WARD PORTON AGAIN
A quarter of an hour later the girls had finished their shopping and
rejoined the boys. Then it was decided that the party should go on to
Clayton, six miles farther. They were told that the road was in
excellent condition, and this proved to be a fact, so that the
sleighing was thoroughly enjoyed.
It was growing dark when they drove down the main street of Clayton,
and, although a bit early, all agreed to Dave's suggestion that they
get dinner at the leading restaurant--a place at which they had
stopped a number of times and which they knew to be first-class.
"What a pity Roger couldn't come along," said Jessie to Dave just
before sitting down to the sumptuous meal which the boys had ordered.
"I know he would have enjoyed this very much."
"No doubt of it, Jessie," answered Dave, who well knew what a fondness
for his sister the senator's son possessed. "But, as you know, Roger
had to go home on a business matter for his father. Senator Morr is
very busy in Washington these days, so Roger has to take care of
quite a few matters at home."
"Isn't it queer that he doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of his
father and take up politics?" went on the girl.
"Senator Morr didn't want him to do it. And, besides, Roger has no
taste that way. He loves civil engineering just as much as I do."
"It's a wonder you and he didn't persuade Phil Lawrence to take it up,
too, Dave."
"Oh, Phil couldn't do that. You know his father's shipping interests
are very large, and Mr. Lawrence wants Phil to take hold with him--and
Phil likes that sort of thing. He is planning right now to take
several trips on his father's ships this summer."
"When does that examination of yours come off, Dave?"
"About the middle of next month."
"And if you really pass, are you going to work away down in Texas?"
continued the girl, anxiously.
"If I can get the position,--and if Roger is willing to go along."
"I don't like to have you go so far away;" and Jessie pouted a
little.
"Well, it can't be helped. If I want to be a civil engineer I've got
to take an opening where I can get it. Besides, Mr. Ramsdell thinks it
will be the best kind of training for Roger and me. He knows the men
at the head of the Mentor Company, and will get them to give us every
opportunity to advance ourselves. That, you know, will mean a great
deal."
"Oh, but Texas, Dave! Why, that is thousands of miles away!"
"Not so very many thousands, Jessie," he answered with a little smile.
"The mails run regularly, and I trust you will not forget how to write
letters. Besides that, I don't expect to stay in Texas forever."
"Yes, but when you come back from Texas, you'll be going off to some
other far-away place--South America, or Africa, or the North Pole, or
somewhere," and Jessie pouted again.
"Oh, say, let up! I'm not going to South Africa, or to the North Pole
either. Of course, I may go to Mexico or South America, or to the Far
West. But that won't be so very soon. It will be after I have had
considerable experience in civil engineering, and when I am older than
I am now. And you know what sometimes happens to a fellow when he gets
older?"
"What?"
"He gets married."
"Oh, indeed!" Jessie blushed a little. "And then I suppose he goes off
and leaves his wife behind and forgets all about her."
"Does he? Not so as you can notice it! He takes his wife with
him--that is, provided she will go."
"Oh, the idea!" and now, as Dave looked her steadily in the eyes,
Jessie blushed more than ever.
Where this conversation would have ended it is impossible to say, but
at that moment Laura interrupted the pair, followed by Ben; and then
the talk became general as the four sat down to dinner.
The horses had been put up in a stable connected with the restaurant,
and after the meal it was Dave who went out to get them and bring them
around to the front of the place. He was just driving to the street
when his glance fell upon a person standing in the glare of an
electric light. The person had his face turned full toward our hero,
so that Dave got a good look at him.
"Ward Porton!" cried the youth in astonishment. "How in the world did
that fellow get here, and what is he doing?"
Like a flash the memory of the past came over Dave--how Ward Porton
had tried to pass himself off as the real Dave Porter and thus
relegate Dave himself back to the ranks of the "nobodies."
Dave was crossing the sidewalk at the time, but as soon as he had the
team and the sleigh in the street he jumped out and made his way
towards the other youth.
"I think I'll interview him and see what he has to say for himself,"
murmured Dave to himself. "Maybe I'll have him arrested."
Ward Porton had been staring at our hero all the while he was turning
into the street and getting out of the sleigh. But now, as he saw Dave
approaching, he started to walk away.
"Stop, Porton! I want to talk to you," called out our hero. "Stop!"
"I don't want to see you," returned the other youth, hastily. "You let
me alone;" and then, as Dave came closer, he suddenly broke into a run
down the street. Dave was taken by surprise, but only for a moment.
Then he, too, commenced to run, doing his best to catch the fellow
ahead.
But Ward Porton was evidently scared. He looked back, and, seeing Dave
running, increased his speed, and then shot around a corner and into
an alleyway. When Dave reached the corner he was nowhere in sight.
"He certainly was scared," was Dave's mental comment, as he looked up
and down the side street and even glanced into the alleyway. "I wonder
where he went and if it would do any good to look any further for
him?"
