Dave Porter and His Rivals: or, The Chums and Foes of Oak Hall. Stratemeyer Edward

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      "Right you are, Lazy," put in Phil Lawrence. "But maybe, with Link Merwell gone, he won't be quite so bad as he was."

      "Oh, that horrid Link Merwell!" cried Jessie. "I trust we never see or hear of him again!"

      "Well, one thing is certain, Merwell will never get back to Oak Hall," said Dave. "He got his walking papers and that settled it. He is out for good, the same as Nick Jasniff."

      "Dave, have you heard anything about Jasniff lately?" questioned Phil.

      "One of the boys wrote that he had heard Nick had returned to the United States. Personally, I haven't seen or heard from him since we met in Europe – and I don't want to see him," added Dave, earnestly.

      Toot! toot! came from behind the leading automobile, and a moment later the second car ranged up alongside.

      "Guess you folks are doing more talking than running!" cried Roger, with a grin. "Here is where we show you the road!" And in a twinkling the second car shot ahead, and was "hitting her up," as Ben expressed it, at thirty miles an hour. Dave immediately turned on more speed likewise, and over the smooth, straight road both machines spun.

      "Oh, Dave, is it safe?" asked Jessie, with a little gasp, as the speed increased.

      "Yes, – as long as we are on the straight road," he answered. "We'll have to slow down at the turn."

      "I like to ride fast – but not too fast," said Lucy Basswood, Ben's cousin, the other girl in the car.

      The turn in the road was almost gained, and both machines had slowed down once more, when there came a shrill, screeching whistle from behind, and a racing car shot into sight, moving along with a great noise, for the muffler had been cut out. All of the girls screamed in fright, and instinctively Dave and Roger ran their cars as close to the right side of the road as possible. Then, with a roar, the racing car shot past, sending up a cloud of dust, and a shower of small stones, one of which hit Laura Porter in the cheek, and another striking Phil in the ear.

      "Fellows that run that way ought to be arrested," was Roger's comment.

      "Oh, I was so afraid we should be struck!" gasped Jessie, sinking back into her seat with a white face.

      "Did you recognize them?" asked Belle Endicott.

      "I didn't have time to look," answered Roger. "I was busy getting out of the way."

      "Just what I was doing," added Dave. "I didn't want them to take off the mudguard, or a wheel."

      "I caught sight of one of the fellows," said Ben Basswood. "He looked right at me as he passed."

      "Who was it?" questioned several eagerly.

      "Nat Poole."

      "Nat Poole!" cried Dave. "Surely, he wasn't driving that racing car."

      "No, he was in the rear, with another chap, – and two were on the front seat. But I didn't recognize any of the others."

      "I saw that machine in Crumville last week," said Laura. "I believe it belongs in Lumberdale."

      "I hope those fellows are not bound for Shady Glen Falls," said Laura. "It would quite spoil our outing, to have such persons around."

      "A picnic like ours would be dead slow for that crowd," remarked Phil. "If they stop anywhere, it will be most likely at some roadhouse, where they can drink and smoke, and play pool and cards."

      The racing car had long since disappeared in the distance, and now the other automobiles proceeded on their way. The girls were very nervous, and the boys did all in their power to remove the strain. But the girls declared that they had had a narrow escape from a serious accident, and it put much of a damper on the trip.

      "If ever I meet the driver of that car I'll give him a piece of my mind," said Dave. "It's against the law to run at such high speed."

      The distance to Shady Glen Falls from Crumville was thirty-five miles. The last half of the journey was over a winding dirt road, and the boys had calculated that it would take them two hours to reach the picnic grounds.

      "We'll go by way of Darnell's Corners, and come back by way of Haslow," said Dave. "That will give us a sort of round trip." And so it was decided.

      Darnell's Corners was but five miles from the Falls. It was only a small settlement, boasting of a tavern, a blacksmith shop, a church, and two stores. As they came in sight of the place Phil uttered a cry:

      "There is that racing car now!"

      Phil was right, the car stood in front of the tavern, the engine still running and letting out short puffs of smoke.

      "Where are the fellows who were in it?" questioned Sam.

      "Must have gone inside for a drink," answered Ben.

      "Here come two of them now," said Roger, in a low voice, as the tavern door swung open and two young men appeared, each wearing a linen duster and a touring cap.

      "It's Nat Poole!" cried Jessie.

      "I know that driver," said Dave. "He is Pete Barnaby, a sport from Lumberdale. He used to follow the horse races before autoing became popular. He once tried to sell Caspar Potts a horse, but we found out the animal was doctored up and worthless, and we didn't take him. Barnaby was furious when the deal fell through."

      "I've heard of him," said Ben. "He wanted to sell my father a horse, but father wouldn't have anything to do with him."

      While the boys were talking the tavern door had swung open again, and now two other persons stepped forth. They, too, wore linen dusters and touring caps, and one carried a basket containing something to eat and to drink.

      "Dave!" cried Phil, in astonishment. "Look who they are!"

      "Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff!" murmured Dave. "How in the world did they get here, and what underhanded work are they up to now?"

      CHAPTER II

      DAVE AND HIS PAST

      Dave Porter had good reasons for looking upon Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff with suspicion. In the past these two unworthies had caused Dave a good deal of trouble, and when exposed each had vowed that sooner or later he would "square accounts" with the youth who had gotten the better of him. Dave had hoped he had seen the last of them, but here they were, eyeing him closely, each with a face that plainly showed his envy and his hatred.

      To those of you who have read the preceding volumes of this series Dave Porter and his friends and enemies will need no special introduction. For the benefit of others let me explain that Dave had once upon a time been a homeless child, having been found wandering along the railroad tracks near Crumville. He was placed in the local poorhouse, and later on bound out to a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who had taken to farming for his health.

      Professor Potts could not make farming pay, and was in danger of being sold out by Aaron Poole, the father of Nat Poole, already introduced, when a most unexpected happening changed the whole current of events. In the town lived Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a rich manufacturer. He had a young daughter named Jessie, and one day, when this miss was waiting for an automobile ride, the gasoline tank of the machine took fire, and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death when Dave rushed in and rescued her.

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