Dave Porter and His Rivals: or, The Chums and Foes of Oak Hall

"Some other time, Shadow," answered Buster. "We want to hear about Dave's trip West, and about what he did to Link Merwell."

"Before I tell you about that, let me give you a piece of news," said Dave. And then he related how he and the others had met Merwell and Jasniff with Nat Poole, and how the two former youths were going to Rockville Military Academy. As he had anticipated, this created quite a sensation, and a lively discussion followed, which was kept up even after the crowd got aboard the train which would carry them to Oakdale.

"Well, if Rockville wants such fellows it can have 'em," was Buster Beggs's comment. "I, for one, am glad they are out of Oak Hall."

"I know one fellow who will be glad they are gone," said Shadow. "That is Gus Plum."

"Yes, indeed," answered Dave, for he well remembered what influence Merwell and even Jasniff had exercised over Plum when the youth had found his appetite for liquor almost too strong for him.

Of course Dave had to go over many of his Western adventures, and the others listened with keen interest to all he had to tell. When he mentioned the theft of the horses at the ranch, and how Link Merwell had been mixed up with the thieves, more than one shook his head.

"According to that, Link and Nick are a team," said Luke Watson. "Dave, you had better be on your guard. They won't hesitate to play you some foul trick."

Oakdale, a small but prosperous town, was reached at last, and the schoolboys piled out of the train, along with a few other passengers.

"Hello, there is Polly Vane!" cried Dave, catching sight of a slender lad with a girlish face. "How are you, Polly?"

"Oh, it's Dave Porter!" answered Bertram Vane, in a low but pleased voice. He held out his slender hand. "I am delighted to see you back! How tanned you are, and how strong-looking!"

"It was the mountain air did it, Polly. By the way, is Horsehair around?" he continued, with a glance beyond the depot platform.

"Oh, yes! Here he comes now!" And as Polly spoke the big carryall of the school swung into view, with Jackson Lemond, commonly called "Horsehair," on the driver's seat. The boys made a rush for the carryall, throwing their suit-cases in the rack on top, and piling inside one over the other.

"Horsehair, you're looking fine!"

"How's the widow, Horsehair? Heard you were going to marry a widow with eight children."

"Nine children, Buster, – don't drop any of the family like that."

"Nothing like getting a ready-made family while you are at it, Horsehair."

"I heard the widow was a suffragette, Horsehair. Is that right?"

"If she's that, Horsehair, she'll make you mind the children and wash dishes – better beware!"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Horsehair is an expert at washing dishes, and at minding babies he once took first prize at a county fair; didn't you, Horsehair?"

"Say, you!" roared the carryall driver, his face as red as a beet. "You quit your knockin'! I ain't gittin' married to no widder, nor nobody else! An' I ain't washin' dishes an' mindin' babies nuther! Such boys!" And with a crack of his whip he started up the turnout so suddenly that half the lads were pitched into the laps of the other half.

It was certainly a jolly crowd that rolled over the well-kept highway toward Oak Hall. They knew that many hard lessons awaited them, and that, once school opened, discipline would be strict, but just now all were in high spirits. To the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" Luke Watson started up the school song, and the others joined in lustily:

"Oak Hall we never shall forget,No matter where we roam,It is the very best of schools,To us it's just like home!Then give three cheers, and let them ringThroughout this world so wide,To let the people know that weElect to here abide!"

"That's the stuff!" cried Ben, slangily. "Now, then, for the field cry," and then came the Oak Hall cheer:

"Baseball!Football!Oak HallHas the call!Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"

"I think we ought to display the school colors!" cried Dave. "Anybody got a flag?"

"Here is one," answered Polly Vane, from his seat in front, beside the driver. "But I haven't got a stick for it."

"Never mind, Shadow's fishing rod will do," answered Dave. "Shadow, hand it over."

"All right, but don't break the rod," said Shadow. "It cost me four bones."

The rod was put together, and the school colors fastened to the top. Then the rod was thrust out of a side window of the carryall and waved in the air, first by one student and then another.

"Look out, that you don't hit nobody with that fishin' pole!" warned the carryall driver, as the turnout swung around a bend of the road.

He had scarcely spoken when a buggy came into view, driven by a tall, serious-looking individual, wearing a high silk hat. The buggy swung forward quickly, directly in line with the fishing rod, and before the boys could haul the colors in the rod hit the silk hat, sending it whirling into the bushes beside the roadway.

