"Hum! This might be worth looking into," mused the rug dealer. "Of
course, these stocks may be all right. But it looks rather fishy to me.
Years ago I bought some stocks like that and they proved to be utterly
worthless. It certainly won't do any harm to tell old Mr. Fordham what
you know about this man Haskers."

"I'd hate to get into a row----" commenced Roger.

"I wouldn't--not if I was going to save that old gentleman's money for
him," interrupted Dave. "Job Haskers sha'n't pull the wool over
anybody's eyes if I can prevent it!"

"Oh, I am with you there, Dave!" cried the senator's son, quickly. "I
was thinking that perhaps we would warn this Mr. Fordham without Haskers
knowing anything about it."

"Better not try to do anything to-night," said Mr. Passmore. "You can
see Mr. Fordham in the morning, and I'll be present, if you wish it."

A little later the two boys found Phil and Bert coming from the dance,
and told their old school chum of what they had witnessed.

"Of course, we ought to expose Haskers!" declared the shipowner's son,
who was not likely to forget how he had suffered at the hands of the
former teacher of Oak Hall. "We'll go to this Mr. Fordham and tell him
just what a rascal Haskers is!"

The doings of the day had made all the boys tired, and they slept
soundly. Dave was the first astir in the morning, but the others,
including Bert, soon followed. The storm had passed and the sun was
shining brightly.

"I'd like you fellows to stay here over the Fourth," said Bert, when
they went below for breakfast. "Maybe we could have a dandy time."

"Can't do it," declared Roger. "I am expecting company at the
house--some more Oak Hall fellows. But you might come there, if you care
to, Bert," he added.

"All right, I'll see about it."

Dave and the others had already made up their minds what to do about Mr.
Fordham. About nine o'clock they sent a message to the elderly
gentleman's room, stating they wished to see him on a matter of
importance to himself, and adding that Mr. Passmore would be with them.

"He says for you to come right up," said the bell-boy, who had delivered
the message.

"Is he up yet?" questioned Dave.

"Yes, sir."

The bell-boy led the way to the room, which was in a wing on the second
floor. All the boys but Bert went up, and Mr. Passmore accompanied them.
They found Mr. Fordham seated in an easy chair. He looked quite
bewildered at the entrance of so many visitors.

"Good-morning, Mr. Fordham," said Mr. Passmore. "I suppose you are quite
surprised to see me at this time in the morning, and with so many young
gentlemen with me," and the rug dealer smiled broadly.

"A bit surprised, yes," was the somewhat feeble answer. "But I--I
suppose it is all right."

"Let me introduce my young friends," went on Mr. Passmore, and did so.
"They have got something they would like to tell you."

"To tell me?" questioned the aged man, curiously. "Sit down, won't you,"
he added, politely, and motioned to chairs and to a couch.

"We came to see you about a man who called to see you last night, a Mr.
Job Haskers," said Dave, after a pause, during which the visitors seated
themselves. "Perhaps it is none of our business, Mr. Fordham, but my
chums and I here felt it our duty to tell you about that man."

"We don't want to do him any harm, if he is trying to earn an honest
living," put in Roger, "but we want you to be on your guard in any
dealings you may have with him."

"Why, what do you young men know of Mr. Haskers?" demanded the old
gentleman, in increasing wonder.

"We know a great deal about him, and very little to his credit," burst
out Phil. "If you have any dealings with him, be careful, or, my word
for it, you may get the worst of it!"

"Why this is--er--very extraordinary!" murmured Mr. Fordham. "I--I don't
know what to make of it," and he looked rather helplessly at Mr.
Passmore.

"Porter, you had better tell what you know about Haskers," said Bert's
father. "But cut it short, for that man may get here soon."

In a plain, straightforward manner our hero told of several things that
had happened at Oak Hall, which were not at all to Job Haskers' credit.
Then he told of the attempt to blow up the hotel, and how the unworthy
teacher had tried to throw the blame on the students, and how the truth
of the matter had at last come out, and how the dictatorial old teacher
had been dismissed by Doctor Clay.

"And do you mean to tell me that this is the man who is trying to sell
me this stock in the Sunset Milling Company?" asked Mr. Fordham, when
Dave had finished.

"This is the same man," answered Roger.

"Yes, and Dave didn't tell you the half of what can be chalked up
against him," added Phil. "I wouldn't trust him with a pint of peanuts."

"Hum! Strange, and I thought he came highly recommended!"

"If he showed you any recommendations I'll wager they were many years
old," said Dave.

"This is really none of my business, Mr. Fordham," broke in Mr.
Passmore. "But as this man is so well known to these young gentlemen,
and he has proved himself to be so unworthy, I would go slow about
investing in stocks that he may offer."

"Yes! yes! Certainly!" cried the elderly gentleman. "But--er--why should
these young men take such an interest in me, a stranger?"

"We don't want to see Job Haskers get the best of any one!" answered
Phil, bluntly. "My opinion of it is, that he ought to be in jail."

"I see, I see! Well, if he did what you say he did, I don't blame you."

"I wouldn't sign for any stock until I had some outside advice about
it," cautioned Mr. Passmore.

"Why not wait until your son gets back?" he suggested.

"I'll do it. Mr. Haskers wanted the deal closed at once. But now I won't
sign for the stock. I'll wait. My son will be here day after to-morrow
at the latest, and he can look into the matter for me. And I am very
much obliged to you all for this warning. I think----"

At that moment came a knock on the door, which had been closed. A
bell-boy was there with a card, which he handed to Mr. Fordham.

"Bless me! He is certainly on time!" murmured the old gentleman. "It is
Mr. Haskers." He looked helplessly at the others. "I--I don't exactly
know what to do."

"We'll get out, if you say so," answered Roger, quickly.

