LINK MERWELL AGAIN
Link Merwell showed signs of both suffering and dissipation. His face
was thin and careworn, and his eyes had an uncertain, restless look in
them. He had on a business suit much the worse for wear, and his tan
shoes were worn down at the heels. Evidently he had not fared well since
Dave had met him in the West.
"I once thought you were dead, Link," went on Dave, after a pause,
during which Link Merwell had taken several steps away from the cottage.
"I thought you had been buried by that landslide."
"I know it," was the bitter reply. "It would have pleased you immensely
if I had been buried alive."
"That isn't true. I wouldn't like to see anybody lose his life in that
fashion," declared Dave. And then he went on quickly: "Did Job Haskers
escape?"
"I don't know anything about him--and I don't want to know," returned
Link Merwell, and his tone was as bitter as before. "Haskers didn't
treat me right, and we separated before we got caught in the sliding
rocks and dirt."
"I didn't know that you knew Merwell," said Dave, turning to Ward
Porton.
"Oh, yes. I have known him for some time," was the reply of the young
moving-picture actor.
"I think we had better be going," broke out Link Merwell, who had
retreated a step or two further. He showed very plainly that he was
afraid Dave might lay hands on him.
"Oh, don't be in a hurry," answered Ward Porton. "Now we've got the
chance, I'd like to talk to Porter."
"I don't think I'll stay," and Link Merwell moved still farther away.
"I'll meet you later, you know where."
"See here, Link! Don't be in such a hurry," cried Dave, advancing toward
the youth. "I want to talk to you."
"I know your game, Dave Porter! You want to catch me and hand me over to
the authorities!" exclaimed Link, and showed more fear than ever.
"What makes you think that?"
"Never mind, you're not going to catch me this way! Don't forget,
Porton. I'll see you later," and thus speaking, Link Merwell turned and
started away on a swift walk. Then, as Dave went after him, he broke
into a run, and reaching the roadway, dived into the woods beyond.
"My, my!" came from old Professor Potts. "David, why did he run away?"
"He's afraid of being arrested; that's why, Professor," explained our
hero. "Don't you remember, he is one of the villainous fellows who
robbed Mr. Wadsworth's jewelry works a year or so ago?"
"Oh, yes, to be sure!" murmured the old gentleman. "I remember now. What
an awful thing for a young man like that to be such a criminal!"
"You say he is a criminal?" asked Ward Porton, curiously.
"He certainly is," answered Dave.
"Hum! I didn't know that," returned the young moving-picture actor, and
for the moment looked quite thoughtful.
"May I ask what brought you to Crumville?" queried our hero. "I thought
you and your company were bound for Boston."
"We did go to Boston, and the company is there now, unless it has gone
up into the woods. I had a little business in this vicinity, and so I
came here before going on the next trip with them."
"Did you come to Crumville with Merwell?"
"I did, but I didn't know he was a criminal."
"Then you must have met Merwell in Boston?"
"No, I met him on the steam yacht."
[Illustration: THEN, AS DAVE WENT AFTER HIM, HE BROKE INTO A
RUN.--_Page 63._]
"The steam yacht! Do you mean the one that caught fire?"
"Of course."
"Then Link Merwell was on board that vessel?" cried Dave, in added
wonder.
"Yes."
"Was he a member of your company?"
"He was. Mr. Appleby, our manager, took him on the day before we went on
the trip. I don't know where Mr. Appleby met him."
"That certainly beats the Dutch! Of course, Merwell must have seen me
and my friends in the rowboat."
"He said he did."
"He took good pains to keep out of sight!"
"I don't know anything about that, Porter. But he was on the boat, you
can take my word for that."
"And is he a regular member of your company?"
"He is to be, provided he can make good at the business. I think he came
to Mr. Appleby with some sort of a hard-luck story, and the manager said
he would give him a chance. Privately, though, I don't think he's very
much of an actor. But then you know, a fellow has got to do something
for a living."
"He can probably act as well as the majority," answered Dave. "But I am
surprised to learn that he was on the steam yacht and didn't show
himself to us. Still, he was probably afraid to do so, and glad enough
to keep out of sight. I suppose he brought you to this farm?"
"Oh, we just took a walk up this way," returned Ward Porton, with some
hesitation. He gave Dave a keen look. "You see, I was on my way to the
Crumville poorhouse. By the way, Merwell told me that you had once been
connected with that institution," and he gave Dave another keen look.
Our hero's face flushed, and for the instant he did not know what to
say. Caspar Potts, too, showed confusion.
"David was not--er--connected with that institution, sir," said the old
gentleman, hurriedly. "He was placed there when he was a child by those
who found him wandering along the railroad tracks here. They did not
know who he was, and----"
"I don't think Mr. Porton will be interested in that story, Professor,"
interrupted our hero.
"Well, to tell the truth I am interested," answered Ward Porton. "I once
lived in a poorhouse myself."
"Indeed! Is that so?" murmured Caspar Potts. "How interesting!"
"It wasn't anywhere around here, though," went on the young
moving-picture actor. "It was 'way down East. And believe me, it was a
hard life! I don't really see how I pulled through," and he smiled,
grimly.
