At this the burgomaster stormed and raved, calling Granbury Lapham a
number of hard names. The Englishman would not stand such insults, and
rushing up he caught the Norwegian official by the arm.

"Stop!" he cried. "Any more such words, and I will knock you down. My
friends and I did not come here to be insulted. We are gentlemen, and we
expect to be treated as such. Landlord, I look to you for protection
while under your roof."

"There must be no quarreling here," said the landlord. "The law does not
allow it." He paused for an instant. "I will show you gentlemen to your
rooms." He turned to the burgomaster of Masolga. "Your fire shall be
attended to immediately."

"I shall remember this!" cried the burgomaster, quivering with rage. "I
shall remember it! I shall never come here again!" And he stormed from
the room.

"He is a very passionate man," said the landlord, when he was alone with
our friends. "I do not care if he stays away. He is poor pay and he
wants too much for his money."

"We shall pay you well if you treat us fairly," answered Granbury
Lapham, and slipped an extra thaler into the inn-keeper's ready hand.

"Depend upon me to do my best, sir," was the quick answer, and then the
travelers were shown to two connecting rooms, plainly but comfortably
furnished. One had a broad fireplace, and in this a roaring fire was
soon blazing. That there might be no further trouble they were served
with supper in a private dining-room; so they saw practically nothing
more of the hot-headed and unreasonable burgomaster of Masolga.

"We have to thank you for getting through in this instance," said Dave,
warmly, to Granbury Lapham. "I realize now we should have been at a
tremendous disadvantage had Roger and I undertaken this trip
alone--neither of us being able to speak more than a few words of the
language."

"I am glad I fell in with you," was the Englishman's reply. "'Twould
have been mighty lonely without you, don't you know."

Despite the adventures through which they had passed, the young
Americans slept soundly that night and did not awaken until eight in the
morning. It was cold and cheerless, no sun showing in the sky, and there
was a promise of more snow in the air.

A good breakfast was procured, and they settled with the landlord and
"tipped" him in a fashion that made him bow almost to the ground.

"Come again, and welcome, sirs," he said. "And do not mind what the
burgomaster said. More than likely he will soon lose his position, for
many people are dissatisfied with him, and he is exceedingly slow in
settling his debts."

They were soon on horseback, the sleigh having been put away under one
of the sheds. Hendrik led the way, past the village and then to what was
little better than a mountain trail, winding in and out through several
patches of firs and then across some rough rocks. At the latter spot
there was a good deal of ice, and once Roger's horse went down, carrying
his rider with him.

"Are you hurt, Roger?" asked Dave, leaping down to his chum's
assistance.

"I don't think so," was the reply of the senator's son. But when he
arose he drew in a sharp breath. "He caught my left ankle and I reckon
he twisted it a little."

The horse was gotten up and Dave assisted Roger to mount. It was painful
to stand on the injured ankle, but Roger said it was all right when he
was in the saddle.

"Be careful after this," said Dave, and they were cautious at every spot
where the ice showed itself.

The scenery around them was magnificent, but it was such a gray day this
was practically lost upon them. They were going steadily upward and to
the north of Norway, and they could feel the air growing colder. Only
the firs stood out against the sky; all else was snow and ice.

"This is winter weather, and no mistake," remarked Roger. "I don't know
that I want to go much further north."

"How desolate it is!" said Dave. "Not a sign of a house or hut anywhere!
It's as bad as being in the far West of our country in mid-winter."

"Hark! I hear bells!" cried Granbury Lapham. "Can another sleigh be
coming?"

They looked in the direction from whence the sound came, and presently
made out something moving below them, on a road in the valley.

"I really believe it is a sled with a reindeer attached!" cried Dave.
And such proved to be the case. But before they could get a good look at
the novel turnout, sled and reindeer flashed out of sight.

"I shouldn't mind having a ride behind a reindeer myself," said Dave, as
they resumed their journey.

"Nor I," added his chum.

At the end of three hours of hard traveling they came in sight of the
sheep-station for which they were bound. It was composed of a log cabin
and half a dozen large sheds, surrounded by a high fence. Nobody was in
sight, and they had to call several times before the care-taker of the
place put in an appearance.

"Have you a party of strangers here?" questioned Granbury Lapham.

"Yes," was the answer, "but they are not here just now."

"A scientific exploring party?"

"Yes."

"Where have they gone?"

"They started this morning for the top of old Thundercap," said the
sheep raiser. "They will be back by to-morrow night."

"Found at last," said the Englishman, joyfully, and translated what had
been said to Dave and Roger.

"Back to-morrow night," murmured Dave. His heart began to beat rapidly.
"I wish they'd come to-night. I can hardly wait."

The sheep raiser was questioned further, and told them the party was
made up of Mr. Porter, Mr. Lapham, and five others, including a
Norwegian guide named Bjornhof. He said they had a number of scientific
instruments with them, and talked of gold and silver and other precious
metals.

"Maybe they are trying to locate a mine," suggested Roger.

"If they are, I fancy they will be disappointed," answered Granbury
Lapham. "Norway has been pretty well explored for minerals and the best
of the mines have been located."

"This region doesn't look as if it had been explored very much,"
returned Dave. "It's about as wild and primitive as could be."

The sheep-station afforded but meager accommodations, and they were glad
that they had brought along some supplies. There was, to be sure, plenty
of mutton, but who wanted to eat that all the time?

"I don't mind lamb," said the senator's son. "But mutton, especially
when it is strong, is another matter."

"Which puts me in mind of a story, as Shadow Hamilton would say," said
Dave, with a smile. "A young housewife was going to have a number of her
husband's friends to dinner, and her husband told her to get a big leg
of lamb for roasting. So she went to the butcher. 'Give me a leg of
lamb,' she said. 'I want a very large one. I think you had better give
it to me from a lamb four or five years old.'"

"And that puts me in mind of another," answered the senator's son. "A
country boy went to town and there saw a circus parade including two
camels. When he got back home he told his folks that the parade was all
right, but he thought it was a shame to drive around such long-necked,
hump-backed cows!"

The sheep raiser told them that all the members of the exploring party
were in excellent health. He said one of the men resembled Dave very
much, and smiled broadly when told the man was the lad's father. When
Granbury Lapham added that the two had not met since Dave was a little
fellow, the sheep raiser opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

"'Tis like a fairy tale," said he, and then told them several fairy
tales he had heard when a boy. He was an uneducated man and his life was
exceedingly simple, and the fairy tales were, consequently, very
wonderful to him.

"Imagine such a man set down in the heart of New York or Chicago,"
observed Roger. "How his eyes would open and how he would stare!"

"If you told him of all the wonders of the big cities he wouldn't
believe you," answered Dave. "I once started to tell one of those
natives of the South Sea Islands about the Brooklyn Bridge and when I
pointed out how long it was, and said it hung in mid-air, he shook his
head and walked away, and I know he thought I was either telling a lie
or was crazy."

