[Frontispiece: "TOM! TOM! STOP!" SCREAMED DICK AND SAM IN UNISON. _The
Rover Boys in Alaska._]
THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA
OR
_LOST IN THE FIELDS OF ICE_
BY
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
(Edward Stratemeyer)
AUTHOR OF THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL, THE
ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN, THE PUTNAM
HALL SERIES, ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
BOOKS BY ARTHUR M. WINFIELD (Edward Stratemeyer)
THE FIRST ROVER BOYS SERIES
THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE JUNGLE
THE ROVER BOYS OUT WEST
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE MOUNTAINS
THE ROVER BOYS IN CAMP
THE ROVER BOYS ON LAND AND SEA
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE RIVER
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE PLAINS
THE ROVER BOYS IN SOUTHERN WATERS
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE FARM
THE ROVER BOYS ON TREASURE ISLE
THE ROVER BOYS AT COLLEGE
THE ROVER BOYS DOWN EAST
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE AIR
THE ROVER BOYS IN NEW YORK
THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA
THE ROVER BOYS IN BUSINESS
THE ROVER BOYS ON A TOUR
THE SECOND ROVER BOYS SERIES
THE ROVER BOYS AT COLBY HALL
THE PUTNAM HALL SERIES
THE PUTNAM HALL CADETS
THE PUTNAM HALL RIVALS
THE PUTNAM HALL CHAMPIONS
THE PUTNAM HALL REBELLION
THE PUTNAM HALL ENCAMPMENT
THE PUTNAM HALL MYSTERY
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
_The Rover Boys in Alaska_
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS: This book is a complete story in itself, but forms the
eighteenth volume in a line issued under the general title of "The
Rover Boys Series for Young Americans."
As I have mentioned in some of the other volumes, this line was started
with the publication of "The Rover Boys at School," "On the Ocean," and
"In the Jungle." The books were so well received that they were
followed, year after year, by the publication of "The Rover Boys Out
West," "On the Great Lakes," "In Camp," "On Land and Sea," "On the
River," "On the Plains," "In Southern Waters," "On the Farm," "On
Treasure Isle," "At College," "Down East," "In the Air," and then "In
New York," where we last met the lads.
The boys are growing older--as all boys do--and Dick is married, and
helping his father in business. In the present story Sam and Tom
return to college, until something quite out of the ordinary occurs and
the fun-loving Tom disappears most mysteriously. Sam and Dick go in
search of their brother, and the trail leads them to far-away Alaska,
where they encounter many perils in the fields of ice and snow.
The publishers assure me that by the end of the present year the total
of sales on this series of books will have reached _one million and a
half copies_! This is, to me, truly amazing, and I cannot help but
feel profoundly grateful to all the boys and girls, and their parents,
who have taken such an interest in my stories. I trust with all my
heart that the reading of the books will do the young folks good.
Affectionately and sincerely yours,
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TOM AND SAM
II. SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAST
III. TOM'S JOKE
IV. THE OLD WELL HOLE
V. TOM'S QUEER ACTIONS
VI. BOYS AND GIRLS
VII. COLLEGE DAYS
VIII. THE JOKE ON WILLIAM PHILANDER
IX. WILLIAM PHILANDER TURNS THE TABLES
X. IN WHICH TOM DISAPPEARS
XI. WHAT THE GIRLS KNEW
XII. AT HIRAM DUFF'S COTTAGE
XIII. THE WESTERN EXPRESS
XIV. DICK AND SAM IN CHICAGO
XV. BOUND WEST
XVI. THE ROVER BOYS IN SEATTLE
XVII. OFF FOR ALASKA
XVIII. AT JUNEAU AND SKAGWAY
XIX. FROM ONE CLUE TO ANOTHER
XX. IN THE MOUNTAINS OF ALASKA
XXI. AT THE FOOT OF THE CLIFF
XXII. IKE FURNER'S CAMP
XXIII. A SLIDE DOWN THE MOUNTAIN SIDE
XXIV. IN WHICH TOM IS FOUND
XXV. THE SHELTER UNDER THE CLIFF
XXVI. IN THE GRIP OF THE TORNADO
XXVII. LOST IN THE FIELDS OF ICE
XXVIII. AT TONY BINGS'S CABIN
XXIX. TOM'S WILD RIDE
XXX. GOOD-BYE TO ALASKA--CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
"TOM! TOM! STOP!" SCREAMED DICK AND SAM IN UNISON. . . . _Frontispiece_
"THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM.
"HERE, HOLD MY TORCH," SAID DICK.
THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA
CHAPTER I
TOM AND SAM
"Well, here we are again, Tom, down to the grind of college life."
"That's right, Sam. Not so much fun as attending a wedding, is it?"
And Tom Rover grinned broadly at his brother.
"We can't expect to go to weddings all the time," returned Sam Rover, a
grin showing on his own face. "Wonder how Dick and Dora are making
out," he mused.
"Oh, fine, you can be sure of that. Dora is just the girl for Dick."
"How do you like being back here, Tom?" and the youngest Rover looked
anxiously at his brother.
Tom heaved a deep sigh before replying.
"To tell the truth, Sam, I wish I had stayed home a bit longer," he
said slowly. "My head isn't just as clear as it might be. That whack
Pelter gave me with that footstool was an awful one."
"It certainly was, and it's a wonder it didn't split your skull open.
Maybe you'd better go back home for a rest."
"Oh, no, it isn't as bad as that. Sometimes I feel a bit dizzy, that's
all. But I guess that will wear away, sooner or later. You see, I've
been studying hard the last three days, trying to make up for lost
time, and that is what's done it. I think I'll take it a bit easier
after this, until I feel more like myself."
"Don't you think you had better see a doctor?"
