A STRANGE COMMUNICATION
The three boys had quite some sport going up the lake with Della Ford
and her aunt as passengers. Being towed by the motor-boat, they had
nothing to do but take it easy, and they spent the time in chatting of
things in general, and of moving pictures and fun on Mirror Lake in
particular.
"We would be pleased to have you come up some evening and take dinner
with us," said Della Ford, after consulting with the manager of the
moving-picture company. "Come up and bring that boy with his banjo, and
we'll have a lot of fun."
"All right, we'll be up some time," answered Phil.
"And don't forget, Mr. Porter, that some day you're to show me how to
catch a fish," called out the young actress.
"All right, I won't forget," answered Dave; and then the three boys
pushed the rowboat away from the dock, and started upon the return to
Bear Camp.
"She's a mighty pleasant girl, that's sure," remarked Phil, as he took
it easy on the stern seat, while Dave and Roger plied the oars.
"I think Dave has made a hit with her," responded Roger, with a sly wink
at the shipowner's son.
"If you don't look out I'll make a hit with somebody in this boat,"
declared Dave, his face flushing. "You attend to your rowing or we won't
get back in time for dinner."
"I thought you said that fellow, Ward Porton, was going to join the
company up here," remarked Phil, by way of changing the subject.
"All I know about it is what Mr. Appleby told me," returned Dave. "I'd
like first-rate to see him again and ask him some more about Link
Merwell."
"Do you think Link will come up here?" asked Roger.
"I don't know what to think. He is likely to do almost anything. But I
doubt whether he will want to place himself in any position where we can
get hold of him."
"What a fool Link has been," was Phil's comment.
When the rowboat returned to the dock at the camp, the boys found only
Laura and Belle on the veranda of one of the bungalows.
"Where's Jessie?" asked Dave.
"She has a headache and is lying down," answered Laura, and looked at
her brother closely.
"That's too bad," he answered. "Can't you do anything for it?"
"She wanted to be left alone, Dave."
"I wonder if I can't do something?"
"I don't think so."
Roger and Phil sat down on the veranda, and were soon joined by Luke and
Shadow.
"Where is Ben?" questioned Roger.
"He went to Carpen Falls with his father and Mr. Porter for the mail,"
answered Mrs. Basswood, who had joined the group.
"I hope I get a letter from daddy," cried Belle. "Why, just think! I
haven't had a letter for three days," she pouted.
"I'd like a letter, too," put in Phil. "I haven't had a word from home
since I left," and his face clouded, as he remembered his father's
troubles over the land question.
Dave had been seated on the end of the piazza, but now he arose and
walked over to the other bungalow. Here he met Mrs. Wadsworth just
coming from Jessie's room.
"It's only a slight headache, Dave," said the lady, in answer to his
question. "I think Jessie will be all right in the morning. She thought
she had better stay where she is this evening."
"I wish I could help her, Mrs. Wadsworth," returned the youth, quickly.
"Isn't there something I can do?"
"Nothing that I know of," was the reply, and then Mrs. Wadsworth walked
out of the bungalow to join her husband, who was smoking a cigar in a
little pavilion that overlooked the lake.
Dave took a turn or two across the living-room. He was very much
disturbed in mind, and felt that he ought to do something.
"I'll take a chance, and knock on the door anyhow," he told himself, and
moving to the door of Jessie's room, he tapped lightly. Then, as there
was no response, he tapped again.
"Who is it?" came from the girl.
"It is I, Jessie. Can't I do something for you?"
"No, I don't think you can," she returned, quickly.
"The others told me you had a headache. I'm very sorry to hear that. I
wish I could do something to make you feel better."
"You can't do a thing."
"I might get a hot-water bottle, or some chopped ice,
or--or--something," he faltered, not knowing how to go on.
"Oh, Dave, don't be silly!"
"Silly! So now I'm the one who's silly; am I?" he returned. But there
was more of slyness than bitterness in his tone.
"Dave Porter! Was there ever such a boy! Now you must go away and leave
me alone!"
"All right, Jessie, if you want me to go away I'll go. Just the same, I
want you to know that I'm awfully, _awfully_ sorry that you have a
headache. I'd rather have it myself."
"Would you indeed?" There was a creaking of the couch, as if Jessie had
turned and was sitting up. "Well, I don't want you to have a headache.
They are not a bit nice! They are horrid!"
"Are you lying down?"
"I was lying down."
"Well, if you're not so very, very sick, Jessie, won't you just come to
the door a minute? I want to tell you something," went on Dave, after a
moment's hesitation.
The girl came slowly to the door, and opened it several inches, showing
a mass of disheveled hair, and cheeks that had traces of tears on them.
"What do you want to tell me?"
"A good many things, Jessie," returned Dave, in a low tone. "First of
all, I don't want you to be angry with me. I simply can't bear it. And
besides, I don't think you have anything to be angry about."
"Oh, indeed!"
"No, I don't. I think you misunderstand me. Why, Jessie, I wouldn't
have anything come between us for the world, and you know it!"
"Do I?" The door opened a little wider.
"Yes, you do. You know there isn't any one that I care for one-tenth
part as much as I care for you. I didn't go up the lake this afternoon
because I particularly wanted to; and those people came here of their
own accord."
"Yes, Dave----"
"And I don't want you to act so cold, Jessie. Why, it cuts a fellow to
the heart! If I thought----"
A wild yell, followed by several screams of terror from outside,
interrupted the conversation. Dave stopped short to listen, and Jessie
threw wide-open the door to do likewise. Another yell rang out, fierce
and penetrating, and then came several more screams, and a rush of
footsteps.