The day passed slowly, especially to Dave, who could scarcely wait for
the hour to arrive when his father should come back. What a meeting that
would be! It made the tears stand in his eyes to think about it.

"Dear, dear father!" he murmured to himself. "I know we are going to
love each other very, very much!"

CHAPTER XXVI

DAYS OF WAITING

With the coming of night a strong wind sprang up, and by ten o'clock it
was blowing a gale. The wind caused the house to rock and groan, and for
the travelers sound sleep was out of the question. The man in charge,
however, had experienced such a condition of affairs before and did not
appear to mind it.

"Some great winds here at times," he said to Granbury Lapham. "Once the
top of the house was blown off and sailed away down into the valley."

"Excuse me, but I don't want to be here at such a time, don't you know,"
answered the Englishman.

The wind increased steadily, and at midnight it was blowing so furiously
that Dave thought the shelter might go over. He went towards the door,
to find a quantity of snow sifting in above the sill.

"Hello, it must be snowing again!" he remarked. "That's too bad, for it
will make traveling worse than ever."

It was snowing, and the downfall continued all night and half of the
next day. The wind piled it up against the house until it reached the
roof, burying two of the windows completely from sight.

"This is a regular North Pole experience," remarked Roger, as he bustled
around in the morning, trying to get warm. "I don't know that I want to
go much further north."

"Don't want to become an arctic explorer, then?" queried Granbury
Lapham.

"Not much! Say, stir up the fire, or I'll be frozen stiff."

Wood was piled on the fire, and soon a pot of steaming coffee made all
feel better. When the man in charge went out to look at the sheep in the
various folds Dave went with him. The air was filled with snow, and it
was very dark.

"This is terrible," said Dave, on returning. He was thinking of his
father and the others of the exploring party.

"Land of the Midnight Sun," returned the senator's son, laconically.

"The man says they'll not return to-day," said Granbury Lapham. "It
would not be safe on the mountain trail."

"I thought as much," answered Dave. "Well, all we can do, I suppose, is
to wait." And he heaved a deep sigh.

The day passed slowly, for the place afforded nothing in the way of
amusement, and even if it had, Dave was too much worried about his
father to be interested. All went out among the sheep and saw them fed.
The folds were long, low, and narrow, and the occupants huddled together
"just like a flock of sheep," as Roger remarked with a grin.

"What timid creatures they are," said he, a little later. "I suppose you
can do almost anything with them."

"Not with the rams," answered Dave. And then he went on: "Do you
remember Farmer Cadmore's ram and how we put him in Job Haskers' room?"

"I don't believe these animals are quite so ugly," said the senator's
son, and went up to one of the rams in question. The animal backed away
a few feet, then of a sudden it leaped forward, lowered its head, and
sent Roger sprawling on his back.

"Wow!" grunted the youth. "Ho! chase him off!" And he lost no time in
rolling over and getting out of harm's way. "Gracious, but that was a
crack in the stomach, all right!" he groaned.

"He's what you can call a battering-ram," observed Dave.

"Yes, and a ram-bunctious one at that."

"Don't ram-ble in your talk, Roger."

"If he goes on another ram-page I won't ram-ble, I'll run."

"Say, this joke has too many ram-ifications for me, let us drop it,"
said Dave, and with a merry laugh both lads changed the subject.

The hours dragged by slowly. At noon they took their time eating a meal
that all hands prepared. Fortunately they had with them a few canned
goods, which gave them something of a change in their diet.

When night came again the wind arose once more. But now the house was so
completely buried in the snow that it was scarcely touched. Dave was
worn out and slept soundly, and the others did not awaken him until
nearly nine o'clock.

"Any news?" was his first question on arising.

"Nothing," answered Granbury Lapham. "Porter, I am growing worried," he
added, seriously.

"I think we have good cause to worry, Mr. Lapham. It is no joke to be
out on a mountain top in such weather as this."

"The man here tells me there are several shelters up there, one built
between the rocks where the wind cannot touch it. But for all that I am
worried."

"Do you suppose they have enough food with them?"

"They should know enough to go well supplied."

All of that day and the next went by, and still nobody appeared at the
sheep-station. Another snowstorm was brewing, and when it came the air
was so filled with it that nobody could venture outside. The young
Americans and the Englishman paced the floor of the shelter impatiently,
but could do nothing. Their food was limited, and the tobacco for
Granbury Lapham's pipe ran low, which caused the man additional trouble.

"I can get along with a poor meal, but I must have my smoke," he said.

A day later they were seated around the fire discussing the situation
when Roger gave a cry.

"Well, I never!"

"What's up now?" asked Dave.

"Why, we've gotten into a new year and nobody ever noticed it!"

"By Jove, that's so!" answered Granbury Lapham. "Well, here's a Happy
New Year to all of you."

"A poor beginning makes a good ending, they say," said Dave. "Let us
hope that proves true in this instance." He was sorry he had not been in
a position to send New Year greetings to those at home, and especially
to Jessie.

Sunday passed drearily, and also Monday. On Tuesday it began to clear
and the wind dropped entirely. Then the house was opened and they went
forth, and the man in charge busied himself with his sheep. Two of the
animals had died from the cold, and one had been trampled to death in
the huddling together to keep warm.

"Thank fortune, the horses are all right," said Roger, after an
inspection.

With the coming of comparatively good weather they watched eagerly for
the return of the exploring party. The sheep-station keeper pointed out
to them where the mountain trails ran and told them the party must come
by way of one of them, for to descend in any other manner would be
impossible.

"I really can't see how they are going to get down in such a snow," was
Dave's comment. "Why, in some places it must be ten feet deep or more."

"The wind has swept some places clear," was Granbury Lapham's answer.
"As far as possible they'll stick to those cleared spots."

"It must be fearfully slippery," said Roger. "And if any of them takes a
tumble----" He did not finish.

The day was coming to a close when Dave, who was still on the watch,
uttered a shout.

"I see somebody, up on yonder trail!" he cried. "One, two, three of
them!"

"Only three?" queried Granbury Lapham.

"That is all, so far."

All ran out and looked to where Dave pointed. Three men were coming
along the trail slowly. Sometimes they would be in snow up to their
waists, and then again they could be seen crawling cautiously over the
icy rocks which had been swept clear of snow.

"If we only had a field-glass!" murmured Dave. He wondered if one of the
men could be his father.

The men were only in sight a few minutes, then some projecting rocks hid
them from view. The man in charge of the sheep-station was questioned,
and he told them it would take the men on the mountain a good two hours
to get down to the house, as the trail wound around considerably to
avoid several dangerous cliffs.

"Let us go out to meet them," said Dave. "I can't stand this hanging
around doing nothing."

"All right, I'll go with you," answered his chum.

Granbury Lapham was also anxious; and in a few minutes the three started
out, along a road the sheep-station keeper pointed out. It was now dark,
but they kept to the road with ease, as it ran between several patches
of stunted pines.

No words can describe the feeling that filled Dave's heart. Was he to
meet his father at last? At times he trembled like a leaf just to think
of it.

