Dave Porter on Cave Island/Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI
PICKING UP THE TRAIL
The announcement that the mice that had been caught in the car were educated filled the boys with interest, but it did not lessen their indignation nor that of the other passengers.
"The idea of mice on the train, even if they are educated!" shrilled the elderly lady.
"It's outrageous!" stormed another lady. "I never heard of such a thing in all my life!"
"Say, you must take this for a cattle train!" remarked the fat man, bluntly. "If you do, you've got another guess coming."
"Oh, my dear, sweet mice," said the tall, slim man, as he took the animal from Dave and also the one that Phil was holding. "That is King Hal and this one is President Tom! They are both highly educated. They can"
"Say, howsoeber did yo'-all git dem trash in dis cah!" demanded the porter.
"I—er—I had them in a cage in my—er—in my suit-case," the owner of the mice answered, and now his voice faltered. "I really didn't think they would get out."
"We don't allow no mice in de sleepin'-cahs!" stormed the porter. "Dogs, an' cats, an' parrots, an' mice goes in de baggage-cah."
"Are there any more of them loose?" asked one of the ladies.
"I will see!" cried the tall, slim man. "I forgot about that! Oh, I hope they are safe! If they are not, what shall I do? I have an engagement in Jacksonville, and another in St. Augustine, to fill."
"Do you show 'em on the stage?" snorted the fat man.
"To be sure. Haven't you heard of me, Professor Richard De Haven, the world-famous trainer of mice, rats, and cats? I have exhibited my mice in all the countries of the world, and"
"Never mind that just now," interrupted Dunston Porter. "Go and see if the others are safe, otherwise we'll have to round up your live-stock before we go to sleep again."
"Oh, I shall never sleep another wink in this car!" sighed a lady.
"I shall!" snorted the fat man, "or else get the price of my berth out of that chap, or the railroad company!"
Professor De Haven ran to his berth and dragged forth a dress-suit-case. A moment later he uttered a genuine howl of dismay.
"They are all gone!"
"How many?" queried Dave, who had followed him.
"Sixteen of them, not counting the two I have here now! O dear, what shall I do?" And the professor wrung his hands in despair.
"Sixteen mice at large!" shrieked one of the ladies. "Oh, stop the train! I want to get off!"
"Can't stop no train now," answered the porter. "We'se got to jest catch dem mice somehow, but I dunno how it's gwine to be done," he went on, scratching his woolly head in perplexity.
"I've got a shotgun along," suggested the fat man. "Might go gunning with that."
"I'll get my cane," said another man.
"I guess the ladies better retire to the next car," suggested a third passenger.
"Yes, yes, let us go, at once!" cried the elderly lady. "Porter, can I get a berth there?"
"Sorry, missus, but I dun reckon all de berths on dis yeah train am tooken."
"See here!" cried Dave, to Professor De Haven. "If the mice are educated, can't you call them to you in some way?"
"To be sure!" cried the professor, struck by the idea. "Why did I not think of that myself? I was too upset to think of anything. Yes, I can whistle for them."
"Whistle for 'em?" snorted the fat man.
"Yes, yes! I always whistle when I feed them. Please be quiet. I shall have to whistle loudly, for the train makes such a noise and it may be some of my dear pets may not hear me!"
"Humph! Then you better whistle for all you're worth!" returned the man of weight.
Walking slowly up and down the sleeping-car Professor De Haven commenced to whistle in a clear, steady trill. He kept this up for fully a minute and by that time several white mice had shown themselves. They were somewhat scared, but gradually they came to him and ran up on his shoulders.
"Well, doesn't that beat the Dutch!" whispered Roger, half in admiration.
"I shouldn't have been so scared If I had known they were educated," returned Phil.
"Hush!" said Dave. "Give him a chance to gather them all in."
Placing the captured mice In their cage, the professor moved up and down the car once more, opening the berth curtains as he did so. He continued to emit that same clear trill, and soon his shoulders were full of the white mice.
"Only one is missing, little General Pinky," he announced.
"Spit, spat, spow! Where did Pinky go?" murmured Phil.
"Ha! I have him! Dear little Pinky!" cried the professor, as the mouse dropped onto his shoulder from an upper berth. "Now I have them all, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "You can go to sleep without alarm. I shall take good care that they do not get away again."
"I dun reckon I'se gwine to take care of dat!" put in the porter. "Dem mice am gwine into de baggage-cah dis minit!"
"But, my dear fellow" broke in the professor.
"I ain't a-gwine to argy de question, mistah. Da is gwine in de baggage-cah!" And the porter reached out and caught hold of the cage containing the mice.
"Then I shall go with them," answered the professor, resignedly.
"Suit yo' self, sah."
"But they wouldn't hurt a flea!"