"Oh, say, can't we stay and face him?" asked Phil, eagerly. "We'll give
him the surprise of his life!"

"Certainly, you can stay!" exclaimed Mr. Fordham, with sudden energy. "I
want you to stay. You should not be afraid to say to his face what you
have said behind his back."

Dave looked around the apartment. A bathroom was handy, the door
standing ajar.

"Supposing we step in there for a few minutes, while you and Mr.
Passmore meet Mr. Haskers," he cried. "We'll come out when you say so."

"A clever idea!" cried the rug dealer. "Maybe we'll be able to catch him
in a trap!"

"Mr. Passmore, I'll leave this matter to you," answered the elderly
gentleman. "You know those young men better than I do."

"So I do, and I'll vouch for Roger Morr and his friends," was the
answer. "Show the gentleman up," he added, to the bell-boy. "Don't tell
him who is here--we want to surprise him."

As the bell-boy left, the three chums crowded into the bathroom, leaving
the door on a crack. Soon there came another knock, and Job Haskers
presented himself, silk hat and cane in hand. He was well dressed and
evidently groomed for the occasion. He had expected to find Mr. Fordham
alone, and was somewhat annoyed on beholding a visitor ahead of him.

"Good-morning, Mr. Haskers," said the elderly gentleman, politely. "This
is my friend, Mr. Passmore."

"Happy to know you, sir," responded the former teacher, with pretended
warmth. "A lovely morning after the storm," he went on, as he drew off
the gloves he was wearing.

"We were just discussing this stock you have been offering to Mr.
Fordham," remarked Mr. Passmore, a bit dryly. "The Sunset Company is a
new one to me. Did you help to organize it?"

"Well, I--er--I had a little to do with the organization," stammered the
former teacher.

"You are a regular stock-broker, I presume, Mr. Haskers."

"Yes, that is my business. But I don't deal in ordinary stocks--I handle
only those which are gilt-edged and big money makers," added Job
Haskers, with a flourish.

"Been following the business for some years, I presume."

"About fifteen, all told. I used to have an office in Wall Street, New
York, but I gave that up, as I found the confinement bad for my health."

"It must be a pretty exacting business," went on Mr. Passmore.

"It is, sir. When a fellow is in stocks he can't follow much of anything
else."

"I'd hate to follow stocks for fifteen years."

"Do you mean to say you have been handling stocks for the past fifteen
years?" questioned Mr. Fordham, slowly.

"Exactly, sir--ever since I gave up my position as cashier of a Boston
bank," returned Job Haskers, smoothly. "And now, to get down to
business, as my time is somewhat limited. I suppose you are ready to
subscribe for that stock?" And the former teacher brought forth a paper
and his fountain pen.

"We'll see," mused Mr. Fordham. "Dealing in stocks for the past fifteen
years, eh? How long since you gave up your office in Wall Street?"

"About--er--two years," stammered Job Haskers. He looked keenly at Mr.
Fordham and then at Mr. Passmore. "What--er--why do you ask me that
question?"

"Mr. Fordham probably thought it strange that you could be dealing in
stocks and teaching school at the same time," answered Bert's father,
dryly.

At this announcement Job Haskers' jaw dropped.

"I--I don't understand you," he stammered.

"Well, you will understand in a minute," returned the rug dealer,
blandly. He raised his voice. "Boys, I guess you had better come in
now!"




CHAPTER VI

ANOTHER SURPRISE


The boys had listened to all that was said, and now they lost no time in
filing into Mr. Fordham's bedroom.

Job Haskers stared at them in amazement, and his face dropped in
consternation.

"Porter!" he gasped. "And Morr and Lawrence! Wha--what does
this--er--mean?"

"Perhaps you know as well as we do," answered Dave, sharply.

"You have been spying on me!"

"We are here by permission of Mr. Fordham," returned Roger.

"How did you know I was to call?"

"Never mind about that," put in Phil. "We are here, and that is enough."

"And we know all about what you are trying to do," added Dave.

"This is a plot--a plot against me--to ruin me!" spluttered the former
teacher of Oak Hall. "Oh, you needn't try to disguise it! I know all of
you!"

"We have no plot against you, Mr. Haskers," replied Dave, calmly. "If
your business is perfectly legitimate----"

"Never mind about that!" interposed Job Haskers, hastily. He jammed the
paper and his fountain pen in his pocket. "You can't make a fool of me!
You have been following me up, and you mean to--to--do what you can
to--er--get me into trouble." He backed towards the doorway.

"What is your hurry, sir?" asked Mr. Passmore, and he quietly placed
himself in front of the door.

"Let me pass! Let me pass!" shrilled Job Haskers, and now he looked
thoroughly scared.

"Don't you wish to talk this matter over?" questioned Mr. Fordham,
wonderingly.

"No, sir. I am not going to stay here to be made a fool of!" cried the
former instructor. "Let me pass, I demand it!" he added, to Bert's
father.

"Oh, all right, if you insist," answered Mr. Passmore, and stepped
aside. At once Job Haskers threw the door open and retreated to the
hallway.

"Just wait, you young scamps! I'll get even with you for this!" he
exclaimed, shaking a long finger at Dave, Roger, and Phil. "I'll show
you yet! You just wait!" And with that threat he literally ran down the
hallway and down the stairs and out of the hotel.

"Say, he's some mad, believe me!" was Roger's grim comment.

"I think he is more scared than anything else," returned Dave. "He acted
as if he thought we had trapped him in some way."

"Just how it struck me," put in Phil. "He certainly didn't lose any time
in getting away, did he?" and the shipowner's son grinned broadly.

"He had a guilty conscience," was Mr. Passmore's comment. "Mr. Fordham,
I think you can congratulate yourself that he has left."