His eyes were on the alert, and after trudging along for half an hour he
made out several forms approaching down the mountain trail. He set up a
shout and so did his companions, and presently came an answering call.

In a few minutes the two parties were within speaking distance. Dave
gave each of the three newcomers a searching look, and his heart sank.
Not one of them was his father.

The three men were the Norwegian guide and two individuals named
Hausermann and Davis. They were almost exhausted by their journey, and
begged to be conducted to the sheep-station and given something to eat
before telling their story.

"But my brother--what of him?" demanded Granbury Lapham.

"Who is your brother?" asked Samuel Hausermann.

"Philip Lapham, the head of this expedition."

"Oh, so you are Philip's brother. Well, he is safe--at least he was when
we left him. He hurt his knee a little, slipping over some rocks, but it
didn't amount to much."

"And what of my father, David Porter?" put in Dave, anxiously. "He was
with you, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was with us," answered Samuel Hausermann. "But he----" The man
stopped speaking and looked at his companions.

"But what? Oh, don't say something has happened to him!" cried Dave,
and a sudden chill took possession of his heart.

"We're hoping he is safe," said Charles Davis. "You see, he went out
yesterday, to look for some food. It was very slippery on the rocks and
the wind knocked him down and rolled him over a cliff."

"And then----" Dave could hardly speak.

"We tried to get to him, but couldn't," said Samuel Hausermann. "Our
rope wasn't long enough. Then he tried to climb up the cliff, but the
snow seemed to blind him and he lost his grip, went down, and
disappeared over another cliff about a hundred feet below. And that's
the last we saw or heard of him."

CHAPTER XXVII

DAVE STRIKES OUT ALONE

It was dismaying news, and utterly downcast Dave followed the others to
the sheep-station and listened to the details of what the newcomers had
to tell. It was a long story, and while they related it a good hot meal
was prepared for them.

"We reached the top of the mountain in safety and also the plateau of
the smaller mountain beyond," said Samuel Hausermann. "That was the
place for which we were bound. Shortly after that the snowstorm came on,
and the high winds, and it was all we could do to gain one of the old
shelters up there between the rocks. In journeying around we lost a good
portion of our outfit, including some of the provisions, and all we had
to live on for two days was some venison--Mr. Porter shot a small red
deer--and some beans and crackers. We had intended to do some more
exploring, but the weather put a stop to everything of that sort. Then
one of the party, Mr. Jackson, took sick and we had to do what we could
to get him well again. At last Mr. Porter went out to see if he
couldn't bring down something in the way of game. He could get only some
small birds and they lasted only one meal. Then he went out again, after
an elk he had seen at a distance. That was when he took the tumble over
the cliffs."

"Are you sure he wasn't killed?" asked Dave.

"I am sure of nothing, my lad. But I think the chances are he fell in
the deep snow, or on some of the fir trees, and that that saved his
life."

"What time was this yesterday?"

"About noon. After that we decided to come down here, and at the same
time look for your father. Philip Lapham said he would remain, to look
after Jackson, who was as yet too weak to walk. We left all our
provisions up there and came down here as fast as we could--and here we
are."

This was all Samuel Hausermann could tell, and Charles Davis
corroborated his statement. Dave shook his head sadly.

"Even if my father wasn't killed by the tumble he took, maybe he was
starved or frozen to death," he said to Roger.

"Hope for the best, Dave," was all the senator's son could answer.

The Norwegian guide, Bjornhof, had agreed to go back to the mountain top
with a load of provisions. He had expected to go alone, but Dave said he
would go also, to see if he could not find what had become of his
parent. Then Granbury Lapham said he would go also.

"Maybe I'd better go too," said Roger.

"No, Roger," answered Dave. "It wouldn't be fair to ask you to do that.
There is too much of peril, and you must remember what you promised your
mother and father. You stay here with Mr. Davis and Mr. Hausermann." And
so it was finally settled.

All of the party were provided with knapsacks, which they filled with
the best provisions available. The guide also carried an extra bag of
stuff, strapped across the back of his neck. He was a brawny fellow,
over six feet in height, and did not seem to mind the load in the least.
He had a gun, and Dave and Granbury Lapham each carried a pistol and a
box of cartridges.

"Good luck to you, Dave," said the senator's son on parting, and he
shook hands warmly. "Remember, I shall be very anxious until I hear from
you again." He followed his chum a short distance up the mountain trail,
and the two were loath to separate.

The route was rocky and uncertain, and during the next two hours Dave
realized what climbing the Alps must be. At certain spots they had to
help one another along, using a rope for that purpose. Once they crossed
a split in the rocks several feet wide and of great depth, and it made
Dave shudder to peer down into the dark and forbidding depths below.

Yet he thought very little of the perils of that arduous journey. His
mind was constantly on his parent. Would he find his father alive, or
had the fall over the cliffs killed his parent?

"God grant he is alive!" he said to himself, over and over again.

They had started directly after breakfast, and by noon reached a small
level spot where they took a well-deserved rest. From this place the
guide pointed out the cliffs from which Mr. Porter had fallen.

"But you cannot reach them from here," he explained, in his native
dialect, to Granbury Lapham. "To get to them we must walk at least a
mile further. And even then I know of no way to reach the spot to which
the poor man fell."

"I'll reach that somehow," said Dave, when the guide's words had been
translated to him.

"Well, lad, you must be careful," cautioned Granbury Lapham. "No use in
your losing your life, you know."

But Dave merely shook his head. He was bound to find his father, dead or
alive, no matter what the cost. For the time being he could think of
absolutely nothing else. That, and that alone, possessed him, heart and
soul.

The air was clear, with little or no wind, which was one comfort. As
they went on they had to pass around great ridges of snow and over
hummocks of ice, where the water had frozen while tumbling down the
mountain side. There were but few trees in that vicinity, although a
small forest grew at the foot of the cliffs.

At last they reached a spot where the guide said a small and decidedly
uncertain trail led to the bottom of the upper cliff--the first one over
which Mr. Porter had fallen.

"Then that is where I am going," said Dave. "Perhaps I can find out
something about my father there."

"You had better come with us," answered Granbury Lapham. "As soon as I
have met my brother we can all come back to this place."

"No, you can come back anyway--I'll stay here now and look around,"
replied the youth, firmly.

Bjornhof pointed out the exact spot from which Mr. Porter had fallen,
and without waiting Dave trudged off, and the others continued their
climb up the mountain. Soon a point of rocks separated them, and Dave
found himself utterly alone.

Had he had less to think about the boy might have felt very lonely. But
now his heart was filled with thoughts of his parent, and he never gave
the situation in which he was placed any consideration. On and on he
hurried. Twice he fell on the slippery rocks, but picked himself up
just as quickly. In his mind's eye he could see his father helpless at
the bottom of the cliffs, with a broken leg or a fractured rib, or
suffering for the want of food and warmth. Such thoughts were
terrifying, and caused him to shudder from head to foot.

