"Perhaps it is only a scheme to get me to Rockville and to some place
where Jasniff and Merwell can lay hands on me," he mused. "They'd like
nothing better than to black my eyes and pound me to a jelly. If I go
there alone I'll have to keep my eyes wide open."

Then Dave remembered what the doctor had said about being a poor man and
needing money. Perhaps the fellow thought to "bleed him," not only in
the interest of Jasniff and Merwell, but also for himself.

"He'll not get a cent out of me unless he has something of real value to
turn over to me," Dave decided. "If it's only a blackmailing scheme,
he'll find me as sharp as himself." He could make nothing of the fact
that the doctor had at first tried to avoid him.

He was half tempted to tell Roger and Phil about the affair, but at last
decided to see it through alone. If there really was something in it
about private letters and photographs he would prefer that his chums
know nothing of it.

All that evening and throughout Friday, Dave was very thoughtful. His
chums noticed it, and Roger and Phil both asked what was wrong.

"Nothing wrong," he answered, with a faint smile.

"You've got something on your mind, Dave," went on the senator's son.
"Struck a new girl, or has Jessie struck a new fellow?"

"Not as bad as that, Roger. I was just wondering if I should buy a red
necktie or a blue one."

"Rats! It's a girl, I'll wager a new hat."

"Or else Dave is thinking out some new essay with which to capture a
prize," suggested Phil.

"Don't you worry about me," answered Dave. "Come on out and have a
skate," and thus the subject was dismissed, for the time being.

The Leming River was in fine condition for skating, and fully two score
of students were out, some cutting fancy figures, and a few racing.
Among the number was Nat Poole, clad in a new crimson sweater and
wearing a brand new pair of long hockey skates.

"Nat is training for hockey," said Roger. "He says he is going to
organize a team."

"Well, we'll organize one, too," answered Dave. "I always did like field
hockey, and I know I'd like it on the ice."

"Come on, Dave!" shouted Ben, circling up on his skates, and doing a
"spread eagle."

"Come on where?"

"Get into the race! We want you, and Phil, and Roger, too."

"What race is that?"

"Mr. Dodsworth wants all the big boys in it. It's a race up the river
for a mile, and back to the boathouse. The winner gets a silver
lead-pencil sharpener."

"All right, I'm in that!" cried the shipowner's son. "I need a
sharpener."

"So do I," added Roger. "How about it, Dave?"

"I'll go in, although my skates are not as sharp as they might be."

A crowd had gathered to see the race, and in a few minutes the
contestants were lined up by the gymnastic teacher. The starters
numbered fourteen, and included Nat Poole, Dave, Roger, Phil, Shadow,
Ben, and Plum.

"All ready?" asked Mr. Dodsworth. "Then go!" And away went the long
line, the skates flashing brightly in the clear sunlight, and the
onlookers cheering, and uttering words of encouragement to their
favorites.




CHAPTER XXIV

A RACE ON SKATES


"Go it, everybody!"

"May the best skater win!"

"Don't try to skate too fast, Ben. Remember, the race is two miles
long!"

"Hello, there goes one fellow down!"

"It's Luke Watson. He has lost his skate."

The last report was correct, and as the skate could not be adjusted
without the loss of some time, Luke gave up, and watched the others.

Nat Poole was exceedingly anxious to win the race, and he had been
partly instrumental in getting up the contest. His new skates were of
the best, and it must be admitted that Nat was no mean skater.

Phil had good skates and so had Roger. Dave's skates were only fair, and
were very much in need of sharpening.

Away went Nat at top speed, soon drawing half a dozen yards ahead of his
competitors. Behind him came a student named Powers, and then followed
Ben, Roger, Phil, Dave, and the others.

"I don't think I can win!" sang out Dave to his chums. "These skates
slip too much. But I'll do my best."

"Come on, you slow-coaches!" cried Ben, merrily, and then he shot
forward until he was abreast of Nat. Seeing this, the money-lender's son
put on an extra burst of speed, and went ahead again.

"Say, Nat Poole is certainly skating well!" cried one of the onlookers.
"He'll make a record if he keeps it up."

"I don't think he can keep it up," answered another.

In a very few minutes the turning point was gained, and Nat made a sharp
curve and started back. The turn brought him directly in front of Dave.

"Clear the track!" he roared. "Clear the track, I say!"

"Clear the track yourself!" answered Dave. Nevertheless, as Nat came
closer, he swerved a little to one side so that the money-lender's son
might pass. As Nat swept on he swung his arms freely, and one fist took
Dave in the side.

"Foul! foul!" cried several who saw the move.

"It was his own fault!" Nat retorted. "I told him to get out of the
way!" And off he started for the finishing line.

Dave said nothing, but kept on, reaching the turning point a few
seconds later. Phil and Roger were just ahead of him, and Plum was
beside him.

"Go on and win!" he shouted. "I can't keep up with these skates!"

"Here goes for a finish!" yelled Phil, and darted ahead, with Roger at
his heels. Then Plum flashed forward, and soon the three were side by
side, with Dave about three yards to the rear, followed by Powers.

Coming down the homestretch, Nat Poole thought he had it all to himself.
He was glad of it, for he had set such a fast pace at the start that he
was becoming winded, and he had to fairly gasp for breath. He looked
over his shoulder, and as nobody was near he slackened his speed a
little.

"Keep it up, Nat!" yelled one of his supporters. "Go it, old man!"

"Morr and Lawrence are crawling up!"

"So is Plum!"

These last cries startled Nat, and he sought to strike out as he had at
the start. But his wind was now completely gone--and the finishing line
was still a quarter of a mile away.