"I think so myself, sir," replied the old gentleman. He looked kindly at
Dave and his chums. "It looks to me as if you had saved me from being
swindled," he continued. "If he had a fair sort of a proposition I think
he would have stayed."

"I think so myself," added Mr. Passmore. "Just the same, supposing I
look into this Sunset Company for you?"

"As you please, Mr. Passmore. But I doubt if I care to invest--after
what I have heard and seen of this fellow, Haskers," answered the old
gentleman.

The matter was talked over a little more and then the boys and Bert's
father departed, first, however, receiving the warm thanks of Mr.
Fordham for what they had done. In the foyer of the hotel the chums fell
in with Bert.

"Say, I saw that Haskers fellow shoot out of the hotel in a mighty
hurry," he said. "You must have made it hot for him."

"We did," answered Dave. "Where did he go?"

"Up the lake road, as fast as he could walk."

"I wonder where he is stopping?" mused Phil.

"We might take the auto and follow him?" suggested the senator's son.
"There is no hurry about our getting home."

"Let's do it!" cried Dave, for he was as curious as the others
concerning the former teacher of Oak Hall.

"If you don't mind I'll go along," said Bert.

So it was arranged, and letting Mr. Passmore know of their plans they
soon got ready for the trip.

"Now, don't get into any trouble," warned the rug dealer, as they were
about to depart. "That fellow Haskers may be like a rat--very ugly when
cornered."

"We'll keep our eyes open," answered Dave.

Soon the touring-car was rolling over the lake road, in the direction
Job Haskers had taken. The storm had left the road a trifle muddy in
spots, but that was all. Overhead the sky was blue and the sun shone
brightly.

Less than a quarter of a mile was covered when those in the touring-car
saw a figure ahead they knew to be Job Haskers. He was walking along
more slowly now, his head bent down as if in deep thought.

"I suppose he is trying to figure out what to do next," was Phil's
comment. "Wants to locate another sucker--if he can."

"Such a man ought to be in jail," said Bert "He may rob some poor fellow
and do it in a legal way, too,--so that the man won't be able to get
back at him."

Roger had slowed down, so that the touring-car kept well behind the
former teacher. Presently the boys saw Haskers turn up a side road, one
that led to a small hotel, standing on a hill overlooking the lake.

"He's going to the Fenton House," said Bert. "Maybe he is stopping
there."

"Possibly," returned Dave.

Slowly following the man, they saw Job Haskers enter the hotel and walk
in the direction of the reading-room. Roger stopped the car and turned
to the others.

"Well, what's the next move?" he asked. "Want to go in?"

"What's the use?" asked Phil. "We'd only have a lot of words with him.
He's got a right to stay here if he wants to."

"Let's go in anyway," said Dave. "You must know somebody here," he
continued, turning to Bert.

"Oh, yes, I know several young fellows and girls," answered the lad who
was spending the summer at the lake.

"Then we can pretend to be calling on them," put in Roger.

Leaving the touring-car standing in the road, the four youths entered
the hotel. They glanced into the reading-room, and noted that over a
dozen persons were present. Then Dave gave a low cry.

"Look, boys! What do you think of that?"

He pointed to one corner of the reading-room, where two persons sat on a
leather couch, one with a newspaper in his hand.

"Why, it's Link Merwell!" gasped Phil. "Merwell as sure as you're born!"

"How did that rascal get here?" murmured Roger.

"Who is it?" asked Bert, curiously.

"That fellow who is on the couch with Haskers," whispered Dave. "He used
to go to school with us at Oak Hall, and then he had to leave, and after
that he and a fellow named Jasniff robbed Mr. Wadsworth's jewelry
works."

"Oh, yes, Roger told me about that. You fellows followed the rascals to
Cave Island, didn't you?"

"Yes, and we caught Jasniff, but Merwell got away."

"Then why not have him locked up right now?" demanded Bert.

"It's what we ought to do," declared Phil.

"Haskers and Merwell must be in with each other," was Dave's comment.
"Maybe Merwell is trying to sell some of that Sunset Company stock,
too."

"Wonder if we can't hear what they are saying?" said Roger. "It might
help us to make out a case against them."

"We can go around to that side window and listen," suggested Phil, and
pointed to the window in question.

This was quickly agreed upon, and the four boys left the hotel and
walked out on a gravel path close to the window. As the day was warm,
the window was wide open.

"No, it was a frost!" they heard Job Haskers say, in harsh tones.

"He wouldn't buy the stock?" queried Link Merwell.

"Worse than that, Merwell. I was trapped, and I had all I could do to
get away."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know who was there, with that old man, when I went to see him?"

"I have no idea."

"Three of the boys you hate--Porter, Morr, and Lawrence."

Merwell started back in consternation.

"You don't mean it--you are fooling!"

"It's the truth. They were there and ready to have me arrested, I
suppose. I got out in a hurry." Job Haskers gave a deep sigh and wiped
the perspiration from his forehead.

"Did--did they follow you?" asked Link Merwell, nervously.

"I don't think so--I didn't give them time. Oh, this is too bad! I
expected to get a lot of money from that old man," and Job Haskers shook
his head, sadly.

"I told you it wasn't safe to stay around here," was Merwell's comment.
"Why not go out West with me? It will be much safer there, I am sure."

"My funds are low."

"I'll stake you, as the miners say."

"How much money have you?" asked Job Haskers, a bit more hopefully.

"Enough to take us both West. I made dad come down--he sent the money
order this morning, and I just got it cashed. I told him if he didn't
come down I'd have to give myself up to the police, and that would
disgrace the whole family."

"I see." The former teacher of Oak Hall gritted his teeth. "Oh, how I
wish I could do something to punish Porter and those others!"

"Humph! you don't wish that any more than I do," replied Link Merwell,
scowling. "I'm going to do something some day, mark my words!" he added,
vindictively.