"This must be the place!"

He spoke the words as he came to a spot where footprints in the snow
were plainly visible. He looked around eagerly and made out where his
father had slipped from that cliff to the hollow below. Here was a long
icy slide, and Dave did not dare to venture too close to the brink, for
fear of going over.

"That hollow must be at least a hundred feet deep," reasoned the youth.
"How am I ever to get down there?"

He called out, but no answer came back. Then he walked slowly to the far
end of the cliff, behind and over some jagged rocks which at first
seemed to completely bar the way.

He heaved a long sigh, then looked at the very end of the cliff. Here
the rocks were notched and uneven, and he found a spot where he could
drop a distance of fifteen feet in safety. But after that?

"If I get down there perhaps I won't be able to get back--if I want to,"
he reasoned. "But I'm going down, anyway--and find out what became of
father," he added, recklessly. The drop taken, he found himself on a
ledge several yards wide and twice as long. To his delight back of the
ledge was a hollow leading downward.

"Perhaps that goes to the bottom of the cliff," he mused. "I'll try it,
anyway."

The passageway was dangerous, being covered with ice, and he had to move
literally an inch at a time. Once he slipped, but caught fast to a ridge
of ice just in time to save himself. It made his heart leap into his
throat, yet he kept on. He was so eager to gain the object of his quest
that no peril, no matter how great, could have daunted him. Surely
"blood is thicker than water" every time.

Having gained the bottom of the hollow inside of the cliff, he turned to
where a streak of light showed. Here was a narrow slit leading to the
greater hollow outside of the cliff. It was so small that the youth
squeezed through with difficulty and had even more trouble getting his
knapsack on the other side.

He now stood where there was a gentle slope leading to the firs growing
at the foot of the cliff. Here there was a great drift of snow, in some
spots fifteen and twenty feet high.

"I wonder if father came down in that?" he mused. "If he did he wouldn't
be apt to break any bones. But he might get smothered before he could
find his way out, especially if the fall took his breath away."

He gazed around in the drift and saw a spot where it looked as if the
snow had been disturbed. Then he saw what looked to be footprints
further on, leading among the firs.

"Hello! hello!" he called, with all the strength of his lungs. "Mr.
Porter! Where are you?"

His voice echoed along the rocks and beyond, and he waited with bated
breath for a reply, but, as before, none came.

What should he do next--go on or search the immense snowdrift for his
father's body?

He deliberated for several minutes, then moved onward.

"I must see if he is alive," he reasoned. "I can always come back for
his body later--if I have to."

The edge of the fir forest gained, Dave paused once more. Here was a
track in the snow, but whether made by a human being or a wild animal he
could not tell. Then he uttered a sharp cry and rushed forward to pick
something up.

It was a box that had contained rifle cartridges. It was empty and
practically new. Had his father possessed that and discarded it?

Suddenly he thought of something new, and pulling out his pistol fired
it off as a signal. The last echo had hardly died out when an answering
shot came back. His face lit up with joy, then grew sober again.

Perhaps the shot had come from above, from Granbury Lapham or the others
up there. But no, it had seemed to be further down--beyond the line of
firs which confronted him. At the risk of wasting too much ammunition he
fired again. But this time no signal came back.

"If it was father he'll want to save his shots--especially if his
cartridge box is empty," thought Dave. Then he resolved to push on
through the timber, calling his parent in the meanwhile.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A JOYOUS MEETING

Dave had proceeded a distance of fifty yards into the patch of firs when
he came to a halt. A peculiar sound to his left had caught his ears. He
had never heard such a sound before and he wondered what it was.

"Must have been some bird--or a wild animal," he murmured, after he had
listened for some time. "There ought to be many kinds of small wild
animals in a place like this."

He proceeded on his way again, but a dozen steps further came to another
halt. Something lay in the snow at his feet. It was a fur glove. He
picked it up, looked it over, and then, in his agitation, dropped it.

The glove was stained with blood!

"Can that be father's glove?" he thought. "And if it is, how does it
happen that it is covered with blood?"

A shiver ran down his backbone that was not caused by the cold, and for
the minute he could hardly move. He tried to call once more, but his
throat was so dry he could scarcely make a sound. Again from a distance
came that peculiar noise, low and muttering. He now recognized it as a
growl, but whether of a dog or a wild beast he could not determine. He
brought out the pistol he had placed in his pocket and held it ready for
use.

"Footprints!" The word came from his lips involuntarily. He had reached
a spot where the snow was only a few inches deep, and here the
footprints of a man were plainly to be seen. They led through the belt
of firs and then towards the jagged rocks at the base of a high cliff.

Again that suspicious growl reached him, and now Dave saw a dark object
just as it disappeared around a corner of rock close to some brushwood.

"Was that a beast or a man crawling in the snow?" he asked himself.
"That sound came from an animal, but the thing didn't look like a
beast."

He went on, more cautiously than ever. Then he heard a sudden cry that
made every nerve in his body tingle:

"Get back there! Get back, you brute!"

It was a man's voice, weak and exhausted, trying to keep off some wild
beast. Then came a low growl, followed by the discharge of a pistol, and
a few seconds later there came running toward Dave a full-grown bear,
growling savagely and wagging its shaggy head from side to side. The
youth was surprised but not taken off his guard, and as the animal came
closer he leveled his weapon, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The bear
had raised up on its hind legs and the bullet took it straight in the
breast, inflicting a bad but not a mortal wound. Then Dave started to
fire a second time, but in a twinkling the bear leaped over a low rock
and disappeared in the brushwood. Listening, Dave heard it lumbering
away, growling with rage and pain as it went.

"Hello!" came a faint voice. "Is that you, Lapham?"

"No, it is somebody else," answered Dave. He could scarcely speak, he
was so agitated. "Where are you?"

"Here, near the cliff. I am wounded, and I--I----" The voice died out
completely.

"I'm coming!" shouted Dave. "Just let me know where you are."

For a minute there was no answer, and Dave continued to call. Then came
what was half call and half moan. With ears on the alert, the boy
followed up the sounds and quickly came in sight of a man, wrapped up in
a fur overcoat and crouched in a heap between two rocks at the base of
the cliff. He held a pistol in his hand, but the weapon was empty.

For the instant man and boy faced each other--the former too weak to
speak and the latter too agitated to do so. Dave's heart was beating
like a trip-hammer and for the time being his surroundings were
completely forgotten.

"Are you--are you----" he began. "Are you David Porter?" he blurted out.

"Yes," was the gasped-out reply. "Yo--you----"

"And you don't know me! Oh, father!"

"Eh? What's that?" asked the man, rising up slightly.

"You don't know me? But of course you don't--if you didn't get the
letters and telegrams. I am your son, Dave Porter."

"My son? Wha--what do you mean? I--er--have no son. I had one, years and
years ago, but----" Mr. Porter was too weak to go on. He sat staring at
Dave in bewilderment.

