Part 21 (1/2)

”It's rather queer you are in the tree,” answered Roger, somewhat sharply.

”It's my affair, not yours, Roger Morr!” roared the money-lender's son. Then, without another word, he walked to the bonfire, kicked the blazing sticks into the river, and strode off in the direction of the Hall.

”He's good and mad,” was Roger's comment.

”And we didn't learn anything, after all,” added our hero.

Dave and his chum rejoined the merry throng at the other bonfires. But the celebration in honor of the baseball victory was practically at an end, and a little later the students retired, to skylark a little in the dormitories, and then settle down for the night.

A week pa.s.sed, and Dave stuck to his studies as persistently as ever.

During that time he sent off several letters, and received a number in return, including one from Jessie, which he treasured very highly and which he did not show to his chums.

”Here is news of Link Merwell,” said Luke Watson, one day, as he came along with a letter. ”It's from a friend of mine who knows Merwell. He says he saw Link in Quebec, Canada, at one of the little French hotels in the lower town.”

”What was Merwell doing?” questioned Dave, with interest.

”Nothing much, so my friend writes. He says Link was dressed in a blue suit and wore blue gla.s.ses, and he thought his hair was dyed.”

”Evidently doing what he could to disguise himself,” was Phil's comment.

”My friend writes that he saw Merwell only one evening. The next day he was missing. He made inquiries and says he was at the hotel under the name of V. A. Smith, of Albany, New York.”

”He does not dare to travel around under his own name,” remarked Shadow. ”Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” he went on, brightening up. ”Once a chap changed his name, because----”

”Say, cut it out,” interrupted Phil. ”We want to hear about Merwell.”

”There isn't any more to tell,” said Luke. ”My friend tried to find out where he had gone but couldn't.”

”He must be having a lonely time of it--trying to keep out of the hands of the law,” murmured Dave.

”And maybe he hasn't much money,” said Buster. ”His father may have shut down on him.”

Gus Plum listened to all this conversation without saying a word. But down in his heart the former bully of Oak Hall was glad that he had cut away from Merwell and Jasniff, and turned over a new leaf, and he resolved then and there that, come what might, he would never again turn aside from the path of right and honor.

”Say, why don't you listen to my story?” pleaded Shadow, and then related a somewhat rambling tale of a man who had changed his name and, later on, lost some property because of it.

Another day slipped by and it was one of particular interest to Dave and Roger, for in the morning they made up the last of the back lessons imposed upon them by Job Haskers. They had done exceedingly well, but the harsh teacher gave them little credit. Phil and Ben had still three days' work, but Professor Haskers said nothing of this.

”He doesn't dare,” declared the s.h.i.+powner's son.

”That's right,” chuckled Ben. ”We could give him a good black eye before this whole school if we wanted to.”

Dave had already finished up the back lessons for the other teachers, so he was now free to spend his time on what was ahead of him. He was as enthusiastic as ever to make a record for himself, and pitched in with a will, and his enthusiasm was caught by Roger, who also resolved to do his best.

”Whoop! hurrah! What do you think of this?” came from Phil, late one afternoon, after the mail had been distributed. ”Somebody hold me down! I guess I'm going to fly! Or maybe I'm only dreaming!” And he began to caper around gayly.

”What is it all about, Phil?” asked Dave. ”Hit your funny-bone?”

”Money, boys, money! That's what it is about,” replied the s.h.i.+powner's son. ”I've got five thousand dollars, all my own!”