Dave Porter and His Double: or, The Disapperarance of the Basswood Fortune

“Well, you won’t have me to worry you after to-night,” grinned the chum. “Starting to-morrow morning you and Roger can put in twenty-four hours a day over your studies, as far as I am concerned.”

“Wow! Listen to that! He’s as considerate as old Job Haskers used to be,” exclaimed the senator’s son. And then, picking up a pillow, he shied it at Phil’s head.

Another pillow was sent at Roger in return; and in a moment a so-called “Oak Hall pillow fight” was in full progress in the room, pillows, blankets, books, and various other objects flying in all directions. Then Phil got Roger down on one of the beds and was promptly hauled off by Dave, and in a moment more the three youths were rolling over and over on the floor.

Suddenly there sounded a knock on the door.

“Hello! Who is that?” cried Dave; and at once the three youths scrambled to their feet, readjusting their clothing as they did so.

“Oh, Dave, such a noise!” came from his sister. “What in the world are you doing in there?”

“We are only bidding Phil good-bye,” answered the brother, sweetly.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE CIVIL ENGINEERING EXAMINATION

As the days went by, and Dave and Roger continued to prepare themselves for the examination which was rapidly approaching, the authorities did all they could to locate Ward Porton and his confederate. Diligent inquiries were made concerning the identity of the man who had occupied the room at Lamont with the former moving-picture actor, and it was finally discovered that he was Tim Crapsey, a fellow already wanted by the police for several crimes.

“It’s queer that a fellow like Porton should throw in his fortunes with a man like Crapsey,” was Roger’s comment. “From all accounts Crapsey is a thoroughly good-for-nothing fellow with a great liking for strong drink.”

“That shows Porton’s real disposition, Roger,” answered Dave. “If he were any kind of a clean-minded or decent fellow he wouldn’t want to put up with such a vile fellow as this Tim Crapsey is represented by the police to be.”

“If Crapsey is already known to the police they ought to be able to locate him sooner or later.”

“Those slick criminals have a way all their own for keeping out of sight of the police.” Dave paused for a moment. “Do you know I’ve been thinking of something. Maybe this fellow, Crapsey, simply used Porton as a tool.”

“I don’t quite understand, Dave.”

“Why, in this way: when they heard about the miniatures, and Crapsey heard how much Porton looked like me, and how intimate I and the Wadsworths were with the Basswoods, it may have been Crapsey who concocted the scheme for getting possession of the miniatures. And if he did that, it is more than likely that he will be the one to dispose of the pictures or send in an offer to return them for a certain amount.”

“You mean and cut Ward Porton out of the deal?” questioned the senator’s son, quickly.

“He may not cut Porton out entirely. But the chances are that he’ll let Porton have as little of the returns as possible. A professional criminal like this Crapsey isn’t going to let an amateur like Porton in on the ground floor if he can help it.”

“Maybe he’ll do Porton out of it entirely. Wouldn’t that make the moving-picture actor mad!” and Roger grinned over the thought.

“It is no more than Porton would deserve,” answered our hero. “Just the same, I hope the authorities capture them both and return the miniatures to Mr. Basswood.”

Two days before the time when Dave and Roger were to undergo the much talked-of examination in civil engineering, there came news from a country town fifteen miles beyond Hacklebury. A livery stableman there sent in word that he was boarding a horse which he thought might be the one stolen from Mr. Bryson. The Crumville liveryman at once notified Ben and the local police, and the boy and an officer accompanied him to Centertown. Mr. Bryson at once recognized the horse as his own, and wanted to know how the Centertown liveryman had become possessed of the animal.

“He was left here by a man I think was this Tim Crapsey the paper spoke about,” announced the livery stable keeper. “He said he was on the road to the next town, but that the storm was too much for him, and that he wanted to leave the animal with me for a few days or a week. He said he was rather short of cash and asked me to lend him ten dollars, which, of course, I did, as I thought the horse was ample security,” went on the livery stableman, bitterly.

“Was the fellow alone?” was the question which Ben put.

“He came in alone, but I think after he left the stable he was joined by another fellow down on the corner.”

