The news Tom had brought created much interest in Brill. In the past anything in the shape of public amusement for the students had been scarce. Once in a while a cheap theatrical company would stop at Ashton and give a performance, but usually it was of such a poor order that if the boys went they would poke fun at it.
"How do you know it will be any good, Tom?" asked Songbird.
"Oh, I'm not sure that it will be. But the druggist told me that the men were well-known in the movies and had some first-class show-houses elsewhere, so I'm hoping it will be all right."
"Is it going to be a five or ten-cent house?" asked another.
"Five in the afternoon and ten at night."
"Then I'm going to begin to save my pennies," announced Spud, seriously. "I've got two saved already and if I am careful for the next month or two I'll have enough to buy a ticket."
"That is, provided I'll lend you one cent," added Tom, and this caused a general grin. He looked around and saw William Philander approaching. "Hi, Tubblets!" he called out. "Here's a job for you." And he waved his hand quickly for the dudish student to approach.
"Now, no more jokes, Tom Rover," was the warning of the stylishly-dressed one. "No more jokes."
"Jokes?" repeated Tom. "This is a job—a splendid situation—open to just such a handsome, well-proportioned young gentleman like yourself."
"What—ah—do you want?" asked William Philander, curiously.
"Wouldn't you like to assist during the evening at a new entertainment at Ashton? A couple of gentlemen are getting up an entertainment for the benefit of the ladies and gentlemen and they wish the aid of a real nice young man, to show the folks to their seats and make them comfortable, and all that. And maybe they'll want you to sing—just to help things along, you know."
"Oh, is that it?" and the dudish student's face brightened. On several occasions he had assisted at charity bazaars and the like, and had been in his element among the well-dressed girls and their mothers.
"I think you would just fill the bill, Willie," went on Tom. "You are the best looking fellow here, and of course we know nobody dresses quite as well as you do."
"Oh, yes, of course—it's very kind to mention that, Tom," and William Philander commenced to swell up with pride. "Yes, I do try to keep up with the fashions. But about this entertainment. Who is getting it up and what benefit is it for?"
"Two gentlemen named Carr and Beckwith are getting it up. I don't know about the benefit. You can find out about that from them. But it's a splendid chance to show what you can do. You know all about showing folks to seats, and all that, don't you?"
"Why, yes, of course."
"And you could sing, eh?"
"Well,—ah—I might render that spring song—'Come Where the Flowers are Blooming, Dearest Mary.'"
"Just the cheese—I mean it would be fine, Tubby. They'd all go wild about that song. It's the same one you sang for the Prince of Moneco, isn't it?—or was it the Duke of Twisters?"
"I—er—I never sang for those folks, Tom—I sang it at the Ladies Aid of the Golden Hope Society, and at the Quarterly Gathering of the Poladic Society."
"Yes, yes, I remember now. Well, you are just the one to fill the bill, Bill, yes, you are."
"Please don't call me Bill, it's horrid. But where shall I find out about this—er—entertainment?"
"At Carter's new drug-store. The gentlemen are to be there Saturday afternoon, to make all arrangements. You go by all means—I know they will be delighted to have your assistance."
"This isn't a—er—a joke, Tom?" asked William Philander, suspiciously.
"They want somebody, I tell you, honest. Don't they, Jepson?" went on Tom, turning to a lad who had been to Ashton with him.
"They sure do," answered Jepson, and then turned away to hide the broad grin on his face.
"How long is the entertainment to last?"
"You will have to get all the information from the gentlemen," answered Tom, calmly. "Just go down to the drug store and ask for Mr. Carr and Mr. Beckwith, and they'll tell you all about it. It's a fine chance for you, Tubby," concluded Tom, and then walked away, followed by his chums.
"Tom, what is the game?" demanded Sam, when they were out of hearing.
"We'll go down to the drug store Saturday afternoon and see," was the reply.
"Are Carr and Beckwith the moving picture men?"
"Yes, and they want a young man to play usher, and do a lot of other things—one who can sing preferred," and the fun-loving Tom grinned broadly.