At that moment the agent for a big observation car that ran around the
lake approached the boys on the gravel path beneath the window.

"Wouldn't you young gentlemen like to take a nice ride this afternoon?"
he asked, in a business-like tone. "A fifty-mile ride in our new
observation touring-car, visiting all the points of interest around the
lake, and taking in Creswood, Lighton, and Tomkins' Mill--a two-hours'
ride for one dollar." And he held up a handful of tickets.

"We don't want any ride," answered Dave.

"We have our own touring-car," added Roger, pointing to the car.

"Oh, I see, all right," said the man, and passed on, to hunt for
customers elsewhere.

When the man had started to speak his voice had carried into the
reading-room, and much surprised to think others were so near, both
Haskers and Merwell had gotten up from the couch to glance out of the
window.

"Well, I never!" gasped Merwell.

"They must have followed me after all!" groaned Job Haskers.

The youth who had been mixed up in the robbery of the jewelry works
grabbed the former teacher by the arm.

"We can't stay here--at least I can't!" he whispered, hoarsely. "I am
going to dust!" And out of the reading-room he glided, and Job Haskers
followed him.

"Where shall we go?" asked the former teacher, his shaking voice showing
how much he was disturbed.

"I don't know--but I won't stay here," returned Merwell. "Have you much
baggage? I have only a Gladstone bag."

"I have a suit-case, that is all."

"Then let us pack up and get out by the back way. We can pay our bills
later. Come on, there is no time to spare!"




CHAPTER VII

A GATHERING OF OAK HALL BOYS


"Well, they are gone, that's certain!"

"Yes, and there is no telling where they went to."

"Must have slipped out by a back way."

"They sure are a slick pair."

It was some time later, and Dave and the other boys stood on the broad
piazza of the hotel discussing the situation.

Following the talk with the observation car agent they had looked into
the reading-room only to discover that Job Haskers and Link Merwell had
vanished. At once they had rushed into the building, looking through the
hallways and other rooms that were open to the general public. Not a
trace of the two evildoers was to be found anywhere. Then they had
consulted the clerk at the desk, and through him had learned that only
Job Haskers was stopping at the place.

"But he has a young friend here, a Mr. Smith--Jackson Smith," the clerk
had told them. And then he had described the fellow called Jackson
Smith, and Dave and his chums had felt assured that it was Link Merwell
under an assumed name. Finally a visit had been paid to the rooms
Haskers and Merwell had occupied, and both had been found vacated, with
the keys sticking in the locks.

"And neither of 'em stopped to pay his bill," the clerk had told them,
mournfully.

"I am not surprised," Dave had answered. "They are a bad pair."

The clerk had wanted to know the particulars, and the boys had told him
as much as they deemed necessary. Then they had come out on the piazza
of the hostelry, wondering what they ought to do next.

"I don't think it is worth while trying to follow them up," said the
senator's son. "If you caught Merwell you would have to appear in court
against him, and you know what a lot of trouble you had appearing
against Jasniff;" and this statement was true.

"Oh, let them go!" cried Phil. "Say," he added, "did you hear what Link
said about bleeding his dad for money? Isn't he the limit!"

"That proves he isn't working for a living," remarked Dave. "And to
think that he told me he was going to reform!"

"That sort of a chap doesn't reform," asserted Roger.

"Oh, I don't know. Gus Plum reformed."

"Yes, but Plum isn't like Merwell, or Jasniff. He was simply
overbearing. These other fellows are downright dishonest."

The four boys walked back to the automobile, and soon they were
returning to the hotel at which Bert was staying. By that time it was
close to the lunch hour and so the visitors were invited to stay over
for something to eat.

"Didn't catch that man Haskers, eh?" remarked Mr. Passmore, as he came
up, in company with Mr. Fordham.

"No, he ran away," answered Roger, and then he and the others told of
what had occurred.

"I am very thankful to you for saving me from a bad investment," said
Mr. Fordham. "I shall not forget it." And he kept his word, for later
on, after he had consulted with his son and found out just how worthless
was the stock in the Sunset Milling Company, he sent each of the boys a
fine pair of gold cuff-links.

After lunch the lads remained with Bert for about an hour and then took
their departure for Roger's home, where they arrived some time before
dark. As they rolled up the driveway a surprise awaited them.

"Look who's here!" exclaimed Dave. "Hello there, Luke!"

"Hello yourself," answered Luke Watson, with a broad grin. "I thought
you chaps would be along soon."

"And Shadow!" cried Roger, as another form came into view, from the Morr
piazza. "This is a surprise! I didn't expect to see you quite so soon."

"Oh, we hadn't anything special to do, so we came ahead," answered Luke.
"Hope it won't put you out?"

"Not at all, glad you are here." There was a general handshaking, for
the automobile had now come to a stop and the boys had piled out to
greet their former schoolmates.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" burst out Shadow Hamilton. "A
fellow made a date with a girl for six o'clock. Well, at five----"

"Wow!"

"Shadow is onto the game already!"

"Say, Shadow, give us a chance to say how-do-you-do first, won't you?"

"I believe Shadow would try to tell a story if he was going to a
funeral."

"Oh, say!" burst out the former story-teller of Oak Hall. "That puts me
in mind of another. Two Irishmen went to a funeral and----"

"Shut him off!"

"Put a popcorn ball in his mouth!"

"Make him apologize on the spot!"

At once the four others surrounded the would-be story-teller and pushed
him from the gravel path to the green lawn. Then followed something of a
wrestling match, all the lads taking part.

"Let up, will you!" panted Shadow, breaking away at last. "I won't tell
any stories if you don't want to listen to 'em. But just the same, that
story about the Irishmen was a good one. And that about the fellow who
went to see the girl at five o'clock is a corker. You see his watch had
stopped and he----"

"Jump him!"