"There goes Morr to the front!"

"Lawrence is after him, and so is Plum!"

"Here comes Basswood!"

"What's the matter with Porter? He is dropping behind."

"He said his skates were dull."

"Oh, that's only an excuse!" sneered one of the students who had been
put off of the football eleven that term.

"It's true," answered Tom Hally. "I saw the skates myself. Can't you see
how he slips when he strikes out?"

On and on went the skaters. Nat was still ahead, but now Roger and Phil
came up on one side, and Gus Plum on the other, while Ben came up close
in the rear. Behind Ben was Dave, determined to see the race out even if
he did not win.

With the finishing line but a hundred feet away, Phil, Roger, and Gus
Plum shot to the front. Then Ben followed. Nat Poole tried to keep up,
but could not. Then of a sudden Dave went ahead also.

"Nat is dropping behind!"

"He put on too much steam at the start!"

"There goes Porter ahead of him!"

"See, Morr, Lawrence, and Plum are even!"

"Yes, and there comes Ben Basswood up to them!"

"Here they come! Clear the way, everybody!"

With a rush the skaters came on. For one brief instant Roger was ahead,
but then the others put on a burst of speed, and over the line they
came, amid a great yelling and cheering.

"A tie between Morr, Plum, and Lawrence!"

"And Basswood and Porter tied for second place!"

"Nat Poole wasn't in it, after all."

"My skate got loose," grumbled Nat, as he came up slowly. "If it hadn't
been for that I would have won."

"That's an old excuse, Nat!" shouted a boy in the rear of the crowd.
"Invent something new!" And a laugh went up, that angered the
money-lender's son greatly. He took his defeat bitterly, and lost no
time in leaving the ice and disappearing from view.

"A fine race!" declared Mr. Dodsworth, "But I don't know how I am to
award the prize."

"Cut it in three parts," suggested Buster.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "An old
Irishman was dying and wanted to make his will. 'How do ye want to lave
yer money, Pat' asked his friend. 'Sure,' says Pat; 'I want to lave it
all to me woif an' me four childer, equal loike, so ivery wan gits a
quarter!'"

"We might have another race," suggested Mr. Dodsworth. "That is, if you
are not too tired--I mean, of course, a race between those who were
tied."

"Oh, let us cut sticks for it," suggested Phil.

"That will suit me," said Plum.

"Me, too," said the senator's son. "I am too tired to race again."

So the three lads drew sticks for the prize, and Gus Plum won.

"Hello! I'm in luck!" cried Gus, and looked much pleased. The silver
lead-pencil sharpener was passed over to him, and he thanked the
gymnastic instructor warmly for it.

"I am glad he got it, since it pleases him," said Phil to Roger, and the
senator's son nodded in agreement.

The only boy who felt sore over the race was Nat Poole, and he continued
to declare that he would have won had his skate not come loose.

"But just wait," he said, to some of the students. "I'll show 'em what I
can do when we get to playing hockey." And that very night he started in
to organize an ice-hockey team. He did not consult Mr. Dodsworth or
Andrew Dale, fearing that they would not favor his selection of players.

"They have nothing to do with hockey," Nat explained to his friends.
"All they have to look after is baseball and football, and track
athletics. Doctor Clay didn't say a word about ice hockey, or field
hockey, either." This was true, the master of the Hall having probably
forgotten all about those sports. Nevertheless, it was understood by the
majority of the students that all games and contests held with parties
outside of Oak Hall were to come under the supervision of the gymnastic
instructor and Andrew Dale.

"What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow afternoon?" asked
Roger of Dave, on going to bed Friday.

"I have a little business to attend to in Rockville, Roger."

"Is that so? Want me to go along?"

This was a question Dave had dreaded to have asked, and he hardly knew
how to answer. He determined to be as frank as possible.

"No, Roger. I am sorry, but the party I am going to see asked me to come
alone."

"Oh, all right. I just thought I'd mention it."

"If it hadn't been for that I should like very much to have you and Phil
along," continued Dave, earnestly. "But I can't take anybody."

"Must be going to see a girl," and the senator's son looked at his chum
quizzically.

"No, it is not a girl. Now please don't ask me any more questions."

"Just as you say, Dave," answered Roger, and then began to get ready to
go to bed. He could not help but wonder what the business was, and why
Dave was so secretive about it.

In the morning Dave had to go through the same kind of a scene with
Phil. The shipowner's son was as much mystified as Roger, and after
Dave had departed, the pair walked into the warm gymnasium to talk the
matter over.

"Dave has something on his mind," said Roger. "I noticed it yesterday."

"So did I, Roger. What is it, do you suppose?"

"I don't know, excepting it may be about Merwell and Jasniff. He said it
wasn't about those girls."

"Do you think he is going to meet Merwell and Jasniff in Rockville?"

"Possibly. I can't think of anything else."

"If Dave got into trouble, I'd like to be on hand to help him."

"So would I. But I guess Dave knows how to take care of himself." And
then the subject was dropped, and the two students began to exercise
with some Indian clubs.

In the meantime, Dave was on his way to Rockville. As the road was clear
of snow he used his bicycle, and soon covered the distance to the town.
He passed along the river road to the sawmill, and then kept his eyes
open for Mrs. Dunn's house.

"This must be the place," he said to himself, as he reached a
dilapidated residence, located in what had once been a fine flower
garden, but which was now a tangle of rank bushes and weeds. The gate
was off, and leaping from his wheel, he trundled his bicycle along the
choked-up garden path to the front piazza. Then leaving his wheel
against a tree, he mounted the steps and rang the old-fashioned turn
bell.

