THE BASSWOOD FORTUNE
Over and over in the snow of the woods rolled Dave and Porton, first
one being on top and then the other. Each was encumbered by his heavy
overcoat and his gloves, so that to send in a decisive blow was
practically impossible.
The former moving-picture actor fought desperately, for he had no
desire to go to jail, and he realized that Dave meant to send him to
such a place if he could possibly accomplish it.
Dave, on his part, was angered through and through, not only because
of what Porton had done at the stores, but also because of the way the
former moving-picture actor had threatened him.
The encounter had occurred at a spot where the trees were somewhat
scattered and where rocks were numerous. As the two continued their
struggle they sent the loose snow flying in all directions and often
struck on some of the rocks.
At last Dave managed to get his opponent by the throat, and he forced
Porton's head backward against a large stone. In the meantime,
however, the rascal managed to double up one of his legs, and he gave
Dave a shove in the stomach which sent him rolling over on his side.
"Now I'll fix you!" panted Porton, and, releasing his right hand, he
picked up a loose stone which their scuffle had exposed to view. The
next instant he brought the stone up, hitting our hero on the side of
the head. It was a furious blow, and for the moment Dave was stunned.
He let go of the other's throat, and as he did this Ward Porton arose
to his feet.
"Now I guess you'll let me alone!" he snarled; and aimed a vicious
kick at Dave's head. But the youth, even though somewhat bewildered,
had sense enough left to dodge, and the blow landed on his shoulder.
Then Porton turned and dashed wildly along the woods path leading in
the direction of Barnett.
It took our hero several seconds to collect himself sufficiently to
arise. His ear was ringing from the contact with the stone, which
fortunately had been a smooth one, and his shoulder also ached, even
though the kick had been delivered through the padding of his
overcoat.
He gazed along the path, and was just in time to see Porton
disappearing around a bend.
If Dave had been thoroughly angry before, he was now even more so;
and, shaking his head to clear his brain, he started on a run after
the fugitive. He reached the turn in the path to see Porton emerging
from the woods and taking to the highway leading to the railroad
depot.
"He must be running to catch a train," thought our hero. "And if that
is so I'll have to hustle or he'll get away."
By the time Dave gained the highway leading to Barnett, Ward Porton
had reached the vicinity of the first of the houses in the village.
Here he paused to glance back, and, seeing his pursuer, shook his fist
at Dave. Then he went on about fifty yards farther, suddenly turning
into a lane between two of the houses.
"He's afraid to go to the depot for fear I'll get after him before a
train comes in," thought Dave. "Well, I'll catch him anyway, unless he
takes to the woods."
What Dave had surmised was correct. Ward Porton had thought to get on
a train that would stop at Barnett inside of the next ten minutes.
Now, however, he realized that to go to the depot and hang around
until the cars took their departure would probably mean capture.
"Confound the luck! How did he manage to get on my trail so quickly?"
muttered the former moving-picture actor to himself. "Now I'll have to
lay low and do my best to sneak off to some other place. I wish it
wasn't so cold. When I stop running I'll be half frozen. But, anyway,
I had the satisfaction of giving him one in the ear with that rock and
another in the shoulder with my foot," and he smiled grimly, as he
placed his handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
By the time Dave reached the lane between the houses, Porton was
nowhere in sight. There were a number of footprints in the snow, and
following these Dave passed a barn and some cow-sheds. From this point
a single pair of footprints led over a short field into the very woods
where the encounter had taken place.
"He's going to hide in the woods, sure enough," reasoned our hero. "Or
else maybe he'll try to get back to Clayton, or Bixter."
"Hi! What's going on here?" cried a voice from the cow-shed, and a man
showed himself, followed by two well-grown boys.
"I'm after a fellow who just ran across that field into the woods,"
explained Dave, quickly. "He's a thief. I want to catch him and have
him locked up."
"Oh, say! I thought I saw somebody," exclaimed one of the boys. "I
thought it might be Tom Jones goin' huntin'."
In as few words as possible Dave explained the situation to the farmer
and his two sons, and they readily agreed to accompany him into the
woods.
"But you'll have a big job trying to locate that chap in those woods,"
was the farmer's comment. "The growth back here is very thick, and my
boys have been lost in it more than once."
"Huh! we always found our way out again," grumbled the older of the
sons, who did not like this statement on his parent's part.
"Yes, Billy, but the woods are mighty thick," returned his brother.
"If that feller don't look out he may get lost and get froze to death
to-night, unless he knows enough to make a fire."
It was easy enough to follow the footprints to the edge of the woods.
But once there, the brushwood and rocks were so thick that to follow
the marks one would have had to have the eyes of an expert trailer.
Dave and the farmer, with the two boys, searched around for the best
part of a quarter of an hour, but without success.
"He's slipped you, I guess," remarked the farmer, shaking his head. "I
thought he would."
"Are there any trails running through the woods in this vicinity?"
"The only trail I know of is the one running to Bixter. There is a
woods road used by the lumbermen, but that is on the other side of the
railroad tracks."
The struggle with Ward Porton, followed by the run, had put Dave into
quite a perspiration, and in the depth of the woods he found it
exceedingly cold.
