gasped out the words:
"Well, I'll be jiggered!"