CHAPTER VIII

ABOUT SOME NEW STUDENTS

"Hi! hi! what's the meaning of this outrage!" roared the individual in the buggy, as he brought his horse to a standstill. "Do you want to kill me?"

"Who is it? Is he hurt?" questioned Dave, quickly.

"I don't know," answered Ben. "The rod took off his hat, but whether it struck his head or not remains to be seen."

"Wot's the trouble back there?" demanded Jackson Lemond, as he succeeded in bringing his team to a halt.

"Trouble is, we hit that man with the rod," answered Buster.

"Humph! I told you to be careful," grumbled the carryall driver. "It don't pay to act like a passel o' wildcats, nohow!"

"It's too bad it happened," said Dave, and leaped to the ground and ran back to where the buggy stood, with the driver glaring at them savagely. The other students followed.

"Are you hurt?" asked Dave, anxiously. The man in the buggy was a total stranger to him.

"Hurt? I don't know whether I am or not. What do you mean by knocking off my hat with that stick?"

"It was an accident, sir. We had our school colors on the fishing rod and were waving them in the air. We didn't expect to hit anybody."

"Bah! you are a lot of rowdies!" growled the man. "Give me my hat!" And he pointed to where the head covering rested on some bushes.

"There you are," said Ben, restoring the hat to its owner. "But we are not rowdies – it was purely an accident," he added, with a little flash out of his clear eyes.

"Bah, I know schoolboys! They think it smart to be tough!" The man looked his silk hat over. "I ought to make you buy me a new hat."

"That doesn't seem to be damaged any," said Buster, as he looked the tile over. "If it is, of course we'll make it right," he added, hastily. He and Luke were holding the fishing rod at the time of the accident.

"Do you boys belong at Oak Hall?" demanded the man, smoothing down the roughed-up silk hat with his forearm.

"Yes," answered Dave.

"I thought so. Well, if this hat is cracked or anything like that I'll notify the master of the school, and make you get me a new hat. Maybe it will be a lesson to you, to be more careful."

"Let me see the hat, please," said Luke.

"What for?"

"I wish to see if it is really damaged."

"If it is, I'll let you know quick enough, don't fear."

"I want to see it now. I am not going to pay for a new hat if this one is all right."

"Ha! so you don't want to take my word for it, eh?" roared the man.

"I want to look the hat over," answered Luke, stubbornly.

"So do I," added Buster.

"I'll not give you the hat – to play more tricks with. I shall take it to a hat dealer, and if he says it is injured, I'll call at the school about it." And having thus delivered himself the man in the buggy put the silk hat on his head, spoke to his horse, and whirled on down the road in the direction of Rockville.

"Talk about a peppery individual!" cried Ben. "He certainly is one."

"I don't think the hat was damaged at all," said Dave. "It will simply be a hold-up – if he tries to get a new one out of us. That hat is quite old and rusty-looking."

"He was a rusty-looking fellow all the way through," commented Buster. "Wonder who he is?"

"He's some kind of a doctor," answered the carryall driver, who had left his turnout to join the boys. "He came to Oakdale and Rockville this summer, and he gives lectures on how to git well and strong, an' then he sells medicine. I know a feller got a bottle from him, but it didn't do him no good. He calls himself Doctor Montgomery, – but I reckon he ain't no real doctor at all."

"Must be one of these quacks who go around the country trying to rope people in," said Dave. "If he is, he ought to be run out of the neighborhood."

"Maybe we'll never hear from him again," said Luke. But the boys were destined to hear from Hooker Montgomery again, and in a manner to surprise them.

Returning to the carryall, the boys took in the colors, so that they might do no further damage, and then the journey to Oak Hall was resumed. The encounter on the road had sobered them a little, and this did not wear away until they came in sight of the school buildings.

"Hurrah! I see Phil and Roger!" cried Dave, as the carryall swung in between the large oak trees that gave the place its name. "Hello!" he shouted. "Here we are again!"

"Dave!" returned the senator's son, running forward, while Phil did the same. "How are you all?" he added, waving his hand to the crowd in general.

A number of other boys were present, and soon Dave was surrounded by his old friends, all eager to shake hands. They wanted to know all about his trip, and he in return wanted to know what they had been doing. So there was a perfect babble of voices as the crowd walked into the main school building, where good old Doctor Hasmer Clay, the head of the institution, stood to welcome each new arrival.

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