Dave had approached the house boldly, thinking that possibly somebody
might be watching him from behind the blinds of the windows, all of
which were closed. Yet he was on his guard, and in the lining of his
overcoat he carried a stout stick, with which to defend himself should
such a course be necessary.

No one answered his first summons, and he rang the rusty bell a second
time. Then the front door was opened, and Doctor Montgomery showed
himself.

"Ah, how do you do!" he said, with a bland smile. "Walk right in, Mr.
Porter. I see you are on time."

Dave hesitated for a moment, and then entered the broad hallway of the
house. In front of him was a long flight of stairs leading to the second
floor, and on either side were doors leading to the parlor and to a
dining-room.

"Mrs. Dunn isn't feeling very well, so I had to come to the door
myself," explained Hooker Montgomery, smoothly. "She used to take some
drug-store medicine and it did her no good. Now she is taking my
remedies, and she will soon be herself." He said this so naturally that
Dave was thrown a little off his guard. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Dunn
was not at home, having gone away to visit a sister in Albany. It was
because of her absence that the tricky doctor had invited Dave to come
to the house. Had she been at home his schemes would have necessitated
meeting Dave somewhere else.

"Doctor, I haven't much time to spare, so I hope you will get at the
bottom of what you want without delay," said Dave, after the door had
been closed and locked by the physician. It was so dark in the hall he
could hardly see.

"I'll not take much of your time, sir,--not over half an hour at the
most," was the reply from Hooker Montgomery. "But all of the documents
and letters and photographs are in my room, on the second floor. Kindly
come up there and look at them." And the man started up the stairs. Dave
hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be best to go up, and then
followed.




CHAPTER XXV

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY


At the head of the stairs the doctor paused, and then opened a door
leading to a back bedroom. The apartment had two windows, but the blinds
were closed, what little light there was coming in through the
turned-down slats.

"I have to shut off a good deal of light on account of my eyes,"
explained the doctor, as he saw Dave glance at the blinds. "My eyes are
very weak, and I am told that the sunlight is very bad for them."

"I am sorry to hear that," answered Dave.

He hardly knew what to say or how to act. His reception had not been
what he had anticipated, and he could not imagine what was coming next.

"Here are some of the documents I wish you to look over first--and then
we'll talk business," said Hooker Montgomery, pointing to a mass of
legal-looking papers lying on the bed. "You can take them to the window
if you wish," and he sank down in a rocking-chair, as if tired out, and
placed both hands over his eyes.

Curious to know what the documents might contain of importance to him,
Dave took some of them up and stepped close to one of the windows. The
writing was poor, and it was hard to make out what had been written.

His face was bent closely over one of the pages when of a sudden he felt
some unusual movement behind him. He started to turn, but before he
could do so, a big bag was thrown over his head and arms, and tied
around his waist. At the same instant he was tackled around the legs,
and his ankles were tied together.

Of course he struggled, and for several minutes his would-be captors had
all they could do to hold him. But he had been taken so completely off
his guard that resistance proved useless. Soon a rope was passed around
the bag and over his arms, and further struggling was out of the
question.

"Who are you?" he demanded, in a muffled tone, for inside of the bag it
was all he could do to breathe. The covering was so heavy he could not
see a thing.

No answer was vouchsafed to his question. He was backed up against the
bed, and made to sit down, and then he heard his captors leave the room,
locking the door after them.

Dave was both chagrined and angry--chagrined to think that he had been
taken in so easily, and angry to think that he was a prisoner and at
his captors' mercy.

"This must be the work of Merwell and Jasniff," he thought. "They simply
hired the doctor to get me here. There is nothing in the story of
documents, letters, and photographs. What a fool I was to walk into the
trap!"

And then he wondered when his captors would return, and what they
proposed to do with him.

For fully a quarter of an hour Dave waited, straining his ears to catch
every sound. From below came a murmur of voices, but what was said he
could not learn. Once he thought he recognized Jasniff's rough tones,
but he was not sure.

Tired of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dave got up and tried to move
around. Then he made the discovery that his ankles were tied to a rope
that was secured to the bed, and that the latter was stationary.

"I'm a prisoner, and no mistake," he reasoned, grimly. "I wonder how
long they intend to keep me here?"

The room was cold, and he was glad that he had his overcoat on. His cap
had fallen off inside the bag, but his thick hair and the bag prevented
his catching cold in the head.

"Guess I'll wake them up a bit," he thought, and so commenced to stamp
on the floor. Then he stamped louder, until he felt he must be knocking
the plaster from the ceiling below. He was in the midst of the stamping
when the door of the room was thrown open and somebody came in.

"Stop that noise, or I'll knock you down!" said a sharp voice, and at
the same instant a strong hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was
given a vigorous shake.

Dave was surprised, for the voice was not that of Doctor Montgomery,
neither did it belong to Merwell nor Jasniff. Yet, in some way, the
voice sounded familiar.

"What are you going to do with me?" demanded Dave, as he stopped his
stamping.

"You'll find that out later, Porter. Now keep quiet,--if you know when
you are well off."

"I want to know now. You have no right to treat me in this fashion. I'll
have you and Doctor Montgomery put in jail for it."

"You shut up!" cried the stranger, and he gave Dave a shove that sent
him back on the bed. "You make any more noise and I'll quiet you in a
way you won't like!" And then the fellow left the room again, and the
door was locked as before.

