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"Huh! I don't think my uncle drew it," he said.
"And we think he did," returned Dave.
There was a sudden silence after this. Each boy was busy with his thoughts. Dave felt particularly light-hearted.
"This ought to clear Phil and the others," he reasoned. "And they can come back to school without delay and finish the term and graduate."
Having packed up his things, Nat got out his bicycle and prepared to ride back to Oak Hall, and the others did the same.
"Going to give me that drawing?" asked the money-lender's son, just as he was ready to start off.
"No, we are going to turn it over to Doctor Clay," said Roger.
"All right, have your own way," growled Nat.
As in coming to the cabin, the money-lender's son took the lead in the return to Oak Hall. Dave and Roger kept close behind and occasionally spoke of the happenings in guarded tones. When the school was reached all left their bicycles in the gymnasium.
"Going to Doctor Clay now?" demanded Nat.
"We might as well," said Dave. "The sooner he knows of this, the better for everybody."
"All right."
Doctor Clay was somewhat surprised to see the three boys, dusty and tired-looking, enter his private office. He listened with close attention to their tale of visiting the cabin and encountering the wild man, and looked completely astonished on learning that the man was Nat's uncle.
"I am sorry for you, Poole," said he, kindly. "But such things will happen and you must make the best of it. It is not your fault."
Then Dave and Roger told of the finding of the old magazine with the drawing and writing, and Doctor Clay shook his head sorrowfully.
"Too bad! Too bad!" he murmured.
"But this clears Lawrence, Basswood, and Beggs," cried Dave. "And it clears Roger and myself."
"Yes! yes! so it does, Porter!"
"Don't you believe it, Doctor Clay!" cried Nat, leaping to his feet. "It does nothing of the sort! That paper is no kind of evidence at all!" And thus speaking, the money-lender's son glared defiantly at Dave and Roger.
CHAPTER XXII
AFTER THE RUNAWAYS
"Why, Nat, what do you mean?" demanded Dave.
"I mean just what I say!" declared the money-lender's son. "This is a frame-up, nothing more! I understand it all now, although I didn't at first."
"What do you mean by 'a frame-up,' Poole?" demanded Doctor Clay.
"I mean that they took this magazine and the drawing to the cabin, that is what I mean, Doctor Clay. They found out somehow that my--er--that the wild man was there, and they got up this scheme to make it look as if he had blown up the hotel,--and they did it just to clear their cronies and themselves."
"Nat, you know that is not true!" exclaimed Roger. "I found the magazine with the drawing on a shelf in the cabin."
"Yes, that is what you said, but I don't believe it, Roger Morr. I think you put the magazine there yourself--you or Dave Porter."
"We did nothing of the kind," cried our hero.
"I think you did--and I think Jason Sparr will think so, too, when he hears the story. It's a frame-up, just to clear yourselves and your cronies," added Nat, with a sneer.
"Nat, you ought to be----" began Roger, in high anger, when Dave stopped him. Our hero looked at Doctor Clay.
"What Roger says is the absolute truth, Doctor Clay," said our hero. "He found that magazine on a shelf in the cabin where the wild man was staying, and that drawing and the wording were on it, just as you see. More than that, we can prove that the wild man was around the old shanty where the dynamite was kept, and that he was seen in Oakdale several times."
Dave was interrupted here by Nat, and a wordy war lasting several minutes followed. Finally Doctor Clay said he would take the magazine and keep it, and that he would notify the authorities in what locality the wild man might be found, provided he had not gone away further than expected.
"I am inclined to believe the story told by Morr and Porter," said he somewhat sternly to Nat Poole. "But this matter cannot be cleared up until we find your uncle. When captured, the unfortunate man will most likely speak of the blowing up in some way or another, if he is guilty."
"I don't think so," answered Nat; but his manner showed that he was much disturbed. Then Dave and Roger were dismissed, and the master of the school took Nat with him to Oakdale, to see what could be done towards rounding up Wilbur Poole in the near future.
"Well, Dave, what is the next move?" asked the senator's son, as the two were alone in the lavatory, washing up after the long bicycle ride.
"I wish I could find Phil and the others and get them to come back here," responded our hero. "It is a great mistake for them to stay away."
"I believe you--it looks just as if they were guilty. I wonder that they don't come back on their own account, now they have had a chance to think it over."
"I think they saw that article in the newspaper, Roger, and it scared them worse than ever. Maybe they imagine the officers of the law are waiting to gobble them up."
"If we only had some trace of them!"
"I've got an idea I am going to follow up."
"What sort of an idea?"
"I was thinking of that baggage that left here. Maybe it was shipped to some point."
"You'll have a job tracing it up."
"I can try it, anyway," answered our hero.
A day slipped by and nothing more was said about the affair by Doctor Clay or Nat Poole. Then Nat left the school, telling some friends he was going home for a week's rest.
"Most likely he is after his uncle," was Roger's comment, and Dave agreed with him.
As soon as he could get the time Dave went to Oakdale to see if he could find any trace of the baggage belonging to Phil and the others who had run away. He made many inquiries but without success, and was on the point of returning to the school when he happened to think of an old man named Dowling, who did some trucking and who knew Buster Beggs very well.
"We'll go around to Dowling's place," said he to his chum.
They found the old man in a little shanty behind his house which he called his office. It had an old easy-chair and a desk, and on the wall was a telephone.
"How do you do, boys," he said, politely. "What can I do for you? Want some baggage shipped?"
"No, I came for some information, Mr. Dowling," said Dave. "Have you shipped any baggage for Buster Beggs lately?"
At the mention of the fat student's name the old expressman started.
"What do you want to know that for?" he demanded.
"I've a very good reason, Mr. Dowling. I want to do Beggs a favor."
"Reckon you want to find him, eh?"
"Yes."
"So do some other folks;" and the old man chuckled.
"Well, we are his friends, and we want to find him for his own good."
"Who