Dave spent fully five minutes in that vicinity, but without being able
to discover Ward Porton's hiding-place. Then, knowing that the others
would be wondering what had become of him, and being also afraid that
the grays might run away again, he returned to where he had left the
sleigh standing.
"Hello! Where did you go?" called out Ben, who had just emerged from
the restaurant.
"What do you think? I just saw that rascal, Ward Porton!" burst out
Dave.
"Porton! You don't mean it? Where is he?"
"He was standing under that light when I drove out from the stable. I
ran to speak to him, and then he took to his legs and scooted around
yonder corner. I went after him, but by the time I got on the side
street he was out of sight."
"Is that so! It's too bad you couldn't catch him, Dave. I suppose you
would have liked to talk to him."
"That's right, Ben. And maybe I might have had him arrested, although
now that he has been exposed, and now that Link Merwell is in jail, I
don't suppose it would have done much good."
"It's queer he should show himself so close to Crumville. One would
think that he would want to put all the distance possible between
himself and your folks."
"That's true, Ben. Maybe he is up to some more of his tricks."
The girls were on the lookout for the boys, and now, having bundled up
well, they came from the restaurant, and all got into the sleigh once
more. Then they turned back in the direction of Crumville, this time,
however, taking a route which did not go near Conover's Hill.
"Oh, Dave! were you sure it was that Ward Porton?" questioned his
sister, when he had told her and Jessie about the appearance of the
former moving-picture actor.
"I was positive. Besides, if it wasn't Porton, why would he run
away?"
"I sincerely hope he doesn't try to do you any harm, Dave," said
Jessie, and gave a little shiver. "I was hoping we had seen the last
of that horrid young man."
"Why, Jessie! You wouldn't call him horrid, would you, when he looks
so very much like Dave?" asked Ben, mischievously.
"He doesn't look very much like Dave," returned the girl, quickly.
"And he doesn't act in the least like him," she added loyally.
"It's mighty queer to have a double that way," was the comment of the
real estate man's son. "I don't know that I should like to have
somebody else looking like me."
"If you couldn't help it, you'd have to put up with it," returned
Dave, briefly. And then he changed the subject, which, as the others
could plainly see, was distasteful to him.
As they left Clayton the moon came up over a patch of woods, flooding
the snowy roadway with subdued light. In spite of what had happened,
all of the young folks were in good spirits, and they were soon
laughing and chatting gaily. Ben started to sing one of the old Oak
Hall favorites, and Dave and the girls joined in. The grays were now
behaving themselves, and trotted along as steadily as could be
desired.
When the sleighing-party reached Crumville they left Ben Basswood at
his door, and then went on to the Wadsworth mansion.
"Did you have a fine ride?" inquired Mrs. Wadsworth, when the young
folks bustled into the house.
"Oh, it was splendid, Mamma!" cried her daughter. "Coming back in the
moonlight was just the nicest ever!"
"Did those grays behave themselves?" questioned Mr. Wadsworth, who was
present. "John said they acted rather frisky when he brought them
out."
"Oh, they were pretty frisky at first," returned Dave. "But I finally
managed to get them to calm down," he added. The matter had been
discussed by the young folks, and it had been decided not to say
anything about the runaway unless it was necessary.
On the following morning Dave had to apply himself diligently to his
studies. Since leaving Oak Hall he had been attending a civil
engineering class in the city with Roger, and had, in addition, been
taking private tutoring from a Mr. Ramsdell, a retired civil engineer
of considerable reputation, who, in years gone by, had been a college
friend of Dave's father. Dave was exceedingly anxious to make as good
a showing as possible at the coming examinations.
"Here are several letters for you, David," said old Mr. Potts to him
late that afternoon, as he entered the boy's study with the mail. "You
seem to be the lucky one," the retired professor continued, with a
smile. "All I've got is a bill."
"Maybe there is a bill here for me, Professor," returned Dave gaily,
as he took the missives handed out.
Dave glanced at the envelopes. By the handwritings he knew that one
letter was from Phil Lawrence and another from Shadow Hamilton, one of
his old Oak Hall chums, and a fellow who loved to tell stories. The
third communication was postmarked Coburntown, and in a corner of the
envelope had the imprint of Asa Dickley.
"Hello! I wonder what Mr. Dickley wants of me," Dave mused, as he
turned the letter over. Then he remembered how sour the store-keeper
had appeared when they had met the day before. "Maybe he wants to know
why I haven't bought anything from him lately."
Dave tore open the communication which was written on one of Asa
Dickley's letterheads. The letter ran as follows:
"MR. DAVID PORTER.
"DEAR SIR:
"I thought when I saw you in Coburntown to-day that you would come
in and see me; but you did not. Will you kindly let me know why
you do not settle up as promised? When I let you have the goods,
you said you would settle up by the end of the week without fail.
Unless you come in and settle up inside of the next week I shall
have to call the attention of your father to what you owe me.
"Yours truly,
"ASA DICKLEY."