SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAST
“We’re in a pickle now, and no mistake!” panted Roger.
“Let us try to catch the horses before they get too far away,” came from
Dave. “We don’t want the fun of tramping back to camp on foot.”
“Not to say anything about losing two valuable animals.”
“I hope you didn’t break any bones,” continued Dave, as he saw his chum
feeling of his knee and his elbow.
“Oh, I guess I didn’t get anything more than a good shaking up. And you
didn’t escape entirely, either. See, your hand is bleeding.”
“Oh, it’s only a scrape. Come on;” and thus speaking Dave ran off in the
direction the runaway horses had taken, and his chum followed.
To my old readers Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the
benefit of others, however, let me state that when a small boy he had
been found wandering alongside the railroad tracks in Crumville. As
nobody claimed him he had been put in the local poorhouse, and, later
on, bound out to a broken-down college professor, Caspar Potts, who at
that time was farming for his health.
In an elegant mansion on the outskirts of Crumville, lived Mr. Oliver
Wadsworth, a wealthy jewelry manufacturer, with his wife and his
daughter Jessie. One day the gasoline tank of an automobile took fire,
and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death when Dave came to her
rescue. As a consequence of this Mr. Wadsworth became interested in the
boy, and decided that he should be given the benefits of a good
education and had sent him to a first-class boarding school, as related
in the first volume of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.”
With Dave went Ben Basswood, his one boy friend in the town.
At Oak Hall Dave made a number of close friends, including Roger Morr,
the son of a well-known United States Senator; Phil Lawrence, the
offspring of a rich ship-owner; “Shadow” Hamilton, who loved to tell
stories; and Buster Beggs, who was as fat as he was jolly.
In those days the principal thing that troubled Dave was the question of
his parentage. To solve the mystery of his identity he took a long sea
voyage, as related in “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” where he met his
uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned much concerning his father, David
Breslow Porter, and also his sister Laura, who were at that time
traveling in Europe.
On his return to school, and during the time that our hero spent in
trying to locate his father and his sister, as related in succeeding
volumes of this series, Dave made many new friends. But there were some
lads who were jealous of the boy’s success, and two of them, Nick
Jasniff and Link Merwell, did what they could to get our hero into
trouble. The plot against Dave, however, was exposed, and in sheer
fright Nick Jasniff ran away and went to Europe while Merwell went out
West to a ranch owned by his father.
Dave’s sister Laura had an intimate friend, Belle Endicott, who lived on
Star Ranch in Montana, and through this friendship all of the boys and
girls were invited out to the ranch. There, to his surprise, Dave fell
in once more with Link Merwell and finally exposed that young rascal so
that Link thought it would be to his advantage to disappear.
“You’ll have to keep your eyes open for those wretches,” was Roger’s
comment at the time.
“They’ll get the better of you if they possibly can, Dave,” Phil
Lawrence had added.
“I’ll watch them,” the youth had answered.
When the Christmas holidays arrived Dave went back to Crumville, where
he and his folks resided with the Wadsworths. Directly after Christmas
came a startling robbery of the Wadsworth jewelry works, and Dave and
his chums by some clever work discovered that the crime had been
committed by Merwell and Jasniff. After a sea voyage to Cave Island,
Jasniff was captured and sent to jail, but Merwell at the last minute
managed to make his escape.
The trip to Cave Island was followed by another to the great West, where
Dave aided Roger Morr in locating a gold mine which had been lost
through a landslide.
After this our hero went up to Bear Camp in the Adirondack Mountains,
where he had a glorious time with all of his chums and also the girls.
At that time Dave fell in with a young man named Ward Porton, who was
almost our hero’s double in appearance. Porton proved to be an
unscrupulous person, and caused our hero not a little trouble, he trying
at one time to palm himself off as the real Dave Porter. This scheme,
however, was exposed, and then Porton lost no time in disappearing.
Our hero had now graduated from Oak Hall, and he and Roger Morr had
taken up the profession of civil engineering. In the midst of his
studies Dave was startled by the news of the disappearance of some
valuable miniatures which had been willed to his old friends, the
Basswoods. It was discovered that Ward Porton was in this plot, and
later on this evildoer, along with his disreputable father, was brought
to justice.
As soon as their first examination in civil engineering had been passed,
Dave and Roger had succeeded in obtaining through their instructor
positions with the Mentor Construction Company, a large concern
operating many branches throughout the United States and in foreign
countries. They were assigned to a gang operating in Texas, building a
railroad bridge near the Rio Grande. This construction camp was under
the general management of Mr. Ralph Obray, assisted by a number of
others, including a middle-aged man named Frank Andrews, who had
speedily become a warm friend of the young civil engineers.
The work had proved absorbing from the start to Dave, and it must be
said that the senator’s son was almost equally interested. Both kept up
their studies every day and kept their eyes and ears wide open, and
consequently made rapid progress. On more than one occasion Mr. Obray
had given them encouraging words and shown his satisfaction, and Frank
Andrews was enthusiastic.
“You fellows keep on the way you have started, and some day you’ll be at
the top of the ladder,” was the way Andrews expressed himself.