The Centertown livery-stable keeper had not noticed where Crapsey and his companion had gone, but thought they had made their way to the railroad station. It was learned that a train bound for New York City had left Centertown about an hour later. All came to the conclusion that Ward Porton and Tim Crapsey had taken this. The train had been stalled some hours along the road, but had finally reached the Grand Central Terminal of the metropolis.

“Well, this proves one thing–that Porton and Crapsey got as far as New York City with the miniatures,” said Dave, when he heard the news.

“Yes, and New York is such a large place, with so many people in it, that it will be almost impossible for the authorities to trace them there.”

“That’s it, Roger–especially when you remember that this happened some time ago, so that by now the thieves may be in Chicago, San Francisco, or in London, Paris, or some other far-away place.”

At last came the time when Dave and Roger were to go in for the examination which meant so much to them. They had worked hard, and Mr. Ramsdell had assisted them in every way possible; yet both were rather doubtful over the outcome of the affair.

“It isn’t going to be like the examinations at Oak Hall,” said our hero. “Mr. Ramsdell admitted that it would be stiff from the word go.”

“I know that,” answered the senator’s son. “It seems that several years ago they were a little lax, and, as a consequence, some fellows slipped through that had no right to pass. Now they have jacked the examiners up, so that the test is likely to be fierce.”

“Oh, Dave! what are you going to do if you don’t pass?” cried Jessie, when he was ready to leave home.

“If I don’t pass now, Jessie, I’ll simply go at my studies again and keep at them until I do pass,” he answered.

The examination which was held in the city was divided into two parts, one taking place from ten to twelve in the morning, and the other from two to five in the afternoon. There were about thirty students present, and as far as possible each was separated from any friends he might have on hand, so that Dave sat on one side of the hall in which the examination occurred and the senator’s son sat on the other.

“Well, how did you make out?” questioned Roger of Dave, when the two went out for their midday lunch.

“I don’t know exactly, Roger,” was the reply. “I think, however, that I answered at least seventy per cent, of the questions correctly. How about yourself?”

“Well, I’m hoping that I got seventy per cent. of them right,” returned the senator’s son. “But maybe I didn’t get above fifty or sixty per cent.”

The afternoon questions seemed to be much harder than those of the morning. The students were given until five o’clock to pass in their afternoon papers, and never did Dave and Roger work harder than they did during the final hour. One question in particular bothered our hero a great deal. But at almost the last minute the answer to it came like an inspiration, and he dashed it down. This question proved a poser for the senator’s son, and he passed in his paper without attempting to put down a solution.

Following that examination, Dave returned to Crumville. Roger journeyed to Washington, where his folks were staying at a leading hotel, Congress being in session and Senator Morr occupying his place in the Senate.

There was a week of anxious waiting, and then one day Dave received an official-looking envelope which made his heart beat rapidly.

“What is it, Dave?” cried his sister, when she saw him with the letter in his hand. “Is it your civil engineering report?”

“I think it is, Laura,” he answered.

“Oh, Dave, how I hope you’ve passed!”

“So do I,” put in Jessie.

Dave could not give an answer to this, because, for the moment, his heart seemed to be in his throat. Passing to the desk in the library, he slit open the envelope and took out the sheet which it contained. A single glance at it, and he gave a shout of triumph.

“I’ve passed!” he cried. “Hurrah!”

“Oh, good!” came simultaneously from his sister and Jessie. And then they crowded closer to look at the sheet of paper.

“Does it say what percentage you got?” continued his sister.

“Why, as near as I can make out, I’ve got a standing of ninety-two per cent.,” he announced, with pardonable pride. “Isn’t that fine?”

“It’s the finest ever, Dave!” said his sister, fondly, as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Dave, it’s just glorious!” exclaimed Jessie, her eyes beaming. And when he caught her and held her tight for a moment she offered no resistance. “Oh, won’t your father and your uncle be proud when they hear of this!”

“I’m going to tell them right now!” he cried, and ran off to spread the good news.

“My boy, I’m proud of you,” said his father. “Proud of you!” and he clapped Dave affectionately on the shoulder.

“I didn’t expect anything different from our Davy,” put in Uncle Dunston. “I knew he’d pass. Well, now you’ve passed, I wish you every success in the profession you have chosen.”

“Oh, I’m not a full-fledged civil engineer yet, Uncle Dunston,” broke in Dave, quickly. “I’ve got a whole lot to learn yet. Remember this is only my first examination. I’ve got to study a whole lot more and have a whole lot of practice, too, before I can graduate as a real civil engineer.”

