"So there are," answered Dick, and told about Tom and the missing
dress-suit case. "Tom ought to be getting back," he added.

Stanley had been at Brill for two days and had met both Flockley and
Koswell. He did not fancy either of the sophomores.

"That Frank Holden is all right," he said, "but Flockley and Koswell
are very overbearing and dictatorial. I caught them ordering one of
the freshmen around like a servant. If they had spoken that way to me
I'd have knocked them down." And the eyes of the Southern lad flashed
darkly.

"Where do you room?" asked Dick. He remembered what the house master
had said about Stanley and felt that the youth would make a nice
roommate for anybody.

"I'm in No. 27, right next to you fellows. Mr. Hicks was going to put
me in with you first, but afterward said a friend of yours was going
to fill the place."

"Yes," said Dick. "But you will be right next door, so it will be
almost the same thing. Who is your roommate?"

"A fellow named Max Spangler. I don't know much about him, as he only
came this noon. But he seems all right. Here he comes now."

As Stanley spoke he motioned to a short, stout lad who was walking
across the campus. The boy had a distinctly German face and one full
of smiles.

"Hello, Friend Browne," he called out pleasantly and with a German
accent. "Did you find somebody you know?"

"I've made myself known," answered Stanley, and then he introduced the
others. "They bunk next door to us," he added with a nod toward Dick
and Sam.

"Hope you don't snore," said Max Spangler. "I can go anybody but what
snores."

"No, we don't snore," answered Sam, laughing.

"Then I'm your friend for life and two days afterward," answered the
German-American lad, and said this so gravely the others had to laugh.
Max put the Rovers in mind of their old friend Hans Mueller, but he
spoke much better English than did Hans, getting his words twisted
only when he was excited.

Dick suggested that they all walk down the road to meet Tom, and this
was done. The conversation was a lively one, Stanley and Max telling
of their former schooldays and the Rovers relating a few of their own
adventures. Thus the four got to be quite friendly by the time the
carriage with Tom and Mr. Sanderson came in sight.

"Find it?" sang out Sam to his brother.

"No," was Tom's reply.

"You didn't!" cried Dick. "How far back did you go?"

"Way back to Rushville. I know it was in the carriage at that place,
for I saw it."

"Too bad," said Sam. "Did you have much of value in it?"

"Not a great deal. Most of my stuff is in my trunk. But the case alone
was worth six dollars, and it had my comb and brush and toothbrush and
all those things in it."

"Want me any more?" asked Mr. Sanderson. "If you don't, I'll get home.
It's past milking time now."

"No, I'll not need you," answered Tom and hopped to the ground. A
minute later the farmer turned his team around and was gone in a cloud
of dust.

Tom was introduced to Stanley and Max, and the whole crowd walked
slowly back to the college grounds. Then Tom was taken to his room,
the others going up-stairs with him. He washed and brushed up, went to
the office and registered, and then the bell rang for supper.

The dining hall at Brill was a more elaborate affair than the messroom
at Putnam Hall, but the Rovers were used to dining out in fine places,
so they felt perfectly at home. Dick and Sam had already met the
instructor who had charge of their table, Mr. Timothy Blackie, and
they introduced Tom. Stanley and Max were at the same table and also a
long-haired youth named Will Jackson, although his friends called him
"Spud."

"I don't know why they call me Spud," he said to Dick, "excepting
because I like potatoes so. I'd rather eat them than any other
vegetable. Why, when I was out in Jersey one summer, on a farm, I ate
potatoes morning, noon and night and sometimes between times. The
farmer said I had better look out or I'd sprout. I guess I ate about
'steen bushels in three weeks."

"Phew!" whistled Sam. "That's a good one."

"Oh, it's a fact," went on Spud. "Why, one night I got up in my sleep
and they found me down in the potato bin, filling my coat pockets with
potatoes, and--"

"Filling your coat pocket?" queried Stanley. "Do you sleep with your
coat on?"

"Why, I--er--I guess I did that night," answered Will Jackson in some
confusion. "Anyway, I'm a great potato eater," he added lightly. Later
on the others found out that Spud had a vivid imagination and did not
hesitate to "draw the long bow" for the sake of telling a good story.

The meal was rather a stiff and quiet one among the new students, but
the old scholars made the room hum with talk about what had happened
at the previous term. There was a good bit of conversation concerning
the last season of baseball and more about the coming work on the
gridiron. From the talk the Rovers gathered that Brill belonged to
something of a league composed of several colleges situated in that
territory, and that they had held the football championship four and
three seasons before, but had lost it to one of the colleges the next
season and to another college the season just past.

"Football hits me," said Dick to Stanley. "I'd like to play
first-rate."

"Maybe you'll get a chance on the eleven, although I suppose they give
the older students the preference," was the reply.

Stanley had met quite a few of the other students, and after supper
he introduced the Rovers and Max and also Spud. Thus the Rovers were
speedily put on friendly terms with a score or more of the freshmen
and also several of the others. One of the seniors, a refined young
man named Allan Charter, took the crowd through the library and the
laboratory and also down to the gymnasium and the boathouse.

"We haven't any boat races, for we have no other college to race
against," said the senior. "The students sometimes get up contests
between themselves, though. Dick Dawson used to be our best oarsman,
but last June a fellow named Jerry Koswell beat him."

"Koswell!" cried Sam. "I thought he was too much of a dude to row in a
race."

At this remark the senior smiled faintly.

"Evidently you have met Mr. Koswell," he remarked pointedly.

"We have," answered Tom.

"Well, he can row, if he can't do anything else."

"I'd like to try my skill against him some day," said Tom, who during
the past year had taken quite a fancy to rowing.

