HOME AGAIN--CONCLUSION
In a few minutes the wolves had come up and were glaring at Mr. Porter
and Dave as they crouched close to the camp-fire. There were fourteen of
the beasts, all large, lean, and hungry-looking. They sniffed the air
and set up yelps and mournful howls. Two found the spot where one of the
bears had been wounded and pawed at the blood which had saturated the
snow.
"Oh, for a brace of good shotguns!" sighed Dave. "We could scatter them
in short order."
"When we shoot we must make every shot tell," said his father. "And keep
the cartridges where we can get at them quickly. How many left, Dave?"
The youth counted the contents of the box he carried.
"Seventeen."
"Hardly enough for fourteen wolves. Yes, we must be very careful. If
they---- They are coming closer!"
"Let us fire off one pistol at a time!" cried Dave. "Then we'll always
have one ready for use."
Mr. Porter did not answer, for he was aiming at the nearest beast. With
the discharge of the pistol the wolf leaped high in the air, turned and
came down on its side, and began to kick the snow in its death agony.
"A good shot!" exclaimed Dave.
"You can try your luck," said Mr. Porter. "I will take out that empty
shell and reload."
The other wolves had surrounded the one that was dying, and taking aim
at the center of the pack Dave let drive. One wolf was hit in the nose
and the bullet glanced off and hit another in the jaw. Wild yelps of
pain followed, and the two wolves turned and ran for cover with all
possible speed.
"We have gotten rid of three of them," said Dave, with much
satisfaction. "If we keep this up we'll soon get rid of the rest."
"It is snowing again," announced Mr. Porter.
He was right, and soon the downfall became so heavy that they could see
next to nothing beyond the circle of light made by the camp-fire. But
that the wolves were still near they knew by the yelps and snarls which
occasionally reached their ears.
A quarter of an hour went by, and the snow came down as thickly as ever.
A light wind had sprung up, and this sent the flakes directly into the
hollow under the cliff. Mr. Porter heaved a sigh.
"More bad luck," he observed. "By morning, if this keeps on, we'll be
snowed in."
"Look," said Dave. "I believe the wolves are getting ready to rush us!"
Both strained their eyes and soon saw seven or eight of the beasts
sneaking softly up through the snow. The light from the camp-fire shone
in their eyes and on their white fangs. They were growing desperate, and
hoped by sheer force of numbers to lay their human prey low.
"Fire three shots, Dave, and I will do the same," said Mr. Porter, in a
low tone. "Aim as carefully as you can, my boy."
The various shots rang out in rapid succession. How much damage was done
they could not tell, although they saw two wolves go down and lie still.
The others retreated, some limping, and the entire pack went back to the
shelter of the brushwood.
They had now only a few cartridges left, and these they divided between
them. Then Dave stirred up the fire a little and placed the burning
sticks so they would last as long as possible. Father and son looked at
each other and suddenly stepped closer and embraced.
"God grant, now we have found each other, that we get from this spot in
safety," murmured Mr. Porter, fervently.
"Oh, we must get away!" added Dave, impulsively.
"All we can do is to fight to the last, Dave."
"Yes."
Both knew only too well what to expect should the wolves get the better
of the contest. "As cruel as a wolf" is a true saying. They would be
torn limb from limb and only their bones would be left to tell to some
later traveler the story of their fate. They decided, with set faces and
shut teeth, to fight to the very last.
Another quarter of an hour went by, and soon they heard the wolves
coming back. Neither said a word, but both looked at each other.
"Take those on the left,--I will take those on the right," whispered Mr.
Porter. "But be careful--every shot means so much!"
"I'll shoot my very best," answered Dave.
After that not a word was spoken. Silently the beasts came closer and
closer. Dave's heart began to beat rapidly. Then, when he could wait no
longer, he aimed at the nearest animal on the left and pulled the
trigger.
Two shots, one from the son and the other from the father, rang out
almost simultaneously, and down went two wolves mortally wounded. Crack!
went Dave's weapon a second time, and now a wolf was hit in the neck.
