Dave Porter Series

                     DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS

                  OR, THE SEARCH FOR THE LANDSLIDE MINE

                         BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER

        Author of "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," "The Lakeport Series,"
              "Pan-American Series," "Old Glory Series," etc.

                     _ILLUSTRATED BY WALTER ROGERS_




    BOSTON
    LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

    Published, August, 1914
    COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
    _All rights reserved_
    DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS

    Norwood Press
    BERWICK AND SMITH CO.
    Norwood, Mass.
    U. S. A.




[Illustration: "A NUGGET! A NUGGET OF GOLD!" CRIED DAVE.]




CONTENTS


           PREFACE

        I. THE LANDSLIDE MINE

       II. DAVE PORTER'S PAST

      III. CAUGHT IN A STORM

       IV. A QUESTION OF STOCKS

        V. A TRAP FOR JOB HASKERS

       VI. ANOTHER SURPRISE

      VII. A GATHERING OF OAK HALL BOYS

     VIII. FIRE AND FIRECRACKERS

       IX. WHAT NAT POOLE HAD TO TELL

        X. DAVE AT HOME

       XI. OVERHEARD IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE

      XII. ON THE WAY WEST

     XIII. DAVE SEES SOMETHING

      XIV. IN BUTTE

       XV. AT ABE BLOWER'S HOME

      XVI. ON TO BLACK CAT CAMP

     XVII. ALONG THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL

    XVIII. THE STOLEN HORSES

      XIX. THE NEWSPAPER CLEW

       XX. THE EXPOSURE

      XXI. ON THE BACK TRAIL

     XXII. DAVE AND THE MOUNTAIN LION

    XXIII. IN THE MOUNTAIN CAVE

     XXIV. SEARCHING FOR THE LANDSLIDE MINE

      XXV. CAUGHT IN A STORM

     XXVI. PROWLERS IN CAMP

    XXVII. THE TWO PRISONERS

   XXVIII. THE LOST LANDSLIDE MINE

     XXIX. ANOTHER LANDSLIDE

      XXX. THE NEW CLAIM--CONCLUSION




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


"A NUGGET! A NUGGET OF GOLD!" CRIED DAVE.

AS DAVE LOOKED, HE SAW A CORNER OF A DISTANT FENCE FLY APART.

"QUICK, SOMEBODY HELP ME! STOP THAT HORSE FROM FALLING OVER THE CLIFF!"

"IF YOU LOCATE THAT MINE BEFORE WE DO, DON'T YOU DARE TO REMOVE ANY
OF MY UNCLE'S LANDMARKS."




PREFACE


"Dave Porter in the Gold Fields" is a complete story in itself, but
forms the tenth volume in a line issued under the general title of "Dave
Porter Series."

The series was begun some years ago by the publication of "Dave Porter
at Oak Hall," in which my young readers were introduced to a typical
American lad at a typical American boarding school.

There was at that time a cloud over Dave's parentage, and to clear this
away he took a long sea voyage, as related in the next volume, entitled
"Dave Porter in the South Seas." Then he came back to school, as told of
in "Dave Porter's Return to School," in which he gave one of the local
bullies a much-needed lesson.

During a vacation Dave journeyed to Norway, as related in "Dave Porter
in the Far North," and then came back to Oak Hall, to win various
honors, as recorded in "Dave Porter and His Classmates." Then came an
opportunity to visit the West, and how our hero did this is set down in
the book called "Dave Porter at Star Ranch." When he returned to school
many strenuous happenings awaited him, and what they were will be found
in "Dave Porter and His Rivals."

Dave had lived for years with a rich manufacturer of jewelry, and when
this man was robbed it was our hero who followed the criminals in a long
flight, as told in "Dave Porter on Cave Island." Then, with the booty in
his possession, the youth returned home, to go back to school, from
which he soon after graduated with honors, as shown in the volume
preceding this, entitled, "Dave Porter and the Runaways."

In the present volume are related the particulars of another trip West,
taken by Dave and his chums to locate a lost gold mine, willed to Roger
Morr's mother by her brother. The boys had some strenuous happenings,
and some of their old-time enemies did all they could to bring their
expedition to grief. But Dave showed his common sense and his courage,
and in the end all went well.

Once again I thank my young readers for the interest they have shown in
my books. I trust that the reading of this volume will benefit them all.

    EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
    _February 1, 1914._




DAVE PORTER IN THE GOLD FIELDS




CHAPTER I

THE LANDSLIDE MINE


"Roger, that sounds like a fairy tale--a real gold mine belonging to
your mother lost through a landslide!"

"So it does sound like a fairy tale, Dave; but it is absolutely true.
The mine was owned by my uncle, Maurice Harrison, of Butte, Montana, and
when he died he left it to my mother, who was his sister. On the day he
died there was a big landslide in the mountains, where the mine was
located,--and that was the end of the mine, as far as my folks were
concerned."

"You mean you couldn't find the mine after the landslide?" asked Dave
Porter, with deep interest.

"That's it," answered Roger Morr. "The opening to it was completely
covered up, and so were the stakes, and several landmarks that showed
where the mine was located."

"But why didn't you tell of this before, Roger?" asked a third youth of
the group seated on the lawn of Senator Morr's country estate. "Did it
just happen?"

"No, Phil, this happened last fall, about nine months ago. The reason I
didn't mention it to you and Dave was because my folks wanted it kept
quiet. From what my uncle said in his will, the mine must be very
valuable, and my folks didn't want any outsiders to re-discover the mine
and set up a claim to it. So they started a search on the quiet--hiring
some old miners and prospectors they could trust. But the search has
been in vain."

"Couldn't they discover the mine at all?" queried Dave Porter.