Feeling that he might be attacked and seriously injured if he kept up
the noise, Dave remained quiet, and thus the remainder of the afternoon
passed. As night came on the room became dark and extra cold, and he
shivered in spite of himself.

"If they leave me here all night I'll be frozen stiff," he thought,
grimly. "Oh, why didn't I tell Roger and Phil where I was going! They
might come to the rescue!"

After another wait Dave heard more talking below, and then three persons
came upstairs and into the room.

"Now, you keep real quiet and you won't get hurt," said the person who
had spoken before. "If you start to raise a row--well, you'll wish you
hadn't, that's all."

"What are you going to do?"

"Keep quiet, and you'll find out before very long."

"Do you know this is a very high-handed proceeding?"

"Shut up!"

The tone was extra sharp, and Dave received a rough shake of the
shoulder. Not knowing but what he might be knocked down, he relapsed
into silence.

Presently his feet were unfastened, and he was led out of the room and
down the stairs. Then the party made its way to the rear of the house,
and went outside.

"Now we are going to give you a little sleigh-ride for your health,"
said the person who had spoken before.

As there was no snow on the ground Dave felt this must mean a ride on
the river, and he was not mistaken. A horse and a low box-sleigh were
at hand, and into the turnout Dave was lifted, the fellow who had spoken
getting on one side of him and somebody else on the other. Then still
another party took up the reins, and started to drive off, over the ice,
which was just thick enough to bear the weight of such an outfit.

Although Dave's arms were tied to his sides, he could move his hands a
little, and he managed to get hold of a good-sized pin, which had been
fastened to a corner of his overcoat. As the sleigh moved over the
smooth surface of the river he resolved to make an effort to learn the
identity of the silent fellow beside him, and so moved the pin around,
and shoved it towards the individual as far as possible.

"Ouch!" came the sudden exclamation, as the point of the pin reached its
mark, and the fellow leaped partly to his feet. "What in thunder----"
And then the speaker broke off short.

"I know you, Link Merwell!" cried Dave. "I thought all along it was
you."

"I'm not Merwell!" growled the fellow, in a deep voice. "Don't you dare
to stick me with that pin again, or I'll mash you!" And then he refused
to say any more. But he gave Dave's arm such a pinch that it was black
and blue for a long time afterwards.

With the bag over his head, Dave could not hear very well, yet he felt
tolerably certain that the fellow was Link Merwell, and if this was so,
then most likely the driver of the sleigh was Nick Jasniff. But who the
third party could be was still a mystery.

"Some old enemy I have forgotten," reasoned the captive. And then he
wondered where he was being taken, and for what purpose.

After a ride of half an hour the sleigh came to a halt, and Dave was
ordered to get out. Then he was marched up a steep bank and up some
steps. A door was opened, and all of the party entered a building of
some sort. He was placed in a room and tied fast to a ring fastened in
the floor.

"Now you behave yourself and you'll soon be freed and treated to a hot
supper," said the man who appeared to be the spokesman for the crowd.
"But if you make a row you'll not be freed, and you'll not get a
mouthful."

Then Dave was left alone once more, and all three of his captors
apparently left the building.

The room was warm, and for this the captive was grateful. A chair had
been placed for him to sit upon, so he was fairly comfortable. An hour
passed and during that time all was silent. Then somebody came in and
started to release his arms and take the bag from his head.

It was a man, tall and muscular, and Dave felt sure he had seen him
before, but where he could not remember. The man wore a mask, made of a
handkerchief with holes cut in it for his eyes.

"Sorry I can't let you go just yet," he said. "But here is something to
eat and to drink." And he pointed to a table, upon which rested a lamp,
for it was now late in the evening and dark. On the table was a cup of
hot tea and several cheese sandwiches and a small baker's pie.

"Well, I'm hungry, that's certain," said Dave, grimly. "And if I've got
to stay here I might as well eat."

"That's the sensible way to talk," answered the man.

"When are you going to let me go?"

"I can't say yet--most likely in the morning."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Just for fun."

"You've taken a lot of trouble for your fun," said Dave. He did not
believe the man's statement.

"Eat your supper, Porter," growled the man, and sank down on a chair
close to the door. "No funny work now, mind you!" And he brandished the
very stick Dave had carried for self-protection.

There was no help for it, and sitting down to the table Dave began to
eat and to drink. The sandwiches were fresh, and so was the pie, and as
the ride in the keen air had given him an appetite, he disposed of them
quickly. The tea tasted rather bitter, but he was dry and speedily
drained the cup. The man watched him drink, with evident satisfaction.

"Now you had better lie down and try and get a little rest," said the
fellow of the mask. "When I want you I'll call you." And so speaking he
left the room, locking the door after him.

As soon as the man was gone Dave tried to loosen the rope that bound his
feet together. It was a hard task and took some time, and bending over
seemed to make his head swim. When he straightened up his head grew even
more dizzy, and almost before he knew it he was staggering around.

"What a queer sensation!" was his thought. "What in the world is the
matter with me?" And then like a flash came the answer. "That tea! It
must have been drugged!"

The captive was right in his surmise. The tea had been drugged, and soon
poor Dave felt so dizzy he had to rest on the bed. He tried several
times to rouse up, and then his senses forsook him completely.

Dave had been unconscious for about a quarter of an hour when the man
came in, looked at him, and shook him. Then he went below.

"Well, we've got him," he said to the others. "He is practically dead to
the world."

"Good!" was the answer. "Better bring him down right away. We want to
get this job over."