Then Mr. Porter fired, sending a bullet into a breast that was presented
to view. With four of their number out of the fight, the other wolves
turned and fled into the brushwood and then toward the forest of firs.
The battle had been of short duration, but the excitement had been
intense, and Dave found himself bathed in a cold perspiration from head
to foot. His father, too, was weak, and now sank on the rocks, breathing
heavily.
Only one small branch of a tree remained for the fire, and this Dave set
up, so that it might burn as a torch. When that was gone they would be
in utter darkness--and then? The youth shivered as he asked himself the
question. He knew that wild animals love the darkness and are braver in
it than in the light.
"Hello! hello! hello!"
Loud and clear from above the cliff the cry rang out a dozen times or
more. At first Dave thought he must be dreaming, then he roused up and
so did his parent.
"What was that?" demanded Mr. Porter.
"Somebody calling, I think." Dave ran out of the hollow and looked
upward through the falling snow. "Who calls?" he yelled, at the top of
his lungs.
"It is I, Granbury Lapham, and I have my brother and the others with
me. Is that you, Porter?"
"Yes."
"Have you found your father?"
"Yes."
"How is he?" came in another voice--the voice of Philip Lapham.
"He is hurt a little, but not much."
"I'll be all right if I can only get out of here," called Mr. Porter,
coming out so that he could look up the cliff. "We've been having our
own troubles with two bears and a pack of wolves."
"We thought there must be trouble--by the shots fired," said Granbury
Lapham. "That's why we started out in the darkness." He waved a torch in
the air. "Can you see us?"
"We can see a light," answered Dave. He took up the branch from the
fire. "Can you see our light?"
"Yes."
A long talk followed, and the party above, numbering four, said they had
brought along a good rope. This they lowered, and after not a little
difficulty Mr. Porter and Dave were raised up to the ledge above.
"There come the wolves again!" cried the youth, as he reached the ledge.
"Have you a shotgun with you?"
"Yes," said Philip Lapham. "Please lend it to me."
The weapon was passed over, and Dave blazed away twice in rapid
succession. A wild snarling and yelping followed, and then the wolves
disappeared; and that was the last seen of them.
"We are well out of that," murmured Mr. Porter. "And I am glad of it."
"And I am glad too," added Dave.
As it was snowing heavily the party did not waste time on the edge of
the cliff, but moved back to a small hut built on the mountain side and
which was easily located by the Norwegian guide. Here they found the
others of the exploring party, and here Mr. Porter and Dave were served
with a hot meal and made as comfortable as possible.
The snow lasted until noon of the next day, and then it grew clear and
much warmer. On the following day Dave and his father and the guide went
down the mountain to the sheep-station. Before they left they bade the
Laphams and the others good-bye, and Mr. Porter said he would leave the
question of locating the mines entirely in Philip Lapham's charge.
"You can draw on me for my full share of the expenses," said Mr. Porter.
"And if nothing comes of the venture I won't complain." It may be added
here that, later on, several mines of considerable importance were
located, and when Mr. Porter sold out to a syndicate that was formed he
realized a profit of about fifteen thousand dollars.
At the sheep-station Dave found Roger anxiously awaiting his return. The
senator's son was delighted to meet Mr. Porter, and the two immediately
became great friends.
As the weather remained fine it was decided to start on the return to
Christiania without delay. Mr. Porter took Granbury Lapham's place in
the sleigh, and the party took with them a good stock of provisions. The
journey was not without excitement, for they met and killed two wolves,
and once they rolled down a small hill and were dumped in the snow, but
in the end they arrived safely at the nearest railroad station, and from
that point the remainder of the trip was easy.
At the Norwegian capital a long cablegram was sent to Dunston Porter by
Dave and his father, telling of their meeting and stating that they and
Roger would return to the United States at once. They also wanted to
send a cablegram to Laura, but could not, for they did not know her
exact address.
"I shall have to wait until I hear from her, or until we get on the
other side," said Mr. Porter. "More than likely she is somewhere out
West,--perhaps on Mr. Endicott's ranch with Belle Endicott, her friend.