"I can't say that I had such a very hard time of it," said Dave. "They
treated me fairly well, and as soon as I got old enough to work, Mr.
Potts here took me and not only gave me a good home, but also the
beginning of a good education. Then, after that, I found my folks--I had
been stolen away from them you see when a baby--and since that time I
have had an easy time of it."
"You're the lucky one then," answered Ward Porton. He seemed on the
point of saying something more, but evidently changed his mind. "Well,
if it's all the same to you, I'll be going," he concluded.
"Better take my advice, and drop Link Merwell," said Dave, as the young
man moved away. "If you don't, sooner or later he'll get you into hot
water. The authorities want him, even though they got back the things he
stole."
"I'll remember what you say," was the answer, and then the young
moving-picture actor walked away, and soon disappeared around a bend of
the road.
"It is very strange that they should have come here," remarked Caspar
Potts, when he and Dave re-entered the cottage to get the box of books.
"I should say it was!" answered our hero. "I don't understand it at all.
I believe Link Merwell is up to another one of his tricks. I'm going to
keep my eyes open for him."
When Dave returned home he told the others there of having met Link
Merwell and Ward Porton. Mr. Wadsworth was, of course, particularly
interested in Merwell, and he at once telephoned to the authorities to
be on the lookout for that individual. But Link Merwell had probably
taken warning, and did not show himself again. Nor, for the time being,
did Dave see anything further of Ward Porton.
On Friday Belle Endicott, Laura's friend from the West, arrived, and was
followed on Saturday morning by Roger and Phil. Ben brought word that he
had written to Luke Watson and Shadow Hamilton, and that those two
former pupils of Oak Hall had also signified their willingness to
accompany the party to Mirror Lake.
"And say, Dave, what do you think!" cried Ben. "This place that we are
to go to at Mirror Lake is known as Bear Camp. They tell me the bears
just love that vicinity."
"Bear Camp!" shrieked Jessie, who was present. "Oh, Ben, you are
fooling!"
"Not a bit of it, Jessie. My father got a letter from Tad Rason, an old
hunter and guide who lives in the vicinity of Mirror Lake. He says that
that place has been known as Bear Camp for years. He told about
shooting a big black bear there only a year or so ago."
"O dear, if there are bears up there I don't know that I want to go!"
said Laura. "Just think of having a big bear chase you!"
"Oh, you mustn't mind that, Laura!" cried Dave, gaily. "Just think of
the nice hug he could give you," and then he dodged, as Laura threw a
fancy pillow at him.
"I think those bears will spoil everything," came from Jessie, her face
clouding. "I didn't know any wild animals were left in the Adirondacks."
"Bear Camp," mused Laura. "What a queer name that is!"
"I think it's a fine name," answered Ben. "It suits me, anyway."
The boys were glad to see Belle Endicott, who was a large, well-built
girl, with a bright, breezy, western air about her. Belle had much to
tell concerning matters at Star Ranch; and Dave asked her about many of
the friends he had made among the cowboys at the place.
"Oh, I'll just love to see bears," said Belle, when told about the camp.
"They are such funny, clumsy creatures. Why, I once saw a little
cinnamon bear climbing up a tree, and he was the funniest fellow I ever
looked at."
"Oh, Belle! Weren't you frightened?" asked Jessie.
"Frightened? What, with Sid Todd with me? No, indeed! We just watched
him until we got tired of it, and then Todd up with his rifle, and that
was the end of Mr. Cinnamon Bear."
"Good for Sid!" cried Dave. "He was always on hand when wanted. I'd like
to see him again."
"Well, he sent his regards to you, Dave," was Belle's rejoinder.
Shadow Hamilton and Luke Watson, the latter carrying a case containing
his guitar and his banjo, arrived on Saturday afternoon. They came to
Ben's house, and, having been notified by telephone, Dave hurried over
to see them.
"Dave, you're a sight for sore eyes!" said Luke Watson, as he gave our
hero's hand a grasp that made him wince. "My gracious, it seems to me
that I haven't seen you in a year of Sundays!"
"One thing's sure, Luke," answered Dave, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"You haven't seen me since I've seen you," and at this remark both
laughed.
"Luke has brought his instruments along," said Ben, "so we'll be sure to
have plenty of music up at the camp."
"It suits me, and will surely suit the girls," returned Dave. "We can
sit out in the moonlight nights, and have fine times singing," he
added.
"Say! talking about singing in the moonlight, puts me in mind of a
story," burst out Shadow. "Once on a time a young fellow went to
serenade his girl, and----"
"Never mind the yarn now, Shadow," said Ben. "I've got something to tell
you that is more interesting than a story. It's about Nat Poole's
uncle."
"Nat Poole's uncle?" queried Dave. "You don't mean Wilbur Poole, the
wild man we caught in the woods back of Oakdale?"
"That is the man."
"What of him? I thought they had taken him to a sanitarium, and that he
was getting better."
"So he was getting better--in fact he was almost well, so Nat said. But
now what do you think has happened?"
"What?" came from all of the other boys.
"He has disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"That's it. He has run away, and nobody knows where he went to."