"About three o'clock in the afternoon?"
"Between three and four."
"Very good, sir, very good indeed. You will not regret coming, I can assure you, sir. But one thing more. Let me caution you to say nothing to your school friends of this visit. I wish you to come entirely alone."
"Why alone?" demanded Dave, suspiciously.
"Because I wish to protect myself as well as you and your sister. I want no witnesses to our meeting, as I wish to avoid all trouble. I shall be alone, and I wish you to be alone also."
"This is a mighty strange proceeding."
"Possibly, Porter. But you will understand everything when you call. You need not be afraid. At present I am the only boarder Mrs. Dunn has, and she is old and somewhat deaf. The house is on the river road, the fourth place above the sawmill. It is painted light yellow. You can't miss it."
"And you won't tell me any more at present?"
"I cannot. But on Saturday afternoon, if you will come to me alone, you shall know all."
"Very well."
"And one thing more, Porter. I am going to do you and your family a great favor."
"Well?"
"I am a poor man. I could have made money out of my remedies had I charged as some physicians do, but instead I wished to aid humanity, and so sold my priceless medicines for a song. Yes, I am poor, sir, and I need money. If I aid you----" Hooker Montgomery paused suggestively.
"If you really do me a favor, you shall be well paid for it, Doctor Montgomery," replied Dave, promptly.
"You mean that?" And now the doctor's voice took on a sudden note of keen interest.
"I do."
"They tell me your folks are rich."
"We are well off."
"Ah, ahem! Very good! Then if I do a very great favor for you probably you will--er--appreciate it."
"Yes, sir."
"Then it is settled, Porter, and I shall look for you about three o'clock on Saturday sure. And you are to come entirely alone."
"I understand. But, listen, Doctor Montgomery," went on Dave, and his voice grew stern. "There is to be no underhanded work in this. If there is--well, you'll get the worst of it."
"Oh, no; nothing of that sort, I can assure you, sir! You have absolutely nothing to fear," answered the man hurriedly, but his eyes were rather shifty as he spoke.
"All right, I'll be on hand,--if I can get away."
They had now gained a crossroads, and here the doctor halted. He looked at Dave as if on the point of speaking again, then simply jerked his head in an attempted dignified fashion, and hurried off, around a bend and out of sight.
It would be hard to analyze Dave's feelings as he proceeded on his errand to Oakdale. He wondered if Doctor Montgomery was acting on his own account or for Merwell and Jasniff, and he also wondered what the mysterious letters and documents and photographs could be. Was it possible that Laura had once given her photograph to Merwell, or had it taken when in that rascal's company? If the latter was true, Merwell would know that the Porters would give a good deal to get the picture, and have the negative destroyed.
"Perhaps it is only a scheme to get me to Rockville and to some place where Jasniff and Merwell can lay hands on me," he mused. "They'd like nothing better than to black my eyes and pound me to a jelly. If I go there alone I'll have to keep my eyes wide open."
Then Dave remembered what the doctor had said about being a poor man and needing money. Perhaps the fellow thought to "bleed him," not only in the interest of Jasniff and Merwell, but also for himself.
"He'll not get a cent out of me unless he has something of real value to turn over to me," Dave decided. "If it's only a blackmailing scheme, he'll find me as sharp as himself." He could make nothing of the fact that the doctor had at first tried to avoid him.
He was half tempted to tell Roger and Phil about the affair, but at last decided to see it through alone. If there really was something in it about private letters and photographs he would prefer that his chums know nothing of it.
All that evening and throughout Friday, Dave was very thoughtful. His chums noticed it, and Roger and Phil both asked what was wrong.
"Nothing wrong," he answered, with a faint smile.
"You've got something on your mind, Dave," went on the senator's son. "Struck a new girl, or has Jessie struck a new fellow?"
"Not as bad as that, Roger. I was just wondering if I should buy a red necktie or a blue one."
"Rats! It's a girl, I'll wager a new hat."
"Or else Dave is thinking out some new essay with which to capture a prize," suggested Phil.
"Don't you worry about me," answered Dave. "Come on out and have a skate," and thus the subject was dismissed, for the time being.
The Leming River was in fine condition for skating, and fully two score of students were out, some cutting fancy figures, and a few racing. Among the number was Nat Poole, clad in a new crimson sweater and wearing a brand new pair of long hockey skates.
"Nat is training for hockey," said Roger. "He says he is going to organize a team."
"Well, we'll organize one, too," answered Dave. "I always did like field hockey, and I know I'd like it on the ice."
"Come on, Dave!" shouted Ben, circling up on his skates, and doing a "spread eagle."
"Come on where?"
"Get into the race! We want you, and Phil, and Roger, too."
"What race is that?"
"Mr. Dodsworth wants all the big boys in it. It's a race up the river for a mile, and back to the boathouse. The winner gets a silver lead-pencil sharpener."
"All right, I'm in that!" cried the shipowner's son. "I need a sharpener."
"So do I," added Roger. "How about it, Dave?"
"I'll go in, although my skates are not as sharp as they might be."
A crowd had gathered to see the race, and in a few minutes the contestants were lined up by the gymnastic teacher. The starters numbered fourteen, and included Nat Poole, Dave, Roger, Phil, Shadow, Ben, and Plum.
"All ready?" asked Mr. Dodsworth. "Then go!" And away went the long line, the skates flashing brightly in the clear sunlight, and the onlookers cheering, and uttering words of encouragement to their favorites.
CHAPTER XXIV
A RACE ON SKATES
"Go it, everybody!"
"May the best skater win!"
"Don't try to skate too fast, Ben. Remember, the race is two miles long!"
"Hello, there goes one fellow down!"
"It's Luke Watson. He has lost his skate."
The last report was correct, and as the skate could not be adjusted without the loss of some time, Luke gave up, and watched the others.
Nat Poole was exceedingly anxious to win the race, and he had been partly instrumental in getting up the contest. His new skates were of the best, and it must be admitted that Nat was no mean skater.
Phil had good skates and so had Roger. Dave's