"No, I've had the doctor fussing over me until I am tired of it. What
I need is some fun, Sam. Can't you think of something? Whenever I try
to concoct some sort of a joke it makes my head ache," and poor Tom,
who loved to play pranks as much as ever, heaved another sigh.
"Let us take a long walk this afternoon, Tom. Maybe that will do your
head some good. We can take Songbird and some of the others along."
"All right; anything to get out of the greasy grind of studying. My!
don't I wish I was in Dick's place and didn't have to go to college any
more!"
"Well, Dick's got his hands full with Dad's business. Those brokers
left things in a perfect mess."
"I know it. But Dick will straighten things out--he's got a head for
just that sort of thing." Tom took up a text book, glanced at it for a
moment, and then threw it on the table. "No use, I can't study any
more to-day. I'm going out on the campus. You come as soon as you are
done and we'll take that walk."
"All right. Will you tell Songbird and whoever else you want to go
along?"
"Yes," answered Tom, and without further words he took up his cap,
heaved another deep sigh, and left the room. Sam watched his brother
pass down the corridor of the college building and noted that he placed
his hand to the back of his head and kept it there for some time.
"Poor Tom!" murmured the youngest Rover, as he turned again to the
lesson he had been studying. "He tries to keep up a brave front, but
that crack he got on the head some weeks ago was a worse one than most
folks imagine. I'm thinking he ought to be home and under the doctor's
care instead of trying to rack his brains making up lessons he missed
while we were away."
Tom passed along the corridor until he had turned a corner and was out
of sight of me room he and Sam occupied. Then he looked around to make
certain that nobody was observing him. Both of his hands went up to
the back of his head and he clenched his teeth hard.
"What is the matter with this old head of mine!" he murmured.
"Sometimes I feel as if I had a regular windmill inside of it. And
when I try to study it gets to be a regular blank. Something is wrong,
that's certain. What is it?"
He stood in the corner of the corridor for several minutes, trying to
pull himself together, mentally and physically. His face was still
somewhat pale, from the suffering he had undergone, since the time a
wooden footstool hurled by an enemy had hit him and knocked him
unconscious.
"Rats! this won't do!" he finally exclaimed, and shaking himself, he
hurried out of the building and on to the broad, velvety college campus.
Students were walking in various directions, going to, or coming from,
classes and lectures. Many hailed him and he called out in return, or
waved his hand. The Rover boys had a host of friends at Brill.
Presently Tom saw a tall, slim young man coming up, dressed in a light,
checked suit, and wearing pointed patent-leather ties and a
rose-colored cap. In the buttonhole of the student was a large
carnation. Under his arm the approaching one carried half a dozen text
books.
The face of the fun-loving Rover lighted up and for the time being the
pain in his head was forgotten. His hand went down in a pocket, to
feel for something, and then came forth again. Then he stepped forward
and crooked out his elbow.
The other student was looking to one side as he came forward and he did
not notice the elbow in his way. The elbow caught him in the ribs,
causing him to give a grunt, and the armful of books were scattered on
the walk.
"My gracious me!" gasped the stylishly-dressed youth. "What did you do
that for, Tom Rover?"
"Sorry, Tubblets," answered Tom, making as sober a face as possible.
"I didn't know you wanted the whole walk."
"You did that on purpose, Tom Rover, you know you did!"
"Did what on purpose, Tubby?"
"How many times must I tell you that my name is not Tubby or Tubblets.
It is William Philander Tubbs, and I want you to call me by my right
name after this."
"Very well, Mr. W. P. Washbasin--I mean Tubbs. I'll not forget again,"
and Tom made a low bow.
"And I don't want you to knock my books out of my arm again," went on
William Philander, drawing himself up disdainfully.
"Your books, Willie?"
"Yes, my books," came wrathfully from the dudish student "And don't you
dare to call me Willie. My name is----"
"Oh, yes, I remember now, Philugger."
"It's not Philugger, either. It is Wil----"
"Sure, I know, Philliam Tubbander Williams. Sorry I forgot before."
And Tom looked truly sorrowful.
"Oh, you are simply horrid, that's what you are!" declared the
stylishly-dressed student, in despair. "And my books are all covered
with dirt!"
"I beg a million pardons," cried Tom, and started to pick the books up,
one after another. As he did this one hand went again into that pocket
before mentioned and, on the sly, he inserted a printed sheet of paper
into each book. "Now you are all fixed, Tubbly," he added. "And you
can run along to school like a nice little boy. But wait a moment till
I fix your collar," he went on, as he turned the other youth around.
"What's the matter with my collar?" demanded the dudish student,
suspiciously.
"Talcum powder, I guess. You mustn't use so much after this." And Tom
commenced to brush the collar vigorously.
"I--er--I didn't use much--just a little for my nose, don't you know,"
answered William Philander Tubbs, who made much of his personal
appearance.
Tom continued to brush the coat collar off with one hand, while
unfolding a printed bill with the other. An advertising wagon had gone
past the college grounds the day before, and from a fellow distributing
handbills Tom had gotten a sheet telling of the merits of "Gumley's Red
Pills for Red-Blooded People," and also some small bills relating to
the same wonderful cure for many ills. The small sheets were in the
books; the large sheet he now proceeded to place on William Philander's
back, fastening it under the turned-down coat collar. There were a few
specks of talcum powder on the coat collar, but not enough to have
attracted any attention.
"Now you are all right, Tubbsky," said the fun-loving Rover. "My, but
you certainly do know how to dress!" he added, in affected admiration.
"Ah, really?" lisped the dude "Thanks. But please don't knock my
books down again," he added, and then proceeded on his way to one of
the classrooms.