The two young civil engineers had remained at work on the Catalco Bridge
for nearly a year. Then the task had been turned over to another gang,
and the Obray outfit, as it was commonly called, had been sent up from
Texas into Montana, to take up the work of roadbed and bridge
construction for the M. C. & D. Railroad.
This railroad was simply a feeder of one of the main lines, yet it was
thought that in time it would become a highly important branch. The work
to be undertaken was unusually difficult, and it was an open secret that
several construction companies had refused even to give figures on it.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us up here,” had been Frank Andrews’
remark to Mr. Obray, after the pair had gone over the situation
carefully.
“Right you are, Andrews,” the manager of the construction gang had
answered. “It looks all right on paper, but we are going to have a good
many difficulties which can’t be put down in black and white.”
“What we’ve got to guard against, to my way of thinking, is landslides,”
the assistant had answered.
Since beginning work for the Mentor Construction Company, Dave and Roger
had had two opportunities for returning to the East. They had come by
the way of Washington, where Senator Morr and his wife were now
residing, and had also stopped off at Philadelphia to visit Phil
Lawrence. Then they had made their way to Crumville, there to put in a
most delightful time with Dave’s folks and the Wadsworths. As my old
readers are aware, to Dave there was no girl in the world quite so sweet
and lovable as Jessie Wadsworth, while it was noticed that Roger and
Dave’s sister Laura were together whenever occasion permitted.
The two young civil engineers had been in Montana now for about three
weeks, and during that time they had gone on numerous errands to places
ten and even twenty miles away. On arrival they had hoped to visit Star
Ranch, but had learned that this place was nearly a hundred miles off.
They had looked at some of the local mines with much interest, and had
likewise visited several ranches.
“We’ll get to know this whole district like a book before we get through
with it,” had been Roger’s comment.
“Maybe,” Dave had answered. “Just the same, if I were you I wouldn’t go
too far away from the regular trails without a pocket compass. Getting
lost among these mountains might prove very serious.”
The two young civil engineers had started off on their errand that
morning in high spirits, due not alone to the fact that both were
feeling in the best of health and were doing well in their chosen
profession, but also to the fact that the day before they had received a
number of letters from home, including a warm epistle to Dave from
Jessie and an equally tender missive from Laura to Roger.
At their end the two girls had written each in the confidence of the
other, so that the two chums did not hesitate to talk over the contents
of both letters between them.
“Oh, we’ve got the brightest prospects in the world before us!” Dave had
cried when they had set out, and in the exuberance of his spirits he had
thrown his cap high up in the air.
But the prospect at this particular minute did not seem to be so bright.
The rain was coming down steadily, accompanied by sharp crashes of
thunder and vivid flashes of lightning, and the two youths had all they
could do to keep their feet as they sped along in the direction the
runaway horses had taken.
“This is the worst ever!” groaned Roger, as both presently came to a
halt with the rocks on one side of them and the forest on the other. “I
can’t see anything of those horses, can you?”
Dave did not for the moment reply. He was waiting for the next flash of
lightning, and when it came he strained his eyes in an effort to locate
the vanished steeds. The effort, however, was a vain one.
“They’re gone, that’s sure,” he announced gloomily. “If the storm didn’t
make so much noise we might be able to hear them clattering over the
rocks; but between the wind and the thunder that’s impossible.”
“They had to come this way, for it’s the only way. Let us go on a little
farther.”
As there was nothing else to do, Dave followed his chum along the edge
of the forest and at last the pair reached the spot where they had left
the road. Here the pool of water had become much larger and deeper.
“We don’t seem to be getting anywhere,” grumbled the senator’s son, as
they came again to a halt. “Just look at this! It’s a miniature lake!”
“We’ll have to get around it somehow, Roger,” was the reply. “Let us try
the other side this time.”
“But what about the horses?”
“If they came up here on the roadway I’ve an idea they started straight
for camp. They wouldn’t know where else to go.”
Not caring to stand still in such a downpour, the two started to skirt
the pond, going in the opposite direction to that which they had before
taken. They had to clamber over a number of rough rocks and through some
brushwood heavily laden with water, so that by the time they reached the
other side they were as wet as if they had taken an involuntary bath.
“Well, there’s one consolation,” announced Roger grimly. “We couldn’t
get any wetter if we tried.”
“Come on. Let us leg it for camp as fast as we can,” returned Dave.
“It’s pretty cold out here, drenched like this.”
“Wait a minute! I think I saw something!” cried the senator’s son
suddenly. “Look!”
He pointed off to one side of the roadway, and both waited until another
flash of lightning lit up the scene.
“The horses!”
They were right. There, not over a hundred yards away, stood the two
runaway steeds, partly sheltered by several big trees. Their heads had
been down, but now they suddenly came up as if in fresh alarm.
“Do you think we can catch them, Dave?” gasped the senator’s son.
“We’ve got to do it, Roger,” was the reply. “But be careful, or they’ll
get away as sure as fate. Here, you approach them from the right and
I’ll go around to the left. And don’t let them get past you, no matter
what happens.”