NEWS OF IMPORTANCE
"Link Merwell!"
"Nat, you must be fooling!" put in Ben.
"Why, we couldn't find a single trace of him after that awful
landslide!" went on Dave. "We made a thorough search, too."
"I don't know anything about that," returned the money-lender's son.
"But I know Link Merwell is alive. I got a letter from him yesterday."
"Are you sure that it was not an old letter delayed in delivery?"
queried Ben.
"No, it was not an old letter. It was dated only a few days ago. It was
sent to me from Boston."
"Boston!" cried Laura. "Then he must not only be alive, but he must have
followed us East."
"Did he say anything about Job Haskers?" queried our hero.
"He said he didn't know what had become of Haskers. He said they had
separated a short while before the big landslide struck them. He was
pretty well bruised up, and had to rest in a little mining camp up in
the mountains for two weeks."
"This is certainly the strangest news yet," was Dave's comment. "I
thought sure that he and Haskers had been swallowed up in that
landslide, along with that miner who was with them. Nat, what caused him
to write to you? I thought you told me that you had destroyed his last
letter without answering it."
"So I did destroy it, Dave, without answering it," returned the
money-lender's son. "I was as surprised to hear from him as you would
have been. I thought he would know enough to let me alone."
"What did he have to say, Nat?" questioned Ben. "Of course you haven't
got to tell us if you don't want to," he added, hastily.
"That's all right. Didn't I tell you I was coming to see Dave? I was
going to show him the letter. I've got it in my pocket. Here it is," and
Nat brought forth the communication.
The letter was a long and rambling one which need not be reproduced
here. In it Link Merwell told something of how he had been caught in the
landslide, and how he had escaped and had been carried by some miners to
their camp. A search had been made for Job Haskers and the man named
Blugg, but without results. Then Merwell had obtained some money
(probably from his father), and had come East, where he expected to
obtain a position. He added that he was still as bitter as ever against
Dave and his chums, and would do his best some day to "square accounts."
As in his previous communication to Nat, he wanted to know if the
money-lender's son would not aid him in making trouble for our hero.
"The same old Link Merwell!" remarked Dave, after he had read the
letter, with Ben looking over his shoulder.
"Wouldn't you think a fellow who had been so close to death would want
to reform?" said his chum. "But I suppose Link doesn't know what the
word, 'reform,' means."
"Oh, Dave, aren't you afraid he will make you a lot of trouble?" cried
Jessie, and her face showed her deep concern.
"I never was afraid of Link Merwell, and I don't believe I ever shall
be," returned Dave, quickly. "At heart I think that fellow is a big
coward."
"Yes, but you must be careful," warned his sister. "Even cowards know
how to strike in the dark, and that would be Link Merwell's way of
attacking you."
"I don't know how he is going to hurt Dave when he is away off in
Boston," was Ben's comment. "The chances are he has got to go to work
and earn his living. Probably his father is sick of putting up money for
him."
"Merwell mustn't forget one thing," said Dave. "He is still responsible
for his part in that jewelry robbery. If the authorities get hold of
him, they will certainly send him to prison. So far as that affair is
concerned, he was no better than Jasniff."
"What makes me mad is his trying to connect-up with me," burst out Nat.
"I've told him twice now that I was done with him, and I want him to
leave me alone."
"Were you going to answer this letter, Nat?" questioned Ben.
"No. I was going to tear it up, the same as the other. It's only got
'Boston' for an address, anyway."
"It seems to me, Nat, it might be a good thing for you to write to Link
and tell him exactly what you think of him," said Dave. "Tell him you
are done with him forever, and that you don't want to get any more
letters. Perhaps that will settle him. Send the letter to the General
Delivery."
"That's what I was going to ask you about, Dave. I don't want to have
that fellow bothering me. I told you I was going to turn over a new
leaf." And now for once in his life, Nat Poole looked Dave and then Ben
squarely in the face.
"Then, by all means, write to him and tell him exactly where you stand,"
went on our hero. "Make the letter good and strong, Nat, so that there
won't be any mistake about it."
"I'll do it," answered the money-lender's son. And then after a few
words more, he replaced the letter in his pocket and drove on, and Dave
and his party resumed their automobile trip.
"That certainly is news," was Ben's comment, as they rolled along the
river road. "I thought from what you said, Dave, he must have been
buried alive."
"So we all thought. His escape must have been nothing short of a
miracle."
"I don't begrudge him his life, but I don't want him to bother Dave any
more," said Laura. "He is such a wicked fellow."
"Dave, didn't you say, after you came from Cave Island, that Link said
something about reforming?" asked Jessie.
"Yes, he did talk that way. He was very humble, and sorry that he had
gone into the robbery with Jasniff. But I guess now that what made him
humble was the fact that he was in danger of going to prison. As soon as
he got away, his ideas changed."
"I hope he doesn't come here to bother you, Dave," sighed Laura.
"Oh, please don't think of such a dreadful thing!" cried Jessie. "If he
is in Boston, I hope he stays there." But this wish was not to be
fulfilled, as we shall see later.