"You lost him, I know. He was stolen from you. Well, I am that son. I
have been looking for you for months. I found Uncle Dunston first, and
then we sent letters and cablegrams to you, but no answer came back.
Then I started out to hunt you up--and here I am." Dave was on his knees
and holding his father's blood-stained hand in his own. "I see you are
hurt; I'll----"

"My son? My son?" queried Mr. Porter, like one in a dream. "Can this be
true?" He gazed unsteadily at Dave. Then he closed his eyes and went off
into a dead faint. The youth was startled, for he saw that his parent
might be dying. His hand was hurt and he had scratches on his ear, and
one knee of his trousers was blood-stained.

"I must help him--he must not die!" thought Dave, and set to work with
feverish haste, doing all that was possible under the circumstances.
From his shirt he tore off the sleeves and used them as bandages. Then
he rubbed his father's face with snow. Presently the man opened his eyes
and stared again at Dave.

"Did yo--you say you were my--my son?" he asked, in a weak, incredulous
voice.

"If you are David Breslow Porter, a twin brother to Dunston Porter."

"I am."

"Then I am your son--the one who was stolen from you by the nurse, Polly
Margot, and her worthless husband, Sandy."

"It is--is marvellous! I can hardly believe it!" murmured Mr. Porter.

"But it is true--and I can easily prove it, father," answered the youth,
in a happy tone. He bent over and kissed his parent. "Oh, I am so glad I
have found you!"

"Yes! yes! I am glad too!" Mr. Porter's eyes began to beam. "But
I--I--really can't understand it yet! I--my son, my little Dave! Why, it
sounds like a fairy tale! I must be dreaming." He caught Dave by the
shoulder. "Is it really, really so?"

"It is, father, and I'll explain it all after awhile. But now you are
hurt, and you must take it easy. Did you tumble over the cliff, or did
that bear----"

"Both, Dave. How queer it sounds to call you Dave, _my_ Dave!" Mr.
Porter caught the boy around the neck. "I can't believe it yet--I really
can't. Where have you been all these years? And how did you learn----"

"I'll tell you afterwards, father--when we are safe. Then you fell over
the cliff?"

"Yes, and while I was trying to crawl away to some spot to rest the bear
got after me and scratched me in the ear. I let him have a bullet in his
neck and that made him retreat. But then he came at me again, and I
don't know what I should have done if it hadn't been for your arrival.
The pistol is empty, as you can see."

"You heard my shot and you signaled back, didn't you?"

"Yes, I signaled back and shot at the bear at the same time. But that
shot didn't hit him, although it made him keep his distance for awhile."

"I see your pistol is the same size as mine, so I'll load them both--in
case the bear comes back." Dave set to work immediately and soon had the
work completed. "Now you must have something to eat and to drink, and
then you'll feel better."

He unslung his knapsack and brought forth his provisions, and sitting in
the shelter of the cliff prepared a meal. Over some lighted brushwood he
made a canteen of coffee, of which his father partook with satisfaction,
and then ate a sandwich and some crackers and cheese. As he supplied his
parent Dave told a good portion of his story, although he went into few
details.

"It is queer that I never received any of those letters and cablegrams,"
said Mr. Porter. "Yet you must remember I thought your uncle was still
among the South Sea Islands. He wrote to me that he was going on a trip
that might last two years or more and might not be able to write to me
for some time. Laura, your sister--how surprised she will be!--and
myself traveled down to Rome and through Spain and then came up to
Berlin. There I fell in with Hausermann and, later on, with Philip
Lapham. They told me of this expedition into Norway, and got me
interested financially. Your sister wanted to go to the United States,
with some close friends, and I let her go and came up here. We traveled
to Norway somewhat in secret, for we did not wish to let the object of
our expedition become known. On that account we had some trouble with
the police, who took us for political intriguers. After that we left no
addresses behind us--which accounts for the non-delivery of the
cablegram you sent to me from England."

"But what brought you up into this portion of Norway, father, and at
this time of the year?"

"We came to locate a valuable mine, or rather a series of mines, in this
section. Hausermann had some information about them, but had no money,
and he came to me and then to Philip Lapham, and we 'staked' the
expedition, as miners call it. We came up this winter because we heard
that three other parties were coming up next spring and next summer, and
we wanted to get in ahead."

"And have you done that?" asked Dave, with interest.

"Not as yet. We have found some traces of copper at one point and nickel
at another, but not the rich deposits the information we possessed led
us to believe could be located."

"Never mind, now we are together, perhaps you'll have better luck,
father. I'll help you." Dave smiled broadly. "Tell me about yourself,
and about my sister Laura, won't you?"

Both sat in front of the tiny camp-fire, Mr. Porter's bandaged head
resting on Dave's shoulder, and a hand clasping that of the boy. They
were supremely happy, and for the time being the world around them was
forgotten. Mr. Porter told much about himself and of his travels, and
Dave related how he had been raised at the poorhouse and taken care of
by Caspar Potts and Oliver Wadsworth, and how he had fallen in with
Billy Dill, the sailor, and gone to the South Sea Islands and found his
Uncle Dunston.

"I know your sister Laura will be overjoyed to learn the news," said Mr.
Porter. "She has often said how nice it would be if she had a sister or
a brother. Since your mother's death we have been very lonely. Ah, if
your mother could only have seen this day!" And the tears stood in Mr.
Porter's eyes. Then he drew Dave to his breast, and a warm embrace by
both followed.

They had completely forgotten their surroundings when a deep growl close
at hand aroused them and caused the boy to leap to his feet. He gazed
into the brushwood fronting the jagged rocks and the base of the cliff
and uttered a cry of alarm.

"What is it, Dave?" questioned his father.

"Two bears--the one we wounded and another and bigger one."

CHAPTER XXIX

BEARS AND WOLVES

At the announcement from Dave, Mr. Porter tried to rise to his feet. He
could not stand on both legs, and so had to rest against one of the
rocks. From this point he, too, could see the two bears; but a moment
later both animals were hidden completely by the brushwood and the snow.

"I am afraid they mean business," said Dave, anxiously.

"They are hungry and the deep snow has made it hard for them to get
food," answered Mr. Porter.

"I thought bears went into winter quarters in a place like this."

"So they do sometimes, but not always. Besides, I disturbed the wounded
bear when I fell over the cliff, and I presume that other beast is his
mate."

"I wish I had a rifle. I could get a better shot than with this pistol."

"A good double-barreled shotgun would be a fine thing, Dave. But we'll
have to use what we've got. Don't shoot until you are certain of your
aim," added Mr. Porter.

A portion of his strength had come back to him, and the new alarm gave
him temporary vigor. Yet he knew that to fight off two angry bears would
not be easy, and he looked around for some better shelter than that
which they at present possessed.

"Here is a small opening between the rocks,--let us back into it, if the
bears press us too closely," said he.

He had scarcely spoken when the wounded bear advanced, followed closely
by its mate. Dave waited until the foremost beast was within a dozen
paces of him, then he fired. There was a growl of pain and the bear
tumbled back, landing against its mate.