"Perhaps Koswell will be glad to let you have the chance," said Allan
Charter.

A little later the senior left the freshmen, and the latter strolled
back in the direction of the college buildings. It was now growing
dark, and the Rovers concluded to go up to their rooms and unpack
their trunks, which had just come in from the depot.

"You fellows want to keep your eyes wide open to-night," cautioned
Stanley, who came up with them.

"Hazing?" asked Dick.

"So I was told."

"Will they start in so early?" asked Sam.

"Any time after midnight. I hate to think of it, but I reckon a fellow
has got to submit."

"That depends," answered Dick. "I'll not stand for everything. I'll
not mind a little hazing, but it mustn't be carried too far."

"That's the talk," cried Tom. "If they go too far--well, we'll try to
give 'em as good as they send, that's all."

"Right you are!" came from Sam.

They unpacked their trunks and proceeded to make themselves at home as
much as possible. As Dick was alone in his room, he went over to his
brothers' apartment for company, locking his door as he did so.

"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were you, Dick," said Tom. "Stay here
to-night. My bed is big enough for two on a pinch. Then, if there is
any hazing, we can keep together. To-morrow, if Songbird comes, it
will be different."

This suited the oldest Rover, and he brought over such things as he
needed for the night. The boys were tired out, having put in a busy
day, and by ten o'clock Sam and Tom were both yawning.

"I think I'll go to bed," said Sam. "If anything happens wake me up."

"Oh, you'll wake up fast enough if they come," answered Tom. "But I am
going to lay down myself. But I am not going to undress yet."

Taking off their shoes and collars, ties and coats, the boys said
their prayers and laid down. Sam was soon in the land of dreams, and
presently Tom and Dick followed.

Two hours passed and the three lads were sleeping soundly, when
suddenly Tom awoke with a yell. A stream of cold water had struck him
in the head, making him imagine for the instant that he was being
drowned.

"Hi, stop" he spluttered and then stopped, for the stream of water
took him directly in the mouth. Then the stream was shifted and struck
first Dick and then Sam. All three of the Rovers leaped from the beds
as quickly as possible. Although confused from being awakened so
rudely, they realized what it meant.

They were being hazed.




CHAPTER VI

A HAZING, AND WHAT FOLLOWED


The stream of water came from a small hose that was being played
through a transom window over the door of the room. A lad was holding
the hose, and in the dim light Dick recognized the face of a youth
named Bart Larkspur, a sophomore who did not bear a very good
reputation. Larkspur was poor and Dick had heard that he was used by
Flockley, Koswell and others to do all sorts of odd jobs, for which
the richer lads paid him well.

"Stop that, you!" cried the oldest Rover, and then, rushing to the
door, he flung it open and gave a shove to what was beyond. This was
a short step-ladder upon which Larkspur and several others were
standing, and over the ladder went with a crash, sending the hazers to
the floor of the hallway in a heap.

"Get the hose," whispered Tom, who had followed his brother, and while
the sophomores were endeavoring to get up, he caught the squirming
hose and wrenched it, nozzle and all, from Bart Larkspur's hand.

"Hi, give me that!" yelled Larkspur.

"All right, here you are," answered Tom merrily, and turned the stream
of water directly in the sophomore's face. Larkspur spluttered and
shied and then plunged to one side into a fellow student standing
near. This was Dudd Flockley, and he was carried down on his back.

"Play away, Six!" called out Tom in true fireman style, and directed
the stream on Flockley. It hit the dudish student in the chin and ran
down inside his shirt collar.

"Stop, I beg of you! Oh, my!" screamed Flockley, trying to dodge the
water. "Larkspur, grab the hose! Knock that rascal down! Why don't
somebody do something?"

"Give me that hose, you freshie!" called out Jerry Koswell, who was
in the crowd. "Don't you know better than to resist your superiors? I
want you to understand--"

"Keep cool, old man, don't get excited," answered Tom brazenly. "Ah, I
see you are too warm. Will that serve to keep your temperature down?"
And now he turned the hose on Koswell, hitting the fellow directly in
the left ear. Koswell let out a wild yell and started to retreat and
so did several others.

"Don't go! Capture the hose!" called out Flockley, but even as he
spoke he took good care to get behind another sophomore.

"Capture it yourself!" growled the youth he was using as a shield.

"Say, you're making too much noise," whispered another student. "Do
you want the proctor down on us? And turn that water off before you
ruin the building. Somebody has got to pay for this, remember," he
added.

As it was an unwritten law of Brill that all hazers must pay for any
damage done to college property while hazing anybody, one of the
sophomores started for the lavatory where the hose had been attached
to a water faucet. But while the water still ran, Tom, aided by Dick
and Sam, directed the stream on the sophomores, who were forced to
retreat down the hallway.

"Now rush 'em! Rush 'em!" yelled Flockley, when the water had ceased
to run. "Bind and gag 'em, and take 'em down to the gym. We can finish
hazing 'em there!"

"Get into the room!" whispered Dick. "Hurry up, and barricade the
door!"

"Right you are, but no more hose water for me," answered Tom, and
pulled on the rubber with all his might. It parted about half way down
the hallway, and into the room he darted with the piece in his hands.
Then Sam and Dick closed the door, locked it, and shoved a bed and the
table against the barrier. They also turned the button of the transom
window so that the glass could not be swung back as before.

"Now they can't get in unless they break in," said Dick grimly, "and I
doubt if they'll dare to do that."

"Say, maybe I'm not wet," remarked Sam, surveying his dripping shirt.

"Never mind; we sent as good as we got, and more," answered Tom with
a grin. "Let us put on our coats so we don't catch cold. No use of
putting on dry clothing until you are sure the ball is over."

