PREFACE

“Dave Porter on Cave Island” is a complete story in itself but forms the eighth volume in a line issued under the general title of “Dave Porter Series.”

The opening tale of this series, called “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” related the adventures of a wide-awake lad at a typical boarding school of to-day. This was followed by “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” whither our hero had gone to find his father, and then by “Dave Porter’s Return to School.”

From Oak Hall, Dave journeyed to Norway, as related in “Dave Porter in the Far North.” On his return to this country he once more attended school, as told of in “Dave Porter and His Classmates.” Dave made a host of friends and likewise a few enemies, and some of the latter plotted to do him much harm.

When vacation came once more, Dave received an invitation to visit a home in the far west, and what he did on that trip has been set forth in “Dave Porter at Star Ranch.” Then, when vacation days were at an end, he came back to Oak Hall, as related in the seventh volume of this series, entitled, “Dave Porter and His Rivals.”

In the present book we find Dave again at school. But the Christmas holidays are at hand and the lad returns home. Here a most mysterious and unlooked-for happening occurs, and Dave’s great benefactor, Mr. Wadsworth, is on the verge of ruin because of it. Dave gets a clew to the mystery, and, with his chums, resolves to investigate. He takes a long journey and has a number of stirring adventures, the particulars of which are given in the pages that follow.

When I started this line of books I trusted that Dave might please the boys, but I did not imagine that so many thousands of boys and girls all over the land would clamor as they have for more concerning the doings of my hero. I thank all for their appreciation of my efforts to please them, and I sincerely trust that the reading of this new volume will be a benefit to them.

Edward Stratemeyer.

February 1, 1912.

CHAPTER I – THE SCHOOLBOY CHUMS

“Come on, fellows, if you are going! It’s a good six-mile skate to Squirrel Island, and we’ve got to hustle if we want to get there in time for lunch.”

“Wait till I fix my right skate, Dave,” returned Phil Lawrence. “I don’t want to lose it on the way.”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” came from another of the group of schoolboys who were adjusting their skates. “Once a man asked for a pair of skates for – ”

“Stow it, Shadow!” interrupted Dave Porter. “We haven’t any time now to listen to stories. You can tell them while we are resting up at the island.”

“Shadow can tell stories while we put away the lunch,” observed Roger Morr, with a grin.

“Not much!” cried the lad mentioned. “I guess that skate will make me as hungry as anybody – and the stories will keep.”

“I thought Ben Basswood was going, too?” came from another of the schoolboys.

“Here he comes, Lazy,” answered Dave, and as he spoke he pointed to a path across the snow-covered campus, along which another boy was hurrying, skates in hand.

“Co-couldn’t get here an-any so-sooner!” panted Ben, as he dropped on a bench to adjust his skates. “Old Haskers made me do some extra work in Latin! Wow, but don’t I love that man!”

“We all do,” answered Phil. “We are going to get up a testimonial to him. A silver-mounted – ”

“Slice of punk, with an ancient lemon on top,” finished Dave. “It’s just what he’s been waiting for.” And at this sally there was a general laugh.

“Well, I’m ready,” went on Phil, as he arose from the bench. “Say, but isn’t it just a glorious day for the outing?” he added, casting his eyes around and drawing in a deep breath of the pure, cold air.

“It couldn’t be better, Phil,” answered Dave. “And we ought to have a fine time at the island, bringing down rabbits and squirrels. Old Jerry Lusk told me that hunting was never better.”

“What’s the matter with having some of the rabbits and squirrels for lunch?” asked Sam Day.

“Perhaps we can cook them, Sam,” returned Dave. “But we had better depend on the lunch hamper for something to eat. By the way, we’ll have to take turns carrying the hamper. It is rather heavy.”

“Chip Macklin and I are going to carry it first,” said a tall, strong youth named Gus Plum. “It’s not so very heavy, although it is filled with good things.”

“Don’t lose it, on your life!” cried Phil.

“Lose it!” echoed Roger Morr. “Banish the thought! We’ll form a guard around Gus and Chip, so they can’t get away with it on the sly.”

“Not so much as a doughnut must be eaten until we reach the island and start a campfire,” said Dave. “Those are orders from headquarters,” he added, with a grand flourish.

“Orders accepted, admiral!” cried Gus, and made a bow so profound that his skates went from under him, sending him to his knees. This caused a wild laugh, and the powerfully-built youth got up in a hurry, looking rather sheepish.

“I’m ready now,” said Ben, as he left the bench and settled his skating cap on his head. “Come on, let’s get away before old Haskers calls us back for something or other. He just loves to spoil a fellow’s outing.”

“There he is at one of the windows!” cried Roger, pointing back to the school building. “I really believe he is beckoning to us!”

“Don’t look,” cautioned Dave. “He’ll want us to go back, to put away some books, or clean our desks, or something. Doctor Clay said we could take this outing, and I’m not going to let any teacher spoil it. Forward!” and away from the shore he skated, with his chums around him. They had scarcely covered a distance of a dozen yards when a window was thrown up hastily, and Job Haskers thrust his head through the opening.

“Boys! boys!” called out the Oak Hall teacher. “Wait a minute! I want to know where you are going, and if all of you have finished studying.”

“Don’t look back, and don’t answer!” said Roger, in a hoarse whisper.

“Give the school yell!” suggested Phil.

“Just the thing!” returned Sam Day. “Now then, all together!” And an instant later through the clear, wintry air, rang the well-known Oak Hall slogan:

 
“Baseball!
    Football!
    Oak  Hall
    Has  the  call!
    Biff!  Boom!  Bang!  Whoop!”
 

Three times the boys gave the cry, and by that time they had skated far up the river and out of sight of the window at which the teacher was standing. Job Haskers looked after them glumly, and then closed the window with a bang.

“They must have heard me – I don’t see how they could help it,” he muttered to himself. “Such disrespect! I’ll make them toe the mark for it when they get back! Bah! Doctor Clay is altogether too easy with the boys. If I were running this school I’d make them mind!” And the teacher shut his teeth grimly. He was a man who thought that the boys ought to spend all their time in studying. The hours devoted to outdoor exercise he considered practically wasted. He was too short-sighted to realize that, in order to have a perfectly sound mind, one must likewise have a sound body.

“He’ll have it in for us when we get back,” murmured Chip Macklin. “My! how he does love to stop a fellow’s fun!”

“Don’t worry,” chimed in Roger. “Sufficient unto the hour is the lecture thereof. Let us enjoy this outing while it lasts, and let come what will when we get back.”

“Which puts me in mind of another story,” broke in Shadow Hamilton. “A fellow used to eat too much, and he had to take his medicine regularly, to keep from getting indigestion. So once – wow!” And Shadow broke off short, for Phil had suddenly put out his foot, sending the story-teller of Oak Hall sprawling.

“So he had to take his medicine,” repeated Dave, gravely.

“Did the medicine agree with him?” asked Roger, innocently.

“He 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.”