SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST
The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was
the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon
the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.
"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have
been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think
they'll do about it?"
"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son.
"They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.
But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a
small class, made up of those who were wealthy, who passed him by and
snubbed him, not wishing to associate with anybody who had come from a
poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave
greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk
and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of his
many friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his
teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end,
no matter what the cost.
If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the
school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the multitude
of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority.
But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.
"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when
they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."
"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off
his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"
On the following Saturday evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side.
The young student was evidently excited over something.
"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want
to join the fellows in the gym."
"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think
I've discovered something, but I am not sure."
"Well, out with it."
"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my
bicycle, to get some shirts at the furnishing store there. Well, when I
came out of the store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the post-office on
the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he
turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and
began to read them."
"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is
supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.
"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd
have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces
and scatter the bits in the grass. When he went away, I walked over to
the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course,
you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."
"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."
"Yes, but this is not his private affair--to my way of thinking. It
concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.
Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One
piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta-- w York,"
and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem-- --nett Street,
Sa----"
"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.
"That is what I thought."
"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"
"No."
"Were the letters addressed to him?"
"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the
written-on portions of the envelopes."
"Did Plum see you?"
"Not until later--when I was on my way back to the Hall."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."
After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but
could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.
"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to
Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."
"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made
to return them?"
"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor
won't dare to say anything to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing.
Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue
the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."
A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy
was rather scared, but told a fairly straight story, and turned over
the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all
attention.
"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you
would keep it to yourself."
"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."
"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would
do as asked, and later on did so.
The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his
studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of
the class as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts,
Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered
them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and
read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his
few valued possessions.
On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was
served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a
consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He
drank one glass of water, and an hour later got up to drink another,
only to find the water pitcher empty.
"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he told himself. "And if I
catch the fellow who salted my hash----"
He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher,
made his way through the hallway to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here
he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher,
started to return to dormitory No. 12.
As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pass along the other end of
the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his
head.
"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy passed close to a dimly
burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"
He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind
Shadow. Then, of a sudden, he beheld the boy swing around and put out
his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was
fast asleep.
"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what
had I best do?"
There was no time to think long, for the sleep-walker was already
descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the
dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to
him.
"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any
noise."
"Oh, I'm too sleepy for fun!" murmured Roger.
"This isn't fun, it's important. Come, I say!"
Thus aroused, the senator's son rolled from his couch and hurried into
his clothing. In a few minutes both boys had their shoes and caps on,
and along the hallway they sped, and down the back stairs. The door
below was unlocked, but closed. Soon they were out in the rear yard of
the Hall, and there they beheld Shadow Hamilton walking slowly in the
direction of the boathouse.
"Who is it?" whispered Roger.
"It is Shadow. He is walking in his sleep. I want to find out where he
is going and what he'll do."
"Humph! This certainly is interesting," answered the senator's son.
"Whatever you do, Roger, don't arouse him, or there may be an accident,"
cautioned Dave. "Let him go his own way."
"But he may hurt himself, anyway."
"No, he won't. A sleep-walker can walk a slack wire, if he tries it, and
never tumble. Haven't you heard of them walking on the ridge pole of a
house? I have."
"I've read about such things. And I know they say you mustn't arouse
them. He is going into the boathouse!"
The chums ran forward and reached the doorway of the boathouse just as
Shadow Hamilton was coming out. The somnambulist had a pair of oars,
and he stepped to the edge of the dock and untied one of the boats and
leaped in.
"I must find them!" they heard the youth mutter to himself. "I must find
them and bring them back!"
"Did you hear that?" asked Roger. "What is he talking about?"
"That remains to be found out. Come, let us follow him," returned Dave.
They procured two pairs of oars, and were soon in another boat and
pulling behind Shadow Hamilton. The boy who was asleep seemed to possess
supernatural strength, and they had no easy time of it keeping up with
him. His course was up the Leming River, past Robbin's Point, and then
into a side stream that was rather narrow, but almost straight for a
distance of two miles.
"Do you know where this stream leads to?" questioned Roger.
"I do not."
"Almost to the old castle that we visited last winter on our skates, the
day we caught that robber and saved Billy Dill. The river makes half a
dozen twists and turns before the castle is reached, but this is a
direct route and much shorter."
"Can it be possible that Shadow is going to the old castle?" queried the
country boy.
"I'm sure I don't know. We'll learn pretty soon."
As my old readers know, the place referred to was a dilapidated
structure of brick and stone which had been erected about the time of
the Revolutionary War. It set back in a wilderness of trees, and was
given over largely to the owls and to tramps. It belonged to an
unsettled estate that had gone into litigation, and there was no telling
if it would ever be rebuilt and occupied in a regular way.
It was dark under the trees, but by pulling close to the boat ahead,
Dave and Roger managed to keep Shadow Hamilton in sight. As soon as the
somnambulist came near to the castle he ran his boat up the bank, leaped
ashore, and stalked toward the building.
"He has disappeared!" cried Roger, softly.
"I see him," answered Dave. "Come!" and he led the way into the old
structure and to the very rooms where the encounter with the robber and
with Billy Dill had occurred.
Scarcely daring to breathe, they watched Shadow move around in an
uncertain way, touching this object and that, and opening and shutting
several closet doors, and even poking into the chimney-place.
"Gone! gone! gone!" they heard him mutter. "What shall I do? What shall
I do?" And he gave a groan.
Five minutes passed and the sleep-walker left the castle and hurried to
his boat. His course was now down the stream toward the Hall, and Dave
and Roger followed, as before. At the dock the boats were tied up, the
oars put away, and Shadow Hamilton went back to the room from which he
had come. Peering in, Dave and Roger saw him undress and go to bed, just
as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.