"No, the landslide was too heavy and too far-reaching. The old miners
told my father it was the biggest landslide known in Montana. One
prospector said he thought the mine must now be a hundred feet or more
underground."

"Had your uncle worked it at all?" questioned Phil Lawrence.

"Not much, but enough to learn that it was a valuable claim. It was in a
district that had been visited by landslides before, and so he called it
the Landslide Mine."

"Well, your uncle could be thankful for one thing--that he wasn't in the
mine when that big slide took place. But you said he died anyway."

"Yes, of pneumonia, on the very day the slide took place. Wasn't it
queer? Dad and mother went out to Butte, to the funeral--Uncle Maurice
was an old bachelor--and then they heard his will read and learned about
the mine."

"And they couldn't get any trace at all, Roger?" asked Dave, as he
stopped swinging in the hammock he occupied.

"Nothing worth following up. One of the miners thought he had a landmark
located, but, although he spent a good deal of money digging around,
nothing came of it. You see that big landslide seemed to change the
whole face of the country. It took down dirt and rocks, and trees and
bushes, and sent them to new resting places."

"Perhaps the mine was washed away instead of being covered up,"
suggested Phil.

"No, all those who have visited the locality are agreed that the
entrance to the claim must have been covered up."

"Say! I'd like to hunt for that mine!" cried Dave Porter,
enthusiastically.

"So would I," returned Roger Morr, wistfully. "I know my mother would
like to have somebody find it--just to learn if it is really as valuable
as Uncle Maurice thought."

"Well, if you two fellows go West to look for that mine you can count on
having me with you," put in Phil Lawrence. "We were going to decide on
what to do for the next two months. If Roger says the word----"

"Oh, I could do that easily enough," said the senator's son. "But Dave
wrote that he had something up his sleeve. Maybe his plans won't fit
into this."

"But they just will fit in!" cried Dave. "At least, I think they will,"
he added, more slowly. "You say this mine is located in Montana?"

"Yes."

"Well, that isn't very far from Yellowstone Park, is it?"

"No--in fact a corner of the Park is in Montana."

"Then, while the others were taking the trip through Yellowstone Park we
could go out to that mining district and try to locate this missing
mine," went on Dave, with a smile.

"What are you talking about, Dave?" questioned his two chums, in a
breath.

"I'm talking about a personally-conducted tour of the Park that some
folks in and around Crumville are getting up. Mr. Basswood, Ben's
father, is at the head of it. It's a sort of church affair. They have
got my folks interested, and my Uncle Dunston says he will go, and so
will Laura, and Mrs. Wadsworth, and Jessie, and half a dozen others you
know. They thought maybe we boys would want to go, too."

"Wow! All to the merry!" cried Phil, and leaping out of the willow chair
he occupied, he turned a "cart-wheel" on the lawn. "Say, this fits in
better than a set of new teeth, doesn't it?" he went on,
enthusiastically.

"When is this grand tour to come off?" asked Roger.

"It starts about the middle of July--just two weeks from to-day. The
plan is to spend about four weeks in and around the Park, seeing
everything thoroughly. You know there are some fine, comfortable hotels
there, and folks like Mrs. Wadsworth don't like to travel in a hurry."

"Going through the Park would certainly be a great trip," said Roger.
"And especially with the girls."

"We could travel with them as far as--let me see, what's the name of the
place--oh, yes, Livingston. That's where they leave the main line of the
railroad to go on the little branch to the Park."

"Well, if they spent four weeks in the Park that would give us plenty of
time to hunt for the mine," said Phil, thoughtfully. "But it would be a
big job."

"And a dangerous one," added Roger. "Remember, where there have been
several landslides there may be more. Fact is, when I spoke to my dad
about going out there, he shook his head and said I had better keep
away--that the search ought to be conducted by experienced men who
understood the lay of the land and all that."

"Oh, we could be careful," returned Dave, impulsively. The idea of going
in search of the lost mine appealed to him strongly.

"Sure, we'd be careful," added Phil. "Aren't we always careful? All
aboard for the Landslide Mine, say I! Come on, if you are going!" And he
grinned broadly.

"Better wait until after lunch," returned the senator's son, dryly. "We
might have something you'd like to eat, Phil."

"All right, just as you say." The other youth dropped back into a wicker
chair. "Say, doesn't it just feel good to think that we have graduated
from Oak Hall and don't have to go back?" he added, with a sigh of
satisfaction.

"I'm glad I have graduated, but I am not so glad that I am not going
back," answered Dave. "We had some good times at the Hall."

"So we did--dandy times!" cried Roger. "I tell you, I shall miss Oak
Hall a great deal. I shall miss our friends and also our enemies."

"Speaking of enemies, I wonder what ever became of old Job Haskers,"
said Phil.

"I don't know and I don't want to know," came from Dave. "I never want
to see that good-for-nothing teacher again. I am glad, on account of the
fellows left at Oak Hall, that the doctor discharged him."

"So am I," put in the senator's son. "Just the same, Dave, Haskers will
try to get square with us if he ever gets the chance."

"Oh, I know that. But I don't intend to give him the chance."

"Speaking of our enemies, I wonder what ever became of Link Merwell,"
said Phil. "He seems to have dropped out of sight completely."

"I rather imagine he has left the country," returned Roger. "For if he
was around at all, some of the school fellows would be sure to hear of
him. Say, he certainly was a bad egg."

"Yes, but not as bad as Nick Jasniff," said Dave. "I am glad they locked
that fellow up. He was an out-and-out criminal."

"Let us drop those fellows and get back to this lost mine," interrupted
Phil. "If we are really going out to Montana we ought to make some sort
of preparations for the trip."