"Good!" cried Mr. Porter. "Look out!" he added, a second later. "The
other one is coming!"

He was right. The bigger bear of the two came forward with a bound,
landing almost at Dave's feet. Crack! crack! went Mr. Porter's pistol,
and the huge animal was hit twice, in the breast and in the neck. The
bear uttered a sound that was half growl and half yelp and then came on
again. Crack! went Dave's pistol, and the bullet hit the beast directly
in the teeth, knocking one of them down the animal's throat. Wounded and
alarmed, the bear stood still, and again the boy fired, and then the
bear turned and lumbered away into the brushwood, wounded just
sufficiently to make it thoroughly disagreeable. The other bear
followed; and the battle, for the time being, came to an end.

"Come, Dave, it is dangerous to stay out here," said Mr. Porter. "Let us
go back into the hollow, and bring that fire with you if you can."

Mr. Porter crawled back and the youth followed, dragging the burning
brushwood behind him. Then Dave took both pistols and reloaded the empty
chambers with all possible speed.

"I see you have learned the first rule of hunting," said his father,
with a smile.

"What is that?"

"Never to carry around an empty or partly empty weapon. I kept my pistol
loaded up as long as I had any cartridges left."

"I wish I had some more brushwood to put on the fire--that would keep
the beasts off. Wonder if I can't break some of the stuff off?"

"Don't go out yet, Dave--it's dangerous," pleaded Mr. Porter.

"I'll keep my eyes on the bears, never fear," was the reply.

With caution the youth crawled over to the nearest patch of brushwood, a
distance of fifty feet. As he broke off some of the dry twigs a low
growl reached his ears. But he kept at the task until he had as much as
he thought he could carry.

But Dave never got the brushwood where he wanted it, for as he commenced
to drag it along both bears leaped from their hiding-place and one
landed almost on top of him. Crack! crack! went his pistol, and the
weapon Mr. Porter possessed sounded out three times. Each bear was
wounded again, but Dave received a blow from a rough paw that sent him
headlong. He rolled over and over in the snow, and then leaped for the
shelter, and his father dragged him to temporary safety. While this was
going on the bears started to retreat. This time they left the brushwood
entirely and stationed themselves behind the nearest belt of firs, about
fifty yards away.

[Illustration: Dave received a blow from a rough paw that sent him
headlong.--_Page 267._]

"I told you to be careful," said Mr. Porter, as Dave got up and faced
about. "Are you seriously hurt?"

"N--no, bu--but that bear knocked me do--down as if he was a
pri--prize-fighter!" gasped Dave. "Phew! but they are powerful!"

"If he hadn't been wounded he might have killed you. You must take no
more chances. Promise me you won't, Dave. I don't want to lose you right
after finding you!" And Mr. Porter turned an appealing look into the
lad's eyes.

"I'll be on guard, father. And don't you take any chances either,"
added Dave, gazing at his father in a manner which spoke volumes.

They found the hollow under the cliff to be less than two yards deep and
of about the same width. The rocks overhead hung down so that they
touched Dave's head. In front was a small snowdrift, looking over which
father and son could just make out the two bears, as they squatted on
the ground between the firs. The beasts did considerable growling and
did what they could to take care of their wounds, yet they showed no
disposition to leave that vicinity.

"They must be very hungry," was Mr. Porter's comment. "Otherwise they
wouldn't remain here after being punished so badly;" and he was right:
the animals were well-nigh starved, hence their recklessness.

Half an hour went by, and Dave and his parent remained under the cliff.
Without a fire it was extremely cold, and they had to stamp around to
keep warm. At times Mr. Porter felt rather faint from his wounds, but he
kept this from Dave as much as possible. Yet presently the boy noticed
it.

"I must get you out of this soon," he said. "You need regular medical
attention."

"I shan't mind it, Dave, if only I can keep warm."

"Maybe I can get that brushwood now, father."

"No, do not attempt it."

There was a spell of silence after that, and then Dave raised his
pistol.

"Do you know what I am going to do?" he said. "I am going to discharge
four shots at the bears. Even at this distance I ought to be able to do
some damage."

"Well, you can try it, Dave. But I don't think you'll accomplish a great
deal. Their hide is too tough."

Dave brushed the snow from the rocks in front of him, knelt down, and
rested his arm with care. Then he took careful aim at the bear that had
first appeared. Crack! went the pistol four times in rapid succession.
The bear gave a leap, clawed at its face several times, and then, with a
grunt of agony, turned and fled among the firs and out of sight.

"Hurrah! that did some damage!" cried the youth, as he started to
reload. "Now I'll see if I can hit the other bear---- Hello, he's gone,
too!"

The boy was right, the larger beast was also lumbering off, evidently
frightened by the way its mate had been treated. Soon it, too, had
disappeared from view. Mr. Porter and Dave watched for a long time, but
neither animal came back.

"They may possibly return, but I doubt it," said Dave. "Anyway, I don't
think they'll come back right away, and that will give us a chance to
escape."

"Not if we must go back through that patch of timber, my son."

"Let us try to get away by walking along the base of the cliff. We are
bound to strike some sort of a mountain trail sooner or later. But,
pshaw, I forgot that you can't walk. Well, maybe I can carry you."

"No, it will be too much of a load, Dave. We had better wait awhile."
And so they sat down and waited, after Dave had brought in the brushwood
he had previously broken off. A roaring fire cheered them greatly, and
once more each related his experiences. Mr. Porter told how he had
traveled in many parts of the world, and said that Dave must some day do
the same. He asked the youth about his education, and when Dave related
how he had won the medal of honor at Oak Hall his face beamed with
pleasure.

"I certainly owe Professor Potts and Mr. Wadsworth a good deal," he
said. "And I shall not forget them. You could not have fallen among
better friends."

"I believe that," answered Dave, warmly. "Professor Potts and all of the
Wadsworths have been just as good as they could be to me."

Almost before they knew it darkness came on. Dave brought in more of the
brushwood and even dragged over some limbs of a fallen fir. Luckily he
had brought along enough provisions for several meals, and they
proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the hollow of
the cliff. They ate slowly, talking the while and each smiling warmly
into the face of the other.

"It seems almost too good to be true," said Mr. Porter, not once but
several times.

"And, oh, I am so thankful!" responded Dave.

Mr. Porter was so weak he needed sleep, so Dave told his parent to lie
down on some of the brushwood, which he spread out as a couch next to
the rocky wall.

"But what will you do, my son?" asked Mr. Porter.

"I'll remain on guard--so those bears don't get a chance to surprise
us."

"But aren't you sleepy?"

"No--I'm so happy I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a week."

Mr. Porter lay down and closed his eyes, but it was a good hour before
he dropped into a doze. Dave sat by the fire, where he could look at his
father's face. It seemed as if he would never get done gazing at those
features, so like his Uncle Dunston's.

"Found at last!" he murmured. "Found at last, and thank God for it!"