"Well, that makes me feel a little better," murmured Tom, and then he
followed slowly, to watch the fun. He saw a number of students gather
and all commenced to snicker at Tubbs, who, totally unconscious of what
was taking place, marched on, holding his head erect.
"Wish it was my class, I'd like to see it out," mused Tom. "But never
mind, I guess I'll hear about it later," and he turned back to the
campus, to wait for Sam. As he did this, a queer pain shot through his
head and he murmured a suppressed groan.
"If that keeps on I'll have to do as Sam says, go and see a doctor," he
told himself. "Gosh, how queer I feel! Just as if I was getting
batty!"
"Hullo, Tom!" came the salute from nearby, and looking in that
direction the fun-loving youth saw another student coming up rapidly.
"Sam just told me you were going to take a walk and asked me to go
along."
"Yes, Songbird, we'll start as soon as Sam gets through with the lesson
he's studying. How's the muse these days?"
"Oh, I'm not writing much poetry now," answered John Powell, otherwise
known as Songbird, because of his efforts at composing verses. "I've
got too much to do studying."
"Why don't you write a poem to the professors? Maybe they'd excuse you
from recitations for it," and Tom smiled broadly.
"I--er--I did write one little poem about the lessons," answered the
would-be poet. "It went like this:
"The student sat in his room in a chair
With a look on his face of keen despair;
Outside his chums were playing ball
And oft to him they sent a call.
He wanted to play with all his heart,
But from his books he could not part."
"Grand! Immense! You've struck the clothespin on the head the first
clip!" cried Tom. "Any more of the same brand?"
"Well--er--I started the second verse, but I didn't get it finished.
It went like this:
"He had a lesson hard to learn,
It made his heart with anguish burn;
He wanted to throw those books away
And rush outside and run and play
And so--and so--and so------"
And so he kept on grinding there,
Gnashing his teeth and pulling his hair,"
finished Tom. "I know, for I've been there. Really, Songbird, that's
a dandy poem. You ought to have it framed and hung up in the gym."
"Do you really think so?" and the would-be poet looked pleased.
"I do. It would hit every fellow in Brill. And I think--What can that
fellow want?" added Tom suddenly, as a messenger boy from the town came
running up to him.
"Guess he's got a message for you," returned Songbird.
"For me? I trust it's no bad news," said Tom.
CHAPTER II
SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAST
"Is this Mr. Thomas Rover?" asked the messenger boy, as he came to a
halt.
"Yes, that's my handle," answered Tom. "What have you got for me, a
check for a thousand dollars or a bill?"
"Telegram," was the laconic answer, and the lad held it out. "Sign
here," he added, bringing his receipt book into evidence. "It's paid
fer."
"All right, son." Tom signed the book, fished up a dime from his
pocket and handed it to the lad, who took it with a broad grin.
"T'anks, mister. Any answer?"
"I'll see," said Tom, and tore open the envelope of the telegram. He
perused the yellow sheet inside with interest.
"It's from Dick!" he cried, to Songbird. "He's got to come to Casford
on business and he says he will make the trip in the auto and bring
Dora along. They'll be here to-morrow or the day after, and they'll
stop at Hope Seminary too. Say, this is great! I must tell Sam!" went
on Tom, his face brightening. "You can go," he told the messenger boy.
"Here comes Sam now," announced Songbird. "He's got Stanley and Spud
with him." And he pointed to one of the doors of the college building.
To my old readers the Rover boys will need no introduction. For the
benefit of others, allow me to state that the youths were three in
number, Dick being the oldest, fun-loving Tom coming next, and sturdy
little Sam being the youngest. When at "the old homestead," as they
called it, they lived with their father, Anderson Rover, and their
Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha on a farm called Valley Brook, in New
York State.
As related in the first volume of this series, entitled, "The Rover
Boys at School," the three lads had been sent to Putnam Hall Military
Academy, a well-known institution of learning presided over by Captain
Victor Putnam. There they had made many friends and also a few
enemies.*
The first term at school was followed by a trip on the ocean, and then
another trip into the jungles of Africa. Then came a journey to the
West, and jolly times on the Great Lakes and in the mountains. Next
the boys returned to the Hall, to go in camp with their fellow cadets.
After that they took a long journey over land and sea, being cast away
on a lonely island of the Pacific.
"Now I've had enough adventures to last a lifetime," said Dick, on
returning home. But strenuous happenings to him and his brothers were
not yet over. On a houseboat the Rover boys sailed down the Ohio and
the Mississippi rivers, having many adventures by the way, and then
found themselves on the Plains, where they solved the mystery of Red
Rock ranch. Then they reached Southern Waters, and in the Gulf of
Mexico discovered a deserted steam yacht, which they eventually turned
over to its anxious owner.
"Now for a good rest," said Sam, and the three lads returned to the
home farm, where more adventures befell them. Next they returned to
Putnam Hall, where all graduated with considerable honor.
"College next," said Tom, and he made a wry face, for studying was not
particularly in his line, although he could knuckle down as hard as
anyone when it was necessary. But before they went to college the lads
and their father, accompanied by some others, went off on a treasure
hunt, locating what was known as the Stanhope fortune.
Brill College was a fine institution of learning, located in the middle
west, not far from the town of Ashton. With the Rovers went their
old-time school chum, Songbird Powell, already introduced. At the same
time William Philander Tubbs came there from Putnam Hall. He was a
dudish fellow who thought more of his dress and his personal appearance
than anything else, and was often made the butt of some practical joke.
At Brill the Rovers soon made other friends, including Stanley Browne,
a tall, gentlemanly youth, and Will Jackson, generally called Spud,
because of his unusual fondness for potatoes. Spud was a great story
teller and some of his yarns were certainly "the limit," to use Sam's
way of expressing it.