"Oh, we've got two weeks to do that in, Phil," answered Roger. "And
please to remember, Fourth of July is coming, and I am expecting several
of the other fellows here to help celebrate. We can fix it up about that
western trip after the Fourth."

"Who are coming, Roger, did you hear?" asked Dave.

"Shadow Hamilton for one, and perhaps Buster Beggs and Luke Watson. I
asked some of the other fellows, but they had other engagements. Old
John went down to the post-office for letters a while ago. Maybe he'll
bring news."

"Here he comes now," cried Dave, as he saw a colored man-of-all-work
coming along the road that ran in front of the Morr estate. "And he's
got a bundle of letters."

All three boys ran across the broad lawn to meet the colored man.

"Any letters for me, John?"

"Don't forget me!"

"Who's the pink envelope for?"

"Letters fo' all ob yo' young gen'men, I 'spect," returned the
man-of-all-work. "Mebbe yo' kin sort 'em out better'n I kin, Massa
Roger," he added. "My eyesight ain't no better'n it ought to be." And he
handed the bunch of mail over to the senator's son.

"One for Phil and two for Dave," said Roger, looking the mail over. "And
four for myself. Pretty good. Here, John, take the rest into the house."

Without ceremony the three chums returned to their resting place on the
shady lawn and began the perusal of their letters.

"Mine is from my father," said Phil. "He is going to take a trip on one
of his ships to Nova Scotia and he wants to know if I wish to go along."

"One of these letters is from Gus Plum," said Dave. "He is going to
Europe with his folks. The other letter is from--er--from Crumville."

"I'll wager it is from Jessie Wadsworth," remarked Phil, slyly. "Come,
Dave, what does the lady fair say?"

"Sends her best regards to both of you," answered Dave, blushing. "She
writes mostly about that proposed trip to Yellowstone Park, and wants to
know if you fellows are going along."

"One of these letters is from Luke Watson and he will be here
to-morrow," said Roger. "And another is from Shadow and he is coming,
too. And this one--well, I declare! Just listen to this! It's from
Buster Beggs." And Roger read as follows:

     "I will be along for the Fourth. I've just had a letter from Sid
     Lambert, that new fellow from Pittsburg. He says he knows Link
     Merwell and met him about a week ago. He says Merwell is very
     bitter against you and Porter and Lawrence. Merwell was going West
     on some business for his father and then he was coming East. I
     would advise you and your chums to keep your eyes peeled for him.
     He can't show himself, for fear of arrest, and that has made him
     very vindictive. Sid tried to get his address, but Merwell wouldn't
     give it, and he left Sid very suddenly, thinking maybe that some
     one would put the police on his track."




CHAPTER II

DAVE PORTER'S PAST


"What do you think of that, fellows?" asked Roger, as he concluded the
reading of the letter.

"I am not surprised," answered Dave. "Now that Merwell finds he can't
show himself where he is known, he must be very bitter in mind."

"I thought he might reform, but I guess I was mistaken," said Phil.
"Say, we had better do as Buster suggests,--keep our eyes peeled for
him."

"We are not responsible for his position," retorted Roger. "He got
himself into trouble."

"So he did, Roger. But, just the same, a fellow like Link Merwell is
bound to blame somebody else,--and in this case he blames us. I am
afraid he'll make trouble for us--if he gets the chance," concluded
Dave, seriously.

And now, while the three chums are busy reading their letters again, let
me introduce them more specifically than I have already done.

Dave Porter was a typical American lad, now well grown, and a graduate
of Oak Hall, a high-class preparatory school for boys located in one of
our eastern States.

While a mere child, Dave had been found wandering beside the railroad
tracks near the little village of Crumville. He could not tell who he
was, nor where he had come from, and not being claimed by any one, was
taken to the local poor-house. There a broken-down college professor,
Caspar Potts, had found him and given him a home.

In Crumville resided a rich jewelry manufacturer named Oliver Wadsworth,
who had a daughter named Jessie. One day the Wadsworth automobile caught
fire and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death, when Dave rushed
to the rescue and saved her. For this Mr. Wadsworth was very grateful,
and when he learned that Dave lived with Mr. Potts, who had been one of
his instructors in college, he made the man and the youth come to live
with him.

"Such a boy deserves to have a good education and I am going to give it
to him," said the rich manufacturer, and so Dave was sent to boarding
school, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled "Dave
Porter at Oak Hall." There he made a host of friends, including Roger
Morr, the son of a United States senator; Phil Lawrence, the son of a
rich shipowner; Shadow Hamilton, who loved to tell stories; Buster
Beggs, who was fat and jolly; Luke Watson, who was a musician of
considerable skill, and many others.

The main thing that troubled Dave in those days was the question of his
identity, and when one of his school rivals spoke of him as a
"poor-house nobody" it disturbed him greatly. Receiving something of a
clew, he went on a long voyage, as related in "Dave Porter in the South
Seas," and located his uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned for the first
time that his father, David Breslow Porter, was also living, and
likewise a sister, Laura.

After his great trip on the ocean, our hero returned to Oak Hall, as
related in "Dave Porter's Return to School." Then, as he had not yet met
his father, he went in search of his parent, the quest, as told of in
"Dave Porter in the Far North," taking him to Norway.

Glad to know that he could not be called a poor-house nobody in the
future, Dave went back to Oak Hall once again, as related in "Dave
Porter and His Classmates." He now made more friends than ever. But he
likewise made some enemies, including Nick Jasniff, a very passionate
fellow, who always wanted to fight, and Link Merwell, the son of a rich
ranchowner of the West. Jasniff ran away from school, while under a
cloud, and Merwell, after making serious trouble for Dave and his chums,
was expelled.

