Dave Porter in the South Seas Part 18

CHAPTER XII

SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST

The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.

"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think they'll do about it?"

"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son.

"They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.

But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a small cla.s.s, made up of those who were wealthy, who pa.s.sed him by and snubbed him, not wis.h.i.+ng to a.s.sociate with anybody who had come from a poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of his many friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end, no matter what the cost.

If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the mult.i.tude of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority.

But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.

"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."

"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"

On the following Sat.u.r.day evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side.

The young student was evidently excited over something.

"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want to join the fellows in the gym."

"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think I've discovered something, but I am not sure."

"Well, out with it."

"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my bicycle, to get some s.h.i.+rts at the furnis.h.i.+ng store there. Well, when I came out of the store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the post-office on the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and began to read them."

"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.

"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces and scatter the bits in the gra.s.s. When he went away, I walked over to the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course, you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."

"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."

"Yes, but this is not his private affair--to my way of thinking. It concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.

Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta-- w York,"

and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem-- --nett Street, Sa----"

"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.

"That is what I thought."

"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"

"No."

"Were the letters addressed to him?"

"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the written-on portions of the envelopes."

"Did Plum see you?"

"Not until later--when I was on my way back to the Hall."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."

After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.

"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."

"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made to return them?"

"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor won't dare to say anything to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing.

Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."

A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy was rather scared, but told a fairly straight story, and turned over the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all attention.

"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you would keep it to yourself."

"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."

"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would do as asked, and later on did so.

The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of the cla.s.s as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts, Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his few valued possessions.

On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He drank one gla.s.s of water, and an hour later got up to drink another, only to find the water pitcher empty.

"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he told himself. "And if I catch the fellow who salted my hash----"

He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher, made his way through the hallway to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher, started to return to dormitory No. 12.

As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pa.s.s along the other end of the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his head.

"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy pa.s.sed close to a dimly burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"

He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind Shadow. Then, of a sudden, he beheld the boy swing around and put out his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was fast asleep.

"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what had I best do?"

There was no time to think long, for the sleep-walker was already descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to him.

"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any noise."