CHAPTER XXVI

A DASH FOR LIBERTY


When Dave regained his senses he found himself in the tonneau of a big
automobile that was speeding swiftly over a dark country road. On either
side of him sat a person who was masked, and in front were two persons
whose faces he could not see. His hands were tied behind him, and his
ankles were made fast to the foot-rest in the bottom of the tonneau.

He wondered where he was being taken, but knew it would be useless to
ask any questions. How long he had been unconscious he did not know, but
felt it must have been a considerable time, for it was now night, and
whenever they passed a farmhouse it was without lights, showing the
occupants had gone to bed.

Dave fully realized that he was in a position of peril. His enemies had
treated him in an outrageous fashion, and what they proposed to do next
there was no telling. He felt that he must escape if it could possibly
be accomplished.

He had roused up a little, but now deemed it best to let the others
think he was still unconscious. Accordingly, he uttered a deep sigh, and
then slipped further down on the seat, and let his head fall forward on
his breast.

"Pretty well dosed," he heard one of the party murmur, and now he was
sure he recognized Nick Jasniff's voice.

"Say, Shime, I hope you didn't give him too much of the drug," said
another of the party, and Dave felt certain it was Link Merwell who was
speaking. "If he shouldn't recover----"

"Oh, he'll come around all right enough," growled the man called Shime.
He was running the automobile, and now Dave was able to place him as a
fellow who worked around a livery stable and garage in Rockville. Shime
was a drinking man, and his reputation was far from an enviable one.

"How much further have we to go?" asked Jasniff, after a few minutes of
silence.

"Not far," answered the driver of the automobile. "We'll take to the
side road now. Hold fast, it's pretty rough," and then the touring car
turned off the main highway and began bumping over the rocks and ruts of
a narrow wood road. The way was uphill, and the driver had to throw in
his second speed to gain the top of the rise. Then the car made a sharp
turn, and halted in front of a stone building.

"Is this the place?" asked Jasniff.

"Yes," answered Shime. "Wait till I light a lantern, and then you can
bring him in."

"I shall have to care for him when we are in the house," said the fourth
person of the party who had carried Dave off. It was Doctor Montgomery,
and his breath was thick from liquor.

Still thinking he might get a chance to escape if he made out that he
was unconscious, Dave hung limp in the automobile, and allowed his
captors to lift him out and place him on the ground. Then he was carried
into the stone building and placed on a bench.

"You certainly dosed him strongly," said Hooker Montgomery. "I had
better make an examination. Loosen up his hands and feet."

A little bit alarmed, Jasniff and Merwell set to work and released Dave
from his bonds. In the meantime Shime had lit a lantern, and placed it
on a rough table. Doctor Montgomery got out a medicine case, and began
to mix up a potion in a glass.

"This ought to bring him around," he said, in a thick, unsteady voice.

Dave did not dare to look around, but by the draught in the room he knew
that the door must have been left open, probably to give him more air.
He did not think the disreputable physician was in any condition to
administer his medicines, and he did not propose to swallow any if he
could avoid it.

"I must escape," he thought, and with a moan, as if in great pain, he
twisted around, and opened his eyes for an instant.

That instant was long enough for him to locate the doorway, and beyond
he made out a stretch of woodland, lit up by the lamps of the
automobile. Between him and the doorway stood Merwell and Jasniff, with
Shime and the doctor on the other side.

"Shall I hold his head, doctor?" asked Merwell. "Maybe he won't be able
to swallow if----"

Merwell got no further, for just then Dave leaped to his feet with an
agility that surprised even himself. Stiff though he was, he ran at
Merwell, hurling him flat. Then he bumped into Jasniff, who made a weak
attempt to stop him. The two swung around, and Jasniff was sent crashing
into the table, knocking over the lantern. Then Dave leaped for the
doorway.

"Stop him!"

"He must not get away!"

"Ouch! Don't step on me!" came from Link Merwell. He was on his back,
and Jasniff's foot had landed on his stomach.

The four rascals had been taken completely by surprise. As the lantern
fell it went out, and in his endeavor to get to the doorway, Shime
bumped into Jasniff. The doctor ran into the bench, and his glass of
medicine went splashing into Merwell's face, eliciting another protest
from that bully.

Dave did not care about what happened in the building. His one thought
was to get away, for he fully realized that in a hand-to-hand encounter
he would be no match for his four enemies.

Had he had time he might have jumped into the automobile, and started up
the machine. But he was afraid to risk this, and so ran down the wood
road a short distance, and then plunged into the bushes. He did not stop
there, but kept on, until he calculated that he was a full quarter of a
mile from the stone building.

"I don't think they can follow me to here, at least not in the
darkness," he told himself.

He stopped to rest and to consider what he had best do next. The effects
of the drug were now entirely gone, and he felt once more like himself.

"I ought to have the whole crowd locked up," he reasoned. "But it would
be the testimony of one against four, and they would most likely deny
everything."

He went on again, and presently came out on the main highway. As he did
this he saw the flash of some lamps in the distance. He crouched down
behind some bushes, and a minute later saw the automobile whizz by,
with his enemies in it.

"They are going back," he reasoned. "I suppose now I have gotten away
from them, Merwell and Jasniff will return to the academy as fast as
they can, and Shime and the doctor will return to Rockville; and they'll
all play the innocent."

As he walked on, Dave wondered what the plot against him was. He felt
convinced that carrying him off was only the beginning of it.

"Well, whatever it was, I nipped it in the bud," he thought. "Perhaps
some day I'll find out all about it,--some day when I can corner one or
another of that rascally bunch. I take it that Shime and Montgomery are
simply in the employ of Jasniff and Merwell. Both of them are hard
drinkers and willing to do almost anything to get a few dollars."