Laura Porter had a very dear friend, Belle Endicott, who lived in the
Far West, and through this friend, Dave and his chums, and also Laura,
and Jessie Wadsworth, received an invitation to spend some time at the
Endicott place. What fun and adventures the young folks had I have set
down in "Dave Porter at Star Ranch." Not far from Star Ranch was the
home of Link Merwell, and this young man, as before, tried to make
trouble, but was exposed and humbled.

The boys liked it very much on the ranch, but all vacations must come to
an end, and so the lads went back to school, as recorded in "Dave Porter
and His Rivals." That was a lively term at Oak Hall, for some newcomers
tried to run athletic and other matters to suit themselves, and in
addition Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff became students at a rival
academy only a short distance away.

The Christmas holidays were now at hand, and Dave went back to
Crumville, where he and his folks were living with the Wadsworths in
their elegant mansion on the outskirts of the town. At that time Mr.
Wadsworth had some valuable jewels at his works to be reset, and
directly after Christmas came a thrilling robbery. It was Dave, aided by
his chums, who got on the track of the robbers, who were none other than
Jasniff and Merwell, and trailed them to the South and then to sea, as
told in "Dave Porter on Cave Island." After many startling adventures
the jewels were recovered and the thieves were caught. But, at the last
minute, Link Merwell managed to escape.

When Dave Porter returned again to Oak Hall he found himself considered
a great hero. But he bore himself modestly, and settled down to hard
work, for he wished to graduate with honors. His old enemies were now
out of the way and for this he was thankful.

But trouble for Dave was not yet at an end. One of the teachers at Oak
Hall was Job Haskers, a learned man, but one who did not like boys. Why
Haskers had ever become an instructor was a mystery. He was harsh,
unsympathetic, and dictatorial, and nearly all the students hated him.
He knew the branches he taught, but that was all the good that could be
said of him.

Trouble came almost from the start, that term, and not only Dave, but
nearly all of his chums were involved. A wild man--who afterwards proved
to be related to Nat Poole, the son of a miserly money-lender of
Crumville--tried to blow up a neighboring hotel, and the boys were
thought to be guilty. In terror, some of them feared arrest and fled, as
related in "Dave Porter and the Runaways." Dave went after the runaways,
and after escaping a fearful flood, made them come back to school and
face the music. The youth had a clew against Job Haskers, and in the
end proved that the wild man was guilty and that the instructor knew
it. This news came as a thunder-clap to Doctor Clay, the owner of the
school, and without ceremony he called Haskers before him and demanded
his resignation. At first the dictatorial teacher would not resign, but
when confronted by the proofs of his duplicity, he got out in a hurry;
and all the other teachers, and the students, were glad of it.

"And now for a grand wind-up!" Dave had said, and then he and his chums
had settled down to work, and later on, graduated from Oak Hall with
high honors. At the graduation exercises, Dave was one of the happiest
boys in the school. His family and Jessie and several others came to the
affair, which was celebrated with numerous bonfires, and music by a
band, and refreshments in the gymnasium.

"And now what are you going to do?" Laura had asked, of her brother.

"First of all, he is going to pay me a visit," Roger had said. "I have
been to your house half a dozen times and Dave has hardly been to our
place at all. He is to come, and so are Phil and some of the others. My
mother wants them, and so does my dad."

"Well, if the others are to be there, I'll have to come, too," Dave had
replied; and so it had been settled, and that is how we now find the
boys at Senator Morr's fine country mansion, located on the outskirts
of the village of Hemson. Dave and Phil had been there for four days,
and Roger and his parents had done all in their power to make the
visitors feel at home.

"Here is some more news that I overlooked," said Roger, as he turned
over one of his letters. "This is from a chum of mine, Bert Passmore,
who is spending his summer at Lake Sargola, about thirty miles from
here. He says they are going to have a special concert to-morrow
afternoon and evening, given by a well-known military band from
Washington. He says we had better come over and take it in."

"I shouldn't mind taking in a concert like that," replied Phil. "I like
good brass-band music better than anything else."

"How about you, Dave?"

"Suits me, if you want to go, Roger."

"We could go in the car. Maybe ma and dad would go, too."

Just then the bell rang for lunch, and the visitors hurried off to wash
up and comb their hair. Roger went to his parents, who were in the
library of the mansion, and spoke about the band concert.

"I can't go--I've got to meet Senator Barcoe and Governor Fewell in the
city," said the senator. "But you might take your mother, Roger, and
maybe some of her friends. The big car will hold seven, you know."

"Sure, if mom will go," and the youth looked at his mother with a smile.

"I might go and take Mrs. Gray and Mrs. Morse," said Mrs. Morr. "They
both love music, and since the Grays lost their money, Mrs. Gray doesn't
get out very much. I'll call them up on the telephone and find out,
Roger;" and so it was settled.

But the other ladies could not go, and in the end Mrs. Morr decided to
remain home also. So it was left, the next morning, for the three boys
to go alone.

"I'll take the little four-passenger car," said Roger. "No use in having
the big car for only three."

"Boys, Roger tells me you think of going West," remarked Senator Morr,
who stood near. He was a big man, with a round, florid face and a heavy
but pleasant voice. "Think of trying to locate that lost mine! Is there
anything you lads wouldn't try to do?" And the big man laughed in his
bluff, hearty manner.

"Well, it won't hurt to try it, Senator," replied Dave.

"Not if you keep out of trouble. But I don't want you boys to go to that
neighborhood and get caught in another landslide--not for all the gold
in Montana," and the senator shook his head decidedly.

"Oh, we'll be careful, Dad," burst out Roger. "You know we are always
careful."

"I don't know about that, Roger. Boys are apt to get reckless
sometimes--I used to be a bit that way myself. We'll have to talk this
over again--before it's settled," and then the senator hurried off to
keep his appointment with the other politicians.