"Tom, you're a crack fireman," said Dick with a smile. "I'll wager
those sophs are mad enough to chew nails."

"What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," quoted the
fun-loving Rover. "What's the good of living if you can't return a
compliment now and then?"

For several minutes all was silent outside. Then came a light knock
on the door. Dick held his hand up for silence and the knock was
repeated.

"Don't answer them," whispered the oldest Rover.

"Say, I want to talk to you fellows," came in low tones. "This is
important."

"Who are you?" asked Dick after a pause.

"I'm Larkspur--Bart Larkspur, I want to tell you something."

"Well, what is it?" demanded Tom.

"Your resistance to our class won't do you any good. If you'll come
out and take your medicine like men, all right; but if you resist it
will go that much harder with you."

"Who sent you--Frank Holden?" asked Sam.

"What has Holden to do with it?" growled Larkspur.

"We know he's the leader of your class."

"He is not. Dudd Flockley is our leader."

"Then Flockley sent you, eh?" put in Dick.

"Yes, if you want to know it."

"Well, tell Flockley to mind his own business," answered Dick sharply.
"If Frank Holden wants us we'll come, but not otherwise."

"Are you hazing any of the other fellows?" asked Tom.

"We'll haze them after we get through with you," growled Larkspur, and
then the Rovers heard him tiptoe his way down the hall.

"I think this attack was gotten up by the Flockley-Koswell crowd,"
was Dick's comment. "Maybe it wasn't sanctioned by the other sophs at
all."

The Rovers waited a while longer and then with caution they pulled
back the bed and the table and opened the door. By the dim light in
the hallway they saw that the place was deserted. Somebody had run a
mop over the polished floor, thus taking up most of the water.

"I guess they have given it up for to-night," said Dick, and his words
proved correct.

After waiting a good hour the three Rovers rearranged the room,
hanging up some of the bedding and rugs to dry near the window, which
they left wide open. Then they locked the door and went into Dick's
room, which had not been disturbed. As they did this another door
opened, and Stanley poked out his head, followed by Max.

"We heard it all," said the Southern lad with a chuckle. "Hope you
doused 'em good!"

"We did," answered Tom. "They didn't tackle you, did they?"

"No; but I suppose they will later, or to-morrow."

"I am ready for them if they come," came from Max. "I got this," and
he held up a long, white sack.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"Plaster of Paris. If they tackle me I'll make 'em look like marble
statues already." And the German-American youth winked one eye
suggestively.

Despite the excitement the Rover boys slept soundly for the rest of
the night. All were rather sleepy in the morning, but a good wash in
cold water brightened them greatly. While getting ready for breakfast
they looked for Flockley and Koswell, but those two students, as well
as Larkspur, kept out of sight.

"They don't like the way matters turned out last night," said Dick.

On entering the dining-room they saw the sophomores at a nearby table.
Flockley and Koswell glared darkly, while as they passed, Larkspur
put out his foot to trip Sam up. But Sam was on guard, and instead
of stumbling he stepped on the fellow's ankle, something that caused
Larkspur to utter a gasp of pain.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded savagely.

"Sorry, but you shouldn't sprawl all over with your feet," answered
the youngest Rover coldly, and passed on to his seat. When he looked
back, Larkspur, watching his chance so that no teacher might see him,
shook his fist at Sam.

"We have got to keep our eyes wide open for that bunch," was Dick's
comment. "Last night's affair will make Flockley and Koswell more sour
than ever, and Larkspur is evidently their tool, and willing to do
anything they wish done."

After chapel the Rovers were assigned to their various classes and
given their text-books. It was announced that no regular classes would
be called until the following Monday morning.

"That gives us plenty of time to study our first lessons," said Sam.

"Yes, and gives us time to get acquainted with the college layout and
the rest of the students," added Tom. "Do you know, I think I am going
to like it bang-up here."

"Just what I was thinking," returned Dick. "It isn't quite so boyish
as Putnam Hall was--some of the seniors are young men--but that
doesn't matter. We are growing older ourselves."

"Gracious, I'm not old!" cried Tom. "Why, I feel like a two-year-old
colt!" And to prove his words he did several steps of a jig.

Only about half of the students had as yet arrived, the others being
expected that day, Friday, and Saturday. The college coach was to
bring in some of the boys about eleven o'clock, and the Rovers
wondered if Songbird Powell would be among them.

"You'll like Songbird," said Dick to Stanley Browne. "He's a great
chap for manufacturing what he calls poetry, but he isn't one of the
dreamy kind--he's as bright and chipper as you find 'em."

The boys walked down to the gymnasium, and there Sam and Tom took a
few turns on the bars and tried the wooden horses. While they did
this Dick talked to a number of the freshmen with whom he had become
acquainted.

"We are to have a necktie rush Monday," said one boy. "Every fellow is
to wear the college colors. Meet on the campus an hour before supper
time."

"I'll be there," said Dick. He knew what was meant by a necktie rush.
All the freshmen would don neckties showing the college colors, and
the sophomores, and perhaps the juniors, would do their best to get
the neckties away from them. If more than half the boys lost their
ties before the supper bell rang the freshmen would be debarred from
wearing the colors for that term.

Shortly before eleven o'clock a shout was heard on the road, and a
number of the students made a rush in that direction. The college
coach swung into sight in a cloud of dust. It was fairly overflowing
with boys and young men, all yelling and singing and waving their hats
and caps. At the sight those on the campus set up a cheer.

"This is something like!" cried Tom enthusiastically. He wanted to see
things "warm up," as he expressed it.

The coach was followed by three carriages, and all deposited their
loads at the main building steps and on the campus. There were more
cheers and many handshakes.