I had the address of the ranch, but I lost it while I was up in the
mountains." From Christiania, or rather the seaport, Drobak, they
obtained passage on a swift-sailing vessel to Hull, and then took a
train across England to Liverpool. They had already telegraphed ahead
for staterooms on a Cunard steamer bound for Boston, and two hours after
arriving at Liverpool were on board and leaving the dock.
"This is fast traveling," remarked Roger, as they stood on the deck,
watching the shipping scene around them. "In less than a week we'll be
home. Dave, in some respects our trip to Norway seems like a dream."
"That is true, Roger--but what a happy dream!" And Dave's face fairly
beamed with thankfulness.
When they took the train from Boston to Crumville Dave could scarcely
control himself. Word had been sent ahead to the Wadsworths and Caspar
Potts, and at the depot the travelers found all of their friends
awaiting them. Mr. Porter was quickly introduced, and shook hands warmly
all around.
"Oh, Dave, I'm so glad to see you back!" cried Jessie. "And to think you
have really found your father at last! Isn't it splendid!"
"Yes, Jessie; and if I'm not the happiest boy in the world--well, I
ought to be, that's all."
"And what a fine man he is--and looks very much like your Uncle Dunston,
and looks like you, too," added the girl. She lowered her voice and it
trembled a little. "I am so happy--for your sake, Dave!" And the tears
stood in her deep, honest eyes.
It was truly a great home-coming, and Dave's father was told to make
himself perfectly at ease by Mr. Wadsworth.
"You have been more than kind to Dave," said Mr. Porter. "You and your
family, and Professor Potts. Dave has told me all about it. I do not
know if I can ever repay you, but I shall try my best." And he shook
hands all over again.
On the very day that Dave reached Crumville came a letter from Phil
Lawrence, who had received word that Dave was coming home. In this
communication Phil said that matters were running smoothly at Oak Hall.
Sam Day and Ben Basswood had had some trouble with Nat Poole, and the
dude had received a well-deserved thrashing. Gus Plum was keeping very
quiet, and had made a few more friends.
"You will be surprised to hear the news about Link Merwell," wrote
Phil. "I cannot tell you the start of it, but it ended in a great
row between Merwell and Mr. Dale. Merwell is very bitter about it,
and claims that I in some way got him into trouble. He went home
for a vacation, and before he left he shook his fist in my face and
said, 'I'll get even with you some day, and I'll get even with
that friend of yours, Dave Porter, too.' He was fearfully ugly, and
acted as if he wanted to eat somebody up."
"Humph, that is cheerful news," remarked Roger, after Dave had shown him
the letter. "Dave, you want to watch out for Merwell."
"I certainly will, Roger. Don't you remember what I once said? In some
respects he is a worse chap than Nick Jasniff and a good deal worse than
Gus Plum ever was." And that Dave was correct will be proved in the next
volume of this series, to be entitled, "Dave Porter and His Classmates;
or, For the Honor of Oak Hall." In that volume we shall meet all our
friends again, and also Laura Porter, and learn how Dave met the
underhanded work of Link Merwell and what was the result.
On Friday evening following Dave's return to the Wadsworth home he was
surprised to receive a visit from Phil, Ben, Sam, and Shadow. They burst
into the house like a cyclone and nearly hugged him to death, and then
shook hands all around, not forgetting Dave's father, who was quickly
introduced.
"We simply couldn't stay away," said Phil. "We stormed Doctor Clay's
office and he let us off until Monday morning."
"We want to hear all about your adventures in the far north," added
Ben. "How you discovered the North Pole, and shot bears and wolves----"
"And gave Nick Jasniff his set-back," interrupted Sam. "And how you
found your father."
"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "A fellow once----"
"Hold hard, Shadow!" interrupted Phil. "Dave has the floor this time.
Your stories must wait until he's through."
"All right," answered the story-teller of the school, cheerfully. "I'd
rather listen to Dave, anyway, for I know he's got something worth
telling."
And then all sat down, and Dave told his tale, just as I have related it
here. It took until midnight, and when he had finished, all said
good-night to each other and went to bed. And here let us say
good-night, too.
THE END
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
The page numbers of illustrations have been changed to reflect their
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