LITMIR.BIZ

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and made a hideous face at them. Then he sat down on the middle seat of the craft, placed the oars in the rowlocks, and commenced to row rapidly down the stream.

      "Well, that's the end of the chase," remarked Dave, in some disgust.

      "That's right, since we haven't any boat," returned Roger. "Wonder where he got that craft? I don't think he bought it."

      "It isn't likely. Probably he saw it somewhere along the river and simply appropriated it." And this proved to be true.

      The boys watched the wild man until a bend of the stream hid rower and craft from view. Then they turned back in the direction of the old stone house.

      "Did you get him?" demanded Buster, who was waiting with Gus at the point where he had dropped out of the race.

      "No," answered Roger, and told why.

      "He sure is a cute one," went on the stout youth. "Say, if they don't catch him soon, he'll have this whole neighborhood scared to death."

      The students soon reached the old house. Here they found the two girls and Phil, the latter with a heavy stick in his hand, ready for any emergency. The girls had calmed down a little, but were still much agitated.

      "We were to come home in my uncle's carriage," said Mary Feversham. "But the horse got a lame foot and so we decided to walk. We had heard of the wild man, but did not think we would meet him. Oh, it was dreadful!"

      "He didn't hurt you, did he?" asked Dave.

      "Oh, no, but he frightened us so! He danced around us and caught us by the arms, and he wanted us to give him money! Oh, it was dreadful!"

      "He ought to be in an asylum," said Dave. And then he and Roger related how the wild man had escaped.

      "I sha'n't go out alone again," said Vera Rockwell. "That is, not until that man is captured."

      "We'll take you both home," said Phil, promptly, looking at Mary.

      "But we don't want to keep you from what you were going to do," said Vera.

      "Oh, we were only out for a walk," replied Dave. "We'll walk to town with you. Maybe we'll hear something more of this strange fellow."

      All turned back on the road that led close to Oak Hall, and after discussing the wild man from various points of view, the conversation turned to other matters. The girls told of what they had been doing during the past holidays and asked the boys about themselves.

      "I heard that that horrid Jasniff is under arrest," said Vera to Dave. "I am glad of it. It is a pity that Merwell got away."

      "Perhaps," answered our hero. "But, somehow, I sometimes think that Link Merwell will turn over a new leaf."

      Vera looked back, to make sure that none of the others were near.

      "Just like Mr. Plum, I suppose you mean," she whispered. "Oh, it was splendid, what you did for him, Dave!"

      "Oh, I didn't do much for Gus."

      "My brother thinks you did. He heard the whole story. It was brave and noble of you, it was indeed!" And Vera's face showed her earnestness.

      "Well, Gus has turned out a nice fellow. I wish Merwell would turn out as good."

      "But he helped to take those jewels."

      "That is true--and that will always be a black mark against him," said Dave, soberly.

      Soon all reached the outskirts of Oakdale and there, at one of the corners, the boys left the girls.

      "Pretty late!" cried Gus Plum, consulting the watch he carried. "We'll have to hike back lively, if we don't want to be marked up for tardiness."

      "We can get an excuse, if we tell about the wild man," said Buster. "I've hurried all I'm going to."

      "We'll certainly have a yarn to spin when we get back to the school," was Phil's comment.

      At the entrance to the campus the boys, who were a little late, met the first assistant to Doctor Clay. As my old readers know Mr. Dale was as pleasant as Job Haskers was disagreeable.

      "Had a fine walk, boys?" he asked, with a smile.

      "We had an adventure," answered Dave, and then he and his chums told what it was.

      "Well! well! that wild man again," mused the instructor. "This is getting truly serious. I was hoping he would leave this neighborhood. And so he calls himself the King of Sumatra? That is strange."

      "It certainly is strange," answered Dave.

      But how strange, our hero was still to find out.

      CHAPTER X

      NAT POOLE WANTS TO KNOW

      That evening Dave was on his way to the school library, to consult a certain work of reference, when he ran into another student who suddenly grasped him by the shoulder. It was rather dark where the pair confronted each other, and for the instant our hero did not recognize the fellow.

      "What do you want?"

      "I want to speak to you for a minute, Dave Porter," said the other, in a voice that trembled a trifle.

      "Oh, it's you, Nat," answered Dave, as he recognized the son of the Crumville money-lender. "What do you want?" He rather imagined that the youth wished to pick another quarrel with him.

      "I--I want to talk in private with you," returned Nat, and looked around, to see if anybody else was near.

      "What about?"

      "You were out walking this afternoon and met that wild man, so I heard."

      "That is true."

      "You tried to catch him, didn't you?"

      "Yes, Roger Morr, Buster Beggs, Gus Plum, and I did our best to collar him, but he was too fast for us. He ran down to the river, got into a rowboat, and rowed away."

      "So I heard. And I heard something else," continued the boy from Crumville. "When you called to the man to stop he answered back, didn't he?"

      "Yes."

      "Will you please tell me what he said?" And Nat's voice had an eager ring in it.

      "He told us to beware and go back, or we'd get into trouble."

      "Didn't he say something more than that?"

      "Oh, yes, a great deal more."

      "He called himself something, didn't he?"

      "Yes. Look here, Nat, what is this to you? Why are you so interested?" queried Dave, for he could easily perceive that the other youth was more than ordinarily anxious to know the particulars of what had occurred.

      "I--I--want to--er--know, that's all. Did he call himself anything?"

      "Yes; he thinks he is the King of Sumatra."

      "He called himself that?" asked Nat, with increased excitement.

      "Yes, two or three times. But see here, Nat----"

      "Will you please tell me how he looked? Was he tall and rather thin?"

      "Yes."

      "And what kind of hair did he have?"

      "Brownish-red, as near as I could make out, and very long. And he had rather a long beard and a large nose," went on our hero.

      At this brief but accurate description of the wild man, Nat Poole paled a trifle and uttered something of a gasp.

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