Dave Porter on Cave Island Part 13

"Guess they thought we weren't coming at all," said Dave, when he found no sleigh awaiting him. "Well, we can walk."

"Of course we can walk," answered the senator's son. "I'll be glad to stretch my legs after such a long ride."

"Let us take a short cut," went on Dave, as they left the depot. "I know a path that leads almost directly to our place."

"All right, if the snow isn't too deep, Dave."

"It can't be deep on the path, for many of the men who work at the Wadsworth jewelry place use it. It runs right past the Wadsworth works."

"Go ahead then."

They took to the path, which led past the freight depot and then along a high board fence. They turned a corner of the fence, and crossed a vacant lot, and then came up to one corner of the jewelry works, at a point where the new addition was located.

"Now, here we are at the works," said Dave. "It's not very much further to the house."

"Pretty quiet around here, this time of night," remarked Roger, as he paused to catch his breath, for they had been walking fast. "There doesn't seem to be a soul in sight."

"There is usually a watchman around, old Tony Wells, an army veteran. I suppose he is inside somewhere."

"There's his lantern!" cried the senator's son, as a flash of light shone from one of the windows. Hardly had he spoken when the light disappeared, leaving the building as black as before.

"It must be a lonely job, guarding such a place," said our hero, as he and his chum resumed their walk. "But I suppose it suits Tony Wells, and he is glad to get the money it brings in."

"They must have a lot of valuable jewelry there, Dave."

"Oh, yes, they have. But it is all locked up in the safes at night."

Dave thought of the Carwith diamonds, but remembered his promise not to mention them to anybody.

As the boys turned another corner they came face to face with a fat man, who was struggling along through the snow carrying two heavy bundles.

"h.e.l.lo!" cried Dave. "How are you, Mr. Rowell?"

"Bless me if it isn't Dave Porter!" cried Amos Rowell, who was a local druggist. "Out rather late, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"So am I. Had to visit some sick folks and I'm carrying home some of their was.h.i.+ng. Goodnight!" and the druggist turned down one road and Dave and Roger took the other.

Inside of five minutes more our hero and his chum were at the entrance to the Wadsworth mansion. Just as they were mounting the steps, and Dave was feeling in his pocket for his key, a strange rumble reached their ears.

"What was that?" asked the senator's son.

"I don't know," returned Dave, in some alarm. "It sounded to me as if it came from the direction of the jewelry works!"

CHAPTER X-WHAT HAPPENED AT THE JEWELRY WORKS

"The jewelry works?" repeated Roger.

"Yes. What did it sound like to you?"

"Why, like a blast of some kind. Maybe it was at the railroad."

"They don't work on the railroad at night-especially in this cold weather, Roger. No, it was something else."

Both boys halted on the piazza and listened. But not another sound out of the ordinary reached their ears.

"Might as well go in-it's getting pretty cold," said the senator's son.

Dave unlocked the door and they entered the mansion. A dim light was burning in the hallway. While they were taking off their caps and coats Dave's father appeared at the head of the stairs.

"Got back safely, did you?" he questioned.

"Yes, dad; and everything in the city was all right," answered the son.

"I'll bring the package up to you."

"Never mind-I'll come down and put it in the safe," answered Mr. Porter.

"By the way," he went on, "what was that strange noise I just heard?"

"That is what we were wondering," said Roger. "It sounded like a blast of dynamite to me."

"Maybe something blew up at the powder works at Fenwood," suggested Dave. The works in question were fifteen miles away.

"If it did, we'll hear about it in the morning," returned Mr. Porter, as he took the package Dave gave him and disappeared into the library, turning on the electric light as he did so.

The boys went upstairs and started to undress. Phil had been asleep, but roused up at their entrance. The boys occupied a large chamber, with two double beds in it, for they loved to be together, as at school.

"Listen to that!" cried Dave, as he was unlacing a shoe.

"It's the telephone downstairs!" cried Phil. "My, but it's ringing to beat the band!" he added, as the bell continued to sound its call.

The boys heard Mr. Porter leave the library and go to the telephone, which was on a table in an alcove. He took down the receiver.

"Yes! yes!" the boys heard him say. Then followed a pause. "You don't mean it! When, just now? Was that the noise we heard? Where did they go to? Wait, I'll call Mr. Wadsworth. What's that? Hurry!" Then followed another pause. "Cut off!" they heard Mr. Porter mutter.

"Something is wrong!" murmured Dave.

Mr. Porter came bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. Dave and the other boys met him in the hallway.

"What is it, Dad?" asked the son.

"Robbers-at the jewelry works!" panted David Porter. "I must notify Mr.

Wadsworth!" And he ran to a near-by door and pounded on it.

"What is it?" came sleepily from the rich manufacturer. He had heard nothing of the telephone call, being down deep in the covers because of the cold.