Dave Porter and His Double Part 28

"Good thing there are not a pair of them," came from Dave.

"Such stories are the fruits of idleness," was added by Buster, solemnly.

"Oh, don't you poke fun at that joke," retorted Shadow. "It's a good deal better than any you could get up."

Dave learned that Luke Watson's folks were now living in New York City, and that Luke had invited Buster and Shadow to spend a week with him.

"It's too bad you can't stop off, at least for a day or two," said Luke to Dave. "It would suit me down to the ground to have you join us."

"And I'd like first-rate to do it, Luke," answered our hero. "But I promised to be in Washington by to-morrow, and that means that I've got to take the midnight train from New York City."

"Well, we'll get down to New York by three o'clock this afternoon.

That will give us nine hours in which to have a good time. You've got to come up to our house for dinner," continued Luke; and so it was arranged.

"I was wondering what I would do with myself this evening," said our hero. "I don't mind going around the city in the daylight, but after it is dark it is rather hard for a stranger to put in his time, unless he wants to go to some kind of show."

"We might all go to a moving-picture show after dinner," suggested Buster. "I'll blow you to front seats," he added generously.

"You'll have to make it a seat farther back than that for me," put in Shadow. "A front seat at a moving-picture show is no good," and at this there was a general snicker.

"We'll see about the show after we have had dinner," said Luke.

The time on the train was spent in talk about Oak Hall and their numerous cla.s.smates, many of them now well scattered throughout the States.

"Polly Vane has gone into business, so I hear," announced Luke. "He's in real estate, and in spite of the fact that he's a regular dude they tell me he is doing very well."

"Well, Polly ought to do well," answered Dave, who had not forgotten that the student who acted so very girlishly had at graduation stood as high in his percentage as our hero himself had done.

"And they say Chip Macklin is doing pretty well, too," put in Buster, referring to a small lad who had once been a toady to Gus Plum, the Hall bully.

"Well, Plum is doing well," returned Dave. "I'm glad he reformed.

Evidently there was much better stuff in him than there was in Jasniff and Merwell."

"Oh, Jasniff and Merwell were thoroughly bad eggs," announced Luke.

"I'll never forget, Dave, how Jasniff once tried to brain you with an Indian club."

"Say, speaking about bad eggs, puts me in mind of another story,"

cried Shadow. "A lady went into a store and asked the store-keeper's clerk how much the eggs were. The clerk--Now don't interrupt me, because this isn't a very long story," pleaded the would-be story teller. "The clerk was only a small boy, and he hadn't been in the business very long, so he told the lady, 'The really fresh eggs are fifty cents, and the almost fresh eggs are forty cents, and those that ain't so fresh are thirty-five cents, and the rotten eggs are thirty cents.'"

"Oh, Shadow! what a story!"

"Haven't you got any fresher than that?"

"You can't make anybody believe any such yarn as that."

"That story is absolutely true," returned the story teller, soberly.

"If you don't believe it, you come down to the town of Necopopec, Maine, and on the princ.i.p.al street of the town I'll show you the town pump where that boy used to get a drink three times a day," and at this sally there was a general laugh.

At last the train rolled into the Grand Central Terminal at Forty-Second Street, New York City, and, alighting, the lads made their way through the s.p.a.cious depot to the crowded thoroughfare beyond. Here taxicabs were numerous, and the youths piled into one, leaving the driver to look after their suit-cases. Dave's trunk had been checked through to Washington.

Luke's family lived in the vicinity of Central Park, and it did not take the chums long to reach the home. Here they were greeted by Mrs.

Watson, Luke's father being away on business. Then Luke took the lads up to his own room, where all proceeded to make themselves at home.

At a little after five Mr. Watson came in to greet them, and about an hour later all sat down to a sumptuous dinner, to which it is needless to say each of the boys applied himself diligently.

"I see by the papers that they are showing a very fine war spectacle at one of the photo-play houses," announced Luke. "How would you fellows like to go and see it?"

This was agreeable to all, and a little later the chums left the Watson house to go to the theater, which was about ten blocks farther downtown.

"If we get there by half-past seven, we can take in the first show of the evening," announced Luke. "That will give us a chance to do some other things before it is time for Dave to catch his train."

The war spectacle proved very entertaining to all the youths, and they were rather sorry when it came to an end. Then Buster proposed that they walk down the Great White Way, as a certain portion of Broadway has been designated.

The boys had been walking for the best part of half an hour, taking in various sights, including the wonderfully illuminated signs, when suddenly, as they pa.s.sed through a rather dense crowd, Shadow plucked Dave by the arm.

"What is it?" questioned our hero, quickly, for he saw that the former story-teller of Oak Hall was much excited.

"That fellow we just pa.s.sed, Dave!" cried Shadow.

"What of him?"

"Why, he looked just like you!"

"You don't mean it!" gasped Dave, and came to a sudden halt. "If he looked like me it must have been Ward Porton!"

CHAPTER XXI

DAVE IN WASHINGTON

"Ward Porton!" exclaimed the other youths in a chorus.

"Let us go after him," went on Dave. "Shadow, which way did he go?"

"Come on, I'll show you," answered the story-teller, and led the way through the crowd as well as he could.

As already mentioned, the crowd at this particular spot on the Great White Way was dense, and the chums had all they could do to force their way along, often elbowing people in a way that was far from polite. Presently they gained a street corner where the pedestrians were being held up by the traffic flowing the other way.

"There he is!" exclaimed Shadow, suddenly, pointing with his hand.

Looking in the direction indicated, Dave saw a well-known form. It was indeed Ward Porton, still wearing the cap and overcoat he had stolen from our hero.

"Hi there, Porton! Stop!" cried Dave, and made a dash for the rascal.

As his hand fell on Porton's arm the other swung around in a startled way. Then, as he caught sight of Dave and his friends, he gave a sudden duck and crowded in between several ladies standing in front of him. The next instant he was dashing out into the street in the midst of a perfect maze of automobiles and wagons.