"There he is!" cried Sam, and rushing forward, he caught John Powell
by the hand, shook it, and relieved the newcomer of his suit case.

"Hello, Sam!" cried Songbird, and grinned from ear to ear. "Hello,
Dick! Hello, Tom! Say, did I surprise you?" And now he shook hands
with the others.

"You sure did," replied Dick. "I was afraid I was going to have a
stranger for a roommate. Your coming here suits me to a T!"

"I didn't write to you because I wanted to surprise you," explained
Songbird. "I've composed some verses about it. They start--"

"Never mind the verses now," interrupted Tom. "Come on in and we'll
introduce you to the fellows, and then we'll listen to your story. And
we'll tell you some things that will surprise you."

"And I'll tell you some things that will surprise you, too," returned
John Powell, as he was led away by the three Rover boys.




CHAPTER VII

THE ARRIVAL OF SONGBIRD


"So you've made some enemies as well as some friends, eh?" remarked
Songbird Powell, after he had been registered, taken up to his room,
and had listened to what the Rover boys had to tell. "No use of
talking, it doesn't take you fellows long to stir things up!"

"You said you had a surprise for us, Songbird," returned Tom. "I'm
dying by inches to know what it is."

"Maybe it's a new poem," put in Sam with a grimace at his brothers.

"I've got a poem--several of them, in fact," answered Songbird, "but
I didn't have those in mind when I spoke. Who do you suppose I met
yesterday morning, in Ithaca, while I was waiting for the train?"

"Dora Stanhope and the Lanings," answered Tom promptly.

"No. Tad Sobber."

"Tad Sobber!" exclaimed the Rover boys in concert.

"Songbird, are you sure of it?" demanded Dick.

"Sure? Wasn't I talking to him!"

"But--but--I thought he was lost in that hurricane, when the
_Josephine_ was wrecked."

"No. It seems he escaped to a vessel bound for England; but his uncle,
Sid Merrick, was lost, and so were most of the others. Sobber just got
back from England--came in on one of the ocean liners, so he told me."

"How did he act?" asked Tom.

"Where was he going?" added Sam.

"Did he seem to have any money?" came from Dick.

All of the Rovers were intensely interested, and showed it plainly.

"Say, one question at a time, please!" cried Songbird, "You put me in
mind of a song I once wrote about a little boy:

  "'A little lad named Johnny Spark
  Was nothing but a question mark.
  He asked his questions night and day,
  When he was resting or at play.
  One minute he would tackle pa,
  And then he'd turn and tackle ma;
  And then his uncle he would quiz--"

  "And let that line please end the biz,"

finished Tom. "Say, Songbird, please don't quote poetry when we are
waiting to hear all about Tad Sobber. Have some pity on us."

"Yes, tell us of Sobber," added Sam and Dick.

"All right, if you don't appreciate my verses," returned the would-be
poet with a sigh. "Well, to start with, Tad Sobber was well dressed,
and looked as if he had all the money he needed. He wore a brown
checkered suit, so evidently he hasn't gone into mourning for his
uncle. He told me he had had a rough experience on the ocean during
the hurricane, and he blames you Rovers for all his troubles."

"That's just like Sobber," was Dick's comment.

"He wouldn't tell me where he was going or what he was going to do,
but he did let drop a remark or two about the fortune you discovered
on Treasure Isle. He said that he was firmly convinced that the money
belonged to him and to his uncle's estate, and that he meant some day
to make a fight for it."

"In the courts?" asked Tom. "If he does that he'll get beaten. Father
says the treasure belongs to the Stanhope estate and to nobody else."

"No, he didn't say he was going to court about it, but he said he was
bound to get hold of it some day."

"I hope he doesn't try to get it by force," said Sam. "That would mean
trouble for the Stanhopes and the Lanings."

"The money is in the banks now, Sam," said Dick. "He couldn't get hold
of it excepting on an order from those to whom it belongs."

"And they'll never give him any such order," added Tom.

"Do you suppose he was going to see the Stanhopes and the Lanings?"
questioned the oldest Rover anxiously.

"He didn't say, I wanted to question him further, but a man who was
standing on a corner, some distance away, beckoned to him, and he left
me and joined the man, and the two walked off."

"Who was the man?"

"I don't know."

The boys talked the matter over for some time, but Songbird had
nothing more to tell, and at last the subject was dropped. Songbird
was introduced to Stanley, Max, and a number of the other students,
and soon he felt quite at home.

That evening there was a bit of hazing. Dick and Tom escaped, but Sam,
Songbird and Stanley were caught in the lower hallway by a number of
the sophomores and carried bodily to the gymnasium. Here they were
tossed in blankets and then blindfolded.

"We'll take them to the river," said one of the sophomores. "A bath
will do them good."

"Let's give 'em a rubbing down with mud!" cried Jerry Koswell. He had
some tar handy, and if the mud was used he intended to mix some of the
tar with it on the sly.

"That's the talk!" cried Larkspur, who knew about the tar, he having
purchased it for Koswell and Flockley. The three had at first intended
to smear the beds of the Rovers with it, but had gotten no chance.

"Give them a good dose!" said Dudd Flockley. He had joined in the
blanket-tossing with vigor.

Sam, Songbird and Stanley were being led to the river when Max came
rushing up to Tom and Dick, who happened to be in the library, looking
over some works of travel.

"Come on mit you!" he cried excitedly in broken English. "Da have got
Sam and Stanley and dot friend of yours alretty! Hurry up, or da was
killed before we git to help 'em!"

"They? Who?" asked Dick, leaping up.

"Sophs--down by der gym!" And then Max cooled down a bit and related
what he had seen.