"He can't stop, no matter how hard he tries!"

"Let's stand him on his head and make him tell it backwards!"

Again there was a rush, but this time poor Shadow took to his heels and
rushed up on the piazza, just as the door opened and Mrs. Morr came out
to greet the boys.

"Roger!" exclaimed the lady of the mansion, turning to her son, "what in
the world----"

"Only a little horse-play, Mom," replied the son, with a smile. "We are
so glad to see the fellows that we have to let off a little steam."

"It looked like a fight to me."

"Oh, nothing like that, Mrs. Morr," said Dave, quickly. "Only fun; isn't
that so, fellows?"

"Of course!" was the quick reply.

"Have you met Luke and Shadow, Mom?" asked Roger.

"Yes, about an hour ago. I told them that you had telephoned that you
were on the way home, so they said they'd remain out here, watching for
you. I showed them what room they were to occupy," added the lady of the
mansion.

"Fine!" cried Roger. "I'll put the car away for the present, and then
we'll fix up for dinner and listen to those stories Shadow had to tell."

"Somebody said Buster Beggs was coming," said Luke.

"Yes, he'll be here the night before the Fourth."

Quarter of an hour later found the whole crowd of boys upstairs in the
house. In anticipation of the Fourth of July party, as she called it,
Mrs. Morr had turned over one wing of the second floor of the big house
to the youths. There they could "cut up" to their hearts' content.

"Say, this is something like old times at Oak Hall!" cried Phil, as the
youths gathered in one of the bedrooms and proceeded to distribute
themselves in various attitudes on the chairs and the bed. "Somehow, I
think we are going to miss that school!"

"Miss it! Well I guess yes!" answered Dave. "And that puts me in mind of
something. I was thinking----"

"Whoop! Is he going to tell stories, too?"

"Say, Dave, that act belongs to Shadow."

"No, I wasn't going to tell a story," answered Dave. "I've got an idea
for a club."

"A club? What do you mean?" asked Roger. "Do you mean for us to get up a
club?"

"Yes, the Oak Hall Club, to be composed of fellows who attended Oak Hall
for a year or more."

"Great!"

"Let us do it!"

"We'll make Dave president," cried Roger.

"And you treasurer," added Phil.

"And Shadow chief story-teller," put in Luke, with a grin.

"Huh! What's the use of being chief story-teller when you won't let me
tell a story?" grumbled Shadow. "But I know what I'll do," he added,
with a sudden twinkle in his eye. "If you won't let me talk, I'll write
it down. And I'll write a sentence none of you can read and be sure of,"
he went on.

"What's that?" asked Phil, curiously. "A sentence none of us can read?
Maybe you'll write it in Choctaw, or Chinese."

"No, I'll write it in plain, every-day United States, and none of you
will be sure how to read it."

"What's the riddle?" demanded Dave, who saw that the story-teller had
something up his sleeve.

"Give me a sheet of paper and a pencil and I'll show you," returned
Shadow.

Paper and pencil were furnished by Roger, and the story-teller quickly
wrote down the following:

    _"After a row the sailors had a row!"_

"Now read it out loud!" cried Shadow, as he passed the paper to the
others. All gazed at it for several seconds.

"I pass," remarked Dave, calmly.

"Why, that's easy!" cried Phil. "After a ro----Say, Shadow, what do you
mean, did they quarrel or row the boat first?"

"Maybe they rowed the boat twice," suggested Roger, with a grin.

"Or had two quarrels," suggested Luke. And then a general laugh went up.

"You've got us this time, Shadow!" cried Dave. "Give him a lemon,
somebody, for a prize," and then another laugh went up.

"That idea of an Oak Hall Club is a good one," said Luke. "But you can't
organize it now--the fellows are too scattered."

"Oh, I was thinking we might do it later on--perhaps this winter,"
answered Dave.

The newcomers were much interested in what Dave, Phil, and Roger had to
tell about Job Haskers and Link Merwell, and various were the opinions
advanced as to what had become of the pair.

"They are both mighty sore, because they had to leave Oak Hall in
disgrace," said Luke. "Every one of us had better keep his eye peeled,
for they'll make trouble if they get half a chance." And then the bell
rang for dinner and the boys went downstairs.

The next day the lads were all busy getting ready for the Fourth of
July. It had been arranged that they should have quite a display of
fireworks on the lawn of the senator's home, and many folks of that
vicinity were invited to attend.

"Here is Buster Beggs!" cried Roger, that evening, and the youth who was
so fat and jolly hove in sight, suit-case in hand. He shook hands all
around and was speedily made to feel at home.

"Glad you are going to have fireworks," he said to Roger. "I don't care
much for noise on the Fourth, but I dote on fireworks. Let me set some
of 'em off, won't you?"

"Of course," was Roger's reply. "We boys are going to give the
exhibition, while the older folks, and the girls, look on."

"But we are going to have a little noise--at sunrise," put in Phil.

"What kind of noise--a cannon?"

"No, some firecrackers."

"Oh, that will be all right," answered Buster, thinking the firecrackers
were to be of ordinary size.

So they were--all but one. But that one was a monster--the largest Phil
and Roger had been able to buy. They had not told the others about this
big fellow, not even Dave, for they wanted the explosion of that to be a
surprise.

"It will sure make them sit up and take notice," said Phil to Roger, as
the pair hid the big cannon cracker away in the automobile garage.

"We'll set it off back of the kitchen," answered Roger. "It won't do any
harm there."

On the night of the third the boys retired somewhat early, so as to be
up bright and early for the glorious Fourth.

They had been sleeping less than an hour when a sudden cry awakened
them.

"Fire! Fire! Get up, boys! The garage is on fire, and I am afraid the
gasoline tank will blow up!"