While at Putnam Hall the Rover boys had made the acquaintance of Dora
Stanhope, who lived nearby with her widowed mother, and also Nellie and
Grace Laning, Dora's two cousins. It was not long before Dick and Dora
showed a great liking for each other, and at same time Tom commenced to
"pair off" with Nellie and Sam was often seen in the company of Grace.
Then came the time when the Rovers did a great service for Mrs.
Stanhope, saving her from the rascality of Josiah Crabtree, a teacher
at Putnam Hall who was trying to get possession of the money Mrs.
Stanhope held in trust for Dora. Crabtree was exposed and then he lost
no time in disappearing.
Not far from Brill College was located another institution of learning,
Hope Seminary, for girls. When the Rovers went to Brill, Dora and her
two cousins went to Hope, so the young folks met as often as before.
A short term at Brill was followed by an unexpected trip down East,
where the lads again fell in with the rascally Crabtree. Then the
youths returned home for a brief vacation and while there became the
owners of a biplane and took several thrilling trips through the air,
and, later on, by means of the same aircraft, managed to save Dora and
Nellie from some rascals who had abducted them.
About this time, Mr. Anderson Rover, who was not well, was having much
trouble with some brokers, who were trying to do him out of much
valuable property. He went to New York and disappeared, and the sons
immediately went in search of him, as related in the volume before
this, entitled "The Rover Boys in New York."
The brokers were Pelter, Japson & Company, and it was not long before
Dick and his brothers discovered that they were in league with Josiah
Crabtree. The plotters were holding Mr. Rover a prisoner, in the hope
that he would sign away certain rights to them. The boys traced the
crowd to a lonely farmhouse, and it was during the happenings which
followed that poor Tom was struck on the head by a wooden footstool,
thrown by Pelter, and knocked unconscious. Josiah Crabtree tried to
escape from a garret window by means of a rope made of a blanket and
this broke and he fell, breaking a leg in two places. He was taken to
a hospital and the doctors there said he would be a cripple for life.
All of the Rovers were much concerned over Tom, and for some time it
looked as if the youth might be seriously injured. But the boy had
grit and pulled himself together, and presently announced himself as
well as ever. But he often got that sharp pain through the head, and
there were times when, for an instant, his mind became a blank.
While Dick was at college he had become formally engaged to Dora, and
now it was decided that, as Mr. Rover was in no physical condition to
look after his various financial affairs, and as Dick seemed to take
more to business than to studying, he should leave college and take the
reins out of his parent's hands. Then he pleaded with Dora that they
get married and she consented, only stipulating that they must both
look after her mother. Then followed the grandest wedding that quiet
Cedarville had ever known, and Dick and Dora went off on a short but
exceedingly happy honeymoon trip.
"And now it is back to the college grind for us," Sam had said to Tom.
"Right you are," was the reply. "And we'll have to work pretty hard to
catch up with our classes."
"But your head, Tom----"
"Oh, that has got to take care of itself," had been Tom's reply; and
there the matter had dropped for the time being. But often Sam would
watch his brother closely, for he knew that poor Tom had been seriously
hurt and was by no means entirely over it.
When the two brothers had returned to Brill they had had to tell their
chums of all their doings in and near New York. Songbird had smiled
grimly on hearing of the fate of Josiah Crabtree.
"Well, he deserved it," the would-be poet had said. "He was a snake in
the grass from the start."
"I hope he doesn't cross our path again," Sam had replied. "I never
want to see him, again."
"Nor do I," had come from Tom. "If he's a cripple I reckon he'll keep
out of our sight."
It was hard work, after all the excitement of their doings in New York,
and the added excitement of the wedding, for Sam and Tom to settle down
to the hum-drum routine of life at college, but the lads did their
best. Nellie Laning and her sister Grace came back to Hope Seminary
and the young folks managed to see each other at least once a week.
Nellie was very solicitous about Tom, and when he admitted to her that
his head still hurt at times she wanted to know why he didn't return to
the farm for a long rest.
"Oh, I don't want to drop behind in my studies, Nellie," had been his
answer. "I want to get through, and go into business, like Dick has
done," and he gazed at her in a manner that caused her to blush deeply.
"Yes, I know. But, Tom dear, supposing your head----" She did not
know how to go on.
"Oh, my head will be all right, Nellie, so don't you fret. Why, I
wouldn't have you fret for the world!" And Tom had caught both her
hands tightly within his own. They understood each other perfectly.
"But you know what the doctor said--that you must be very careful for a
long, long time." She had not added that one of the specialists had
remarked that victims of such injuries sometimes went out of their
minds.
"Oh, I'll be all right I tell you, Nellie," he had answered. "I'll go
through Brill with a rush, see if I don't. And then we'll get
married----"
"Oh, Tom!"
"Surest thing you know," he had added, and then, as they chanced to be
alone, he had caught her in his arms and given her a quick little hug
and a kiss that meant a great deal. To Tom, the whole world did not
hold such another girl like Nellie. And to Nellie--well, there was Tom
and that was all.
"Well, you take good care of yourself," she had said on parting, and he
had told her again not to worry.
"What's the news?" asked Sam, as he came up to his brother and saw the
telegram in Tom's hand.
"Read it for yourself," was the answer and the younger Rover did so.
"So Dick is coming to Casford; eh?" mused Sam. "I suppose it's some
more of Dad's business. Well, I'll be glad to see him and see Dora,
too. We can all go up to Hope together."
"Go to Hope to see the teachers, I suppose," said Stanley Browne,
closing one eye suggestively. "Fine fun that, seeing the teachers,"
and then Sam made a playful pass at him with his fist.
"Sam said we were to take a walk," put in Spud. "Where are we going?"
