Dave Porter at Bear Camp/Chapter 17

Dave read the brief communication over several times. As he did so his face showed both perplexity and anger. Roger, who had received no letter and who therefore had nothing to read, looked at him curiously.

"No bad news, I hope?" he said, as he came up to Dave.

"I think it's another communication from that good-for-nothing Link Merwell," returned Dave. "Here, you can read it for yourself," and he passed the letter over.

The senator's son read the scrawl, and his face showed his disgust.

"I guess you're right, Dave, it must be from Link Merwell."

"Link Merwell!" broke in Shadow, who sat on a bench near by. "What about that rascal; have you heard something further of him?"

"Oh, it doesn't amount to anything," returned Dave, hastily, and taking the communication he thrust it into his pocket. "Don't say anything about it," he added to Roger, in a low tone.

​"All right, I won't if you want it that way," answered his chum. "Just the same, Dave, this looks to me as if Link was plotting once more to do you an injury."

"If so, Roger, would he be fool enough to notify me beforehand?" queried our hero, as the pair walked a little distance away from the others.

"There is no telling what a fellow of Link's stamp might do. He is just fool enough to brag about what he hoped to do rather than go and do it. It's an outrage that he should call you a 'poorhouse nobody.'"

"I'd thrash him for it if I could get my hands on him," returned Dave, quickly, and his face showed deep resentment. He had not forgotten how, in years gone by, his enemies had taunted him with being a "poorhouse nobody," and how he had had to fight his way through until his identity had been established.

"Anyway, Dave, this gives you a chance to be on your guard," went on Roger. "If I were you I'd keep my eyes wide open for Link Merwell."

"I certainly shall, Roger. And if I can lay my hands on him I won't be as considerate as I was on Cave Island," was the answer. "I'll hold him until I can turn him over to the authorities. He ought to be keeping company with Jasniff in jail."

The girls were chattering among themselves over the letters they had received, and Shadow ​and Luke soon joined In. As was to be expected, the former story-teller of Oak Hall had his usual anecdote to relate, to which the others listened with interest. Phil had drawn apart from the crowd, and was now reading the letter he had received a second time. His face indicated unusual concern.

"Well, I hope you got good news, Phil," remarked Dave, as the shipowner's son came towards him and Roger.

"No, it's just the opposite," was the somewhat doleful reply.

"What? Do you mean it's bad news?" broke in Roger, quickly.

"It certainly is! Instead of losing twenty to thirty thousand dollars, my dad stands to lose about fifty thousand dollars on that land deal I mentioned to you some time ago."

"Why, how is that?" queried our hero, curiously. "Has the land gone up in value since then?"

"I don't know about the value of the land itself, but it's this way: Since that railroad made a bid for the acreage, another railroad has come into the field. They are going to run a rival line through that territory, and so they bid against the L. A. & H. Then the L. A. & H. railroad increased their bid, and the other folks did the same, so that now, if my father could give a clear ​deed to the land, he could sell it for about fifty thousand dollars."

"And hasn't he been able to get any trace of your Uncle Lester?"

"He has something of a clue, but so far he has been unable to locate my uncle. It certainly is a strange state of affairs."

"Won't the railroad company take the land without your uncle being represented in the deed?" questioned Roger.

"I don't think so. If they were willing to do that my father would put the deal through without delay. It certainly is too bad!" added Phil, with a sigh.

"It seems to me if I were you I'd get on the trail of your Uncle Lester somehow," was Roger's comment. "I wouldn't let that fifty thousand dollars get away from me. I'd hire detectives to scour the whole United States for the missing man."

"My father's doing all he can, Roger." Phil turned to our hero. "You got a letter, didn't you?"

"Not much of a one, Phil." Dave hesitated for a moment: "Here, you might as well see it. I showed it to Roger. But don't say anything to the others about it, especially the girls. There is no use in worrying them. As it is, they have had scare enough from that wild man."

​The shipowner's son read the letter Dave had received with interest.

"Sure, that's from Link Merwell! I know his handwriting almost as well as I know my own," he declared. "He always makes those funny little crooks on his capital letters. I guess that shows what kind of a crook he is," and Phil grinned at his little joke. "What are you going to do about this, Dave?"

"I don't see that there's anything to do about it. As I told Roger, if Link shows himself around here I'll do all I can to place him in the hands of the authorities and see to it that he goes to jail."

"It's a beastly shame that any one should write such a note as that," went on the shipowner's son. "You are not a 'poorhouse nobody,' and everybody knows it."

"I've been wondering what Link Merwell can have up his sleeve," came from Roger. "He certainly must be up to something, or he wouldn't send such a letter as that."

The matter was talked over for a little while longer by the three boys, and then they rejoined the others.

Jessie declared that her headache was now gone completely, and the young folks spent the rest of the evening in the Basswood bungalow, where Belle played the piano and Luke favored them ​with several selections on his banjo and his guitar. They also sang a number of songs, and altogether the evening ended quite pleasantly. The cloud that had come up between Dave and Jessie seemed to have vanished, much to their own satisfaction and to that of their friends.

On the following morning Mr. Basswood announced that he had to return to Crumville for a few days on business. He said that as soon as he arrived home he would get into telephone communication with Mr. Aaron Poole and acquaint him with the fact that some sort of a wild man had visited the vicinity of Bear Camp.