CHAPTER VIII

FIRE AND FIRECRACKERS


"What's that!"

"The garage on fire!"

"Say, look at the blaze!"

Such were some of the cries, as the boys tumbled out of bed, one after
another. A bright glare of fire was dancing over the walls of the rooms.

"It's some brushwood behind the garage!" announced Dave, as he poked his
head out of a window to look. "It's that big heap the gardener put there
yesterday."

"He shouldn't have placed it so close," said Luke. "Why didn't he rake
it to some spot in the open?"

All of the boys were hurrying into their clothing as fast as possible.
The alarm had been given by Senator Morr, and by the chauffeur, who
slept in a room of the barn next to the garage.

"Oh, Roger!" gasped Phil. "That big cannon cracker!"

"I was thinking of it, Phil!" returned the senator's son, hurriedly. "We
must get it out somehow!"

"If it goes off it will wreck the building!"

"Yes, and the gasoline tank with it!"

The tank in question was not underground, as would have been safer, but
was located in a bricked-up place at one side of the garage. In the
storehouse were two barrels of gasoline, and also some lubricating oils.
If that storehouse caught, it would certainly make a hot and dangerous
blaze.

Pell-mell down the stairs rushed the youths, one after another. In the
meantime Senator Morr was dressing and so were the others of the
household.

"Be careful, boys! Don't go too close!" warned Mrs. Morr.

"Watch out for an explosion!" puffed her husband. The senator was so
stout that dressing in a hurry was no easy matter for him.

When the boys got out in the garden they found the chauffeur and the
gardener at work, trying to pull the burning brushwood away from the
garage. The flames were crackling merrily and the sparks were flying in
various directions.

"I'm going in and get that big cannon cracker," said Roger to Phil, in a
low voice, so that the others might not hear.

"I'll go with you, Roger. Be careful, though, the sparks are flying all
round that doorway."

"I've shut everything!" bawled the chauffeur, as he saw Roger at the
big sliding doors. "Better not open up, or the fire will get inside."

"I've got to go in, Jake!" answered Roger. "I've got to get something
out."

"What?" asked Dave, who was close by.

"Never mind, Dave. It's something that can't be left in there," and so
speaking Roger slid open a door and hurried inside the garage. Phil came
directly behind him.

On the floor, in a corner, was a box with ordinary firecrackers in
it--about two hundred packs in all. On top of this was a package in
paper containing the big cannon cracker.

"Lookout!"

"It's on fire!"

Thus yelled both boys as they saw that the flames from the brushwood had
made their way into a corner of the garage, just where the firecrackers
had been placed. For an instant they hesitated, then both leaped forward
again and commenced to stamp out the fire.

It had caught at a corner of the box containing the smaller firecrackers
and was also at the paper containing the cannon cracker. This Phil
caught up, knocking the fire away with his hand.

"What are you after, anyway?" The question came from Dave, who had
followed his chums into the building. Buster, Shadow, and Luke were
outside, at the rear, helping to pull the brushwood away and stamp out
the flames.

"Firecrackers--a box full!" cried Roger. "We must get it out!"

"A giant firecracker!" added Phil. "Big enough to blow down a house!"
And he held up the package and then made a dive for the outer air, for
the garage was now full of smoke.

Dave understood on the instant, and stooped to pick up one end of the
burning box. Roger took the other end, and thus they ran from the
garage.

Crack! crack! crack! It was the small firecrackers in the box that were
beginning to go off, the pieces flying through a lower corner of the
burning box.

"Into the back yard with it!" cried Roger. "Keep it away from the
buildings!"

"All right, this way!" answered Dave, and then the pair made for
something of an open lot behind the kitchen of the mansion and there
threw the box on the ground. Crack! bang! crack! went the firecrackers,
going off singly and in bunches, until all were shot off.

"It's a pity we didn't save 'em," said Roger, mournfully.

"It's a grand good thing they didn't go off in the garage," returned
Dave.

"Well, I saved the big cannon cracker anyway," said Phil, as he walked
up at that moment.

"Where did you put it?" questioned Roger, quickly.

"Over there, in a corner of the fence. I didn't want to take any
chances, otherwise I might have taken it to the barn."

"Better leave it outside, where it can't do any damage," said Dave.

While talking, the three boys had been running back to the garage. There
they found their chums and the men at work, including Senator Morr, all
hauling the burning brushwood away and pouring water from a small hose
on the flames. The most of the fire was out, so they found little to do.
Only one corner of the garage had been touched, and for this the senator
was thankful.

"But it was careless of you, James, to put that brushwood there, so
close to the building," he said to the gardener, "Don't do it again."

"If you please, sir, I didn't put the brushwood as close as that,"
replied the gardener, stoutly. "Somebody else did that."

"What!" cried the senator, in surprise.

"I said I didn't put the brushwood so close to the garage, sir,"
repeated the gardener. "I put it right there," and he pointed to a spot
about fifteen feet from the rear wall of the building. "I was going to
burn it up first thing in the morning,--that is if the young gentlemen
didn't want the stuff for a bonfire at night."

"But who did put the brushwood up against the garage?" demanded Senator
Morr.

"I'm sure I don't know," put in the chauffeur. "But what James says,
sir, is true--he put the heap out there--I was working around the garage
when he did it."

"Do you mean to insinuate that this fire was set by somebody?" cried the
senator, quickly.

"I don't know about that, sir," answered the chauffeur, while the
gardener merely shrugged his shoulders. He was an old man and one who
had been trusted by the Morrs for years.

"If what you say is true, I'll have to look into this matter," remarked
Senator Morr. "I don't propose to have my garage burnt down, with two
automobiles worth five thousand dollars,--not to say anything about the
danger to the rest of the place. If I find----"

Bang! It was an explosion like a cannon and made everybody jump. As Dave
looked, he saw a corner of a distant fence fly apart, and bits of fire
seemed to fill the midnight air. Then followed utter silence.