"We might go out towards the Sanderson farm," suggested Songbird.
"So you can call on Minnie," cried Tom, for he knew of Songbird's deep
regard for the farmer's daughter. "All right, that suits me."
"Let us go through Lanker's woods and by the old mill," suggested Sam.
"That's a fine walk, Tom, and almost as short as the regular road."
"Just as short," put in Songbird. "I've walked it several times and I
know." And then he bit his lip as several of the others commenced to
laugh. "I don't care--I've got a right to visit the Sandersons if I
want to."
"Sure you have," answered Sam. "And Minnie--Great Scott! What's the
row now? Here comes Tubbs on the run and shaking his fist at us!"
"I guess I am in for it," returned Tom. "I fancy Tubblets wants to see
me."
* For particulars regarding how Putnam Hall Military Academy was
organized, and what fine times the cadets there enjoyed even before the
Rovers appeared on the scene, read "The Putnam Hall Series," six
volumes, starting with "The Putnam Hall Cadets."--PUBLISHERS.
CHAPTER III
TOM'S JOKE
"What did you do to him?" asked Sam, quickly.
"Put an advertisement of pills on his back and some other ads. in his
text books," answered Tom. "Say, he looks some mad; doesn't he?"
"I should say yes," came from Stanley.
William Philander was approaching with long strides. In one hand he
held the poster Tom had fastened on his back, and he was shaking his
other fist wrathfully.
"Tom Rover, you've--er--insulted me!" he gasped as he came up. "You've
humiliated me before the whole class! I'll--I'll----" The dudish
student was so full of wrath he could not speak.
"Take a cough drop and clear your throat Billy," suggested Tom, coolly.
"Don't get so excited, you might drop dead from heart disease."
"How dare you put that--er--that advertisement of Gumley's Red Pills on
my back?" stormed the stylishly-dressed one.
"'Gumley's Red Pills for Red-Blooded People,'" quoted Spud, from the
poster. "Say, they are fine, Willie. Didn't you ever take 'em?"
"No, and I don't want to. I want Tom Ro----"
"Say, if you haven't taken any of Gumley's pills you don't know what
you've missed," went on Spud, with a wink at the others. "Why, there
was a man over in Rottenberg who was flat on his back with half a dozen
fatal diseases. The doctors gave him just three days to live,--three
days, think of it! His wife nearly cried her eyes out. Then along
came this Gumley man with a trunk full of his Red Pills for Red-Blooded
People. He didn't exactly know if the dying man was red-blooded or
not, but he took a chance and gave the fellow sixteen pills, four after
breakfast, four after dinner, four after supper and four on retiring,
and the next day, what do you think happened? That man got up and went
to work, and he's been at his Job ever since."
"Yes, and not only that," added Tom, earnestly. "That man organized a
tug-of-war team,--the plumbers against the Local Conclave of the R. W.
Q. Society,--and they've had three tug-of-war matches, and he has
pulled the R. W. Q. Society over the line every time. Talk about pills
that are worth their weight in gold! Why, Gumley's Red Pills for
Red-Blooded People are worth their weight in diamonds, and you ought to
get down on your bended knees and thank somebody for having been given
the opportunity to advertise them."
"Oh, you make me--er--tired, don't you know," gasped William Philander.
"It was a--er--a horrid trick. All the class were laughing at me. And
when I opened my Greek book, out fell one of those horrid bills! And
then I dropped another bill on the platform, and--oh, it was awful!
I'll never forgive you, Tom Rover, never!" And William Philander
stalked away, still clutching the poster in his hand.
"Poor William Philander!" murmured Sam. "It was rather a rough joke,
Tom."
"Oh, it will do him good," was the answer. "He's too uppish to live."
"Yes, he wants some of the conceit knocked out of him," added Stanley.
"But come on, if we are going for a walk, let us get started."
"Wish I had been in the classroom to see the fun," mused Tom, his
old-time grin overspreading his face. No matter how old Tom got he'd
never give up his boyish pranks.
The crowd of students were soon on the way in the direction of the
Sanderson farm. But at the first turn in the road they left that
highway, and following a path across a pasture lot, plunged into the
depths of what was known as Lanker's woods. Through the woods ran a
fair-sized stream of water, and at one spot there was an old dam and
the remains of a saw mill, now going to decay.
"Sam, don't you wish you had the old _Dartaway_ back," remarked
Stanley, presently. "You used to cover this part of the country pretty
well with that flying machine?"
"I've never wanted it back since it got smashed up on the railroad
track," was the answer. "Flying was good enough, but I don't think I
was cut out for a birdman."
"I'd like to go up again some day," put in Tom. "But not regularly.
I'd rather travel in an auto, or behind a fast horse."
"Give me a horse every time," said Songbird. And then he warbled
softly:
"To rush along at railroad speed,
In auto, or on wings of air,
Is well enough for some, I think,
To make you jump and make you stare.
But when I journey roundabout,
I'll take a horse, or maybe two,
And then I'll--I'll----"
"And then I won't bust any tires
And walk home feeling pretty blue!"
added Tom. "Say, that's right, Songbird, although you can't burst
tires on a flying machine," he added.
"That isn't just the way I was going to finish the verse," said the
would-be poet. "But it will do."
On went the boys, deeper and deeper into the woods, chatting gaily and
occasionally singing snatches of college songs. Sam kept close to his
brother and he was glad to note that Tom was acting quite like his old
self.
"What he needs is plenty of fresh air and rest from studying," thought
the younger Rover. "Hang it all, it was a mistake for Tom to get down
to the grind so soon. He ought to have taken a trip out West, or to
Europe, or somewhere."