Two hours passed, and still Dave sat in the same position, thinking of
the past and speculating on the future. He thought of his sister Laura
and wondered how soon they would meet, and if she and Jessie would
become friends.

"What's that?"

The boy leaped to his feet, and the sudden movement aroused his father.
Both listened to a yelping and a growling at a distance. The yelping
grew louder and louder, while the growling grew fainter.

"I know what it is!" cried Dave, at length. "Some wolves have gotten on
the trail of those wounded bears. Now there will be a battle royal!"

"You must be right, Dave. Hark! The wolves must number a dozen or more."

"Sounds like about half a hundred to me, father."

The battle took place at the far end of the forest of firs and gradually
grew fainter and fainter. Mr. Porter shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't like this, Dave."

"What, aren't you glad that the bears have been attacked? I am."

"It isn't that. If those wolves want more meat they'll follow up that
bloody trail--and it leads directly over here."

"Phew! I never thought of that. I'll stir up the fire--that will help to
keep them at a distance." Dave set to work with avidity, piling on
nearly all of the brushwood that was left. He had just completed the
task when he chanced to look beyond into the waste of snow. He saw a
pair of gleaming eyes--then another pair and still another.

"The wolves are coming, father!" he cried, in consternation.

"I see them, Dave, and we are going to have the fight of our lives to
keep them off," answered Mr. Porter.

CHAPTER XXX

HOME AGAIN--CONCLUSION

In a few minutes the wolves had come up and were glaring at Mr. Porter
and Dave as they crouched close to the camp-fire. There were fourteen of
the beasts, all large, lean, and hungry-looking. They sniffed the air
and set up yelps and mournful howls. Two found the spot where one of the
bears had been wounded and pawed at the blood which had saturated the
snow.

"Oh, for a brace of good shotguns!" sighed Dave. "We could scatter them
in short order."

"When we shoot we must make every shot tell," said his father. "And keep
the cartridges where we can get at them quickly. How many left, Dave?"

The youth counted the contents of the box he carried.

"Seventeen."

"Hardly enough for fourteen wolves. Yes, we must be very careful. If
they---- They are coming closer!"

"Let us fire off one pistol at a time!" cried Dave. "Then we'll always
have one ready for use."

Mr. Porter did not answer, for he was aiming at the nearest beast. With
the discharge of the pistol the wolf leaped high in the air, turned and
came down on its side, and began to kick the snow in its death agony.

"A good shot!" exclaimed Dave.

"You can try your luck," said Mr. Porter. "I will take out that empty
shell and reload."

The other wolves had surrounded the one that was dying, and taking aim
at the center of the pack Dave let drive. One wolf was hit in the nose
and the bullet glanced off and hit another in the jaw. Wild yelps of
pain followed, and the two wolves turned and ran for cover with all
possible speed.

"We have gotten rid of three of them," said Dave, with much
satisfaction. "If we keep this up we'll soon get rid of the rest."

"It is snowing again," announced Mr. Porter.

He was right, and soon the downfall became so heavy that they could see
next to nothing beyond the circle of light made by the camp-fire. But
that the wolves were still near they knew by the yelps and snarls which
occasionally reached their ears.

A quarter of an hour went by, and the snow came down as thickly as ever.
A light wind had sprung up, and this sent the flakes directly into the
hollow under the cliff. Mr. Porter heaved a sigh.

"More bad luck," he observed. "By morning, if this keeps on, we'll be
snowed in."

"Look," said Dave. "I believe the wolves are getting ready to rush us!"

Both strained their eyes and soon saw seven or eight of the beasts
sneaking softly up through the snow. The light from the camp-fire shone
in their eyes and on their white fangs. They were growing desperate, and
hoped by sheer force of numbers to lay their human prey low.

"Fire three shots, Dave, and I will do the same," said Mr. Porter, in a
low tone. "Aim as carefully as you can, my boy."

The various shots rang out in rapid succession. How much damage was done
they could not tell, although they saw two wolves go down and lie still.
The others retreated, some limping, and the entire pack went back to the
shelter of the brushwood.

They had now only a few cartridges left, and these they divided between
them. Then Dave stirred up the fire a little and placed the burning
sticks so they would last as long as possible. Father and son looked at
each other and suddenly stepped closer and embraced.

"God grant, now we have found each other, that we get from this spot in
safety," murmured Mr. Porter, fervently.

"Oh, we must get away!" added Dave, impulsively.

"All we can do is to fight to the last, Dave."

"Yes."

Both knew only too well what to expect should the wolves get the better
of the contest. "As cruel as a wolf" is a true saying. They would be
torn limb from limb and only their bones would be left to tell to some
later traveler the story of their fate. They decided, with set faces and
shut teeth, to fight to the very last.

Another quarter of an hour went by, and soon they heard the wolves
coming back. Neither said a word, but both looked at each other.

"Take those on the left,--I will take those on the right," whispered Mr.
Porter. "But be careful--every shot means so much!"

"I'll shoot my very best," answered Dave.

After that not a word was spoken. Silently the beasts came closer and
closer. Dave's heart began to beat rapidly. Then, when he could wait no
longer, he aimed at the nearest animal on the left and pulled the
trigger.

Two shots, one from the son and the other from the father, rang out
almost simultaneously, and down went two wolves mortally wounded. Crack!
went Dave's weapon a second time, and now a wolf was hit in the neck.
Then Mr. Porter fired, sending a bullet into a breast that was presented
to view. With four of their number out of the fight, the other wolves
turned and fled into the brushwood and then toward the forest of firs.

The battle had been of short duration, but the excitement had been
intense, and Dave found himself bathed in a cold perspiration from head
to foot. His father, too, was weak, and now sank on the rocks, breathing
heavily.

Only one small branch of a tree remained for the fire, and this Dave set
up, so that it might burn as a torch. When that was gone they would be
in utter darkness--and then? The youth shivered as he asked himself the
question. He knew that wild animals love the darkness and are braver in
it than in the light.

"Hello! hello! hello!"

Loud and clear from above the cliff the cry rang out a dozen times or
more. At first Dave thought he must be dreaming, then he roused up and
so did his parent.

"What was that?" demanded Mr. Porter.

"Somebody calling, I think." Dave ran out of the hollow and looked
upward through the falling snow. "Who calls?" he yelled, at the top of
his lungs.

"It is I, Granbury Lapham, and I have my brother and the others with
me. Is that you, Porter?"

"Yes."

"Have you found your father?"

"Yes."

"How is he?" came in another voice--the voice of Philip Lapham.

"He is hurt a little, but not much."

"I'll be all right if I can only get out of here," called Mr. Porter,
coming out so that he could look up the cliff. "We've been having our
own troubles with two bears and a pack of wolves."

"We thought there must be trouble--by the shots fired," said Granbury
Lapham. "That's why we started out in the darkness." He waved a torch in
the air. "Can you see us?"

"We can see a light," answered Dave. He took up the branch from the
fire. "Can you see our light?"