Not far down the highway Dave passed a signboard which told him that
Rockville was ten miles away.

"I can't walk ten miles," he thought. "I had better see if I can't get
accommodations at some farmhouse, and then drive over to the school
after breakfast."

With this idea in view he kept on, until he reached a spot where the
railroad crossed the highway. As he did this he saw a freight train
standing near a siding where a milk car was to be taken on.

"Does this train go to Oakdale?" he asked, of one of the hands.

"Yes, but it isn't a passenger train," was the reply.

"Can't you take me along?" questioned Dave. "I wish to get to Oakdale
very much, and without delay."

The train hand looked Dave over by the light of his lantern. He saw that
the youth was no tramp.

"All right, get in the caboose," he said. "But it will cost you a
smoke."

"I haven't any cigars, but you can buy yourself some," answered Dave,
and passed over a quarter of a dollar, which the train hand pocketed
with satisfaction.

Soon the train was under way, and in less than half an hour they reached
the siding at Oakdale, and there Dave jumped off. By his watch the lad
saw that it was three o'clock Sunday morning. Without delay he struck
off on foot for the school.

As he hurried on he wondered what he had best do on arriving at Oak
Hall. Should he rouse up Doctor Clay and tell the master the whole
story, or would it be better to say nothing and await developments?

"If I say anything there will be a great hullabaloo, but it won't prove
anything," he reasoned. "Merwell and Jasniff will deny everything, and
so will Shime, and that fake doctor might take it into his head to sue
me for slander. No, I'll fight my own battles, and see if I can't corner
them on my own hook. But I'll tell Phil and Roger."

Arriving at the school grounds, Dave wondered how he was going to get in
without being observed. He tried all the doors, to find each locked.

"If I ring the bell I'll have to explain matters," he said to himself.
"I'll see if I can't rouse up some of the fellows."

He walked around to the window of No. 11, and threw several handsful of
gravel up against the glass. At first there was no response, but
presently the window was raised, and Roger's head appeared.

"Is that you, Dave?" asked the senator's son, in a low voice.

"Yes, Roger. Will you slip down and let me in."

"Sure thing. Will the side door do?"

"Yes."

No more was said, and the window was closed. Dave hurried to the door
mentioned, and a moment later Roger opened it, and he entered. Then both
hurried upstairs, making as little noise as possible.

"What kept you so long?" asked the senator's son, while Dave was
undressing.

"I'll tell you and Phil in the morning," was Dave's reply. "I've got a
yarn to spin you will hardly believe." And then he went to bed. But it
was a long time before he was able to drop asleep, and then his dreams
were little short of a nightmare.

It was not until Sunday afternoon that Dave got a chance to tell his two
chums the particulars of what had occurred. They listened with keen
attention to all he said, and the face of each plainly expressed his
amazement.

"That's the worst ever!" was Roger's comment. "What were they going to
do with you, Dave?"

"I don't know."

"I believe it was some deep-laid plot," said Phil. "Your getting away
spoiled it all."

"For them, yes,--but not for me," answered Dave, with something of a
grin. "I don't know what I escaped, but I am mighty glad I got away."

"What about your bicycle?" asked the senator's son. "Aren't you going to
try to get that back?"

"Certainly,--and I am going to interview that Doctor Montgomery,
too,--if I can catch him. But I want you two to go along," answered
Dave.

He was glad to take it easy for the rest of the day. On Monday, after
school, the three boys went to Rockville on bicycles, Dave borrowing a
wheel belonging to Buster. They rode straight to the Dunn house, to
find it locked up tightly. In the yard was Dave's machine, standing
against the tree as he had left it.

"I guess the doctor has come and gone," said Dave, after trying all the
doors. "Most likely he'll make himself scarce for a while."

"Why not interview that fellow Shime?" suggested Phil.

"I will," answered Dave, and taking the extra wheel along, the three
students rode around to the Rockville livery stable and garage. Here
Dave asked the proprietor about Shime.

"He has gone," said the man, sourly. "Day before yesterday he took one
of my best autos for a joy ride. When he came back this morning I
discharged him. He took his things and got out--and I don't know where
he went to."

This was as much as the garage owner could tell, and with it Dave had to
be content. He and his chums turned away; and a little later set out on
the return to Oak Hall.




CHAPTER XXVII

A GAME OF ICE HOCKEY


"I reckon you scared them pretty thoroughly, Dave."

"I am glad of it if I did," answered Dave. "I hope I scared them so much
that they never bother me again."

Several days had passed, and in that time Dave had learned many things.
From Rockville had come the news that Doctor Montgomery had left rather
suddenly, without stating where he was going, and Dave had likewise
learned that Shime had not shown himself since his discharge by the
garage owner. And now from the military academy came word that Merwell
and Jasniff had obtained leave of absence for a week.

"They say Doctor Montgomery must have been getting ready to leave," said
Phil, who had been to Rockville. "He owes a board bill at the hotel as
well as at his boarding-house. Mrs. Dunn is back, and is very angry to
think the doctor got away during her absence."

"I suppose Merwell and Jasniff think the affair will blow over by the
time they return," said Roger. "Well, Dave, you can do as you please,
but if I were you I'd try to corner them."

"If I did that, Roger, they'd try to squirm out of it somehow. What I'd
like to do best of all would be to give Merwell and Jasniff a good
thrashing."

"Well, they deserve that, Dave."

"I believe they were going to place you in some kind of an awkward
position," came from Phil. "Maybe they were going to commit some crime
and try to fasten it on you."