"Can't help it, sah, it's de baggage-cah fo' dis collection of wild animals," answered the porter, striding off with the cage in his hands, while the professor followed.
"Talk about something happening!" burst out Roger, when the excitement was over. "This was the funniest experience I ever had."
"I am sure I don't see anything funny about it!" snapped the elderly lady, who overheard the remark. "I think that man ought to be prosecuted!"
"He didn't expect his mice to get loose," said Dunston Porter. "Just the same, he had no right to bring them in here. As the porter said, all animals must go in the baggage-car."
"Wonder if he'll come back," mused Phil.
"I doubt it," answered Dave. "Well, now I'm going to try to get a little sleep," he added, as he climbed back into his berth. The others followed suit, and presently one after another dropped into slumber. It may be added here that Professor De Haven did not show himself again while on the train, he being afraid of the indignation of those who had been disturbed by his educated mice.
Early the following morning found our friends in the city of Jacksonville, which, as my readers must know, is located on the St. John's River. They did not wait for breakfast but hurried at once in the direction of the Hotel Castor, once a leading hostelry of the city, but which had seen its best day.
"Quite a town," remarked the senator's son, as they passed along.
"Jacksonville is now the main city of Florida," replied Dunston Porter. "It is a great shipping center, and is also well-known as a winter resort."
"How balmy the weather is!" was Phil's comment. "Just like spring at home!"
Dave's uncle had been in Jacksonville several times and knew the way well. Soon they reached the hotel, and with his heart beating loudly, Dave hurried up to the desk and asked the clerk if Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff were stopping there.
"Never heard of them," replied the clerk, after thinking a moment.
"I have photographs, perhaps you can tell them from that," went on Dave, and he drew from his pocket two photographs, taken at different times at Oak Hall. Each showed a group of students, and in one group was Merwell and in the other Jasniff.
The clerk looked at the pictures closely.
"What is this, some joke?" he asked, suspiciously.
"No, It is a matter of great importance," answered Dave. "We must find those two young men if we possibly can."
"Well, if they are the pair who were here some days ago, you are too late. But their names weren't what you said."
"What did they call themselves?" asked Dunston Porter.
"John Leeds and Samuel Cross," answered the clerk. "They had Room 87, and were here two days."
"Do you know where they went to?" asked Phil.
"I do not."
"Can you tell me anything at all about them?" went on Dave. "It is very important, indeed."
"I might as well tell you," put in Mr. Porter, in a low voice. "They were a pair of criminals."
"You don't say! Well, do you know, I didn't much like their looks," returned the clerk. "And come to think of it, one acted rather scared-like, the fellow calling himself Leeds—this one," and he pointed to the picture of Link Merwell.
"And you haven't any idea where they went to?"
"Not the slightest. They simply paid their bill and went away."
"Did they have any trunks sent off?" asked Roger. "We might find the expressman," he explained, to the others.
"No, they had nothing but hand baggage."
"What—can you remember that?" questioned Dave.
"Yes, each had a suit-case and a small valise,—kind of a tool-bag affair."
"Better look for that schooner, Dave," said his uncle, in a low voice, and in a few minutes more they left the hotel, telling the clerk that they might be back.
"Shall we get breakfast now?" questioned the senator's son. He was beginning to grow hungry.
"You can get something to eat if you wish, Roger," answered Dave. "I am going to try to locate that schooner first."
"No, I'll wait too, then," said Roger.
The shipping along the St. John's River at Jacksonville is rather extensive. But Dunston Porter knew his business and went direct to one of the offices where he knew he could find out all about the ships going out under charter and otherwise.
"We want to find out about a schooner named the Emma Brown, or Black, or Jones, or some common name like that," said Dave's uncle, to the elderly man in charge. "She was in this harbor several days ago. I don't know if she has sailed or not."
"Emma Brown, eh?" mused the shipping-clerk. "Never heard of such a schooner."
"Maybe she was the Emma Black, or Emma Jones," suggested Dave.
"No schooner by that name here,—at least not for the past month or two. We had an Emma Blackney here about six weeks ago. But she sailed for Nova Scotia."
"Well, try to think of some ship that might be named something like what we said," pleaded Dave. "This is very important."
"A ship that might have sailed from here in the past two or three days," added Roger.
The elderly shipping-clerk leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair, thoughtfully.
"Maybe you're looking for the Emma Brower," he said. "But she isn't a schooner, she's a bark. She left this port yesterday morning."
"Bound for where?" asked Dave, eagerly.
"Bound for Barbados."
"Where is that?" questioned Phil. "I've heard of the place, but I can't just locate it."
"It's an island of the British West Indies," answered Dunston Porter. "It lies about five hundred miles southeast of Porto Rico."
"If that's the case, then good-by to Merwell and Jasniff," murmured Phil. "We'll never catch them in the wide world."