Dave Porter and His Double Part 19

"Then you don't think we're going to get back to Crumville to-day?"

questioned Ben.

"No-sir. Why, if we was to try it we'd suah git stuck befo' we got out ob dis town. Some ob de drifts is right to de top of de fust story ob de houses." Was.h.i.+ngton Bones looked questioningly at Dave. "How did you like your trip outside las' night?" he queried. "Must ha' been some walkin', t'rough sech deep snow."

"My trip outside?" questioned Dave, with a puzzled look. "What do you mean, Wash? I didn't go out last night."

"You didn't!" exclaimed the colored driver in wonder. "Didn't I see you leavin' de hotel las' night 'bout half pas' 'levin or a little later?"

"You certainly did not. I was in bed and sound asleep by half past eleven," answered Dave.

"Well now, don't dat beat all!" cried the colored man, his eyes rolling in wonder. "I went outside jest to take a las' look aroun'

befo' turning in, and I seen a young fellow and a man leavin' de hotel. Dey come right pas' where a lantern was hung up on the porch, and when dat light struck on de young fellow's face I thought suah as you're bo'n it was you. Why, he looked like you, and he had on de same kind of cap and overcoat dat you was a-wearin' yeste'day. I see you've got on something different to-day."

"A fellow who looked like me and who had on my cap and my overcoat!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dave. He turned to his chums. "What do you make of that?"

"Maybe it was Ward Porton!" cried Roger.

"If it was, he must have run away and taken Dave's cap and overcoat with him," added Ben.

CHAPTER XIV

MOVEMENTS OF THE ENEMY

As my readers doubtless surmise, it was Ward Porton who had made off with Dave's overcoat and cap.

Leaving the room which they occupied on the third floor locked, the young moving-picture actor and his disreputable companion had stolen down the two flights of stairs leading to the lower hallway.

Fortunately for them, no one had been present, and it had been comparatively easy for Porton to find Dave's things and put them on.

Tim c.r.a.psey already wore his own overcoat and hat.

"We might as well provide ourselves with rubbers while we are at it,"

remarked c.r.a.psey, as his gaze fell upon a number of such footwear resting near the rack, and thereupon each donned a pair of rubbers that fitted him.

Thus equipped they had stolen out of the hotel through a side hallway without any one in the building being aware of their departure.

"We're going to have a fight of it to get to the railroad station,"

muttered Ward Porton, as the fury of the storm struck both of them.

"It's lucky I know the way," croaked Tim c.r.a.psey. And then, as they pa.s.sed over the porch in the light of the lantern by which Was.h.i.+ngton Bones had seen Porton, the man went on: "Say, what's the matter with us stoppin' at some drinkin' place and gittin' a little liquor?"

"Not now," interposed his companion, hastily. "We want to make our get-away without being seen if we possibly can."

"Oh, n.o.body will know us," grumbled c.r.a.psey, who had a great fondness for liquor, "and the stuff may prove a life-saver if we git stuck some place in the snow."

The realization that they might become s...o...b..und on the way to Pepsico made Porton pause, and in the end he agreed to visit a drinking place several blocks away, which, by the light s.h.i.+ning dimly through the window, they could see was still open.

"But now look here, Tim, you're not going to overdo it," said the former moving-picture actor, warningly. "If we are going to pull this stunt off you are going to keep perfectly sober. It's one drink and no more!"

"But I'm goin' to git a flask to take along," pleaded the man.

"You can do that. But I give you fair warning that you've got to go slow in using the stuff. Otherwise we are going to part company. In such a game as we are trying to put over, a man has got to have his wits about him."

Having procured a drink, and also a package of cigarettes and a flask of liquor, the two set off through the storm for the railroad station, a mile and a quarter away. It was a hard and tiresome journey, and more than once they had to stop to rest and figure out where they were. Twice Tim c.r.a.psey insisted upon it that he must have a "bracer"

from the flask.

"I'm froze through and through," he declared.

"Well, I'm half frozen myself," retorted Ward Porton, and when he saw the man drinking he could not resist the temptation to take some of the liquor himself.

"We'll be in a fine pickle if we get to Pepsico and then find that the train isn't coming through," remarked the former moving-picture actor, when about three-quarters of the journey had been covered and they were resting in the shelter of a roadside barn.

"That's a chance we've got to take," returned his companion. "But I don't think the train will be stormbound. Most of the tracks through here are on an embankment, and the wind would keep them pretty clear."

It was after one o'clock when the pair finally gained the little railroad station at Pepsico. They found over a dozen men and several women present, all resting in the tiny waiting-room, trusting that the train would soon put in an appearance.

"The wires are down so they can't tell exactly where the train is,"

said one of the men, in reply to a question from Porton. "They are hoping, though, that it isn't many miles away."

From time to time one of the would-be pa.s.sengers would go out on the tracks to look and listen, and at last one of these announced that a train was on the way.

"But I can't tell whether it's a pa.s.senger train or a freight," he said.

"Let's git on it even if it's a freight," said Tim c.r.a.psey to Ward Porton. "She'll take us to Crumville jest as well."

"All right, provided we can get aboard."

Slowly the train puffed in and proved to be a freight. On the rear, however, was a pa.s.senger car, hooked on at the last station.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SLOWLY THE TRAIN PUFFED IN, AND PROVED TO BE A FREIGHT.

_Page 136._]

"The regular pa.s.senger train is stalled in the cut beyond Breckford,"

announced the conductor of the freight, "and there's no telling when she'll get out. If you folks want to risk getting through, get aboard;" and at this invitation all those waiting at the station lost no time in boarding the mixed train. Then, with a great deal of puffing and blowing, the locomotive moved slowly away from Pepsico, dragging the long line of cars, some full and some empty, behind it.

Long before Crumville was reached it became a question as to whether the train would get through or not. The snow was coming down as thickly as ever, and the wind whistled with increased violence.

"I don't believe we'll get much farther than Crumville," announced the conductor, when he came through to collect tickets. "We should have pa.s.sed at least two trains coming the other way. But nothing has come along, and that would seem to show that the line is blocked ahead of us."

As a matter of fact, the mixed train did not get even as far as Dave's home town. Running was all right so long as the tracks were up on the embankment, but as soon as they reached the level of the surrounding country the snow became so deep that several times the train had to be backed up so that a fresh start might be made. Then, when they came to a cut not over three feet deep, just on the outskirts of the town, the engineer found it utterly impossible to get any farther.

"We'll have to have a snow-plough to get us out," he declared, "or otherwise we'll have to remain here until the storm clears away."

By listening to the conversation of some of the people in the car, Porton and c.r.a.psey learned that it was only a short distance to the town, and they followed several men and a woman when they left the train to finish the journey on foot.