"It's rather a long story, and I scarcely know how to begin," said Dave,
after he, Phil, and Roger had skated ahead and to the right, where the
others were not likely to overhear the conversation. "But, to begin
with, Jasniff and Merwell have been to Crumville since they left here in
such a hurry, and--I have some reason to believe--they have been here in
town, too."
"Here!" cried the shipowner's son.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell us of this before?" asked Roger.
"I didn't know of it until lately, and I didn't want to worry you over
my private affairs."
"But what have they done?" demanded Phil, impatiently.
"As I said before, Phil, I hardly know how to begin to tell you. But to
plunge right in. In the first place, when they were in Crumville they
followed my sister Laura and Jessie Wadsworth to a concert by a college
glee club. They forced their attentions on the two girls, and gave
outsiders an impression that they had come as escorts. The girls were so
upset over it that Laura wrote me that Jessie was actually sick. Two
days after that, when the girls were out walking one evening, Jasniff
and Merwell followed them, and right on the main street, near the
post-office, they came up and commenced to talk and Merwell said to
Laura, loud enough for half a dozen folks to hear: 'You've got to keep
your word--you can't go back on us like that.' And Jasniff added: 'Yes,
you girls were glad enough to let us give you a good time before, down
at the Rainbow.' The Rainbow is a ten-cent moving-picture place, and a
low one at that. Of course there wasn't a word of truth in it, but
Merwell and Jasniff gave folks the impression that Laura and Jessie had
been going out with them, and you know how such reports spread in a
small town like Crumville."
"The hounds!" exclaimed the senator's son, wrathfully. "They should have
been run out of town!"
"Why didn't the girls tell your folks?" asked Phil.
"They did, as soon as they got home, and my father, Uncle Dunston, and
Mr. Wadsworth went out to look for Merwell and Jasniff, but they were
not to be found. But that was only the beginning. The next day an old
lady came to the house with a letter she had picked up in the
post-office. It was addressed to Link Merwell and had my sister's name
signed to it, and stated that she was sorry they had quarreled and
wouldn't he please forgive her and take her to the dance as promised? Of
course the whole thing was a forgery, and it was dropped in the
post-office just to make talk. I suppose Merwell thought some chatterbox
would pick it up and spread the news."
"But what is his game?" queried the shipowner's son. "I don't see how he
is going to gain anything by such actions."
"He wants to ruin our reputations, just as he and Jasniff have ruined
their own. But I haven't told you all yet. A day later my father heard
of another letter being found, in which Laura and Jessie promised to go
off on a joy-ride in an auto with Merwell and Jasniff. Then Merwell and
Jasniff appeared in Crumville with a stunning touring car, and they had
two girls with them, loudly dressed and heavily veiled, and the whole
four tooted horns, and sang, and behaved in anything but a becoming
fashion. A good many folks thought the veiled girls must be Laura and
Jessie, and you can imagine how my sister and her friend felt when they
heard of it."
"Those chaps ought to be arrested," murmured Phil.
"And tarred and feathered," added the senator's son.
"After that, my father and Mr. Wadsworth got after them so sharply that
they left Crumville. That was only a few days ago. The very next day
came a lot of goods to the house, delivered by a large city department
store. The folks hadn't ordered the goods and didn't know what to make
of it. They investigated, and learned that a young woman calling herself
Laura Porter had selected the things and had them sent out. Then came
other goods for Mr. Wadsworth, said to have been bought by Jessie. It
was an awful mix-up, and it hasn't been straightened out yet."
"It's the limit!" muttered the senator's son. "I'll wager your dad and
Mr. Wadsworth would like to wring those chaps' necks!"
"Wait, you haven't heard it all yet," went on Dave, with a sickly smile.
"Yesterday I received a notice from the express company here to call for
a package on which eighteen dollars was due. I was expecting some things
that I am going to take home for Christmas presents, although they were
to come to fifteen dollars and a half. I paid for the package, thinking
I had made a mistake in footing up my purchases, and when I got it home
I found out it wasn't what I had bought at all, but a lot of junk nobody
can use. Then my own package came in by the next express, and, of
course, I had to pay again. I sent a telegram to the city about the
first package and they answered that David Porter had purchased the same
and had it sent C. O. D. Then two other packages came, one calling for
six dollars and the other for twenty-four dollars. But I refused to have
anything to do with them, and said I could easily prove that I hadn't
been to the city to order them. But it is going to cause a lot of
trouble."
"I believe you," returned the senator's son.
"Anything more, Dave?" queried Phil.
"Yes. Last night, if you will remember, an old man came to see me. He
said that two young men had sent him to me, saying that we wanted a man
in Crumville to take care of a certain young lady who was slightly out
of her mind. He said he had once worked in an asylum and knew he could
give satisfaction, even if he was getting old. It was another of Merwell
and Jasniff's mean tricks, and I had quite a time explaining to the old
man and getting him to go away. He said he had spent two dollars and a
quarter in car-fare to come to see me, and I felt so sorry for him that
I gave him five dollars to help him along."
