Part 5 (1/2)

”I think I'll interview him and see what he has to say for himself,”

murmured Dave to himself. ”Maybe I'll have him arrested.”

Ward Porton had been staring at our hero all the while he was turning into the street and getting out of the sleigh. But now, as he saw Dave approaching, he started to walk away.

”Stop, Porton! I want to talk to you,” called out our hero. ”Stop!”

”I don't want to see you,” returned the other youth, hastily. ”You let me alone;” and then, as Dave came closer, he suddenly broke into a run down the street. Dave was taken by surprise, but only for a moment.

Then he, too, commenced to run, doing his best to catch the fellow ahead.

But Ward Porton was evidently scared. He looked back, and, seeing Dave running, increased his speed, and then shot around a corner and into an alleyway. When Dave reached the corner he was nowhere in sight.

”He certainly was scared,” was Dave's mental comment, as he looked up and down the side street and even glanced into the alleyway. ”I wonder where he went and if it would do any good to look any further for him?”

Dave spent fully five minutes in that vicinity, but without being able to discover Ward Porton's hiding-place. Then, knowing that the others would be wondering what had become of him, and being also afraid that the grays might run away again, he returned to where he had left the sleigh standing.

”h.e.l.lo! Where did you go?” called out Ben, who had just emerged from the restaurant.

”What do you think? I just saw that rascal, Ward Porton!” burst out Dave.

”Porton! You don't mean it? Where is he?”

”He was standing under that light when I drove out from the stable. I ran to speak to him, and then he took to his legs and scooted around yonder corner. I went after him, but by the time I got on the side street he was out of sight.”

”Is that so! It's too bad you couldn't catch him, Dave. I suppose you would have liked to talk to him.”

”That's right, Ben. And maybe I might have had him arrested, although now that he has been exposed, and now that Link Merwell is in jail, I don't suppose it would have done much good.”

”It's queer he should show himself so close to Crumville. One would think that he would want to put all the distance possible between himself and your folks.”

”That's true, Ben. Maybe he is up to some more of his tricks.”

The girls were on the lookout for the boys, and now, having bundled up well, they came from the restaurant, and all got into the sleigh once more. Then they turned back in the direction of Crumville, this time, however, taking a route which did not go near Conover's Hill.

”Oh, Dave! were you sure it was that Ward Porton?” questioned his sister, when he had told her and Jessie about the appearance of the former moving-picture actor.

”I was positive. Besides, if it wasn't Porton, why would he run away?”

”I sincerely hope he doesn't try to do you any harm, Dave,” said Jessie, and gave a little s.h.i.+ver. ”I was hoping we had seen the last of that horrid young man.”

”Why, Jessie! You wouldn't call him horrid, would you, when he looks so very much like Dave?” asked Ben, mischievously.

”He doesn't look very much like Dave,” returned the girl, quickly.

”And he doesn't act in the least like him,” she added loyally.

”It's mighty queer to have a double that way,” was the comment of the real estate man's son. ”I don't know that I should like to have somebody else looking like me.”

”If you couldn't help it, you'd have to put up with it,” returned Dave, briefly. And then he changed the subject, which, as the others could plainly see, was distasteful to him.