"Well, whatever it was, they got left," declared Dave.

"By the way, did you see the notice Nat Poole posted up in the gym.?"
asked Roger, during a pause.

"No. What is it?"

"He has lost a watch-chain charm, and he offers a dollar reward for its
return."

"As if the fellows wouldn't return it without a reward, if it was
found!" exclaimed Phil. "That just shows Nat's natural meanness of
mind!"

"Nat is busy organizing his ice-hockey team," said Roger. "They are
going out to practice this afternoon."

"Which puts me in mind that we were going to organize a hockey team
also," returned Dave. "I guess the sooner we get at it the better."

The ice on the river was clear and smooth, ideal for hockey playing, and
that season ice hockey was taken up in earnest at both Oak Hall and
Rockville. Nat Poole had little difficulty in organizing a team, he
being the captain and playing rover. The others on his team were made up
of those who had played with him on the football eleven and some new
students at the Hall.

Dave had studied the play and the players with care, and he finally made
up a team as follows:

    _Goal_, Sam Day.
    _Point_, Dave Porter, _captain_.
    _Cover Point_, Phil Lawrence.
    _Center_, Roger Morr.
    _Rover_, Gus Plum.
    _Left Wing_, Maurice Hamilton.
    _Right Wing_, Ben Basswood.
    _Substitutes_: Tom Atwood, Luke Watson, and Henry Babcock.

"You have got to play as if you meant it, if you want to win any games,"
said Dave to his fellow-players, and so much in earnest did he become
that, between ice hockey and his studies, he completely forgot about the
adventure which had followed his visit to Doctor Montgomery.

Nat Poole could not help but boast of what his team could do, and when a
challenge came to Oak Hall from Rockville to play a game he wanted to
accept it without delay. But before he could do so, Mr. Dodsworth
interfered.

"We have two hockey teams in this school," said the instructor. "Your
seven, and that of which Dave Porter is captain. I think it would be no
more than fair that you play a game between you, and that the winner be
permitted to accept the Rockville challenge."

This did not suit Nat at all, as he wanted matters entirely his own way.
But nearly every boy in the school sided with Mr. Dodsworth, so at last
the money-lender's son had to agree to play the game with Dave's team,
and it was decided that this game should take place, weather permitting,
the following Saturday, and that the game with Rockville should come off
one week later.

"To hear Nat Poole talk you would think he had won the game already,"
said Roger, to the others on Dave's seven. "He makes me sick!"

"Speaking of having it won already, puts me in mind of a story," came
from Shadow. "A little girl went in the pantry and stayed quite a while.
When she came out she asked her mother: 'Ma, can I have a cruller?'
'Yes, my dear,' answered ma. Then she saw that the little girl wasn't
eating anything, so she asked: 'Why don't you take a cruller, Alice?'
'Oh,' says Alice; 'I had that when I first went to the pantry!'"

"Wow!" murmured Sam. "That joke came from the ark!"

"It was told to Pharaoh by Napoleon, when they were hunting for the
North Pole," added Plum.

"Well, I don't think it hits Nat Poole's case," was Sam's comment. "He
won't get any cruller in this game."

"Right you are!" cried Plum.

Plum was as anxious as anybody to defeat the money-lender's son. Since
the former bully had turned over a new leaf Nat was constantly saying
mean things about him, and it was only Gus's grim determination to "keep
the peace" that kept him from pitching into Nat "rough-shod." In keeping
his hands off Nat, Plum had a harder battle to fight than if he had
attacked the money-lender's son bodily.

It had to be admitted that, as the day for the contest between the two
Oak Hall sevens approached, Poole's team was in good shape. Nat had
drilled them with care, and had profited by the work of two of the
players who had been on another boarding-school seven the winter
previous. One of these players knew several sharp tricks, and it was
hoped that these tricks would help to defeat Dave's seven.

The game was to be played under the inter-scholastic rules of that year,
with two halves of twenty minutes each, and an intermission of ten
minutes. Mr. Dodsworth was the referee, and the accustomed goal umpires
and timekeepers were also selected. The "field" had already been marked
on the ice, and the goal nets set, so that everything was in readiness
for the match. Each player had the regulation ice-hockey stick, and wore
regulation hockey skates, well sharpened for the occasion.

"Well, we've got our work cut out for us," said Phil, as he came out for
practice.

"Beware of off-side plays," warned Dave. "Don't give Poole's crowd a
chance to claim off-play or fouls--and don't let them do anything unfair
without a protest."

Just before the play was to start Chip Macklin beckoned to Dave.

"Look out for Bolton," he whispered, as Dave skated up.

"Why do you say that, Chip?"

"I heard him and Nat whispering together. Bolton said their side must
win--he had a bet on it with somebody. Then Nat advised him to take
chances--which means that they may club you, or kick you with their
skates."

"We'll be on the lookout," answered Dave, and he immediately let the
others know what Poole and Bolton had in mind to do.

Amid a cheering for both sides, the puck was brought out and placed on
the ice, directly in the center of the field, and between the sticks of
two of the players. Then the whistle blew, and the contest commenced.

Back and forth over the smooth ice flew the rubber disc, first towards
one goal and then towards the other. Dave got it and carried it far down
the field, and then turned it over to Plum. Gus lost it to Poole, who
knocked it over to a player named Foss. It came dangerously close to
Dave's goal, but was sent spinning forward again by Sam, and then
followed a turning and twisting back and forth, in the midst of which
Nat Poole went flat on his back, and Phil went sprawling over him.