"Of course we may be mistaken as to the identity of that individual," said Ben's father. "He may not be Wilbur Poole at all."

"You want to be sure. Dad, and let Nat's father know that," said Ben, "because if Mr. Poole spent money up here looking for his brother, and then found out that the wild man was somebody else, he would never forgive either himself or you for the outlay." And at this frank statement those who knew how miserly the money-lender of Crumville was laughed outright.

Mr. Basswood departed for Carpen Falls in the middle of the forenoon. As it promised to be a warm, clear day, one of the young folks suggested that they go in bathing at a little sandy beach a short distance below the bungalows. This ​suggestion was eagerly seconded, and as a consequence, a little later on, the young folks donned their bathing outfits and soon were having great sport in the water, with the older folks sitting on a fallen tree not far away watching them.

"Oh, but it's cold!" declared Jessie, after her first plunge.

"You'll get used to it after a bit," returned Dave. "Just strike out lively, and that will help to keep your blood in circulation."

"Come on for a race!" shouted Luke, who was splashing around in great shape.

"A race it is!" called back Phil.

"Where shall we race to?" questioned Roger.

"If you are going to race, I'll be the referee and timekeeper," announced Dunston Porter.

It was decided that the boys should swim from the beach to a rock standing out of the water on the far edge of the cove.

"First fellow to stand up on the rock wins the prize," announced Phil, and then he added quickly:

"Girls, what's the prize?"

"A fresh flapjack to the boy who bakes it," announced Belle, gaily.

"Say, speaking of flapjacks puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow, who was wading around in water up to his ankles. "Once there were two old miners who were in a camp in the mountains. They got to disputing as to who could ​make the best flapjacks. Says one of them——"

Shadow did not finish the story he had started to tell. Unbeknown to him, Roger had come up behind, and was now on his hands and knees in the water. Luke gave the would-be story-teller a quick shove; and over went Shadow backwards, to land in the shallow water with a resounding splash.

"Flapjack number one!" cried Luke, gaily. "Say, Shadow, what are you making so much noise about?"

"I'll noise you!" roared the former story-teller of Oak Hall, as he scrambled to his feet.

Then he started to rush after Luke, but Roger caught him by his ankle, and down he went into the water with another splash, this time sending the spray flying clear to those sitting on the fallen tree.

"Here! Here! You boys stop that!" cried Mrs. Wadsworth. "We haven't any umbrellas."

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to shower you," pleaded Shadow. "Anyway, it was Roger's fault."

"If you are going to race, start in!" ordered Dunston Porter.

"Well, what's the prize?" queried Roger, doing his best to keep out of Shadow's reach.

"The fellow who wins gets the hole in the doughnut," returned Dave, gaily.

​"All ready! Line up!" ordered Dunston Porter, and after a general scramble and amid much merriment, the boys lined up. Then came the order "Go!" and all of them struck out lustily for the rock that marked the goal.

At first Ben, who had taken but little interest in the horseplay just enacted, kept well to the front. Ben had always been a good swinmier, and many a time he and Dave had raced each other in Crumville Creek.

"You fellows won't be in it!" he shouted merrily.

"Don't you be too sure of that," returned Luke. "This race isn't over yet."

"You fellows had better save your wind," spluttered Phil, who at that instant came up alongside of Shadow. There followed a great splashing of water, and suddenly Ben disappeared from view.

"Hey, you! Who fouled me that way?" roared the leader. "Whoever caught me by the foot ought to be put out of this race."

"Must have been a whale, Ben," answered Roger, mischievously.

"I'll whale you if you do it again," was the answer. And then all of the boys stopped talking and with renewed vigor bent to the task of trying to win the race.

Soon half the distance to the rock was covered. Ben was still in the lead, with Roger and Phil ​close behind him. Luke and Shadow had dropped so far to the rear that they gave up all hope of winning.

"Here is where I leave you fellows," announced Phil, and made a sudden spurt that soon placed him slightly in advance of Ben.

"Hi! hi! don't leave me this way!" yelled Roger, and he, too, put on a burst of speed, followed a second later by Dave.

On and on, through the cool, clear waters of Mirror Lake plunged the four boys. The goal was now less than fifty feet away.

"O my, see how hard they are swimming!" came from Laura.

"Ben was ahead, but I think Roger is up to him," announced Mrs. Basswood.

"Those four lads are pretty well bunched up," remarked Dunston Porter.

"Shadow and Luke have dropped out of it," announced Belle. "Gracious, how those others are swimming! Wouldn't you think it was for a prize of a thousand dollars?"

The four who had remained in the race were now less than five yards from the goal, a large flat rock that was joined to the mainland by a series of other rocks.

"Here is where I win!" declared Ben, and threw himself forward with all the strength left to him.

​"Not much!" came from Phil.

"Count me in!" panted Roger.

"Also yours truly!" added Dave.

And then the four, lining up side by side, struck out fiercely, each doing his level best to touch the rock first. It was a neck-and-neck race, and in a moment more four hands went up on the rock at practically the same time.

"I win!"

"Not much, my hand was here first!"

"Oh, look!"

"Don't climb up on that rock!"

"What's the trouble?"

"What is it?"

"It's a snake, and a big one!" yelled Dave. "Back away from the rock, boys, just as fast as you can!"