Presently the students came out on the bank of the stream and there, in
the sunshine, they rested on a fallen tree and some rocks. It was
pleasant to watch the swiftly-rushing water, as it tumbled over the
stones.
"The brook is pretty strong on account of those rains we had," remarked
Sam.
"Yes, I never saw it so swift," answered Stanley.
"Humph! this is nothing," announced Spud. "I saw it once when it ran
so swiftly that the water couldn't make the turn at the bend below here
and ran right up the hill and over on Shelby's barn, drowning sixteen
cows! And some of the water hit the barn roof and bounced off into the
chimney of Shelby's cottage and put out the fire, and----"
"Wow, Spud! put on the soft pedal!" interrupted Sam.
"Oh, it's absolutely true. Some day I'll show you the tombstone they
erected over the sixteen cows. It's of granite and a hundred and ten
feet high."
"Never mind the tombstone," interrupted Tom. "What I want to see is
the match box Shelby stored that water in after it hit the barn." And
at this sally a general laugh went up.
On the boys went again, and half an hour later reached the abandoned
saw mill. All that was left was the dam with the broken wheel and one
end of what had once been a long, low, one-storied building.
"Let's have a look inside," suggested Stanley, and led the way, and the
others followed. Sam was the last to enter, coming directly behind his
brother and he saw Tom suddenly put his hand to the back of his head
and stop.
"Does it hurt again, Tom?" he whispered, kindly.
"Just a--a--spasm!" gasped poor Tom, and then he drew a long breath.
"There, it's gone now," he added, and walked on. Sam sighed and shook
his head. What was this queer condition of Tom going to lead to? It
made him shiver to think of it.
There was but little to see in the old mill. It was a damp,
unwholesome place, and the boys soon came out again. Not far away was
a well hole, rather deep and partly filled with water.
Tom was the first to notice this hole, which was partly covered with
rotted boards. Of a sudden he commenced to grin, as if he scented a
huge joke. He ran up and rearranged the rotted boards, so they
completely covered the hole. Then in the center he placed the
bright-colored cap he had been wearing, and hurried along, to the path
leading beside the dam.
"Hi, Stanley!" he called out, as the others came from the mill. "Get
my cap, will you? The wind blew it off. It's back there somewhere."
"I see it!" shouted Stanley.
"I see it, too," came from Spud, who was close by. "I'll race you for
it, Stan."
"Done!" was the reply, and side by side the two collegians raced for
the cap.
"An apple for the fellow who wins!" shouted Sam, who saw nothing wrong
in what was going on.
"Leg it, both of you!" added Songbird.
Side by side Stanley and Spud sped over the uneven ground in the
direction of the cap. Then both made a plunge forward in true football
style. In a heap they landed on the rotted boards, each catching hold
of the coveted headwear. Then came an ominous crash, and both boys
disappeared headlong into the well hole!
"Look! Look what has happened!" shrieked Sam, in dismay.
"They are in the old well!" gasped Songbird.
"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho!" came from Tom, and he shook with laughter.
"Isn't that the dandy joke? I thought Stanley would go in, but I
didn't expect to catch the pair of 'em."
"Tom!" cried Sam, in new horror. "You didn't really mean----"
"Sure I did. I put my cap there on purpose. Say, they had some
tumble, didn't they?" And Tom commenced to laugh again--a strange
laugh that didn't sound like him at all.
"They'll be drowned--we must save them!" exclaimed Sam, hoarsely.
"Songbird, what can we do?" he added, turning to his chum.
"I don't know--maybe we can throw 'em a rope--if there is one around."
"Let 'em crawl out--it's easy enough," came from Tom. "Don't you spoil
the joke." And he commenced to laugh again.
"Tom, don't act as if you were crazy!" said Sam, catching him by the
arm and shaking him. "Those fellows can't get out without help--it's
too deep! And the sides may cave in on top of them! And there is
water down there, too! We must help them, and at once."
Tom stared at his brother in bewilderment. Then of a sudden the look
of fun died out of his face and was succeeded by a look of horror and
terror combined.
"Did I do that, Sam? Oh, what a foolish thing to do! Yes, we must
help them! What shall I do? I'll jump down after them if you say so!"
And Tom started forward.
"No, don't do that!" Sam held him back. "We'll get a rope, or a long
pole. Don't go too close or you may cave the top of the well in on
'em."
"Yes, we must get a rope, or a pole," gasped poor Tom and ran off on a
search. "And I thought I was having a good joke! Oh, I certainly must
be going crazy!" he muttered.
In the meantime Songbird had thrown himself on his hands and knees and
crawled to the edge of the old well hole. He called out several times,
but got no reply. He heard a great floundering and splashing.
"Hi, you!" he continued. "Are you alive?"
"Sa--save us!" came the spluttered-out words, from Spud. "Sa--save us!"
"Are you both alive?" continued Songbird, anxiously.
"Yes," answered Stanley. "But we need help, for the water is over our
heads. Get a rope, or something, and be quick about it!"
"Hang on the best you can and we'll help you," was the answer.
"Well, don't be too long about it, or we'll be drowned!" came in a
shivering tone from Spud.
CHAPTER IV
THE OLD WELL HOLE
The three youths at the top of the old well hole gazed around
anxiously. All were looking for a rope, but no such article presented
itself to their view. There was a bit of iron chain lying in the dead
leaves nearby, but it was too short to be of service.
"I don't see anything to use," remarked Songbird, wildly. "Oh, Sam,
this is awful!"
"Come on, I think I see something," answered the younger Rover. "Tom,
you can help bring it over."
He took his half-dazed brother by the arm, more to keep him from
approaching too close to the well than for any other reason, and the
three boys raced to where a number of saplings were growing. Sam had
noted that one of the saplings had been bent over by the wind and was
partly uprooted.
