Dave Porter and His Double: or, The Disapperarance of the Basswood Fortune

The struggle with Ward Porton, followed by the run, had put Dave into quite a perspiration, and in the depth of the woods he found it exceedingly cold.

“I’ll have to keep on the move or I may get a chill,” he told the others, after another look around. “I guess we had better give it up.”

“Goin’ to offer any reward for capturin’ that feller?” questioned the older of the two boys, when the four were on their way back to the cow-shed.

“Yes, I’ll give a reward,” answered our hero, promptly. “If any of you can catch him and have him held by the authorities I’ll give you ten dollars.”

“Wow! Me for the ten dollars!” cried the youth. “But say! how’ll I know that feller if I do find him?” he questioned suddenly.

“That’s right, Billy, you won’t want to hold the wrong man,” put in the father, with a grin. “If you did that, you might get into hot water,” and he chuckled.

“It will be easy to recognize him,” answered Dave. “Just take a good look at me. Well, unfortunately, that other fellow resembles me very closely. In fact, that’s the reason I want to catch him. That’s how he got those goods I said he had stolen. It’s virtually stealing to get goods in such an underhand manner.”

“All right, I’ll know the feller if he looks like you,” said Billy. He turned to his younger brother. “Say, Paul, what do you say if we go into the woods later on and lay low for that feller? Maybe he’ll come out this way after he thinks the way is clear.”

“Sure, I’ll go with you,” declared Paul. “If we look around very carefully we may be able to pick up his tracks somewhere.”

It must be admitted that Dave felt much crestfallen when he bade good-bye to the farmer and his sons, after having left them his name and address.

The farmer had offered to drive him back to Bixter, but our hero had stated that he would rather walk and take the short cut through the woods. When he arrived at the village he found Roger wondering what had become of him.

“Well, did you catch Porton?” queried the senator’s son.

“I did and I didn’t,” answered Dave, with a grim sort of smile. And he related the particulars of what had occurred.

“Great hambones, Dave! you certainly have had an experience!” was Roger’s comment. “Let me look at that ear. I declare! it’s quite swollen. I hope it didn’t hurt anything inside,” he added anxiously.

“It rings and aches a little, Roger; but I don’t think it is seriously hurt.”

“How about your shoulder?”

“That feels a little sore, but that’s all. I’ll soon get over it.”

“And to think you got so close to capturing him and then he got away!” was the sad comment of the senator’s son. “It does beat all how slippery some of those rascals are.”

“I’m living in hope that those farmer boys will locate Porton,” said Dave. “I promised them a reward of ten dollars if they did so. That’s a lot of money for lads living around here.”

Now that he had rejoined Roger, and had gotten partly over the effects of his encounter with Porton, Dave was rather loath to give up the hunt. They managed to find a store where the proprietor occasionally furnished lunches, and there procured some sandwiches and hot chocolate. Then they drove to Barnett by the regular highway, and there took another look around for the missing evil-doer.

“The boys have gone down to the woods to look for him,” announced the farmer when Dave called on him once more. “If they learn anything I’ll let you know.”

That evening found Dave and Roger back in Crumville, where, of course, they had to relate the details of what had happened.

“Oh, Dave, you must be more careful!” cried Jessie, after he had told of the encounter in the woods. “That wicked fellow might kill you!” and she shuddered.

“Yes indeed, you ought to be careful,” said Laura. “Why, he seems to be almost as bad as Merwell and Jasniff were!”

“So he is, Laura. And if I ever get the chance I’ll put him where they are–in prison,” answered the brother grimly.

As was to be expected, Dave was quite worked up over what had occurred, and that night he did not sleep very well. Both his father and his sister insisted that he go to a physician and have his ear examined.

“No damage done, so far as I can see,” said the doctor. “But you had better bathe it with witch-hazel and keep it warm for a day or two.”

The next day Dave settled down to his studies as well as he was able. He hoped that word might come in that Ward Porton had been captured, but in this he was disappointed.

“I think he’ll steer clear of this neighborhood, for a while at least,” was Mr. Porter’s comment.

“That’s just my idea,” added Dave’s Uncle Dunston. “He must know that a great many swindled storekeepers and other people are on the watch for him.”

Dave had not seen Ben Basswood for several days. On the following evening the son of the real estate dealer came hurrying over to the Wadsworth mansion.

“We’ve got news about that Mr. Enos’s estate!” cried Ben, as soon as he met Dave and Roger. “It’s the queerest thing you ever heard of. Mother doesn’t know what to make of it, and I don’t know what to make of it, either.”

“Well, I hope it’s a valuable estate if it is coming to your father,” said the senator’s son.

“I don’t know whether it is valuable or not, and neither does father. He says in his telegram it is certainly worth several thousand dollars, and he doesn’t know but that it may be worth a hundred thousand dollars or more.”

“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Laura, who had come in to hear what Ben had to tell. “Oh, Ben, that certainly is a fortune!”

“Well, what does it consist of?” queried Dave. “If it may be worth all the way from two or three thousand dollars to a hundred thousand or more, it must be mining stocks or something like that.”

“No, it isn’t in stocks or bonds or anything like that.”

“Then what in the world does the estate consist of?” questioned our hero.

“Miniatures,” answered Ben Basswood, simply.

CHAPTER IX

SOMETHING ABOUT MINIATURES

“Miniatures?” came from all of Ben Basswood’s listeners in a chorus.

“Do you mean those little paintings that are sometimes so valuable?” continued Laura.

“That’s it,” answered Ben. “I don’t know much about miniatures myself, but as soon as mother and I heard about this queer fortune of ours she asked the minister. You know he is quite interested in art, and he told her that most of these little miniatures, which are about the size of a silver dollar or a small saucer, are usually painted on ivory. Of course, some of them are not so valuable, but others, especially those painted by celebrated artists, are worth thousands of dollars.”

“And how many of these miniatures are there, Ben?” asked Roger, with increased curiosity.

“Father didn’t know exactly, but said they would number at least fifty, and maybe seventy-five.”

“I suppose they are paintings of celebrated individuals–kings, queens, and like that?” was Dave’s comment.

“No, these miniatures, so father stated, are made up almost entirely of the great fighters of the world–army and navy men, lieutenant-generals, admirals, and officers like that.”

“Well, where in the world did this Mr. Enos get money enough to buy such things?” asked Jessie, who had followed Laura into the room.

“That’s the queer part of it,” answered the real-estate dealer’s son. “It seems, after Mr. Enos and my father gave up business and separated, Enos went South–first to Texas and then into Mexico. There he joined some men who were opening up a gold mine. These men struck it rich, and almost before he knew it Mr. Enos was worth quite a lot of money. He had never been very much of a business man–being wrapped up almost entirely in art–and so he did not know how to handle his money. He had always had a liking for miniatures, so my father stated, and he went in to gather this collection. He didn’t want any kings or queens or noted society women, or anything like that, but he did want every miniature ever painted of an army or a navy fighter. Of course, my father doesn’t know all the particulars yet, but he has learned that Mr. Enos put himself out a great deal to get hold of certain miniatures, hunting for them all over Europe and also in this country. He even went down to South America to get miniatures of some of their heroes, and also picked up several in Mexico, and one or two in Texas.”