Dave lost no time in sending a telegram to Roger. In return, a few hours later came word from the senator’s son that he, too, had passed.

“Hurrah!” cried Dave, once more, and then could not resist the temptation to grab Jessie about the waist and start on a mad dance through the library, the hallway, the dining-room, and the living room of the mansion. Mrs. Wadsworth looked on and smiled indulgently.

“I suppose your heart is as light as a feather now, Dave,” she said, when the impromptu whirl came to an end.

“Indeed it is, Mrs. Wadsworth,” he answered. “Passing that examination has lifted a tremendous weight from my shoulders.”

Of course Mr. Ramsdell was greatly pleased to think that both of his pupils had passed.

“Now I can write to my friends of the Mentor Construction Company and see if they can give Dave and Roger an opening,” he said. “They promised it to me some time ago in case the boys passed.” And he set about sending off a letter without delay.

CHAPTER XIX

OFF FOR TEXAS

“Glorious news!”

“Oh, Dave! have you heard from Mr. Ramsdell?” cried his sister Laura.

“Yes, here is a letter. And it enclosed another from the Mentor Construction Company. They are going to give me an opening with that portion of the concern that is now operating in Texas, building railroad bridges.”

“Oh, Dave! then you will really have to go away down there?” burst out Jessie, her face falling a trifle. “It’s a dreadfully long way off!”

“Well, it’s what I expected,” he answered. “A fellow can’t expect to become a civil engineer and work in his own backyard,” and he grinned a trifle. “This letter from Mr. Ramsdell states that Roger will be given an opening also.”

“With you, of course?” queried Laura.

“He doesn’t state that. But he knew we wanted to stick together, so I suppose it’s all right.”

“When do you have to start?” questioned Jessie.

“Just as soon as we can get ready–according to Mr. Ramsdell’s letter. He says he is also sending word to Roger.”

As was to be expected, the tidings quite excited our hero. Now that he had passed the preliminary examination and was to go out for actual field practice, he felt that he was really and truly on his way to becoming a civil engineer. It was the first step towards the realization of a dream that had been his for some time.

Dave’s father and his uncle, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth, were greatly interested in the news.

“There is one thing about it, Dave,” said his parent; “I have made a number of inquiries, and have learned that the Mentor Construction Company is one of the largest and finest in this country. They employ a number of first-class engineers; so it is likely that you will receive the very best of instruction, and I sincerely hope that you will make the best of your opportunities.”

“I am going to do my level best, Dad,” he returned earnestly. “I think I’m a mighty lucky boy,” he added, with a smile.

“I think you owe Mr. Ramsdell a good deal,” said his Uncle Dunston. “Of course, we have paid him for his services, but that isn’t everything.”

“I know it,” Dave returned; “and I’m either going to thank him in person or else send him the nicest letter that I can write.”

Now that he was really going to leave home, Mrs. Wadsworth, as well as Laura and Jessie, took it upon their shoulders to see that Dave should be properly taken care of so far as wearing apparel went.

“But oh, Dave! it’s awful to think of your going so far away!” said Jessie, one day, when the two were alone in the library. “The house will be dreadfully lonely after you are gone.”

“It won’t be much different from when I was at Oak Hall, Jessie,” he answered.

“Oh, yes, it will be, Dave. Texas is a long way off. And my father says the construction work that the Mentor Company is doing is close to the Mexican border. What if you should have trouble with some of those awful Mexican bandits?” and the girl shuddered.

“I don’t expect any trouble of that kind. Practically all the fighting that has been going on has been on Mexican soil on the other side of the Rio Grande. As I understand it, the nearest point that the Mentor Construction Company reaches to Mexico is some miles from the border.”

“Well, that’s close enough with so much fighting going on,” Jessie pouted. “I don’t want any of those awful Mexican revolutionists to fire at you.”

“Don’t worry, Jessie,” Dave answered; and then caught her by both hands and drew her closer. “You’re going to write to me regularly, aren’t you?” he continued, earnestly.

“Of course, Dave! And don’t you forget to answer every letter,” she replied quickly.

“Oh, I’ll do that, never fear!”

“And do you really think you are going to enjoy becoming a civil engineer?”