"Dave, where is this going to end?" cried Roger.
"That is just what I want to know," returned Dave. "Perhaps by the time
we get back to Oak Hall there will be more packages waiting for me--or
potatoes, or a horse, or something like that."
"You could have Merwell and Jasniff arrested for this," was Phil's
comment.
"Yes, if I could catch them. But they know enough to keep shady. But
that isn't all. Yesterday I got a letter, or rather a note. It was
postmarked from Rocky Run, about fifteen miles from here. Inside of the
envelope was a card on which was written: 'We'll never let up until we
have ruined you.'"
"Was it signed?" asked the senator's son.
"Oh, no. But I am sure it came from Merwell and Jasniff."
"They are certainly sore," was Phil's comment.
"Traveling around must cost them money. Where do they get the cash?"
asked Roger.
"From Mr. Merwell most likely," answered Dave. "He got a good price when
he sold his ranch, and he seldom denies Link anything."
"Have you any idea who the girls were who were in the auto in
Crumville?"
"Not exactly, but I think they must have been some of the girls Nat
Poole goes with. When Jasniff and Merwell were there with Nat, I saw the
whole crowd out with some girls from the cotton mills. They were nice
enough girls in their way, but they were very boisterous and not the
kind Laura and Jessie care to pick for company. I suppose those girls
played their part thinking it was nothing but a good joke. One had a hat
on with feathers such as Jessie wears and the other wore a coat and veil
like Laura's. I guess a good many who saw them riding in the auto and
cutting up like wild Indians thought they were Laura and Jessie." And
Dave heaved a deep sigh.
"And what are you going to do, Dave?" asked Phil, after a short silence,
during which the three chums continued to skate in advance of their
friends.
"What can I do? We are trying to locate the rascals, and when we do
we'll make them stop. But in the meantime----"
"They may cause you no end of trouble," finished the senator's son.
"I don't care so much for myself as I do for Laura and Jessie, and for
Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth. I hate to see them suffer because of my trouble
with those rascals. I don't see why Merwell and Jasniff can't fight it
out with me alone."
"You forget one thing, Dave," returned Phil. "Merwell was once sweet on
your sister. I suppose it made him furious to be turned down by her."
"Well, then, why does he annoy Jessie? She never harmed him, or Jasniff
either."
"Huh! As if you didn't know why!" replied Roger, with something like a
chuckle. "Don't they both know that Jessie is the very apple of your
eye, and that anything that brings trouble to her will cut you to the
heart? Of course they know that, Dave, and you can rest assured that
they will try to hurt you quite as much through Jessie as they'll try to
hurt you direct."
"Perhaps, Roger. If I was sure----"
"Low bridge!" shouted Phil at that instant, as a bend of the river was
gained, and then the whole crowd of students swept under the lowhanging
branches of a number of trees. Those ahead had to go slowly and pick the
way with care.
"How much farther have we to go?" called out Sam Day.
"Only a couple of miles," replied Dave. He turned to Phil and Roger.
"That's about all," he whispered. "Keep it to yourselves."
"We will," they replied.
"Somebody else going to carry this hamper?" cried Chip Macklin. "It's
getting rather heavy."
"I'll carry one end," said Ben Basswood.
"And I'll take the other," added Phil. "Dave, you and Roger go ahead and
bring down a couple of deer, and a bear, and one or two tigers, or
something like that," he continued, with a grin, for he wanted to get
Dave's mind off of his troubles.
"Nothing but an elephant for mine," answered Dave, with a forced laugh.
"I don't want to waste my powder."
"As the society belle said when she left the mark of her cheek on the
gent's shoulder," remarked Buster Beggs, the fat lad of the group.
"Say, that puts me in mind of another story," came from Shadow. "Once on
a time a Dutchman heard that a certain lady was a society belle. He
wanted to tell his friend about it, but he couldn't think of the right
word. 'Ach, she is von great lady,' he said. 'She is a society
ding-dong!'"
"Wow!"
"There's a ringer for Shadow!"
"Shadow, you want to frame that joke and hang it in the woodshed."
"Put it down in moth-balls until next summer, Shadow."
"Oh, say, speaking about moth-balls puts me in mind of another story. A
man----"
"Was it a young man, Shadow?" asked Dave, calmly.
"Maybe it was a very old man," suggested Phil.
"Was he clean-shaven or did he have a beard?" queried Roger.
"Never mind if he was young or old, or clean-shaven or not," cried the
story-teller. "This man----"
"Was he an American or a foreigner?" demanded Gus Plum. "That is
something we have simply got to know."
"And if he was knock-kneed," put in Sam. "I hate love stories about
knock-kneed men. They aren't a bit romantic."
"Who said anything about a love story about a knock-kneed man?" burst
out Shadow. "I said----"
But what Shadow was going to say was drowned out in the sudden report of
a shotgun,--a report so close at hand that it made nearly every student
present stop in alarm.