In anticipation of the trip, Roger had had the paid chauffeur of the
family go over the four-passenger touring-car with care, to see that
everything was in shape for the run to Lake Sargola. The lake was a
beautiful sheet of water, some eight miles long and half a mile wide,
and at the upper end were located several fine hotels and numerous
private residences.

The boys had decided to go to the lake by a roundabout way, covering a
distance of about forty miles. They left at a little after ten o'clock,
calculating to get to the lake in time for lunch. They would attend the
afternoon concert, take Roger's chum out for a short ride around the
lake road, and then return to Hemson in time for the evening meal.

Roger was at the wheel and it was decided that Dave and Phil should ride
on the back seat, so as to be company for each other. Mrs. Morr came
out on the veranda of the mansion to wave them a farewell.

"Keep out of trouble, Roger!" she called. "Remember, there are a good
many autos around the lake, and some of the drivers are very fast and
very careless."

"I'll have my eyes open," answered the boy. "Good-by!" And then he
started the car, put on more power, and swept from the spacious grounds
in grand style.

"My, but it is going to be a warm day!" remarked Phil, as they ran into
a streak of hot air.

"I hope it is only warm," replied Dave, as he looked at the sky.

"Why, what do you mean, Dave?" asked the shipowner's son, quickly.

"I don't much like the looks of the sky off to the southwest. Looks to
me as if a storm was coming up."

"Oh, don't say that!" exclaimed Roger. "We don't want any rain."

"So we don't, Roger. But we'll have to take what comes."




CHAPTER III

CAUGHT IN A STORM


"Some class to Roger's driving!" cried Phil, as the little touring-car
swept along, in the direction of Lake Sargola. "Roger, if you ever want
a recommendation as a chauffeur----"

"We'll give it to him on gilt-edged paper," finished Dave, with a grin.
"But, I say, don't make the turns quite so swift," he added, as they
swept around a curve at such speed that he was thrown up against Phil.

"Don't get scared--I know this car as well as Mary knew the tail of her
lamb," responded the senator's son, gayly. "Why, we are only making
thirty-five miles an hour," he added, half reproachfully.

On and on they rolled, up hill and down dale, and through several
villages. At one spot they went through a flock of chickens, that
scattered in all directions. Not one was touched, but an old farmer
shook a hay-rake at the boys.

"Kill my chickens an' I'll have th' law on ye!" he yelled.

"Never came within a mile of 'em!" cried Roger, gayly, and then the car
whirled out of hearing.

As they passed on, the lads frequently looked at the sky. But the
clouds, that had been gathering, appeared to drift away to the
northward.

"Maybe the storm is going around us," suggested Phil.

"I hope so," answered Dave. "I don't like to travel in an auto in wet
weather--too much danger of skidding."

A little later they came in sight of the lake and the first of the
cottages, and then they ran up to one of the big hotels. A young fellow
on the veranda waved his hand to them.

"There is Bert, now!" cried Roger. And then the young fellow, who had
been telephoned to early in the morning, ran down the steps to meet
Roger and was speedily introduced to the others.

"It's going to be a dandy concert this afternoon," said Bert Passmore.
"The bandmaster is going to play one of his new marches and a medley of
patriotic airs, as well as a piece called 'A Hunt in a Storm.' They say
it's fine."

"I hope they don't have to play it in a storm," returned Dave, with
another look at the sky.

"Oh, that storm has gone the other way," answered Bert Passmore. "They
often do up here."

"Did you get tickets?" asked Roger.

"Sure; and I've reserved seats for you at our table, too, for lunch, and
for dinner to-night, if you'll stay."

"I don't know about to-night, Bert. But I'm thankful to you, just the
same. After the concert we want to give you a ride around the lake."

"That will be fine!"

The car was put under the hotel shed, and the boys went in the hotel to
prepare for lunch. Mr. and Mrs. Passmore were present and were
introduced, and a little later all sat down to eat.

There was an amusement park not far from the hotel and the band concert
was to be given there, in a large pavilion that was open on the sides.
As it was but a short distance away, the boys allowed the car to stay in
the shed and walked to the place. A big crowd was collecting, and by the
time the concert commenced, the spot was jammed with people.

"It's a lucky thing your friend got reserved seats for us," observed
Dave to Roger. "Just look at the crowds coming in!"

Phil had gone off--to get some programs. Now, as he pushed his way to
his seat, his face showed unusual excitement.

"Guess whom I saw!" he gasped, as he sat down.

"Who was it?" demanded his chums, quickly.

"Job Haskers."

"Never!" cried Roger.

"What is he doing here?" demanded Dave.

"I saw him for only a moment," explained the shipowner's son. "He was
right in the crowd and I couldn't follow him."

"Was he alone?" asked Dave, with increasing interest, for he had not
forgotten the trials and tribulations this former teacher of Oak Hall
had caused him.

"I don't know that, either--there were so many people around him."

"Maybe you were mistaken, Phil," said Roger.

"Not much! I'd know Job Haskers out of a million."

"I think we all would," murmured Dave. "Did he see you?"

"I don't think he did. He was over there--that's all I know about it,"
and Phil pointed with his hand into a crowd on their left.

"We can take a look around for him between the parts and after the
concert," said Dave; and then the brass band struck up and the concert
began.

The various musical numbers were well rendered, and encores were
numerous. The concert was divided into two parts, with fifteen minutes
intermission, and during that time the boys from Oak Hall and Bert
walked around, the former looking for Job Haskers. But if the former
teacher of Oak Hall was present the boys failed to locate him.