“I’m positive of it, Jessie. The more I see of the profession, the more I am in love with it. It’s a wonderful thing. Just think of being able to plan out a great big bridge across a broad river, or some wonderful dam, or a tall sky-scraper, or an elevated railroad, or a tunnel under a gigantic mountain, or a tube under some river, or–”

“Oh, my gracious me, Dave! are you going to do all those wonderful things?” gasped the girl, her eyes opening widely.

“I don’t expect I’ll ever have the chance to do all those things, Jessie; but I’m going to try my best to do some of them. Of course, you must remember that at the present time civil engineering is divided into a great many branches. Now, for instance, I didn’t mention anything about mining engineering, and that’s a wonderful profession in itself.”

“Oh, Dave! it’s wonderful–simply wonderful!” cried the girl. “And you are going to be a wonderful man–I know it!” and she looked earnestly into his eyes.

“If I ever do get to be a wonderful man, it’s going to be on your account, Jessie,” he returned in a low voice. “You have been my inspiration. Don’t forget that;” and he drew her closer than before.

“Oh, Dave!”

“It’s true, Jessie. And I only hope that I’ll make good–and that too before I am very much older. Then I think you already know what I am going to do?”

“What?” she whispered, and dropped her eyes.

“I am going to ask your folks for your hand in marriage,” he continued firmly, reading his answer in her face.

Word had come in from Roger that he too was getting ready to go to Texas, and that both of the youths were to work together, as had been anticipated. As the senator’s son was in Washington, it was arranged that Dave was to join him in the Capitol City, and then the two were to journey to Texas.

Ben had heard about Dave’s proposed departure for the South, and he came over several times to see his former Oak Hall chum before the latter left home.

“Any news regarding the miniatures?” questioned Dave, during the last of these visits.

“Not much,” answered the real estate dealer’s son. “The police thought they had one or two clues, but they have all turned out to be false. They arrested one fellow in Pittsburgh, thinking he was Tim Crapsey, but he turned out to be somebody else.”

“Then they haven’t any word at all about Ward Porton?”

“No, that rascal seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth.”

“How is your father getting along, Ben?”

“He isn’t doing so well, Dave. This loss of the miniatures was a terrible blow to him. You see, the real estate business lately has not been quite as good as it might be. My father went into several pretty heavy investments, and he needed a little more money to help him through. So when he got word about this fortune in pictures, he at once thought that he could sell some of the miniatures and use the proceeds in his real estate deals. Now that end of the business is at a standstill.”

“Is your father actually suffering for the want of some cash?” asked our hero, quickly. “If he is, I think my father or my Uncle Dunston can help him out.”

“Your father has already promised to assist him, and so has Mr. Wadsworth, Dave. But that isn’t the thing. You know my father is an independent sort of man, and it worries him to think that he can’t stand entirely on his own feet in his real estate transactions. Of course, if he were well enough to be around I suppose he could adjust matters without any special assistance. But it’s hard lines when things go wrong and you are flat on your back in bed.”

“Yes, I can understand that. And it must worry your mother, too.”

“Oh, it does! Ma isn’t the same woman. She is awfully pale and quite thin. The doctor told her not to worry so, or she’d be down on her back, too.”

“Well, you’ll have to do what you can to cheer up both of them.” Dave drew a long breath. “I do wish somebody would catch those two rascals, not only on your account but on my account also. I’d like to settle matters with Porton, for having impersonated me at those stores, and for taking my cap and overcoat.”

“We’ve offered a reward of five thousand dollars for the return of the miniatures, and another thousand each for the capture of the thieves,” announced Ben. “That ought to be a strong inducement for the detectives to do all they possibly can.”

“We thought you might possibly get an offer from Porton or Crapsey, or both of them, to return the miniatures for a certain amount,” went on Dave. “But you say no such offer has come in?”

“No.”

“Would your father consider it if it did come in?”

“I don’t know what he would do, Dave. Of course, he’d hate to give up money to a thief; but, just the same, he’d hate it worse if he never got the miniatures back.”

At last came the time for Dave to leave home. His trunk had been packed and shipped on ahead. There was still considerable snow on the ground; so he was taken to the depot in the big Wadsworth sleigh, the girls and his father accompanying him.