"We must surely go to the rescue!" cried Tom. "Wait! I'll get clubs
for all hands!" And he rushed up to his room, where in a clothing
closet lay the end of the hose he had taken away from the sophomores.
With his knife he cut the section of hose into eight "clubs," and With
these in his hands he hurried below again.

At a cry from Dick and Max the freshmen commenced to gather on the
campus, and Tom quickly handed around the sections of hose. Other
first-year lads procured sticks, boxing gloves, and other things, and
looked around for somebody to lead them.

"Come on!" cried Dick, and he sprang to the front, with Tom on one
side and Max on the other. The German-American boy had a big squirtgun
filled with water, a gun used by the gardener for spraying the bushes.

The sophomores had captured four more freshmen, and marched all of
the crowd down to the river front, when the band under Dick, sixteen
strong, appeared. The latter came on yelling like Indians, and
flourishing their sections of hose, and sticks and other things.

"Let 'em go! Let 'em go!" was the rallying cry, and then whack! whack!
whack! down came the rubber clubs and the sticks on the backs of the
second-year students.

"Fight 'em off!" came from the sophomores.

"Chase 'em away!" yelled Dudd Flockley; but hardly had he spoken when
Max discharged the squirtgun, and the water took Flockley in the eye,
causing him to yell with fright and retreat. Then Max turned the gun
on Larkspur, soaking the latter pretty thoroughly.

Attacked from the rear, the sophomores had to let go their holds on
their victims, and as soon as they were released Sam, Songbird and the
others ran to the right and the left and joined the force under Dick.

All told, the freshmen now numbered twenty-three, while the sophomores
could count up but fourteen. The second-year students were hemmed in
and gradually forced nearer and nearer to the bank of the river.

"Let up! let up!" yelled several in alarm. "Don't knock us overboard!"

"It's nothing but mud here! I don't want my new suit spoiled!" cried
one.

"I can't swim!" added another.

"I've got an idea," whispered Tom to the others near him. "Shove 'em
in the mud and water, or else make 'em promise not to take part in the
necktie rush."

"That's the talk!" replied Dick. He caught hold of the sophomore in
front of him. "All shove, fellows!" And the second-year students were
gradually forced to the very edge of the river at a point where there
was a little water and a good deal of dark, sticky mud. Of course
they fought desperately to push the freshmen back, but they were
outnumbered, as already told.

"Now, then, every fellow who will promise not to take part in the
necktie rush Monday will be allowed to go free," said Dick loudly.
"The others must take their ducking in the water--and mud."

"Let me go!" roared Dudd Flockley. "I'm not going to have this suit
ruined!"

"I don't want to get these patent leathers wet!" cried Jerry Koswell,
who had on a new pair of shiny shoes.

"Then promise!" cried Sam, and "Promise!" "Promise!" came from many
others.

Without delay several of the sophomores promised, and they were
allowed to depart. Then the others began to show fight, and three
managed to escape, among them being Dudd Flockley. The others were
forced into the water and mud up to their knees. Then they cried out
in alarm, and while two finally escaped, the others also promised to
keep out of the necktie contest.

"Just wait!" snarled Jerry Koswell as he at last managed to pull
himself out of the sticky mud. "Just wait, that's all!" His
patent-leather shoes were a sight to behold.

"Not so much fun when you are hazed yourself, is it?" asked Sam
coolly.

"We'll give it to 'em yet," put in Bart Larkspur. "Lots of time
between now and the closing of the term." And then he and Koswell ran
off to join Dudd Flockley. The three went to their rooms and cleaned
up as best they could, and then took a walk down the road in the
direction of Rushville.

"It was that Dick Rover who led the attack," said Dudd Flockley. "Do
you know what I think? I think he is going to try to make himself
leader of the freshies."

"Just what I thought, too," answered Larkspur. "And if that's the fact
we ought to do all we can to pull him down."

"Tom Rover is the fellow I am going to get after," came from Jerry
Koswell. He had not forgotten how Tom and Sam had sent him to the
floor in the presence of Minnie Sanderson.

The three students walked a distance of half a mile when they saw
approaching them a trampish-looking man carrying what looked to be a
new dress-suit case. They looked at the fellow rather sharply and he
halted as he came up to them.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, "but did any of you gents lose this case?"

"Why, it must be Rover's case!" cried Flockley. Nearly every one in
the college had heard about the missing baggage.

"I found it in the bushes alongside the road," went on the tramp.
"Thought it might belong to some of the college gents."

"Let me look at it," said Koswell, and turned the case around. "Yes,
it's Rover's," he added, seeing the initials and the address.

"Better take it up to the college," put in Larkspur.

"Wait, I'll take it up," said Jerry Koswell suddenly. "This belongs to
a poor chap," he added to the tramp. "He won't be able to reward you,
but I will. Here's a quarter for you." And he passed over the silver
piece.

"Much obliged," said the tramp. "Want me to carry it up to the
buildings?"

"No, I'll do that," said Koswell, and then he winked at his cronies.
The tramp went on and the three watched him disappear in the distance.

"What did you do that for, Jerry?" asked Flockley with interest. He
surmised that something new was afoot.

"Oh, I did it for the fun of the thing," answered Koswell coolly. "But
maybe I can work it in somehow against that Rover bunch. Anyway, I'll
try."




CHAPTER VIII

THE COLORS CONTEST


The next morning Tom was much surprised to find his missing dress-suit
case standing in front of his room door.

"Hello! How did this get here?" he cried as he picked up the baggage.

"What's that?" asked Sam, who was just getting up.

"Look!" answered his brother, and brought the case in. "Somebody must
have found it and left it here while I was asleep."

"Very kind, whoever he was," said Sam. "Are the contents all right?"

