On the following morning Dave had to apply himself diligently to his studies. Since leaving Oak Hall he had been attending a civil engineering class in the city with Roger, and had, in addition, been taking private tutoring from a Mr. Ramsdell, a retired civil engineer of considerable reputation, who, in years gone by, had been a college friend of Dave's father. Dave was exceedingly anxious to make as good a showing as possible at the coming examinations. "Here are several letters for you, David," said old Mr. Potts to him late that afternoon, as he entered the boy's study with the mail. "You seem to be the lucky one," the retired professor continued, with a smile. "All I've got is a bill." "Maybe there is a bill here for me, Professor," returned Dave gaily, as he took the missives handed out. Dave glanced at the envelopes. By the handwritings he knew that one letter was from Phil Lawrence and another from Shadow Hamilton, one of his old Oak Hall chums, and a fellow who loved to tell stories. The third communication was postmarked Coburntown, and in a corner of the envelope had the imprint of Asa Dickley. "Hello! I wonder what Mr. Dickley wants of me," Dave mused, as he turned the letter over. Then he remembered how sour the store-keeper had appeared when they had met the day before. "Maybe he wants to know why I haven't bought anything from him lately." Dave tore open the communication which was written on one of Asa Dickley's letterheads. The letter ran as follows: "MR. DAVID PORTER. "DEAR SIR: "I thought when I saw you in Coburntown to-day that you would come in and see me; but you did not. Will you kindly let me know why you do not settle up as promised? When I let you have the goods, you said you would settle up by the end of the week without fail. Unless you come in and settle up inside of the next week I shall have to call the attention of your father to what you owe me. "Yours truly, "ASA DICKLEY." CHAPTER V WHAT ASA DICKLEY HAD TO SAY Dave read the letter received from Mr. Asa Dickley with much interest. He went over it twice, and as he did so the second time his mind reverted to the communication received the morning before from Mr. Wecks. "What in the world does Mr. Dickley mean by writing to me in this fashion?" he mused. "I haven't had anything from him in a long while, and I don't owe him a cent. It certainly is a mighty strange proceeding, to say the least." Then like a flash another thought came into his mind--was Ward Porton connected in any way with this affair? "Somebody must have gotten some things in my name from Mr. Dickley, and he must have gotten those shoes from Mr. Wecks, too. If the party went there in person and said he was Dave Porter, I don't think it could have been any one but Ward Porton, because, so far as I know, he's the only fellow that resembles me."