"Maybe we can get it up--we've got to do it!" he cried. "Come, catch
hold and pull for all you are worth!"
The others understood and laid hold of the young tree, which was all of
fifteen feet high and several inches in diameter. It had but few
branches, which was an advantage. They bent it down and pulled with a
will, and out of the ground it came, so suddenly that the boys fell
flat on their backs.
"Wait, I'll break off some of the branches!" cried Sam. "Tom,
Songbird, try to break off that twisted root. There, that will do.
Now, if we can get it down the well they ought to be able to climb up
on it."
It was but the work of a few seconds to drag the sapling to the hole.
Then it was lifted upright, so that the end might not dig into the
sides of the well and cause a cave-in.
"Look out below there!" shouted Sam.
"Don't knock any stones on us!" came back from Stanley. He and Spud
had braced themselves on the sides of the old well, with the water up
to their waists.
"We'll be as careful as we can," answered Songbird.
"Look out for dirt in your eyes," added Tom. All the fun had died out
of him and his face was full of concern.
Slowly and cautiously the three boys lowered the sapling into the old
well hole. In doing this they had to stand close to the edge, and once
they sent down a shower of loose dirt that caused a wild cry of alarm
from below.
"Go slow!" cried Spud, presently. "I've got it," he added, a second
later. "Let her come," and then the sapling was lowered until the
roots rested on the bottom of the hole. The top was now several feet
below the top of the old well.
"The old chain--just the thing!" cried Sam, and took it up.
"You had better come up close together," suggested Songbird, peering
down at those below. "Then, if the well caves in, you'll be up that
far anyway."
This was thought good advice and Stanley and Spud determined to act on
it. Stanley came first with Spud at his heels. The many small
branches of the sapling afforded good holds, and as each of the youths
was something of an athlete, both of them came up with comparative ease.
"Can't get any higher," remarked Stanley, when within two feet of the
top of the sapling. "It's almost ready to break now."
"Catch hold of the chain!" cried Sam. "I'll hold it. Tom and
Songbird, you hold me, so I don't fall in."
Sam had the chain twisted around his right hand and he leaned far over
into the well hole, his brother and Songbird holding him by his free
arm. The loose end of the chain dangled close to Stanley and he
grasped hold. Then came a short, hard pull, and Stanley came sprawling
out on the grass. Then Spud crawled up a little higher and he was
hauled out the same way.
Both boys were wet to the skin and covered with mud, presenting
anything but an enviable appearance. For several seconds they sat on
the grass, panting for breath.
"Phew! that was a close shave!" gasped Spud, presently. "I'm mightily
glad the old well didn't cave in on us!"
"We went down head first," came from Stanley. "If it hadn't been for
the water we would have smashed our skulls!"
"And the water came close to drowning us," added Spud; "And say, it was
some cold, believe me," and he shivered.
"You'd better race around in the sun a bit, or you'll take cold," said
Sam.
"Take off your coat, Spud, and put on mine," said Songbird, as he
commenced to divest himself of his garment.
"Yes, and Stanley can have my coat," came from Tom. He now looked
relieved, but his eyes had a strange light in them.
"It's queer how your old cap landed right on the top of the well,"
remarked Spud. "Why didn't the wind carry it to some safer place?"
At this remark Tom's face grew suddenly red. He tried to speak and
gave a gulp.
"There isn't much wind now," added Stanley. "How was it, Tom?"
"I--er--I--the wind didn't blow the cap," was the lame answer. Just
then Tom wished he was a thousand miles away. He could not look his
chums in the face.
"It didn't blow the cap?" demanded Spud. "What do you mean?"
To this Tom did not answer. Sam wanted to speak, but did not know what
to say. Songbird looked curiously at Tom.
"Say, look here!" burst out Stanley, striding forward. "Do you mean to
say, Tom Rover, that you put that cap on the old well on purpose?"
"I--I--did," answered Tom feebly. "I--er--I thought it was a--a joke."
"A joke?" cried Spud, sarcastically.
"A joke, to put us in peril of drowning, or smothering to death!"
roared Stanley. "If you call that a joke I don't, and I want you to
know it!" And in a sudden passion he doubled up his fists and sprang
towards Tom.
But Sam rushed between the pair.
"Stanley, don't, please don't!" he cried. "Tom made a mistake,--he
knows it now."
"He'll know it after I am done with him!" cried the other, hotly.
"He's not going to play a joke on me that puts me in danger of my life!
I'll take it out of his hide!" And he tried to get past the younger
Rover.
But still Sam held him back.
"Stanley, don't touch him. You know how sick he's been. He isn't
himself. Let it pass. He's as sorry as any of us that it happened;
aren't you, Tom?"
"Sure I am," answered Tom, readily; but his tone of voice was that of
one who didn't care much, one way or the other. Tom was not himself,
that was certain.
"Humph, maybe he's sorry and maybe he isn't," muttered Stanley. "I
guess he ought to have a thrashing. Anyway, I am done with him," and
he flung back the coat Tom had offered him.
All in the crowd looked at Tom, expecting him to say something more.
But Tom shut his mouth tightly and walked away, up the river path. He
was without his coat. Sam picked up the garment and made after his
brother.
"Tom, come back here!"
"I won't, Sam. You can stay with them if you want to. I'll take a
walk alone," was the moody answer, and Tom walked faster than ever.
"Of all the mean things to do!" murmured Spud, shaking his head slowly.
"I would never have thought it of Tom Rover, never!"
"Tom hasn't acted just right since he came back to Brill," said
Songbird, in a low tone, "You know he got an awful crack on the head,
and, somehow, he's been different ever since. I wouldn't lay it up
against him, if I were you fellows."