Instead of answering Tom placed the suit case on a chair and started
to unlock it.

"Hello, it's unlocked!" he murmured. "I thought I had it locked."

He shoved back the clasps and threw the case open. The contents were
much jumbled, but he had expected this from the fact that the bag had
been jounced out of the carriage.

"I guess the stuff is all here," he said slowly, turning over the
clothing and other things. "Somehow, I thought I had more in the case,
though," he added presently.

"Don't you know what you had?"

"Well--er--I packed it in a hurry, you know. I wanted to go fishing,
and so I got through as soon as I could. Oh, I guess it's all right."

Tom was too lively a youth to pay much attention to his personal
belongings. Often he hardly knew what suit of clothing he had on or
what sort of a necktie. The only times he really fixed up was when
Nellie Laning was near. Why he did that only himself (and possibly
Nellie) knew.

Sunday passed quietly. Some of the boys attended one or another of the
churches in Ashton, and the Rovers went with them. Dudd Flockley and
his cronies took a walk up the river, and reaching a warm, sunny spot,
threw themselves down to smoke cigarettes and talk.

"Well, what did you do about the dress-suit case, Jerry?" asked
Flockley with a sharp look at his crony.

"Returned it, as you know," was the answer, and Jerry winked
suggestively.

"I'd have flung the bag in the river before I would give it to such a
chap as Tom Rover," growled Larkspur.

"You trust me, Larky, old boy," answered Jerry Koswell. "I know what
I'm doing."

"Humph!"

"I said I returned the case, but I didn't say I returned all that was
in it."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Flockley. "If you've got a
secret, out with it."

Koswell looked around to make certain that no outsider was near.

"I kept a few things out of the bag--some things that had Tom Rover's
name or his initials on them."

"And you are going to--" went on Flockley.

"I am going to use 'em some day, when I get the chance."

"Good!" cried Flockley. "I'll help you, Jerry!"

"And so will I," added Larkspur. "If we work it right we can get Tom
Rover in a peck of trouble."

On Monday morning the college term opened in earnest, and once again
the Rovers had to get down to the "grind," as Sam expressed it. But
the boys had had a long vacation and were in the best of health, and
they did not mind the studying.

"Got to have a good education if you want to get along nowadays," was
the way Dick expressed himself. "If you don't learn you are bound
to be at the mercy of anybody who wants to take advantage of your
ignorance."

"Dick, what are you going to do when you get out of college?" asked
Tom.

"I don't know--go into business, I imagine."

"Oh, he'll marry and settle down," chimed in Sam. "He and Dora will
live in an ivy-covered cottage like two turtle doves, and--"

Sam got no further, for a pillow thrown by Dick caught him full in the
face and made him stagger.

"Sam is thinking of what he and Grace are going to do," said Dick.
"And you and Nellie will likely have a cottage across the way," he
added, grinning at Tom.

"Really!" murmured Tom, and got as red as a beet. "Say, call it off,"
he added. "Do you know we have the necktie rush this afternoon?"

"It won't amount to much," answered Sam. "Too many sophs out of it."

"Don't you believe it," said Dick. "Remember, the juniors come into
this as well as the sophs."

"Say, I've thought of a plan!" cried Tom. "Greatest ever! I'm going to
patent it!" And he commenced to dance around in his excitement.

"What's loose?" asked Songbird, coming up at that moment, followed by
some others. "Tom, have you got a pain in your inwards?"

"No, an idea--it's about the same thing," responded Tom gaily. "We
want to get the best of the second and third-year fellows during the
necktie rush, and I think I know how we can do it. We'll all sew our
neckties fast!"

For a moment there was silence, and then, as the others caught the
idea, they commenced to laugh.

"That's it!" cried Sam. "I'll sew mine as tight as a drum!"

"I'll rivet mine on, if that will do any good," added Dick.

"Sure thing!" came from Songbird, and he commenced to recite:

  "Oh, the sophs and the juniors will try
  To steal from the freshies each tie;
      But they will not win,
      For we'll fight them like sin--"

  "And bust 'em right plumb in the eye!"
finished Tom. "Oh, say, but will you all sew your neckties fast?"

"Sure!"

"And we'll tell the rest to do so, too," added another freshman who
was present.

The news soon circulated, and was kept from all but the first-year
students.

It must be confessed that many of the students found it hard to fix
their minds on their lessons that afternoon. One boy, Max Spangler,
brought on a great laugh when the following question was put to him:

"What great improvement in navigation did Fulton introduce?"

"Neckties," answered Max abstractedly.

"Neckties?" queried the instructor in astonishment.

"I--er--I don't mean neckties," stammered the German-American student,
"I mean steamboats."

When the afternoon session was over the students hurried to their
various rooms. The sophomores and the juniors who were to take part
in the contest talked matters over, and as far as possible laid out a
plan of action. It was decided that the largest and heaviest of the
second and third-year students were to tackle the smallest freshmen
first, while the others were to hold the rest of the first-year men at
bay.

"We'll get fifteen or twenty neckties first clip that way," said one
of the sophomores, "and it doesn't matter who we get them from. A
little chap's tie counts as much as that of a two-hundred pounder."

In the meantime the freshmen were busy following Tom's advice and
sewing their ties fast to their collars, shirts, and even their
undershirts. Then Dick, who had, unconsciously almost, become a
leader, called the boys into an empty recitation-room.

"Now, I've got a plan," said he. "We want to bunch up, and all the
little fellows and lightweights get in the center. The heavy fellows
can take the outside and fight the others off. Understand?"

"Yes!"

"That's a good idea!"

"Forward to the fray!" yelled Stanley, "and woe be to him who tries to
get my tie! His blood be on his own head!" he added tragically.