“Good-bye, Davy, my boy!” cried his Uncle Dunston, when he was ready to leave the house. “Now I expect you to give a good account of yourself while with that construction company.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he answered.

“And do keep away from the Mexicans,” added Mrs. Wadsworth with a sigh.

“You trust David to do the right thing,” came from old Caspar Potts, his mellow eyes beaming brightly. “David is all right. He’s my boy, and I’m proud of him,” and he nodded his head over and over again.

For the girls, the drive to the depot was all too short. Laura had so many things to say to her brother that she hardly knew what to speak of first. As for poor Jessie, she felt so bad she could scarcely speak, and when she looked at Dave there were unbidden tears in her eyes.

“Now don’t look at it that way,” David whispered, when he caught sight of the tears. “I’ll be back again before a great while.”

“Oh, Dave, I–I–ca–can’t help it,” she murmured. “I–I–think so–so–much of–of–you!” and then, for the moment, she hid her face on his shoulder.

Mr. Porter had a few words of advice to give, and he had hardly finished when the train rolled into the station. Then Dave shook hands with his father, and kissed each of the girls, and climbed on board.

“Good-bye, my son!” called Mr. Porter.

“Good-bye, Dad! Take care of yourself while I’m gone,” he shouted back. “Good-bye, Laura! Good-bye, Jessie!”

“Good-bye, Dave!” returned the sister, waving her hand.

Jessie tried to speak but could not, and so she too waved a farewell.

Then the train rolled from the Crumville station, slowly gathering speed, and finally disappearing in the distance.

At last our hero was off to become a full-fledged civil engineer.

CHAPTER XX

IN NEW YORK CITY

“Dave Porter!”

“Buster Beggs!” cried our hero, his face lighting up. “Where in the world did you come from?”

“Just got off the accommodation coming the other way,” announced Joseph Beggs, otherwise known as Buster, a fat youth who had long been one of Dave’s Oak Hall classmates.

“Are you alone?” questioned our hero. He had just stepped from the local train to change to the express for New York City; and he had fairly run into Buster, who was standing on the platform flanked by several suitcases.

“No, I’m not alone,” answered the fat youth. “Shadow Hamilton and Luke Watson are with me.”

“You don’t say so!” and our hero’s face showed his pleasure. “Are you bound for New York?” he questioned quickly.

“Yes, we are going to take the express.”

“Fine! I am going there myself.”

“Got a seat in the parlor car?”

“Yes. Number twelve, car two.”

“Isn’t that wonderful! We have eleven, thirteen and fourteen!” answered Buster Beggs.

“Hello there, Dave Porter!” shouted another youth, as he stepped out of the waiting-room of the depot. “How are you anyway?” and he came up, swinging a banjo-case from his right hand to his left so that he might shake hands. Luke Watson had always been one of the favorite musicians at Oak Hall, playing the banjo and the guitar very nicely, and singing well.

“Mighty glad to see you, Luke!” cried Dave, and wrung the extended hand with such vigor that the former musician of Oak Hall winced. Then Dave looked over the other’s shoulder and saw a third lad approaching–a youth who was as thin as he was tall. “How is our little boy, Shadow, to-day?” he continued, as Maurice Hamilton came closer.

“Great Scott! Am I blind or is it really Dave Porter?” burst out Shadow Hamilton.

“No, you’re not blind, Shadow, and it’s really yours truly,” laughed Dave. And then as another handshake followed he continued: “What are you going down to New York City for? To pick up some new stories?”

“Pick up stories?” queried the former story teller of Oak Hall, in perplexity. “I don’t have to pick them up. I have–”

“About fourteen million stories in pickle,” broke in Buster Beggs.

“Fourteen million!” snorted Luke Watson. “You had better say about fourteen! Shadow tells the same stories over and over again.”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story!” cried the youth mentioned, his face lighting up. “Once on a time there was a–”

“Oh, my, Shadow! are you going to start right away?” demanded Dave, with a broad grin on his face. “Can’t you give a fellow a chance to catch his breath? This is a great surprise–meeting you three on my way to the city. And to think we are going to be together in one of the parlor cars, too!”

“Oh, you can’t lose the Oak Hall boys!” cried Buster. “Say, let me tell you something,” he went on. “Luke has written a song about Oak Hall that is about the finest thing I ever heard.”