"Huh! I guess you'd lay it up against him if you had been soused down
into that old well hole and were all wet and covered with mud!" growled
Stanley. "Fun is fun, but that was no joke, I can tell you that! He
deserves a good thrashing."
"If he isn't right in his head they ought to put him under the doctor's
care, or in a sanitarium," remarked Spud. "Why, if he isn't right in
his mind there is no telling what he'll do next! He might take it into
his head to murder some of us!"
"Oh, I don't think it's as bad as that," answered Songbird, hastily.
"I think in a short while he'll be just as he used to be. But the
excitement of that capture of those brokers and old Crabtree, and the
fight, and then Dick's wedding, were too much for him. What he needs,
I think, is a good, long rest."
"Well, he can keep away from me after this," grumbled Stanley, as he
looked at his wet and bedrabbled clothes. "Nice sight we'll present
going back to the college!"
"I'll tell you what I'll do," suggested Songbird. "I'll go ahead, to
the gym., and get you some changes and you can put them on in Dobb's
barn. Then nobody will know about it."
"All right," said Stanley, his face brightening a trifle.
"What of Sam and Tom?" asked Spud, who was not as angry as his
companion in misfortune.
"I'll tell them we are going back," answered Songbird, and ran after
the Rovers.
In the meantime Sam and Tom had kept on walking--or rather Tom had
hurried on and his brother had kept up with him, trying to make him
turn back. But to all of Sam's entreaties Tom turned a deaf ear.
"I came out for a walk and I'm going to walk," he said, stubbornly.
"If they want to go back they can do it--and you and Songbird can go
with 'em."
"But, Tom, that isn't fair," insisted Sam. "They are all wet, and----"
"Humph! a little water won't hurt 'em. I've been soaked myself more
than once. If they can't take a joke let 'em go," and Tom continued to
stalk on until he came to a flat rock, when he suddenly sat down to
rest, at the same time putting both hands to his head.
It was here that Songbird found them and informed them of what the
others and himself proposed to do.
"All right, Songbird; I guess that is best," said Sam, softly. "Tom
doesn't feel just right and he'll rest here awhile."
"Oh, I'm not sick!" cried Tom. "I'm sorry I played the trick, but I
don't see any reason for Stanley and Spud to cut up about it." And
then he got up as suddenly as he had sat down and stalked on once more.
"Do your best to fix it up, Songbird," pleaded Sam, in a low tone.
"You can see Tom isn't himself. Try to explain to those fellows."
"I will. I think Tom ought to have a doctor," was the low reply; and
then Songbird rejoined Stanley and Spud and the three started back to
Brill.
Tom stalked on for fully half a mile without speaking and Sam came
behind him. The younger Rover was busy thinking and did not say a
word. Presently the pair reached the end of the river path and came to
a bridge and the highway. On the bridge Tom sat down again.
"Want to go any further, Tom?" asked Sam, as pleasantly as he could.
"I don't care where I go!" burst out the other. "I'm sick of it all!
Sick of the college, sick of studying, sick of those fellows, sick of
everything and everybody! I wish I could go to Africa, or the North
Pole, or somewhere else, where I wouldn't see or hear of 'em again!"
"Tom!"
"I mean it. What's the use of keeping in the grind day after day, like
a horse on a tread mill? What does a fellow get out of it? Nothing
but hard work and a pain in the head! Some times my head hurts to beat
the band! I can't stand it, and I won't! They are all against me,
every one of 'em!" And Tom commenced to wring his hands, while two
tears stood in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
CHAPTER V
TOM'S QUEER ACTIONS
Sam did not know what to say or what to do. He realized more fully
than ever that his brother was not himself. He was growing wilder and
more irrational every moment.
"Tom," he asked suddenly, "have you got those pills with you that the
doctor gave you to take?"
"Sure," was the ready answer.
"Have you taken any lately?"
"No. What's the use? They don't seem to help me."
"Let me see them, please."
"There they are." Tom brought the box from his pocket. "They might as
well be bread pills, or Gumley's red ones," and he grinned for a moment
at the recollection of the trick played on William Philander Tubbs.
Sam took the box and looked at the directions carefully. "It says to
take one three times a day when needed," he said. "You had better take
one now, Tom. Come on."
"It won't do any good, Sam."
"Well, take one for me, that's a good fellow. Wait, I've got my pocket
cup and I'll get some water." And he did so.
"Oh, dear, you're bound to feed me pills," sighed Tom, and made a wry
face as he swallowed the one Sam handed him. Sam kept the box, making
up his mind that he would play nurse after this.
"I guess we had better walk some more," said Tom, suddenly. "I hate
sitting still. If we had the old _Dartaway_ I'd take a sail from here
to San Francisco, or some other far-off place."
"Wait a little, I'm tired," answered Sam, soothingly. "Just see those
little fishes!" he said, pointing to the water under the bridge.
He made Tom get down and watch the fishes and bathed his brother's
forehead. At first Tom was rather restless, but soon the pill seemed
to take effect and he grew quiet.
"I'm getting awfully tired," he announced, presently. "I guess we had
better be getting back, Sam."
"Just as you say, Tom," was the quiet reply.
It was growing dark when they reached the college grounds and most of
the students had gone in to supper. Tom said he did not feel much like
eating, but his brother told him he had better have a little food, and
they went in together. They saw Songbird and the others at another
table. The would-be poet and Spud nodded to them, but Stanley paid no
attention.
Sam and Tom still occupied their old room, Number 25, while Songbird
was still in Number 26. Since Dick was not to return to Brill his
place in the latter room had been taken by Max Spangler, a jolly fellow
of German-American parentage.
"Vot is der madder mit Dom Rofer?" asked Max of the would-be poet, as
both came up to the room after supper.