During the second part of the concert came the wonderful new march and
the fantasy, "A Hunt in a Storm," and both came in for prolonged
applause. Then came a medley of national airs, ending with the "Star
Spangled Banner," at which the audience arose; and the performance came
to an end.

"Wasn't it fine!" cried Roger, enthusiastically.

"Yes, indeed," answered Dave, warmly. "I am glad we came over."

"Couldn't have been better," was Phil's comment.

"Quarter after four," said Roger, consulting his watch. "Bert, we can
take you around the lake with ease before we start for home."

"Yes, and you can have dinner with us, too, before you go," was the
reply. "Now don't say 'No', for father and mother expect it, and so do
I."

"All right, then, we'll stay," answered Roger, after a look at Dave and
Phil. "We can start for home about eight o'clock, or half-past."

The boys walked back to the hotel shed and got out the touring-car.
Bert took the vacant seat beside Roger, and away the party bowled over
the highway that ran around Lake Sargola.

"I wish we had a car," said Bert. "But dad won't get one, because, last
summer, a friend of his was killed in an automobile accident."

"Well, that's enough to take the nerve out of any one," was Dave's
answer.

The car rolled on, and Bert asked about the doings of the boys at Oak
Hall, and told of life at the technical training school which he
attended. They had almost circled the lake when Roger slowed down.

"What do you say to a trip to the top of Sugar Hill?" he asked.

"Sugar Hill?" cried Bert. "Can you go up that hill with this car?"

"Sure!" was Roger's prompt reply. "It's pretty steep, I know, but I'm
sure I can make it."

"It's a fine view from there, Roger. But the hill is pretty steep
towards the end."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of it." The senator's son turned to the others.
"What do you say?"

"I'll go anywhere," declared Phil.

"Same here," laughed Dave. "But don't be too long about it, Roger."

"Why?"

"I think that storm is working its way back again."

"Oh, nonsense, don't be a croaker, Dave! It won't rain in a year of
Mondays!" cried the senator's son, and then he put on speed once more,
and headed the touring-car for Sugar Hill.

The place mentioned was an elevation about a mile back from the lake. It
was almost a mountain in size, and the road leading to the top was
anything but a good one, being filled with ruts and loose stones. But
the engine of the car was powerful, and it was not until they were
almost to the top of the hill that Roger had to throw the gears into
second speed.

"Some climb and no mistake!" murmured Dave. "Can you make it, Roger?"

"Top or bust!" was the laconic answer.

Scarcely had the senator's son spoken when there came a loud report from
the front end of the car.

"A blowout!" gasped Phil.

"The front tire on this side has gone to pieces!" announced Bert. "Will
you have to stop?"

"Can't--not here!" announced Roger, grimly. And then he shut his teeth
hard and turned on more gasoline. Up and up they bumped, the burst tire
cutting deeply into the rough stones. But the power was there, and in
less than thirty seconds more the car came to a standstill on the level
top of Sugar Hill.

"Phew; that was a narrow shave!" remarked Bert, as the boys got out of
the car. "Roger, what would you have done if you couldn't go ahead?
There wasn't room to turn."

"I knew there wasn't room, Bert; that's the reason I made the car go
up," was the reply. "It was a bad hole to get caught in."

"I guess it cost you the shoe," remarked Dave, as he examined the
article. "Pretty well cut up."

"It was an old one, anyway, Dave. Now we'll have the pleasure of putting
on one of those new ones," and he smiled grimly, for he did not like
that task any better than does any other autoist.

"Oh, we'll all help," cried Phil. "It won't be so bad, if we all take
turns at pumping in the air."

"Wish I had one of those new kind of machine pumps on the car," answered
Roger. "But I haven't got it, so it's got to be bone labor, boys." And
then the damaged wheel was jacked up and a new shoe with its inner tube
was put on and inflated. All told, the job took the boys a full
half-hour, for the new shoe was a tight fit and did not want to go over
the rim at first.

"Hello, what do you know about this!" cried Phil, as they were finishing
the blowing up of the tube. "It's raining!"

"Yes, and look how black it is getting over yonder!" exclaimed Bert. "We
are in for a storm now, sure!"

"I was almost certain we'd catch it," said Dave. He unscrewed the pump
from the wheel. "Roger, we had better get back to that hotel just as
fast as we can."

"My idea, exactly, Dave, for I don't want to be caught on this hilly
road in a storm."

"Better put the top up," advised the shipowner's son. "It's going to
pour in a few minutes."

"And hadn't we better put on the chains, too, Roger?" questioned Dave.
"It may be dangerous work going down the hill if it rains hard."

"Yes, we'll put up the top and put on the chains," was the quick reply
of the senator's son. "You fellows attend to the top and I'll see to the
chains."

By the time the top had been put up and fastened it was raining
steadily. Also, the wind was beginning to blow, showing that the
downpour was liable to become worse.

"Fasten the side curtains, Phil; I'll help with the chains!" sang out
Dave, and while the shipowner's son and Bert fastened the curtains, so
as to keep out the driving rain, our hero aided Roger.

"You'll get wet, Dave; better get in the car," panted Roger, who was
working as rapidly as circumstances permitted.

"No wetter than you," answered Dave, and then he pulled the second
chain in place and fastened it. Both boys got into the touring-car just
as a heavy crash of thunder sounded out.

"Phew! listen to that, and look at the lightning!" cried Phil. "Say, if
you are ready, Roger, we had better get out of here!"

"If you can only get back to the hotel," murmured Bert, anxiously. "If I
were you I'd not think of going home until the storm clears away."

"Back to the hotel will be enough for me," answered Roger. "All ready?"
he asked, for he had already cranked up.

"All ready," answered Dave, who had gotten on the front seat, thus
allowing Bert and Phil the better shelter of the tonneau of the car.