"Foul! foul!" yelled Nat, as he scrambled up. "You did that on purpose!"

"I did not!" answered Phil, with flashing eyes. "I guess you fell on
purpose!"

"There was no foul!" decided Mr. Dodsworth. "It was simply an accident
all around." And then the play was resumed.

At the end of eight minutes of play Dave's team rushed the puck forward
once more. Nat's team tried its best to send the disc back, but lost it
by a bad fumble by Bolton. Then straight into the goal net flew the
puck.

"Hurrah! One goal for Porter's team!"

"That's the way to do it!"

"Humph! They got that by a fluke!" growled Bolton.

"They got it because of your error!" answered one of the students at the
side line.

Again the puck was placed in the center of the field, and once more the
struggle was renewed. This time the disc was again forced close to the
Porter goal, but without avail. Sam sent it back, and Dave shot it to
Phil, who whizzed the puck over to Shadow. Then came a mix-up, and the
puck flew close to the Poole goal.

"Back with it!" was the cry. "Don't let 'em score another goal!"

A player named Gardener had the puck. He was about to send it to Bolton,
when Phil interfered and sent the disc over to Ben Basswood. As Ben
swept over the ice with the disc Bolton rushed forward, swinging his
hockey stick viciously.

"Look out!" yelled somebody, and many saw a swing of the stick that came
dangerously close to Phil's head.

"Bolton, you try that again, and I'll knock you down!" said Phil, his
eyes flashing fire as he spoke.

"My--er--my stick slipped," stammered Bolton, and turned away quickly.
Before more could be said a cheer went up.

"Another goal for the Porter team!"

"That's the way to play ice hockey!"

It was true, Ben had made the second goal. With five minutes more of the
half to play the puck was placed in position once again.

"Say, we've got to do something!" growled Nat Poole.

"All right, do it," answered one of the team, who had seen Nat make
several errors, and who was growing disgusted.

Both Nat and Bolton were ugly, and showed it in every movement. The puck
was worked down into the Porter territory, but again without avail, and
as it commenced to move in the opposite direction Nat and Bolton grew
furious. Nat gave his follower a meaning look, and a minute later Bolton
swung his hockey stick around, almost on a line with Dave's shoulder.

Had the blow landed as intended, Dave would have been seriously lamed,
and possibly his arm might have been broken. But Roger was close at
hand, and in a flash the senator's son thrust out his hockey stick, so
that the blow glanced off, doing little harm.

"Time!" called Roger, and it was granted, and both teams at once
gathered around Dave and Bolton.

"Bolton, that was done on purpose; you can't deny it!" cried Roger. "You
did your best to injure Dave."

"I did not!" roared Bolton, growing red in the face.

"He did! He did!" was the general cry. "Put him out!"

There was a great hubbub, in the midst of which Mr. Dodsworth consulted
with Andrew Dale, who was assistant referee. Then Mr. Dodsworth came
forward.

"Bolton," he said, clearly and coldly; "you are retired."

"Can't I play any more?" growled the student.

"No. Your conduct is unworthy of a gentleman, and you must leave the
field. The game will proceed."




CHAPTER XXVIII

A DISCOVERY OF INTEREST


It was a stinging rebuke, and everybody within hearing felt its effect.
There was a sudden hush, and then Bolton turned and skated away,
muttering savagely under his breath.

Once more the game proceeded, but before the puck could be gotten within
striking distance of either goal the whistle blew; and the first half of
the game came to an end.

"Wonder what Nat Poole thinks of his team now?" remarked Roger, as the
boys gathered in a group to discuss the plays made.

"He is as mad as hops," reported Plum. "He says Bolton was not to blame,
and that it wasn't fair for Mr. Dodsworth to rule him off."

"They ought to be satisfied," said Messmer, who was close by. "Langley,
the substitute, is as good as Bolton, if not better."

"Say, we must keep them from scoring in the second half!" cried Ben.
"That will break Nat's heart. He has been blowing constantly that he was
going to do us up."

"Look out for tricks," cautioned Dave. "They may have something up their
sleeve they haven't tried yet--although I doubt it."

Promptly on time the second half of the game started. As soon as the
puck was put into action it was seen that Nat's team had adopted new
tactics. This was to "worry" the disc along close to the side line, and
in such a manner that Dave's seven had to either miss it or run the risk
of off-side plays.

"Get it out, fellows!" cried Dave, and then gave a signal to bring it
back. This was not expected by the Poole players, and before they
realized what was occurring, the Porter seven had the puck nearly to the
goal net. Here a fierce fight occurred, and the disc went back and forth
with astonishing rapidity. But at last Dave got it and made a goal so
swiftly and so neatly it brought forth tremendous applause.

"Another for Porter's side!"

"Say, they are piling 'em up, aren't they?"

"Come, Nat! Get in the game and show us what you can do!"

With a glum face Nat Poole ordered his team to their places, and again
the try for a goal started. But the seven was now thoroughly
demoralized, and another goal was made by the Porters in less than four
minutes. Then followed three minutes of ragged work near the middle of
the field, and then the whistle blew and it was all over.

"And a regular slaughter for Nat Poole's team," was the comment of one
of the students.

"It knocked us out to take Bolton out of the game," grumbled Nat. "That
wasn't fair."

"Bolton wasn't any better than the rest," answered Phil. "Nat, you were
beaten fairly and squarely, and you know it."

"Oh, shut up!" growled the money-lender's son, and hurried away out of
sight as soon as possible.

"Well, young gentlemen," said Mr. Dodsworth to Dave and his followers,
"you did very well, and I am proud of you."