Chapter XV The Return to Crumville - Dave Porter and his Double by Edward Stratemeyer

“If Ward Porton got my cap and overcoat he must have been staying at this hotel,” said Dave, after the announcement made by Ben. “Let us interview the proprietor without delay.”

He and his chums hurried back into the hotel and there met not only the proprietor but also his son.

“See here, have you anybody staying here who looks like me?” demanded our hero of both of them.

“Sure, we’ve got a fellow who looks like you,” declared the hotel-keeper’s son before his father could speak. “It’s a Mr. Jones. He has a room up on the third floor. He’s here with an older man named Brown.”

“I wish you would take me up to their room!” cried Dave, quickly.

“Why! what’s the matter now?”

“I want to find out whether that fellow is still here. If he is I want him placed under arrest.” And then Dave related a few of the particulars concerning Ward Porton and his doings.

“That certainly is a queer story,” remarked the hotel proprietor. “I’ll go upstairs with you.”

He led the way, followed by Dave and his chums. The youths were much astonished to see him halt at the door next to their own.

“They don’t seem to be there, or otherwise they are sleeping pretty soundly,” remarked the hotel proprietor, after he had knocked on the door several times.

“I guess you had better unlock the door,” suggested Dave. “I rather think you will find the room empty.”

A key was secured from one of the maids and the door was opened. The proprietor gave one look into the apartment.

“Gone!” he exclaimed. “Say! do you think they have run away?”

“That’s just exactly what I do think,” answered Dave. “And that fellow who looks like me most likely took my cap and overcoat.”

“And you say his name is Porton? He signed our register as William Jones.”

“Here’s his hat and coat,” announced Phil, opening the door to a closet. “Pretty poor clothing he left you in return for yours, Dave,” continued the shipowner’s son, after an inspection.

The hotel proprietor was very wrathy, declaring that Porton and his companion owed him for three days’ board.

“They’re swindlers, that’s what they are!” he cried. “Just wait till I land on them! I’ll put them in jail sure!”

“I’d willingly give you that board money just to get my hands on Ward Porton,” announced Dave. He turned to his chums. “This sure is the limit! First he goes to the stores and gets a lot of things in my name and then he steals my hat and overcoat right from under my nose!”

“Yes, and that isn’t the worst of it,” declared Roger. “There is no telling where he has gone; and even if you knew, in this awful storm it would be next to impossible to follow him.”

All went below, and there they continued to discuss the situation. In the midst of the talk the girls came down, accompanied by Dr. Renwick and his wife.

“Oh, Dave! you don’t mean to tell me that that horrid Ward Porton has been at more of his tricks!” cried Laura.

“Isn’t it perfectly dreadful!” put in Jessie. “And to think he was right in this hotel with us and we never knew it!”

“That’s what makes me so angry,” announced Dave. “If only I had clapped my eyes on him!” he added regretfully.

“Well, there’s no use of crying over spilt milk,” declared Roger. “He is gone, and so are Dave’s overcoat and his cap, and that is all there is to it.”

“Speaking of milk puts me in mind of breakfast,” put in Phil. “Now that the others are downstairs don’t you think we had better have something to eat?”

All were agreeable, and soon they were seated at a large table in the dining room, in company with the doctor and Mrs. Renwick. Here, while eating their breakfast, they discussed the situation from every possible standpoint, but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.

“Porton must have seen us when we came up to the rooms,” said Dave to his chums. “He probably heard me speak about leaving my cap and overcoat downstairs, and he just took a fiendish delight in walking off with them and leaving his old duds behind. Oh, he certainly is a peach!”

Had there been the slightest let-up in the blizzard, Dave and his chums would have gone out on a hunt around the town for Porton and his unknown companion. But with the wind blowing almost a hurricane, and the snow coming down as thickly as ever, Dr. Renwick told them that they had better remain indoors.

“It isn’t likely that they stayed anywhere around here, fearing detection,” said the physician. “They probably put a good distance between themselves and this hotel. And to go out in such a storm as this might make some of you sick.”

“Oh, well, what of that? We have a doctor handy,” answered Dave, whimsically. “Just the same, I guess we had better remain where we are,” he added, with a deep sigh.

It was not until the following morning that the wind died down and the snow ceased to fall. In the meantime, the young folks did what they could to entertain themselves, the girls playing on the piano in the hotel parlor, and the boys later on taking them to the bowling alleys next door and initiating them into the mysteries of the game. Dave was a good bowler and so was Roger, each being able occasionally to make a score of two hundred. But Ben and Phil could not do much better than one hundred, while none of the girls got over eighty.