The senator's son started up the automobile and made a circle on the top
of the hill. Then, just as there came another flash of lightning and a
loud crash of thunder, the boys began the long and perilous journey down
the rough road leading from Sugar Hill.




CHAPTER IV

A QUESTION OF STOCKS


"Some rain, believe me!"

It was Dave who uttered the remark, as the touring-car commenced the
long and dangerous descent of Sugar Hill. A sheet of water was dashing
against the wind-shield, which had been raised as high as possible.

"I wish it was driving the other way," answered Roger, who was peering
forward. "It covers the glass so I can hardly see."

"Better take it slow," suggested Dave.

Another flash of lightning lit up the scene, accompanied by a crack of
thunder that made some of the boys crouch down for a second. Then came
more wind and more rain.

"I hope the wind and lightning don't throw a tree down across the
roadway," cried Phil, loudly, to make himself heard above the fury of
the elements.

"We've got our eyes open!" answered Dave. "I'll look over the
wind-shield," he added, to Roger, and lifted a corner of the front
curtain for that purpose.

"You'll get wet, Dave."

"Not a great deal, and I'd rather do that than have an accident," was
the reply.

Roger had thrown the car into low gear, so that the power was really
acting as a sort of brake. Slowly they slid along, over the wet stones
and dirt. Then came a sharp turn, and the senator's son slowed down
still more. The touring-car skidded a distance of several feet, and all
held their breath, wondering if they would go down into a small gully,
or waterway, that lined the road on one side. But in another moment that
danger was past, and all breathed more freely.

But almost immediately a fresh peril confronted them. At another turn
Dave sent up a warning cry:

"Brake up, Roger, there's a tree or a big limb ahead!"

Through the rain-covered shield the senator's son saw the obstruction.
He set both the hand-brake and the foot-brake, and all heard the wheels
and the chains scrape over the stones and dirt. But the car could not be
stopped, and two seconds later crashed into the tree limb, a branch of
which came up, striking the wind-shield and cracking it.

"Look out for that glass!" yelled Bert, in fresh alarm. "Don't get any
in your eyes, Roger!"

The youth at the wheel did not reply. Dave, quick to act, seized a
lap-robe that was handy and held it up in front of Roger, who did not
dare to leave the wheel. Then came a jingle of glass, but the pieces
fell at the feet of the boys in the front of the car. The automobile
itself slid on another ten feet, dragging the tree limb with it.

"Say, that was a narrow escape!" muttered Phil, when the danger seemed
over.

"We'll have to see how much damage has been done," declared Dave.

He crawled from the car and Roger followed. The other boys were also
coming out in the storm, but the senator's son stopped them.

"No use in all of us getting wet," he said. "I don't think the damage
amounts to much. A mud-guard is bent and the hood is scratched and the
glass broken, but I guess that is all. But we'll have to get the limb
from under the car before we can go ahead again," he added, after an
inspection.

"Can't you leave it as it is and use it as a drag down the hill?"
questioned Bert.

"I wouldn't do that," advised Dave. "It might hurt some of the machinery
under the car. I think we can get it out somehow, Roger."

Both set to work, in the wind and rain. It was far from a pleasant task,
and despite the fact that each had donned a dust-coat, both were pretty
well soaked before the limb was gotten away from the car. Then Roger
made another inspection of the automobile.

"I think it's O. K.," he said. "Anyway, we'll try it." And then they
cranked up once more; and the journey was continued.

It was a slow trip, and at each turn on the hill the senator's son came
almost to a stop. He was thinking they might meet a wagon coming the
other way, but neither vehicle nor person appeared. Sometimes the
visitors at the lake went to Sugar Hill for a picnic, but evidently the
concert, and the thoughts of a possible storm, had kept them away this
day.

"Down at last!" cried Roger, presently, and a moment later the
touring-car rolled out on the smooth and broad highway that connected
with that running around Lake Sargola.

"And I am mighty glad of it," declared Phil, as he breathed a deep sigh
of relief.

"Now for the hotel, and there I will see if I can't get you fellows some
dry clothing," said Bert. "I guess each of you can wear one of my suits.
You are both about my size."

They took the shortest route to the hotel, arriving there fifteen
minutes later. Roger ran the automobile to the porch and allowed the
others to alight and then took the car to the hotel garage.

"Well, I am glad to see you boys back!" exclaimed Mr. Passmore. "How did
you come to break the wind-shield?" And then he listened with interest
to the story the lads had to tell.

"Can't they stay here to-night, Dad?" asked Bert, a little later, when
Roger came in. "I want to let them have some of my dry clothing, and it
is storming almost as hard as ever."

"Certainly, they can stay, if they will and we can get rooms for them,"
replied Mr. Passmore.

The matter was talked over, and Roger called his parents up on the
telephone. A big room containing two double-beds chanced to be vacant in
the hotel, and the lads took that. Then Dave and Roger donned some
clothing that Bert loaned them while their own garments were being dried
and pressed. A little later all went into the dining-room for dinner.

"This will knock out the concert for to-night," remarked Bert, during
the meal.

"Yes, and we can be glad we attended this afternoon," answered Dave.

"They are going to have a dance here this evening," said Mrs. Passmore.

"Oh, we don't want to go to any dance!" cried her son. "They are not
dressed for it, and besides, I've got it all arranged. We are going to
bowl some games--Roger and I against Dave and Phil."

"Very well, Bert, suit yourself," answered the mother. "But if you wish
to dance, perhaps I can introduce your friends to some of the young
ladies."

But the boys preferred to bowl and so went to the basement of the big
hotel, where there were some fine alleys. They bowled five games, Dave
and Phil taking three and Roger and Bert two. In one game Dave turned a
wide "break" into a "spare," and for this the others applauded him not a
little.