"Oh, Dave! what can it mean?" cried Jessie, in sudden alarm.
"I don't know. I guess I had better find out," he returned, and ran
toward the front doorway.
"Be careful, Dave! be careful!" cautioned the girl, pleadingly. "Maybe
it's a bear!"
"In that case I'd better get one of the guns," he returned.
The party had brought a number of firearms with them, and several of the
pieces were hung up on the walls, loaded and ready for use. Catching up
a double-barreled shotgun, Dave ran outside with Jessie at his heels.
The commotion had continued, and now the youth found himself confronted
by his sister and Belle.
"What is it, Laura?"
"I don't know, exactly. But it certainly was something awful!"
"I think it must have been a wild man," broke in Belle. "Anyhow, if it
wasn't, I don't know what else it could have been."
The other boys had left the vicinity of the bungalows, and were running
toward the woods, with Mr. Wadsworth following them.
"They saw something, but they don't know what it was," said Mrs.
Wadsworth, who was plainly much agitated. "It let out the most awful
yells you ever heard."
"Maybe it was that wild man, Wilbur Poole!" exclaimed Dave. "He might
have followed us to this place, you know."
He ran on, and soon joined the other boys and Mr. Wadsworth, who had
come to a halt at the edge of the clearing on which the bungalows were
located.
"I think he disappeared over here!" cried Shadow.
"And I think he went this way!" returned Luke.
"When I saw him last he was by yonder bushes!" were Roger's words.
"I think he went over there, just as Shadow said!" came from Phil.
"Who was it?" asked Dave. "Wilbur Poole?"
"Whoever he was, he had the most outlandish rig on a fellow ever saw!"
exclaimed Luke. "I think he must have borrowed it from some scarecrow."
"If that was Wilbur Poole we had better keep our eyes open for him,"
said Dave, seriously. He had not forgotten the trouble which the wild
man who called himself the King of Sumatra had given him and his chums
in the past.
"We were all sitting there enjoying ourselves when we heard the fellow
give an awful yell or two," explained Phil. "Then he came dancing out
from behind some bushes, waving a sort of sceptre in the air. He nearly
scared the girls into fits, and that is what made them scream. Then he
caught up a stick of wood from the pile yonder, and disappeared between
the trees. I guess he must have imagined he was a wild Indian on the
warpath."
"I am afraid if that poor fellow isn't captured he will cause us a good
deal of worry," was Mr. Wadsworth's comment. "As long as he is at large
there is no telling what he will do."
"If it really is Wilbur Poole, we ought to let the Pooles know about
it," said Dave.
The matter was talked over for some time, and then, after another search
through the edge of the woods and among the rocks and brushwood of that
vicinity, the boys and Mr. Wadsworth returned to the bungalows. They
found all of the girls and Mrs. Wadsworth on one of the verandas,
discussing the situation. Even Jessie had joined the group, declaring
that the alarm had scared most of her headache away.
"Oh, I was so frightened when I first saw the man--if it really was a
man!" cried Laura.
"He looked more like an orang-outang," declared the girl from the West.
"If I had met him out on the range, and if I had had a gun with me, I
surely would have shot at him!"
"I brought a gun along," returned Dave, exhibiting the weapon; "I
thought it was a bear scare."
The scare was the topic of conversation all through the dinner hour, and
it was decided that a letter should be posted to Mr. Aaron Poole the
following morning, acquainting him with what had occurred.
"It's queer that my husband and Ben and Mr. Porter don't come," remarked
Mrs. Basswood, when the meal was nearly over and it was growing dark.
"It's quite a walk to Carpen Falls," said Dave. "And you must remember
the trail isn't any too good in some spots."
"I think I see them coming now," announced Roger, a minute later; and he
was right. Soon Ben and his father and Dunston Porter came into full
view near the end of the lake.
"Talk about an adventure!" cried Ben, as they came up. "Who do you think
we met?"
"The wild man!" burst out several of those present.
"Oh, then he was here, was he? Was it Wilbur Poole?"
"We are not so sure about that. We didn't get a very good look at him.
He had on such a queer outfit that he was completely disguised."
"That's just it!" broke in Dunston Porter. "We couldn't tell who he was,
either. He appeared right in front of us on the trail, flourishing a big
stick. He let out a whoop like an Indian, gave a leap or two into the
air, and then dashed out of sight behind some bushes."
"He didn't attack you, did he?" questioned Mrs. Basswood, anxiously.
"No," returned her husband, "but, all the same, I didn't like his
actions. He might have done some serious damage with the stick he
carried."
"That man, whoever he is, ought to be put under guard," declared Phil,
and then he added quickly: "Did you get any letters, Ben?"
"Oh, yes, several of them. Here they are," and placing his hand in the
pocket of his jacket, the youth brought forth over a dozen epistles.
There was a wild scramble, and the letters were quickly distributed.
"Oh, good! Here's a letter from dear dad!" exclaimed Belle. "Excuse me
while I read it," and she quickly tore open the communication.
All of the girls had letters, and there was also one for Dave and
another for Phil. As our hero looked at the communication addressed to
him, he could not help but start. He thought he recognized the
handwriting as that of Link Merwell.
"I wonder what he has got to say now," he mused, and then as the others
began reading their letters, he opened the envelope and took out the
single sheet it contained.
In a large, heavy hand were scrawled these words:
"I think before long you will be getting what is coming to
you, you poorhouse nobody."
There was no signature.