"And you say his name is Porton? He signed our register as William Jones." "Here's his hat and coat," announced Phil, opening the door to a closet. "Pretty poor clothing he left you in return for yours, Dave," continued the shipowner's son, after an inspection. The hotel proprietor was very wrathy, declaring that Porton and his companion owed him for three days' board. "They're swindlers, that's what they are!" he cried. "Just wait till I land on them! I'll put them in jail sure!" "I'd willingly give you that board money just to get my hands on Ward Porton," announced Dave. He turned to his chums. "This sure is the limit! First he goes to the stores and gets a lot of things in my name and then he steals my hat and overcoat right from under my nose!" "Yes, and that isn't the worst of it," declared Roger. "There is no telling where he has gone; and even if you knew, in this awful storm it would be next to impossible to follow him." All went below, and there they continued to discuss the situation. In the midst of the talk the girls came down, accompanied by Dr. Renwick and his wife. "Oh, Dave! you don't mean to tell me that that horrid Ward Porton has been at more of his tricks!" cried Laura. "Isn't it perfectly dreadful!" put in Jessie. "And to think he was right in this hotel with us and we never knew it!" "That's what makes me so angry," announced Dave. "If only I had clapped my eyes on him!" he added regretfully. "Well, there's no use of crying over spilt milk," declared Roger. "He is gone, and so are Dave's overcoat and his cap, and that is all there is to it." "Speaking of milk puts me in mind of breakfast," put in Phil. "Now that the others are downstairs don't you think we had better have something to eat?" All were agreeable, and soon they were seated at a large table in the dining room, in company with the doctor and Mrs. Renwick. Here, while eating their breakfast, they discussed the situation from every possible standpoint, but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion. "Porton must have seen us when we came up to the rooms," said Dave to his chums. "He probably heard me speak about leaving my cap and overcoat downstairs, and he just took a fiendish delight in walking off with them and leaving his old duds behind. Oh, he certainly is a peach!" Had there been the slightest let-up in the blizzard, Dave and his chums would have gone out on a hunt around the town for Porton and his unknown companion. But with the wind blowing almost a hurricane, and the snow coming down as thickly as ever, Dr. Renwick told them that they had better remain indoors. "It isn't likely that they stayed anywhere around here, fearing detection," said the physician. "They probably put a good distance between themselves and this hotel. And to go out in such a storm as this might make some of you sick."