[Illustration: AS DAVE LOOKED, HE SAW A CORNER OF A DISTANT FENCE FLY
APART.]

"The cannon cracker!" gasped Phil.

"What could have made it go off?" asked Roger.

"Some sparks from this fire--or else it was lit when Phil took it out,"
answered Dave.

"What are you talking about?" asked Senator Morr, and when he had
been told he shook his head and smiled, grimly.

"Well, I'm glad it didn't go off in the garage," he said. "But after
this you must keep your explosives in a safer place. Jake, James, bring
some buckets of water and put out that fire from the explosion. It isn't
much, but we want no more sparks flying around here."

The water was brought, and soon every spark had been extinguished. Then
the crowd went back to the garage, to make sure that no more fire
lingered in that vicinity.

"It certainly looks as if somebody had set this fire," mused Senator
Morr. "Perhaps a tramp. Have you seen any such fellows around here?" he
asked, looking at the others.

The boys had seen no tramps at all, and James said he had seen none for
over a week.

"I saw one day before yesterday," said the chauffeur, "but I know he
left town that night--I saw him board a freight train."

"Well, it is strange. Keep your eyes open," said Senator Morr, and then
he returned to the house, to quiet his wife and retire once more.

"It's mighty queer about that fire," remarked Luke, when the boys were
undressing. "It certainly does look as if it was set."

"Dave, do you think Merwell and Haskers would do it?" questioned Roger.

"Yes, if they were in this neighborhood. But have they been here?"

The boys looked at each other. Nobody had seen Merwell or the former
teacher of Oak Hall in that vicinity.

"Let us make some inquiries down at the railroad station in the
morning," suggested Dave. "If those two stopped off here somebody must
have seen them."

"Phew! what a noise that cannon cracker did make!" murmured Phil. "If we
had set that off in the morning--as we intended--I reckon it would have
woke up the neighborhood pretty well."

"It did wake some folks up," answered Roger, for quite a few boys and
men had come up to find out what the flames and noise meant.

"It was certainly some firecracker," was Luke's comment.

"Say, speaking of firecrackers puts me in mind of a story!" burst out
Shadow.

"Wow! A story this time of night!" murmured Buster. "I'm going to bed."

"This is a short one," pleaded the would-be story-teller. "A man was
giving a celebration one Fourth of July to a lot of children. He had
ordered a lot of firecrackers, but they didn't come. So he sent a
telegram to the wholesale house in the city. 'Send big and little
crackers as ordered at once.' About an hour afterwards he got a return
telegram which said, 'Our grocery department is closed to-day. Your
order for crackers will be filled to-morrow.'"

"Call that a crackerjack joke?" asked Roger, with a grin.

"Don't crack any more like that, Shadow," added Dave.

"You might get fired if you do," contributed Phil; and then a general
laugh went up, after which all of the boys again retired.

In the morning the lads inspected the vicinity of the fire once more,
and spent some time in shooting off a pistol and a shotgun which Roger
possessed. Then, acting on a suggestion from Dave, they took a walk to
the railroad station.

Here an interesting bit of news awaited them, which was to the effect
that, owing to some trouble with a bridge about a mile outside of
Hemson, two passenger trains and a freight had been held up at the
station for several hours.

"Most of the passengers remained in the trains," said the station agent.
"But some of 'em got restless and they went over to the hotel, and some
walked down to where the bridge was being repaired."

"Did you notice two people in particular?" asked Roger, and described
Merwell and Job Haskers as well as he could.

"No, I don't remember seeing those fellows," said the agent.

From the railroad station the boys went to the hotel, and then walked
along the country road leading to the Morr place. Presently they met a
man driving a milk wagon.

"Say, you had a fire last night, didn't you?" asked the driver of Roger,
as he reined up.

"Yes, Mr. Platt," answered the senator's son. "But it didn't amount to
anything."

"How did it catch, do you know?" went on the driver of the milk wagon,
curiously.

"No, we are trying to find out."

"Maybe it was set. I see two fellers sneakin' around your place last
evening," went on Mr. Platt.




CHAPTER IX

WHAT NAT POOLE HAD TO TELL


"You saw two fellows sneaking around our place last evening?" cried
Roger, with interest.

"I certainly did."

"What did they look like?" asked Dave.

"I see 'em plainly an' I was wonderin' what they was up to," said the
driver of the milk wagon, and then he described the two persons quite
minutely.

"Haskers and Merwell, beyond a doubt!" exclaimed Phil. "Now what do you
know about that!"

"It certainly is the limit!" murmured Luke.

"Wonder if they are still around?" came from Shadow. "Say, this puts me
in mind of a sto----But never mind, I'll tell it another time," he broke
off, hastily, as he saw a look of disgust on the others' faces.

"I don't believe they are around," said Dave. "They probably boarded the
first train that went over the bridge."

"Just what I think," returned the senator's son.

"Think them fellers set the fire?" asked Mr. Platt, curiously.

"We feel certain of it," replied Roger. "They are old school enemies of
ours," he added. "It's only one more score we've got to settle with
them," he continued, to his chums, and shut his teeth with a snap.

Nothing further could be learned concerning the mysterious visitors, and
finally the boys went back to the Morr mansion, to get ready for the
evening celebration. This came off as scheduled and proved a big
success. Fully a hundred town folk were present, besides some from the
lake and elsewhere. There were rockets and Roman candles and wheels
galore, as well as several set pieces. Some fire balloons were also
liberated. Senator Morr had engaged a local band of eight pieces, and if
the music was not of a high order it was certainly patriotic, and that
counted for a good deal.