"Yes."

A long talk followed, and the party above, numbering four, said they had
brought along a good rope. This they lowered, and after not a little
difficulty Mr. Porter and Dave were raised up to the ledge above.

"There come the wolves again!" cried the youth, as he reached the ledge.
"Have you a shotgun with you?"

"Yes," said Philip Lapham. "Please lend it to me."

The weapon was passed over, and Dave blazed away twice in rapid
succession. A wild snarling and yelping followed, and then the wolves
disappeared; and that was the last seen of them.

"We are well out of that," murmured Mr. Porter. "And I am glad of it."

"And I am glad too," added Dave.

As it was snowing heavily the party did not waste time on the edge of
the cliff, but moved back to a small hut built on the mountain side and
which was easily located by the Norwegian guide. Here they found the
others of the exploring party, and here Mr. Porter and Dave were served
with a hot meal and made as comfortable as possible.

The snow lasted until noon of the next day, and then it grew clear and
much warmer. On the following day Dave and his father and the guide went
down the mountain to the sheep-station. Before they left they bade the
Laphams and the others good-bye, and Mr. Porter said he would leave the
question of locating the mines entirely in Philip Lapham's charge.

"You can draw on me for my full share of the expenses," said Mr. Porter.
"And if nothing comes of the venture I won't complain." It may be added
here that, later on, several mines of considerable importance were
located, and when Mr. Porter sold out to a syndicate that was formed he
realized a profit of about fifteen thousand dollars.

At the sheep-station Dave found Roger anxiously awaiting his return. The
senator's son was delighted to meet Mr. Porter, and the two immediately
became great friends.

As the weather remained fine it was decided to start on the return to
Christiania without delay. Mr. Porter took Granbury Lapham's place in
the sleigh, and the party took with them a good stock of provisions. The
journey was not without excitement, for they met and killed two wolves,
and once they rolled down a small hill and were dumped in the snow, but
in the end they arrived safely at the nearest railroad station, and from
that point the remainder of the trip was easy.

At the Norwegian capital a long cablegram was sent to Dunston Porter by
Dave and his father, telling of their meeting and stating that they and
Roger would return to the United States at once. They also wanted to
send a cablegram to Laura, but could not, for they did not know her
exact address.

"I shall have to wait until I hear from her, or until we get on the
other side," said Mr. Porter. "More than likely she is somewhere out
West,--perhaps on Mr. Endicott's ranch with Belle Endicott, her friend.
I had the address of the ranch, but I lost it while I was up in the
mountains." From Christiania, or rather the seaport, Dröbak, they
obtained passage on a swift-sailing vessel to Hull, and then took a
train across England to Liverpool. They had already telegraphed ahead
for staterooms on a Cunard steamer bound for Boston, and two hours after
arriving at Liverpool were on board and leaving the dock.

"This is fast traveling," remarked Roger, as they stood on the deck,
watching the shipping scene around them. "In less than a week we'll be
home. Dave, in some respects our trip to Norway seems like a dream."

"That is true, Roger--but what a happy dream!" And Dave's face fairly
beamed with thankfulness.

When they took the train from Boston to Crumville Dave could scarcely
control himself. Word had been sent ahead to the Wadsworths and Caspar
Potts, and at the depot the travelers found all of their friends
awaiting them. Mr. Porter was quickly introduced, and shook hands warmly
all around.

"Oh, Dave, I'm so glad to see you back!" cried Jessie. "And to think you
have really found your father at last! Isn't it splendid!"

"Yes, Jessie; and if I'm not the happiest boy in the world--well, I
ought to be, that's all."

"And what a fine man he is--and looks very much like your Uncle Dunston,
and looks like you, too," added the girl. She lowered her voice and it
trembled a little. "I am so happy--for your sake, Dave!" And the tears
stood in her deep, honest eyes.

It was truly a great home-coming, and Dave's father was told to make
himself perfectly at ease by Mr. Wadsworth.

"You have been more than kind to Dave," said Mr. Porter. "You and your
family, and Professor Potts. Dave has told me all about it. I do not
know if I can ever repay you, but I shall try my best." And he shook
hands all over again.

On the very day that Dave reached Crumville came a letter from Phil
Lawrence, who had received word that Dave was coming home. In this
communication Phil said that matters were running smoothly at Oak Hall.
Sam Day and Ben Basswood had had some trouble with Nat Poole, and the
dude had received a well-deserved thrashing. Gus Plum was keeping very
quiet, and had made a few more friends.

     "You will be surprised to hear the news about Link Merwell," wrote
     Phil. "I cannot tell you the start of it, but it ended in a great
     row between Merwell and Mr. Dale. Merwell is very bitter about it,
     and claims that I in some way got him into trouble. He went home
     for a vacation, and before he left he shook his fist in my face and
     said, 'I'll get even with you some day, and I'll get even with
     that friend of yours, Dave Porter, too.' He was fearfully ugly, and
     acted as if he wanted to eat somebody up."

"Humph, that is cheerful news," remarked Roger, after Dave had shown him
the letter. "Dave, you want to watch out for Merwell."

"I certainly will, Roger. Don't you remember what I once said? In some
respects he is a worse chap than Nick Jasniff and a good deal worse than
Gus Plum ever was." And that Dave was correct will be proved in the next
volume of this series, to be entitled, "Dave Porter and His Classmates;
or, For the Honor of Oak Hall." In that volume we shall meet all our
friends again, and also Laura Porter, and learn how Dave met the
underhanded work of Link Merwell and what was the result.

On Friday evening following Dave's return to the Wadsworth home he was
surprised to receive a visit from Phil, Ben, Sam, and Shadow. They burst
into the house like a cyclone and nearly hugged him to death, and then
shook hands all around, not forgetting Dave's father, who was quickly
introduced.

"We simply couldn't stay away," said Phil. "We stormed Doctor Clay's
office and he let us off until Monday morning."

"We want to hear all about your adventures in the far north," added
Ben. "How you discovered the North Pole, and shot bears and wolves----"

"And gave Nick Jasniff his set-back," interrupted Sam. "And how you
found your father."

"Which puts me in mind of a story," said Shadow. "A fellow once----"

"Hold hard, Shadow!" interrupted Phil. "Dave has the floor this time.
Your stories must wait until he's through."

"All right," answered the story-teller of the school, cheerfully. "I'd
rather listen to Dave, anyway, for I know he's got something worth
telling."

And then all sat down, and Dave told his tale, just as I have related it
here. It took until midnight, and when he had finished, all said
good-night to each other and went to bed. And here let us say
good-night, too.

THE END

EDWARD STRATEMEYER'S BOOKS

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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

The page numbers of illustrations have been changed to reflect their
new positions following transcription, and they are now indicated in
the illustration list by 'Page' instead of 'Facing Page'.

Printer's errors have been corrected. All other inconsistencies are
as in the original. The author's spelling has been retained.

Advertisements have been transferred to the rear of the book.