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took it lying down, didn’t he?” questioned Gus.

      “I’ll ‘medicine’ you!” roared Shadow, as he scrambled to his feet. Then he made a wild dash after the youth who had tripped him up, but Phil had skated on ahead and he took good care that Shadow did not catch him. “I won’t tell you another story for a year!” the story-teller growled, after the chase was at an end.

      “Phew! Shadow says he is going to reform!” murmured Ben.

      “Let it pass, Shadow!” cried Dave, not wishing the story-teller to take the matter too seriously. “You can tell all the stories you please around the campfire. But just now let us push on as fast as we can. I want a chance to do some rabbit and squirrel hunting, and you know we’ve got to be back on time, or we’ll have trouble with Doctor Clay as well as with old Haskers.”

      “Yes, and I want to take some pictures before it gets too dark,” said Sam, who had his camera along.

      “Do you know what Horsehair told me?” came from Roger. “He said we were fixing for another snowstorm.”

      “It doesn’t look so now,” returned Dave. “But Horsehair generally hits it on the weather, so maybe we’ll catch it before we get back.”

      “Wonder if we’ll meet any of the Rockville cadets?” remarked Phil, as he and Dave forged to the front, they knowing the way up the river better than did some of the others.

      “It is possible, Phil. All of them have guns, and I should think they would like to go hunting.”

      “I guess most of their firearms are rifles, not fowling-pieces.”

      “Not more than half – I learned that from Mallory, when we played hockey. He said they had some shotguns just for hunting and camping out purposes.”

      “Well, those chaps have a holiday to-day, the same as we have, so some of them may be up around Squirrel Island. But I’d rather not meet them,” and Dave’s face became serious.

      “Humph! If those military academy fellows try to play any tricks on us I reckon we can give ’em as good as they send,” growled Phil.

      “To be sure we can, Phil. But I’d rather keep out of trouble to-day and have some good, clean sport. I haven’t been hunting this season and I’m just itching to draw a bead on a fat bunny, or squirrel, or some partridges. You know, I used to go hunting in the woods around Crumville, when I was home.”

      “Why, of course! Didn’t Roger and I go along once? But we didn’t get much that trip, although we did get into a lively row with Nat Poole.”

      “Oh, yes, I remember now. I wish – ” And then Dave Porter came to a sudden silence.

      “What is it, Dave?” and Phil looked closely at his chum.

      “Oh, not much,” was the evasive answer.

      “But I know something is worrying you,” insisted the shipowner’s son. “I’ve noticed it for several days, and Roger noticed it, too.”

      “Roger?”

      “Yes. He came to me yesterday and said that he was sure you had something on your mind. Now, maybe it is none of our business, Dave. But if I and Roger can help you in any way, you know we’ll be only too glad to do it.” Phil spoke in a low but earnest voice.

      “Hi, what’s doing in the front rank?” cried a cheery voice at this juncture, and Roger Morr skated swiftly up beside Dave and Phil.

      “I’m glad you came,” said Phil, and he looked at the senator’s son in a peculiar fashion. “I was just speaking to Dave about how we had noticed something was wrong, and how we were willing to help him, if he needed us.”

      “Sure, we’ll help you every time, Dave; you know that,” returned Roger, quickly.

      “I don’t know that I need any help,” answered Dave, slowly. “The fact of the matter is, I don’t know what can be done.”

      “Then something is wrong?” cried both of his chums.

      “Yes, if you must know. I was going to keep it to myself, for I didn’t think it would do any good to tell about it. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want it to go any further, unless it becomes necessary to speak.”

      “Before you tell us, let me make a guess about this,” said Phil. “Some of your old enemies are trying to make trouble for you, is that right?”

      “Yes.”

      “And those enemies are Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff,” cried Roger.

      “Yes, again,” answered Dave.

      “What are they up to now, Dave?” The eager question came from Phil.

      “They are up to a number of things,” was the grave response of Dave Porter. “They are evidently going to do their best to disgrace my family and myself, and ruin us.”

      CHAPTER II – A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST

      “Disgrace you and ruin you!” cried Roger, in amazement.

      “That is what it looks like,” answered Dave. “I can account for their actions in no other way.”

      “Tell us just what is going on,” urged Phil. “You know you can trust us to keep it a secret.”

      “I will tell you everything,” answered Dave. “But first let us skate up a little faster, so that the others won’t catch a word of what is said.” And with that he struck out more rapidly than ever, and his two chums did likewise.

      To those who have read the former volumes of this series, Dave Porter will need no introduction. For the benefit of others let me state that my hero had had a varied career, starting when he was but a child of a few years. At that time he had been found wandering along the railroad tracks near the town of Crumville. As nobody claimed him, he was placed in a local poorhouse and later bound out to a broken-down college professor, Caspar Potts, who had taken up farming for his health.

      Professor Potts was in the grasp of a miserly money-lender of Crumville named Aaron Poole, who had a son Nat, who could not get along at all with Dave. Mr. Poole was about to foreclose a mortgage on the professor’s place and sell him out when something occurred that was the means of changing the whole course of the professor’s own life and that of the youth who lived with him.

      On the outskirts of Crumville lived Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a wealthy manufacturer, with his wife and daughter Jessie. One day the gasoline tank of an automobile took fire and little Jessie was in danger of being burned to death. Dave rushed to her assistance and beat out the flames, and thus saved her. For this Mr. Wadsworth was very grateful. He made some inquiries concerning Caspar Potts and Dave, and learning that Professor Potts had been one of his former college instructors, he made the old gentleman come and live with him.

      “Dave shall go to boarding school and get a good education,” said Mr. Wadsworth. And how Dave went has been told in detail in the first volume of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.” With Dave went Ben Basswood, his one boy friend in Crumville.

      At Oak Hall, a fine seat of learning, located on the Leming River, in one of our eastern states, Dave made a number of warm friends, including Phil Lawrence, the son of a rich shipowner; Roger Morr, whose father was a United States senator; Maurice Hamilton, usually called Shadow, who was noted for his sleep-walking and the stories he loved to tell; Sam Day, known throughout the school as Lazy, why nobody could tell, since Sam at times was unusually active, and a score of others, some of whom have already been introduced. He also made, in those days, one enemy, Gus Plum. But Gus had since reformed, and was now as good a friend as any of the rest.

      What troubled Dave most of all in those days was the question of his identity. How he started to find out who he was has been related in my second volume, called “Dave Porter in the South Seas.” There he did not meet his father, as he had hoped, but he did meet his uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned much concerning his father, David Breslow Porter, and also his sister Laura, then traveling in Europe.

      When

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