could travel with them as far as--let me see, what's the name of the place--oh, yes, Livingston. That's where they leave the main line of the railroad to go on the little branch to the Park."
"Well, if they spent four weeks in the Park that would give us plenty of time to hunt for the mine," said Phil, thoughtfully. "But it would be a big job."
"And a dangerous one," added Roger. "Remember, where there have been several landslides there may be more. Fact is, when I spoke to my dad about going out there, he shook his head and said I had better keep away--that the search ought to be conducted by experienced men who understood the lay of the land and all that."
"Oh, we could be careful," returned Dave, impulsively. The idea of going in search of the lost mine appealed to him strongly.
"Sure, we'd be careful," added Phil. "Aren't we always careful? All aboard for the Landslide Mine, say I! Come on, if you are going!" And he grinned broadly.
"Better wait until after lunch," returned the senator's son, dryly. "We might have something you'd like to eat, Phil."
"All right, just as you say." The other youth dropped back into a wicker chair. "Say, doesn't it just feel good to think that we have graduated from Oak Hall and don't have to go back?" he added, with a sigh of satisfaction.
"I'm glad I have graduated, but I am not so glad that I am not going back," answered Dave. "We had some good times at the Hall."
"So we did--dandy times!" cried Roger. "I tell you, I shall miss Oak Hall a great deal. I shall miss our friends and also our enemies."
"Speaking of enemies, I wonder what ever became of old Job Haskers," said Phil.
"I don't know and I don't want to know," came from Dave. "I never want to see that good-for-nothing teacher again. I am glad, on account of the fellows left at Oak Hall, that the doctor discharged him."
"So am I," put in the senator's son. "Just the same, Dave, Haskers will try to get square with us if he ever gets the chance."
"Oh, I know that. But I don't intend to give him the chance."
"Speaking of our enemies, I wonder what ever became of Link Merwell," said Phil. "He seems to have dropped out of sight completely."
"I rather imagine he has left the country," returned Roger. "For if he was around at all, some of the school fellows would be sure to hear of him. Say, he certainly was a bad egg."
"Yes, but not as bad as Nick Jasniff," said Dave. "I am glad they locked that fellow up. He was an out-and-out criminal."
"Let us drop those fellows and get back to this lost mine," interrupted Phil. "If we are really going out to Montana we ought to make some sort of preparations for the trip."
"Oh, we've got two weeks to do that in, Phil," answered Roger. "And please to remember, Fourth of July is coming, and I am expecting several of the other fellows here to help celebrate. We can fix it up about that western trip after the Fourth."
"Who are coming, Roger, did you hear?" asked Dave.
"Shadow Hamilton for one, and perhaps Buster Beggs and Luke Watson. I asked some of the other fellows, but they had other engagements. Old John went down to the post-office for letters a while ago. Maybe he'll bring news."
"Here he comes now," cried Dave, as he saw a colored man-of-all-work coming along the road that ran in front of the Morr estate. "And he's got a bundle of letters."
All three boys ran across the broad lawn to meet the colored man.
"Any letters for me, John?"
"Don't forget me!"
"Who's the pink envelope for?"
"Letters fo' all ob yo' young gen'men, I 'spect," returned the man-of-all-work. "Mebbe yo' kin sort 'em out better'n I kin, Massa Roger," he added. "My eyesight ain't no better'n it ought to be." And he handed the bunch of mail over to the senator's son.
"One for Phil and two for Dave," said Roger, looking the mail over. "And four for myself. Pretty good. Here, John, take the rest into the house."
Without ceremony the three chums returned to their resting place on the shady lawn and began the perusal of their letters.
"Mine is from my father," said Phil. "He is going to take a trip on one of his ships to Nova Scotia and he wants to know if I wish to go along."
"One of these letters is from Gus Plum," said Dave. "He is going to Europe with his folks. The other letter is from--er--from Crumville."
"I'll wager it is from Jessie Wadsworth," remarked Phil, slyly. "Come, Dave, what does the lady fair say?"
"Sends her best regards to both of you," answered Dave, blushing. "She writes mostly about that proposed trip to Yellowstone Park, and wants to know if you fellows are going along."
"One of these letters is from Luke Watson and he will be here to-morrow," said Roger. "And another is from Shadow and he is coming, too. And this one--well, I declare! Just listen to this! It's from Buster Beggs." And Roger read as follows:
"I will be along for the Fourth. I've just had a letter from Sid Lambert, that new fellow from Pittsburg. He says he knows Link Merwell and met him about a week ago. He says Merwell is very bitter against you and Porter and Lawrence. Merwell was going West on some business for his father and then he was coming East. I would advise you and your chums to keep your eyes peeled for him. He can't show himself, for fear of arrest, and that has made him very vindictive. Sid tried to get his address, but Merwell wouldn't give it, and he left Sid very suddenly, thinking maybe that some one would put the police on his track."
CHAPTER II
DAVE PORTER'S PAST
"What do you think of that, fellows?" asked Roger, as he concluded the reading of the letter.
"I am not surprised," answered Dave. "Now that Merwell finds he can't show himself where he is known, he must be very bitter in mind."
"I thought he might reform, but I guess I was mistaken," said Phil. "Say, we had better do as Buster suggests,--keep our eyes peeled for him."
"We are not responsible for his position," retorted Roger. "He got himself into trouble."
"So he did, Roger. But, just the same, a fellow like Link Merwell is bound to blame somebody else,--and in this case he blames us. I am afraid he'll make trouble for us--if he gets the chance," concluded Dave, seriously.
And now, while the three chums are busy reading their letters again, let me introduce them more specifically than I have already done.
Dave Porter was a typical American lad, now well grown, and a graduate of Oak Hall, a high-class preparatory school for boys located in one of our eastern States.
While a mere child, Dave had been found wandering beside the railroad tracks near the little village of Crumville. He could not tell who he was, nor where he had come from, and not being claimed by any one, was taken to the local poor-house. There a broken-down college professor, Caspar Potts, had found him and given him a home.
In Crumville resided a rich jewelry manufacturer named Oliver Wadsworth, who had a daughter named Jessie. One day the Wadsworth automobile caught fire and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death, when Dave rushed to the rescue and saved her. For this Mr. Wadsworth was very grateful, and when he learned that Dave lived with Mr. Potts, who had been one of his instructors in college, he made the man and the youth come to live with him.
"Such a boy deserves to have a good education and I am going to give it to him," said the rich manufacturer, and so Dave was sent to boarding school, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled "Dave Porter at