"Forward!" cried Sam, "and let our watchword be, 'Die, but no tie!'"

"Now don't get excited," said Dick. "Take it coolly, and I'm certain
that when the time is up we'll have the most of our ties still on."

It was the custom to go out on the campus at a given time, and when
the chapel bell sounded out the hour Dick led the freshmen forward.
They came out of a side door in a body and formed around the flagstaff
almost before the sophomores and juniors knew they had appeared.

The seniors took no part, but three had been "told off" to act as
referees, and they stood around as if inspecting the buildings and the
scenery. The instructors, who also knew what was coming, wisely kept
out of sight.

"Come on, and at 'em!" called out Dudd Flockley, and this cry was
quickly taken up by all the others who were to take part in the
contest.

"Hello! They know a thing or two," said Frank Holden, who was the
sophomore leader in the attack. "They've got the little fellows in the
middle."

As tightly as possible the freshmen gathered around the flagstaff.
Each wore a necktie of the college colors and it was fastened as
tightly as strong thread could hold it.

"At 'em!" was the yell of the second and third-year lads. "Tear 'em
apart! Pull the ties from 'em!"

And then they leaped in at the big freshmen, and on the instant a
battle royal was started. Down went four boys on the campus, rolling
over and over. Others caught each other by the hands and shoulders and
wrestled valiantly.

Dick and Tom were in the front rank, with Sam directly behind them.
Dick was caught by Frank Holden, and the two wrestled with might and
main. Frank was big and strong, but Dick managed to hold him so that
all the sophomore leader could do was to get his finger tips on the
sought-for necktie.

Flockley tackled Tom, and much to his surprise was tripped up and sent
flat on his back. Mad with sudden rage, Flockley scrambled up and let
out a savage kick for Tom's stomach. But Tom was too quick for the
sophomore, and leaped to one side.

"Foul!" cried Tom.

"Don't do that again!" called one of the seniors to Dudd. "If you do
you'll be ruled out." Kicking and punching were prohibited by the
rules. All the boys could do was to wrestle and throw each other, and
either try to pull the neckties away or hold on to them.

On and on the battle waged, each minute growing hotter. Many of the
students were almost winded, and felt that they could not endure
the struggle much longer. Dick, Tom and Sam managed to keep their
neckties, although Sam's was torn loose by two sophomores who held him
as in a vise until Stanley came to his assistance. When the time was
half up eleven neckties had been captured--two of them almost torn to
shreds.

"At 'em!" yelled Frank Holden. "We haven't begun yet!"

"Hold 'em back!" was Dick's rallying answer. "Don't let 'em get near
the little fellows!"

Again the contest raged, and this time with increased bitterness. In
the melee some few blows were exchanged, but it must be admitted that
one side was about as much to blame for this as the other. Three
additional neckties were captured, making fourteen in all. As
thirty-seven freshmen were in the contest, the sophomores and juniors
had to capture five more neckties to win.

"Only three minutes more!" sang out one student, looking at his watch.
"At 'em! Rip 'em apart!"

"Three minutes more!" yelled Dick. "Hold 'em back and we'll win!"

The enemy fought with increased fury, and one more necktie was
taken--the collar and collar band coming with it. But then of a sudden
the chapel bell tolled out the hour.

"Time's up!" was the cry.

"And we win!" came from a score of freshmen in huge delight.

"Look out! Look out!" cried several small youths in the center of the
crowd.

Crack! It was the flagstaff, and all looked in that direction. The
pole, old and decayed, was falling. It looked as if it would crush all
who stood in its path.




CHAPTER IX



TOM IN TROUBLE


"Look out, the flagpole is coming down!"

"Stand from under, or you'll be killed!"

Crack! came from the pole, and now many saw that it was breaking off
close to the ground. Some of the students had clung to it during the
contest, and the strain had been too much for the stick, which was
much rotted just where it entered the ground.

Those on the outside of the crowd ran away with ease, but not so those
who were hemmed in. Two of the smallest of the freshmen, Billy Dean
and Charley Atwood, could not move fast enough, and one fell over the
other, and both went down.

"Save me!" gasped one of the lads.

"Don't let the pole come down on me!" screamed the other.

The flagstaff was falling swiftly, and Dick and many others saw that
it would fall directly across Dean and Atwood unless its progress was
stayed.

"Hold it up! Hold it up!" yelled Dick. "Hold it up, or they'll be
killed!"

He put up his hands to meet the pole, which was coming down across
the front of the campus. Tom did likewise, and so did Frank Holden,
Stanley Brown, and several others, including an extra tall and
powerful senior.

It was a heavy weight, and for the moment the boys under it thought
they would have to let it go. Over came the pole, and when it rested
on the boys' hands the top overbalanced the bottom and struck the
ground, sending the lower end into the air. As this happened Billy
Dean and Charley Atwood were hauled out of harm's way. Then the pole
was dropped to the campus with a thud.

For several seconds all who stood near were too dazed to speak. Then
a cheer arose for those who had held the flagstaff up long enough for
the small youths to be rescued.

"Say, that was a close shave!" exclaimed Sam, He, like a good many
others, was quite pale.

"It was indeed," said a senior who had come up. "The fellows who held
the pole up deserve a good deal of credit."

"Dick Rover suggested it," said Songbird, "Good for you, Dick!" he
added warmly.

The falling of the flagstaff sobered the whole party of students, yet
the freshmen were jubilant over the fact that they had won in the
colors contest.

"And we'll wear the colors this term," cried Tom proudly.

"So we will!" called out others in a chorus. "We'll wear 'em good and
strong, too!" And they did. The very next day some of the lads came
out with neckties twice the ordinary size, and with hat bands several
inches wide, all, of course, in the Brill colors.