Of course the other boys had to hear all about the proposed trip West
and, incidentally, about the lost Landslide Mine. From his father and
mother Roger got some more details concerning the missing property. A
map was produced, and also some papers, and the son was advised to hunt
up an old miner and prospector named Abe Blower.

"Abe Blower knew your Uncle Maurice well," said Mrs. Morr, to her son.
"They were friends for years. I am sure if you can find Mr. Blower he
will do all he can for you, and for me, too."

"Then I'll do what I can to find him, first of all," answered Roger.

At last came the time when Dave must leave the Morr home and return to
Crumville. He was going alone, but he promised to keep in constant
communication with the others.

"I wish I was going on that western trip," said Shadow, wistfully.
"You'll have barrels of fun, and if you do locate that Landslide
Mine--well, it will be a big feather in your cap."

"I'd like to go, too," said Buster.

"I reckon we'd all like to go," cried the others, in concert.

"Well, there is just this much about it," returned Dave. "Anybody who
has the price can go on that personally-conducted tour to Yellowstone
Park, and, so far as I am concerned, you can go from there into the
mountains and look for the mine."

"Why, of course!" burst out Roger. "If any of you want to go, just say
the word."

This brought on a discussion lasting nearly an hour. In the end several
of the lads said they would see what they could do, and would write
about it later, or telegraph.

"Say, but wouldn't it be grand if we could locate that lost mine!" cried
Phil, enthusiastically.

"Well, we'll have a try at it," returned Dave.

At last came the time for Dave to leave. Some of the others had already
gone. Roger drove his chum down to the railroad station in the runabout.
The two were alone. Dave noticed that the senator's son seemed unusually
thoughtful.

"What's up, Roger?" he asked, at last. "You don't seem quite like
yourself."

"Oh, I don't know that I ought to say anything, Dave," was the
hesitating answer.

"If there is anything I can do----"

"No, it isn't that." Roger gave a deep sigh. "I wish we could locate
that mine!" he murmured.

"So you were thinking about that? Well, we may have luck. Let us hope
so," and Dave smiled.

"I might as well tell you how it is," continued Roger, as he drove up to
the little railroad station. He looked around, to make sure that no
outsiders were listening. "You know father comes up for re-election this
fall."

"Oh, does his term as senator run out?"

"Yes. Well, there is a movement on foot to put somebody else in his
place. If they do that--well, he'll be out, that's all."

"What will he do then?"

"That's just it. I don't know what he can do. He used to be in an office
business, but he gave that up to go into politics. Now, if he gets out,
he will have to start all over again."

"Hasn't he anything at all--I mean any business?"

"Not anything regular. He dabbles a little in real estate."

"Then I hope they don't put him out, Roger."

"And--er--that isn't all, Dave. I wouldn't tell anybody but you--and
maybe Phil. He has spent a lot of money while in politics--it costs a
good deal to live in Washington. I heard him tell mother about it. If he
goes out, it will go hard with him. Now, if we had that mine, and it was
as valuable as they think it is----"

"I see, Roger. We'll have to do our level best to find the mine."

"If mother had the mine she could let dad use the money in any way he
pleased. But if we haven't got the mine to fall back on, and dad gets
out of politics--well, it is going to make hard sledding for us."

"Roger, if it gets too bad, don't you hesitate to come to us!" cried
Dave, quickly. "I am sure my father, and my Uncle Dunston, would be only
too glad to help you out."

"Thank you, Dave; but I don't think it will get to be as bad as that,"
answered the senator's son. And then the train came along and Dave had
to bid his chum good-by.

The car was only half filled with people, so Dave had a double seat to
himself. He placed his suit-case in the rack overhead and then sank down
by the window, to gaze at the swiftly moving panorama and give himself
up to thought.

"Hello, Dave!"

The youth looked up, to see, standing beside him, Nat Poole, the son of
the money-lender of Crumville--a tall, awkward youth with a face that
was inclined to scowl more than to smile. In the past Nat had played
Dave many a mean trick, and had usually gotten the worst of it. Nat had
been in the class with our hero, but had failed to pass for graduation,
much to his chagrin.

"Hello, Nat!" cried Dave. He put as much warmth as possible in the
salutation, for he felt sorry for the boy who had failed. "Bound for
home?"

"Yes." The money-lender's son hesitated for a moment. "Want me to sit
with you?"

"Certainly, if you like," and Dave shoved over to make room.

"Been visiting an old aunt of mine," explained Nat as he sat down. "Had
a slow time of it, too, over the Fourth. Where have you been?"

Dave told him. "We had a dandy time, too," he added.

"It must have been fine." Nat gave a sigh. "I wish I had been--but
what's the use? You fellows wouldn't care for me."

"What were you going to say, Nat?"

"I might have been there myself, if I hadn't--well, if I hadn't made a
big fool of myself!" burst out the money-lender's son. "Yes, that's what
I did, made a fool of myself! Uncle Tom told me the plain truth."

"I thought you said you'd been visiting an aunt."

"So I have, but she's married again,--married a man named Tom Allen, a
merchant. He knows father, and he flocked it into the old man in great
shape," and Nat actually chuckled. "Told me just what kind of a man dad
was--hard-fisted and miserly--somebody nobody loved or wanted to
associate with. And he warned me not to grow up the same way--not to
think money was everything, and all that. He said a boy ought to be
known for his real worth, not his dollars and his clothes."

"He's right there, Nat."

"Yes, he opened my eyes. And when he asked me about Oak Hall, and you
fellows, and how I had missed passing, he told me the truth about
myself. I--well, I resented it at first, but by and by I got to thinking
he must be right, and the more I thought of it, the more I made up my
mind that I had been a big fool. And then I made a resolve----" Nat
stopped and gave a gulp.