"I'll have to keep on the move or I may get a chill," he told the
others, after another look around. "I guess we had better give it
up."
"Goin' to offer any reward for capturin' that feller?" questioned the
older of the two boys, when the four were on their way back to the
cow-shed.
"Yes, I'll give a reward," answered our hero, promptly. "If any of you
can catch him and have him held by the authorities I'll give you ten
dollars."
"Wow! Me for the ten dollars!" cried the youth. "But say! how'll I
know that feller if I do find him?" he questioned suddenly.
"That's right, Billy, you won't want to hold the wrong man," put in
the father, with a grin. "If you did that, you might get into hot
water," and he chuckled.
"It will be easy to recognize him," answered Dave. "Just take a good
look at me. Well, unfortunately, that other fellow resembles me very
closely. In fact, that's the reason I want to catch him. That's how he
got those goods I said he had stolen. It's virtually stealing to get
goods in such an underhand manner."
"All right, I'll know the feller if he looks like you," said Billy.
He turned to his younger brother. "Say, Paul, what do you say if we go
into the woods later on and lay low for that feller? Maybe he'll come
out this way after he thinks the way is clear."
"Sure, I'll go with you," declared Paul. "If we look around very
carefully we may be able to pick up his tracks somewhere."
It must be admitted that Dave felt much crestfallen when he bade
good-bye to the farmer and his sons, after having left them his name
and address.
The farmer had offered to drive him back to Bixter, but our hero had
stated that he would rather walk and take the short cut through the
woods. When he arrived at the village he found Roger wondering what
had become of him.
"Well, did you catch Porton?" queried the senator's son.
"I did and I didn't," answered Dave, with a grim sort of smile. And he
related the particulars of what had occurred.
"Great hambones, Dave! you certainly have had an experience!" was
Roger's comment. "Let me look at that ear. I declare! it's quite
swollen. I hope it didn't hurt anything inside," he added anxiously.
"It rings and aches a little, Roger; but I don't think it is seriously
hurt."
"How about your shoulder?"
"That feels a little sore, but that's all. I'll soon get over it."
"And to think you got so close to capturing him and then he got away!"
was the sad comment of the senator's son. "It does beat all how
slippery some of those rascals are."
"I'm living in hope that those farmer boys will locate Porton," said
Dave. "I promised them a reward of ten dollars if they did so. That's
a lot of money for lads living around here."
Now that he had rejoined Roger, and had gotten partly over the effects
of his encounter with Porton, Dave was rather loath to give up the
hunt. They managed to find a store where the proprietor occasionally
furnished lunches, and there procured some sandwiches and hot
chocolate. Then they drove to Barnett by the regular highway, and
there took another look around for the missing evil-doer.
"The boys have gone down to the woods to look for him," announced the
farmer when Dave called on him once more. "If they learn anything I'll
let you know."
That evening found Dave and Roger back in Crumville, where, of course,
they had to relate the details of what had happened.
"Oh, Dave, you must be more careful!" cried Jessie, after he had told
of the encounter in the woods. "That wicked fellow might kill you!"
and she shuddered.
"Yes indeed, you ought to be careful," said Laura. "Why, he seems to
be almost as bad as Merwell and Jasniff were!"
"So he is, Laura. And if I ever get the chance I'll put him where they
are--in prison," answered the brother grimly.
As was to be expected, Dave was quite worked up over what had
occurred, and that night he did not sleep very well. Both his father
and his sister insisted that he go to a physician and have his ear
examined.
"No damage done, so far as I can see," said the doctor. "But you had
better bathe it with witch-hazel and keep it warm for a day or two."
The next day Dave settled down to his studies as well as he was able.
He hoped that word might come in that Ward Porton had been captured,
but in this he was disappointed.
"I think he'll steer clear of this neighborhood, for a while at
least," was Mr. Porter's comment.
"That's just my idea," added Dave's Uncle Dunston. "He must know that
a great many swindled storekeepers and other people are on the watch
for him."
Dave had not seen Ben Basswood for several days. On the following
evening the son of the real estate dealer came hurrying over to the
Wadsworth mansion.
"We've got news about that Mr. Enos's estate!" cried Ben, as soon as
he met Dave and Roger. "It's the queerest thing you ever heard of.
Mother doesn't know what to make of it, and I don't know what to make
of it, either."
"Well, I hope it's a valuable estate if it is coming to your father,"
said the senator's son.
"I don't know whether it is valuable or not, and neither does father.
He says in his telegram it is certainly worth several thousand
dollars, and he doesn't know but that it may be worth a hundred
thousand dollars or more."
"A hundred thousand dollars!" cried Laura, who had come in to hear
what Ben had to tell. "Oh, Ben, that certainly is a fortune!"
"Well, what does it consist of?" queried Dave. "If it may be worth all
the way from two or three thousand dollars to a hundred thousand or
more, it must be mining stocks or something like that."
"No, it isn't in stocks or bonds or anything like that."
"Then what in the world does the estate consist of?" questioned our
hero.
"Miniatures," answered Ben Basswood, simply.