Billy Dean and Charley Atwood were much affected by what had occurred,
and quickly retired from the scene. But later both of the small
students thanked Dick and the others for what had been done for them.
The broken flagstaff was hauled away by the laborers of the place, and
inside of a week a new pole, much larger than the old one, and set in
concrete, was put up.

For several days after the contest over the colors matters ran along
smoothly at Brill. The Rover boys made many more friends, and because
of his work during the necktie rush Dick was chosen as the leader of
the freshmen's class.

"On Friday I am going to fix Tom Rover," said Jerry Koswell to Dudd
Flockley. "Just wait and see what I do--and keep your mouth shut."

"I'll keep my mouth shut right enough," answered Dudd, "but what's in
the wind?"

"I'm going to pay off Professor Sharp for some of his meanness--and
pay off Tom Rover at the same time."

"Give me a map of the proceedings. I'm too tired to guess riddles,
Jerry."

"Well, you know how Sharp called me down to-day in English?"

"Sure!"

"Well, I've learned that he just received a new photograph of some
lady--I think his best girl. He has it on the mantle in his room. I'm
going to doctor that picture, and I'm going to lay the blame on Tom
Rover."

"How will you do it?"

"By using something I got out of Rover's dress-suit case."

"Oh, I see!"

"Sharp will suspect Rover at once, because he and Rover had a few
words yesterday."

"Good! I hope he catches it well--Rover, I mean," answered Dudd
Flockley.

Saturday was more or less of a holiday at Brill, and the three Rover
boys planned to go to town. Incidentally, they wished to learn if Dora
Stanhope and the Laning girls had as yet arrived at Hope Seminary.
They had received no letters from the girls since coming to Brill, and
were growing anxious.

Tom was dressing to go to town when there came a knock on his door,
and one of the proctors presented himself.

"Thomas Rover, you are wanted at the office immediately," said the
man.

"What for?" asked Tom.

"Don't ask me, ask Professor Sharp," answered the proctor, and looked
at Tom keenly.

Wondering what could be the matter, Tom finished dressing, and in a
few minutes presented himself at the office. President Wallington and
Professor Sharp were both waiting for him.

"So you've come at last, have you, you young rascal!" cried Abner
Sharp angrily. "How dare you do such an outrageous thing?"

"Gently, professor," remonstrated the president of Brill. "You are not
yet certain--"

"Oh, he did it, I am sure of it!" spluttered Professor Sharp. "I
declare I ought to have him locked up!"

"Did what?" demanded Tom, who was much mystified by what was going on.

"You know well enough, you young reprobate!" stormed the instructor.

"See here, Professor Sharp, I'm neither a rascal nor a reprobate, and
I don't want you to call me such!" cried Tom, growing angry himself.

"You are, and I will have you to understand--"

"I am not, and if you call me bad names again I'll--I'll--knock you
down!" And Tom doubled up his fists as he spoke.

"Rover, be quiet!" exclaimed Doctor Wallington, so sternly that both
Tom and Professor Sharp subsided. "I'll have no scene in this office.
You must behave yourself like a gentleman while you are here.
Professor, you must not call a student hard names."

"But this outrage, sir!" spluttered the instructor.

"We'll soon know the truth of the matter."

"I'd like to know what you are talking about," said Tom. "I haven't
committed any outrage, so far as I know."

"Didn't you do this?" cried Abner Sharp, and thrust under Tom's nose
a photograph of large size. The picture had once represented a fairly
good-looking female of perhaps thirty years of age, but now the hair
was colored a fiery red, and the end of the nose was of the same hue
while in one corner of the dainty mouth was represented a big cigar,
with the smoke curling upward. Under the photograph was scrawled in
blue crayon, "Ain't she my darling?'"

The representation struck Tom as so comical that he was compelled to
laugh outright; he simply couldn't help it. It was just such a joke
as he might have played years before, perhaps on old Josiah Crabtree,
when at Putnam Hall.

"Ha! So you are even willing to laugh in my face, are you!" almost
screamed Abner Sharp, and rushing at Tom he caught the youth and shook
him roughly. "Do you--er--know that this lady is my--my affianced
wife?"

"Let me go!" cried Tom, and shook himself loose. "Excuse me, sir. I
know I hadn't ought to laugh, but it looks so--so awfully funny!" And
Tom had to grin again.

"Rover!" broke in the president of Brill sternly, "aren't you ashamed
to do such a thing as this?"

"Why--er--what do you mean, sir?"

"Just what I said."

"Oh!" A light began to break in on the fun-loving Rover's mind. "Do
you think I did this?"

"Didn't you?"

"Of course he did!" fumed Professor Sharp. "And now he is willing to
laugh over his dastardly work!"

"I didn't do it, sir," said Tom firmly.

"You are certain?" It was the head of the college who asked the
question.

"Yes, sir. I never saw that picture before."

"But I have the proof against you!" fairly shouted Abner Sharp. "It is
useless for you to deny your guilt."

"I say I am not guilty."

"Isn't this your box, Rover?"

As Professor Sharp uttered these words he brought to light a German
silver case which Tom had picked up in a curiosity shop in New York.
The case had his name engraved on it, and contained pencils, crayons,
and other things for drawing.

"Where did you get that?" demanded the youth.

"Never mind where I got it. Isn't it yours?"

"Yes."

"Ha! Do you hear that, Doctor Wallington?" cried Abner Sharp in
triumph. "He admits the outfit is his!"

"So I see," said the president of Brill, and if anything his face
grew a trifle more stern. "Then you admit your guilt, Rover?" he
questioned.