The ride along the river road and over the hills beyond was much enjoyed
by the young folks, and it was after dark when they returned to
Crumville. All told, Jessie made it very pleasant for Dave, but she
could not forget the fact that the youth had rescued Della Ford from the
sea, and she asked several times about the young lady and the
moving-picture company to which she belonged.
"I don't know much about the picture company," Dave had answered. "I
think there were about a dozen people in it, including Miss Ford's aunt
and the young fellow and the fat man we picked up."
"But you said you would call on her in Boston; didn't you?" queried
Jessie.
"I said I might call if I was in the city," Dave replied.
"And I suppose you'll go up there the first chance you get," pouted
Jessie.
"Maybe," he answered, not altogether liking her tone. And then before
anything more could be said the automobile swept up in front of Ben
Basswood's home, and the conversation became general.
Ben had been on the back seat with Laura, and now as he left the party,
Jessie came into the tonneau to keep Dave's sister company, so that on
the journey to the Wadsworth mansion the talk between Jessie and Dave
could not be renewed.
The next two days were busy ones for our hero. He had several matters of
business to attend to for his father and his uncle. Added to this, old
Caspar Potts asked the youth if he would not accompany him to the old
farm where the pair had spent so long a time together.
"Why, certainly, I'll go to the farm with you, Professor," replied Dave.
"But what are you going to do there, if I may ask?"
"I want to get a box of books that was left in the garret there when we
came away," answered the old, white-haired gentleman. "I would have
brought them here before, but it slipped my mind entirely. Perhaps you
remember the box?"
"Do you mean that old blue box that stood in the back of the garret?"
questioned Dave.
"That's the one, David. I don't think the books in it are of very great
value, but they might as well be added to the library here," went on the
old professor. The Wadsworth library comprised many hundreds of volumes,
and was a source of great pride to Professor Potts, who had spent many
days in classifying the books and getting out a private catalogue. To
please the old gentleman, Mr. Wadsworth had, from time to time, added
various books and pamphlets which he might not otherwise have purchased.
Since Dave and Caspar Potts had left the old farm, the place had been
leased to another party, but now it was unoccupied, and the cottage and
stable were locked up.
"Looks natural," remarked Dave, as he stood on the tiny piazza of the
cottage and looked around on the familiar scene. Then his thoughts went
back to the past. What tremendous changes had taken place since he had
left that home! He had found a father, a sister, and an uncle, and had
made a host of friends. Not only that; he was rich, and had received a
good education, and was on the fair road to success.
"David!" It was Caspar Potts who spoke, and his voice trembled. "How
different it is from what it used to be! Certainly your folks and Mr.
Wadsworth have been great friends of mine," and the old gentleman
blinked away the tears that stood in his mild eyes.
Unlocking the door of the little cottage, Dave went inside and lost no
time in throwing open a number of windows, so that the fresh summer air
from outside might dispel the dampness within. Then Caspar Potts
entered, and both ascended the narrow stairway to the upper floor. Here
was a tiny garret, which in the past had been given over mostly to the
storage of old furniture and other articles not in use.
"I trust none of the tenants have disturbed that box," remarked Caspar
Potts, when Dave had lit a candle which he had thoughtfully brought
along.
"I see the box, Professor," answered the youth. "Here, if you will hold
the candle I will get it out." And then Dave worked his way over to a
corner under the eaves, and from behind a broken rocking-chair and a
dilapidated couch, dragged forth a small wooden box, painted blue. He
threw back the cover, exposing to view thirty or forty books, covered
with dust and yellow with age.
"Good! good!" murmured the old professor, as he brushed one of the
volumes off with his coat sleeve. "Some of these books are not very
valuable, David, but a few of them will add quite a little to our
library. I had those volumes when I was a student at college," he added
proudly.
"I'll carry the box downstairs," said Dave.
Caspar Potts, candle in hand, led the way to the floor below. As he came
out into the kitchen of the cottage, he was somewhat surprised to find
two persons on the porch, talking earnestly.
"Hello, you've got visitors!" said Dave, as he set the box of books down
on a bare table. "Some one out for a look around, I suppose," he added.
"Maybe it is some one who would like to lease the farm," returned Caspar
Potts. "Let us go out and see," and he extinguished the candle.
Brushing the dust and cobwebs from his coat, Dave followed the old
professor to the porch of the cottage. The two visitors were so busy
talking that, for the instant, they did not notice the others.
"Hello there!" exclaimed Dave, in some surprise, as his eyes rested on
the face of one of the visitors. "How in the world did you get here?"
"I--er--I--er--It's Mr. Porter!" stammered the fellow addressed, and he
leaped quickly to his feet.
It was Ward Porton, the young man Dave and his chums had rescued from
the sea when the steam yacht was on fire.
"Dave Porter! Here!" came from the other fellow who had been seated on
the stoop, and now he too leaped up. "--I guess we had better leave," he
stammered.
"Link Merwell!" ejaculated our hero. It must be confessed that now he
was all but dumfounded. He had thought that Link Merwell must be in
Boston, and to find him here on the outskirts of Crumville, and in
company with Ward Porton, the fellow he had rescued, was almost beyond
belief.