The games over, the boys washed and then went upstairs to watch the
dancing. Bert and Phil danced a two-step with some young ladies that
Bert knew. Just as they started off, Dave caught Roger by the arm.

"What is it, Dave?" asked the senator's son, quickly.

"Maybe I'm mistaken, but I just thought I saw Job Haskers!"

"Where?" and now Roger was all attention.

"Going into the reading-room with another man."

"Humph! Say, let us find out if he is really here."

"He isn't staying here, I know that."

"How do you know?"

"I asked the clerk."

While speaking the two youths had walked away from the ballroom of the
hotel. Now they found themselves at the entrance to a long, narrow
apartment that was used as a writing and smoking room for men. Half a
dozen persons were present, several writing letters and the others
talking in low tones and smoking.

In an alcove two men had just seated themselves, one an elderly person
who seemed somewhat feeble, and the other a tall, sharp-faced individual
who eyed his companion in a shrewd, speculative manner.

"That's Job Haskers, sure enough," murmured Roger, as Dave pointed to
the sharp-faced man. "Wonder what he is doing here?"

"Well, he has a right to be here, if he wishes," returned Dave.

The two former students of Oak Hall stood at one side and watched the
man who had been their teacher for so long and who had proved himself
dishonorable in more ways than one.

"Unless I am mistaken, he is trying to work some sort of a game on that
old gentleman," whispered Dave, a few minutes later. "See how earnestly
he is talking, and see, he is bringing some papers out of his pocket."

"Oh, it may be all right, Dave," replied the senator's son. "Not that I
would trust Job Haskers too far," he added, hastily.

The two lads continued to watch the former teacher of Oak Hall. He was
still arguing with the old gentleman and acted as if he wanted to get
the stranger to sign a paper he held in his hand. He had a fountain pen
ready to be used.

"I'm going a little closer and look into this," said Dave, firmly.
"Perhaps it's all right, but that old man may not know Haskers as we
do."

"We can go around to the back door; that is close to the alcove,"
suggested Roger, who was now as interested as Dave in what was taking
place.

By walking through a narrow hallway the boys reached the door the
senator's son had mentioned. This was within a few feet of the alcove,
and by standing behind the door Dave and Roger could hear all the former
teacher and the elderly gentleman were saying.

"It's really the chance of a lifetime," urged Job Haskers, with great
earnestness. "I never knew of a better opportunity to make money. The
consolidation of the five mills has placed the entire business in the
hands of the Sunset Company. If you sign for that stock you'll be doing
the best business stroke you've done in a lifetime, Mr. Fordham."

"Maybe, maybe," answered the old gentleman, hesitatingly. "Yet I really
ought to consult my son before I do it. But he is in Philadelphia. I
might write----"

"Then it may be too late," interposed Job Haskers. "As I told you
before, this stock is going like wildfire. And at thirty-five it's a
bargain. I think it will be up to sixty or seventy inside of a month--or
two months at the latest. You'd better sign for the hundred shares right
now and make sure of them." And Job Haskers held out one of the papers
in his hand and also the fountain pen.

Roger and Dave looked at each other and probably the same thought
flashed through the minds of both. Should they show themselves and let
the elderly gentleman know just what sort of a man Job Haskers was?

"I guess we'd better take a hand----" commenced Dave, when he paused as
he saw the old gentleman shake his head.

"I--I don't think I'll do it to-night, Mr. Haskers," he said, slowly.
"I--I want to sleep on it. Come and see me again in the morning."

"The stock may go up by morning," interposed the former teacher of Oak
Hall. "It went up day before yesterday, two points. Better bind the
bargain right now."

"No, I'll wait until morning."

"Well, when can I see you, Mr. Fordham?" asked the other, trying to
conceal his disappointment.

"I'll be around about ten o'clock--I don't get up very early."

"Very well, I'll call at that time then," said Job Haskers. "But you
might as well sign for it now," and again he held out the paper and the
pen.

"No, I'll wait until to-morrow morning," answered Mr. Fordham, as he
arose. "It's time I retired now. I--I'm not as strong as I once was."

"I am sorry to hear that. Well, I'll be around in the morning, and I am
sure you will realize that this is a good thing, after you have thought
it over," said Job Haskers, with calm assurance, and then he and the
elderly man left the room. Dave and Roger saw them separate in the main
hall of the hotel, the old gentleman going upstairs, and Job Haskers out
into the storm.




CHAPTER V

A TRAP FOR JOB HASKERS


"What do you think of it, Dave?"

"I think Job Haskers is up to some game, Roger."

"Selling worthless stocks?"

"Yes, or else stocks that are next door to worthless."

"I wonder who the old gentleman can be? He looks as if he might have
money. That diamond ring he wears must be worth several hundred
dollars."

"Supposing we ask Mr. Passmore about him?" suggested Dave.

"That's the idea."

The youths found Mr. Passmore in a protected corner of a side porch,
smoking. Most of the storm was now over, but it still rained.

"Tired of bowling, eh?" said Bert's father, who was a wholesale dealer
in rugs.

"Mr. Passmore, we want to ask you some questions," said Roger. "Do you
know an elderly gentleman here by the name of Fordham?"

"Fordham? Yes, I've met him. Nice man, too, but rather feeble."

"Is he alone here?" asked Dave.

"Practically. He has a son that comes to see him once in a while. Did
you want to see him?"

"We have seen him, and we were wondering if we hadn't better have a talk
with him," explained Dave.

"We'll tell you how it is," put in Roger, who knew Mr. Passmore well.
And then he and Dave related the particulars of what they had seen, and
told something of what Job Haskers was.