CHAPTER XII
SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST
The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.
"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think they'll do about it?"
"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son. "They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.
But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a small class, made up of those who were wealthy, who passed him by and snubbed him, not wishing to associate with any body who had come from a poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of his many friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end, no matter what the cost.
If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the multitude of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority. But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.
"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."
"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"
On the following Saturday evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side. The young student was evidently excited over something.
"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want to join the fellows in the gym."
"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think I've discovered some thing, but I am not sure."
"Well, out with it."
"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my bicycle, to get some shirts at the furnishing store there. Well, when I came out of the store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the postoffice on the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and began to read them."
"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.
"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces and scatter the bits in the grass. When he went away, I walked over to the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course, you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."
"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."
"Yes, but this is not his private affair—to my way of thinking. It concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.
Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta— w York," and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem— —nett Street, Sa"
"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.
"That is what I thought."
"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"
"No."
"Were the letters addressed to him?"
"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the written-on portions of the envelopes."
"Did Plum see you?"
"Not until later—when I was on my way back to the Hall."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."
After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.
"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."
"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made to return them?"
"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor won't dare to say any thing to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing. Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."
A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy was rather scared, but told a fairly straight story, and turned over the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all attention.
"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you would keep it to yourself."
"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."
"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would do as asked, and later on did so.
The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of the class as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts, Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his few valued possessions.
On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He drank one glass of water, and an hour later got up to drink another, only to find the water pitcher empty.
"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he told himself. "And if I catch the fellow who salted my hash"
He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher, made his way through the hall way to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher, started to return to dormitory No. 12.
As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pass along the other end of the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his head.
"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy passed close to a dimly burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"
He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind Shadow. Then, of a sud den, he beheld the boy swing around and put out his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was fast asleep.
"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what had I best do?"
There was no time to think long, for the sleep walker was already descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to him.
"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any noise."
"Oh, I'm too sleepy for fun!" murmured Roger.
"This isn't fun, it's important. Come, I say!"
Thus aroused, the senator's son rolled from his couch and hurried into his clothing. In a few minutes both boys had their shoes and caps on, and along the hallway they sped, and down the back stairs. The door below was unlocked, but closed. Soon they were out in the rear yard of the Hall, and there they beheld Shadow Hamilton walking slowly in the direction of the boathouse.
"Who is it?" whispered Roger.
"It is Shadow. He is walking in his sleep. I want to find out where he is going and what he'll do."
"Humph! This certainly is interesting," answered the senator's son.
"Whatever you do, Roger, don't arouse him, or there may be an accident," cautioned Dave. "Let him go his own way."
"But he may hurt himself, anyway."
"No, he won't. A sleep-walker can walk a slack wire, if he tries it, and never tumble. Haven't you heard of them walking on the ridge pole of a house? I have."
"I've read about such things. And I know they say you mustn't arouse them. He is going into the boathouse!"
The chums ran forward and reached the doorway of the boathouse just as Shadow Hamilton was coming out. The somnambulist had a pair of oars, and he stepped to the edge of the dock and untied one of the boats and leaped in.
"I must find them!" they heard the youth mutter to himself. "I must find them and bring them back!"
"Did you hear that?" asked Roger. "What is he talking about?"
"That remains to be found out. Come, let us follow him," returned Dave.
They procured two pairs of oars, and were soon in another boat and pulling behind Shadow Hamilton. The boy who was asleep seemed to possess supernatural strength, and they had no easy time of it keeping up with him. His course was up the Leming River, past Robbin's Point, and then into a side stream that was rather narrow, but almost straight for a distance of two miles.
"Do you know where this stream leads to?" questioned Roger.
"I do not."
"Almost to the old castle that we visited last winter on our skates, the day we caught that robber and saved Billy Dill. The river makes half a dozen twists and turns before the castle is reached, but this is a direct route and much shorter."
"Can it be possible that Shadow is going to the old castle?" queried the country boy.
"I'm sure I don't know. We'll learn pretty soon."
As my old readers know, the place referred to was a dilapidated structure of brick and stone which had been erected about the time of the Revolutionary War. It set back in a wilderness of trees, and was given over largely to the owls and to tramps. It belonged to an unsettled estate that had gone into litigation, and there was no telling if it would ever be rebuilt and occupied in a regular way.
It was dark under the trees, but by pulling close to the boat ahead, Dave and Roger managed to keep Shadow Hamilton in sight. As soon as the somnambulist came near to the castle he ran his boat up the bank, leaped ashore, and stalked toward the building.
"He has disappeared!" cried Roger, softly.
"I see him," answered Dave. "Come!" and he led the way into the old structure and to the very rooms where the encounter with the robber and with Billy Dill had occurred.
Scarcely daring to breathe, they watched Shadow move around in an uncertain way, touching this object and that, and opening and shutting several closet doors, and even poking into the chimney-place.
"Gone! gone! gone!" they heard him mutter. "What shall I do? What shall I "do?" And he gave a groan.
Five minutes passed and the sleep-walker left the castle and hurried to his boat. His course was now down the stream toward the Hall, and Dave and Roger followed, as before. At the dock the boats were tied up, the oars put away, and Shadow Hamilton went back to the room from which he had come. Peering in, Dave and Roger saw him undress and go to bed, just as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.