“Now that the snow has stopped falling, I suppose we had better try to get back to Crumville,” said Laura to her brother.

“Yes, we ought to get back,” put in Jessie. “I suppose our folks are dreadfully worried about us.”

“It was too bad that you couldn’t send some sort of word,” came from Belle. “If you could only do that we could stay here until the roads were well broken.”

“In the West we don’t pretend to go out in such a storm,” remarked Cora Dartmore. “But, of course, our distances are greater, and we have so few landmarks that it is an easy thing to get lost.”

“I don’t think we are going to get away from here in any great hurry,” replied Dave. “It is true the snow has stopped coming down and the sun is breaking through the clouds; but I am quite sure the drifts on the road between here and Crumville are much higher than we can manage, even with the powerful horses we have. We’ll have to wait until the roads are more or less broken.”

Our hero was right about not getting away. They went down to the stables and interviewed Washington Bones and several of the other drivers present, and all agreed that it would not be possible to get very far beyond the town limits. This news made the young folks chafe considerably, but there was nothing to be done; so for another day they had to content themselves as best they could. During that time the boys did their best to send some message to Crumville, but without success, for all of the telephone and telegraph wires were still down and nothing had been done to mend them.

The next morning, however, things looked a little brighter. The weather continued to improve, and several horse teams, as well as an ox team, came through on the road from the direction of Crumville.

“The road ain’t none too good so far as I could see,” announced one of the drivers to Dave. “But if you take your time and watch where you’re going, maybe you can get through.”

“Oh, let us try it anyway!” cried Laura, who was present. “If we find we can’t make it we can come back here, or else stop at some other place along the way.”

It was finally agreed that they should make the effort, and they started about ten o’clock. The sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy on the snow, and with no wind blowing it was considerably warmer than it had been on the journey to Lamont. All of the young folks were in good humor, Dave for the time being dismissing from his mind the trouble occasioned by the loss of his cap and overcoat.

As they drove away from the town they could see the effects of the great wind. In some spots the road was almost bare of snow, while in others there were drifts ten and twelve feet in height. To drive through such drifts was, of course, impossible; so they had to make long detours through the surrounding fields. At such places the horses, of course, had to be driven with extra care, for no one wanted the sleigh to land in some hole or be overturned. Occasionally, when the turnout was on a dangerous slant, the girls would shriek and the boys would hold their breath; but each time Washington Bones was equal to the occasion and brought them through safely.

By noon they had covered five miles, and then they stopped to rest at a village where all procured a good hot dinner. Then they went forward once again, this time through a long patch of timber.

“If we gits through dat, we’ll be all right,” declared the colored driver.

The snow lay deep in the woods, but the horses proved equal to the occasion, and at last the timber was left behind and they came out on a ridge road where the snow was only a few inches in depth. Here they were able to make fairly good time, so that three o’clock found them almost within sight of the outskirts of Crumville.

“We’re going to make it easily,” declared Ben. But he proved to be mistaken, for a little distance farther on they ran again into the deep snow and had to pass around one drift after another, finally going clear across several fields to another highway. As a result it was well after dark before they gained the road leading past the Wadsworth jewelry works.

“Well, this looks like home, anyway,” declared Dave to Jessie, as he nodded in the direction of her father’s establishment.

“Yes, and I’m glad of it,” returned the girl. “Gracious! it seems to me that we have been on the road for a week!”

“We can be thankful that we got through so easily, Jessie. Wash is certainly some driver.”

On account of another big drift they had to pass to still another road, and this brought them finally to the street leading past the Basswood home.

“If it’s all the same to you folks, I’ll get off at my place,” announced Ben. “I suppose my father and mother are worrying about me.”

“Go ahead, Ben,” returned Dave. And then he added quickly: “I trust you find your father is better.”

With a flourish Washington Bones drew up the panting horses in front of the Basswood place. Just as Ben leaped from the sleigh the front door of the house opened and Mrs. Basswood appeared.

“Ben! Ben! is that you?” cried the youth’s parent, quickly.

“Yes, Mother,” he answered cheerily. “Don’t worry. I am all right.”

Forgetful that she had on only thin shoes, and no covering over her head or shoulders, Mrs. Basswood ran directly down to the big sleigh. She glanced over the occupants and her eyes fastened instantly on Dave.

“Dave, have you been with Ben since you went away?” she queried. “You haven’t been to our house?”

“Why certainly I haven’t been here, Mrs. Basswood,” he returned promptly.

“Then it’s true! It’s true!” she wailed, wringing her hands.

“What’s true, Mother?” demanded the son.

“The miniatures! They’re gone! They have been stolen! That young man who looks like Dave was here and took them away!”