He
knew the teacher to be a model man, who did not drink or gamble.
"Here we are," said Tom Shocker, as he stopped in front of a door at the
back of the hallway on the third floor of the building. "I guess you can
go right in. He's on the bed with his broken ankle."
"His broken ankle?" repeated Dave. "Why didn't you tell me of that
before?"
"I thought I did," returned Shocker, smoothly. "Here you are. It's dark,
isn't it? I'll light the gas," and he commenced to fumble in his pocket,
as if hunting for a match.
It was dark, and for several seconds Dave could see little or nothing.
He heard a faint groan.
"Is that you, Mr. Dale?" he asked, kindly.
A low reply was returned--so low that Dave could not make out what was
said. He went into the room a few steps further. As he did so Tom
Shocker closed the door and locked it. Dave heard the click of the
lock's bolt and wheeled around.
"What did you do?" he demanded sharply.
"I guess I've got you now, Dave Porter!" cried another voice, and now
Dave recognized the tones of Nat Poole. "You played me a scurvy trick by
putting me aboard the freight train. I guess it's about time I paid you
back; don't you think so?"
CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH DAVE IS ROBBED
Dave found himself in a decidedly unpleasant situation.
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