th.
"Maybe he is afraid I'll recognize him. Wonder who he is?"

He turned and looked back. But the man had his overcoat pulled up and
his soft hat pulled far down, and Dave could see little of his face.

"This is a mystery," mused Dave. "I am going to speak to him," and he
stopped short and waited for the mysterious individual to come up.

CHAPTER XXIII

HOOKER MONTGOMERY'S STRANGE REQUEST

The stranger approached slowly, as if hoping Dave would go on before he
came up. Once he looked towards the fields on either side of the road,
as if thinking to turn off. But no side road was at hand, so he had to
either come on or turn back.

"Why, it is Doctor Montgomery!" said the lad to himself, as he
recognized the man. Then, as he got still closer, Dave saw that the
so-styled doctor looked shabby and dissipated. His nose was exceedingly
red, as if he had been drinking, and his overcoat was much worn and so
were his shoes.

"How do you do?" he said, somewhat gruffly, as he came up to where Dave
was standing.

"How are you?" returned Dave, coldly, and stepped aside, as if to let
the doctor pass. But instead of doing this the traveling physician came
to a somewhat unsteady halt.

"Your name is Dave Porter, isn't it?" he queried, trying hard to steady
a voice that liquor had rendered nervous.

"It is."

"I guess you know me, Doctor Montgomery."

"Yes."

"Going to Oakdale?"

"I am."

"So am I. If you don't mind I'll walk with you. I want to talk to you."

"What do you wish?" demanded Dave. The road was rather a lonely one, and
he did not fancy the doctor for a companion.

"I've been wanting to see you for some time, Porter," answered Hooker
Montgomery, hesitatingly, as if not knowing how to begin. "Fact is, I
went up to the school hoping to meet you."

"Why didn't you call for me if you wanted to see me?"

"Well--er--the fact is, Doctor Clay and I are not on good terms, that's
why. To tell you the truth, I once sold some of my medicines to some of
his hired help, and he didn't like it. He thinks my medicines are
not--er--reliable. But they are, sir, they are--more reliable than those
of most physicians!" And Hooker Montgomery tried to draw himself up and
look dignified. But, to Dave, the effort was a failure. He could read
the fellow thoroughly, and knew him to be what is commonly called a
fakir, pure and simple.

"What did you want of me?" asked Dave, as they walked on in the
direction of Oakdale