"Oh, Tom, and you would send William Philander there!" cried Songbird. "Such a dude as he is! He'll never forgive you!"
"There is seven dollars a week in it to start," answered the fun-loving Rover calmly, and this made all in the crowd roar, for they knew how rich Tubbs was and how working for seven dollars a week would appeal to him.
This conversation occurred on Thursday and the crowd of boys waited impatiently for Saturday to come. Sam was glad to notice that Tom seemed to improve daily and was acting very much like his old self.
On Saturday, directly after lunch, Sam and Tom saw William Philander start off for Ashton. He was stylishly dressed as usual and carried a gold-headed cane, and in his buttonhole was a large carnation.
"Now for the fun!" cried Tom, and he and Sam quickly gathered their chums together and all went after the dude, but kept out of his sight.
The drug store that William Philander was bound for was located on a corner, with doors opening on both streets. On the side street there was also an ordinary window, and both doors and window were wide open.
"We'll go around to the side and watch him," suggested Tom, and this was done.
Sprucing up, so as to look his very best, William Philander strode into the drug store. As it chanced, several young ladies of the town were having soda at the fountain, and as he had once met one of them, he made a most profound bow, lifting his hat as he did so. Then he approached the proprietor of the shop, who was putting up a prescription at the rear counter, close to the open window.
"Mr. Carter I believe?" he lisped.
"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"
"I am Mr. William Philander Tubbs, from Brill College," was the lofty answer. "Perhaps you have heard of me. I came in to meet two gentlemen, Mr. Carr and Mr. Beckwith. Are they here?"
"Not yet, Mr—er—Mr. Phillips?"
"No, no, Mr. William Philander Tubbs. When will they be here, may I ask?"
"I expect 'em any moment, Mr—er—Mr. Tubbs."
"Then I'll wait for them," answered the dude, and sank down in a chair.
"Have you got an interest in that show?" asked the druggist, as he continued to compound the prescription.
"Not yet, but I may have," answered William Philander, calmly. "It will be quite a grand affair, I presume."
"They say it will be the best Ashton ever had."
"Is that so! Then I am very glad I came to take part," went on William Philander, warming up. "I am sure I can be of great service to Messrs. Carr and Beckwith. I have had a great deal of experience, you know."
"Thought you said you were from Brill?"
"Oh, yes, but, don't you know, I have assisted at many entertainments," gushed William Philander. "Why, some entertainments would have been absolute failures if I had not taken part."
"Hum, is that so!" returned the druggist. Tubbs' dudish ways did not strike him very favorably. "Well, here is Mr. Beckwith now, you can tell him about it," he added.
A burly, red-faced man, with a heavy moustache, had entered. He was evidently in a hurry and full of business.
"Anybody call about that job, Mr. Carter?" he asked, abruptly.
"This young man wants to see you," answered the druggist, and indicated William Philander.
"You are Mr. Beckwith?"
"Yes."
"Permit me," and the stylish-dressed student presented his card. "I was told you were getting up an entertainment and needed some assistance," continued William Philander. "Now I have had a great deal of experience in that line, and the ladies always seem to be glad to see me. I can aid in getting up the proper programme, and all that, you know. I was on the committee of the Charity Bazaar, and the Plainvine Dog Show, and the Ladies' Aid of the Golden Hope Society, and the Blue Banner Social, and——"
"Say, what are you pouring into me?" gasped Mr. Beckwith, in astonishment. "Do you think I am running a pink tea, or a ladies' sewing circle? I don't need anybody to help me to get up a programme; my partner, Mr. Carr, attends to that end of it. What I need is a strong, willing fellow to take tickets and usher folks to seats, and keep the floor free of rubbish, and all that."
"W-h-a-t!" shrieked William Philander. "You—you—what sort of an entertainment are you going to give?" he faltered.
"Why, didn't you know? We are going to open the Eclipse Moving Picture Theater, in Cameron's Hall, over yonder. We advertised for a young man, to take tickets, usher, and make himself generally useful. We'll have a little vaudeville with the photo plays, and if the young fellow can sing, or dance, we'll give him a chance at it."
"Oh, dear me! Did you ever!" gasped poor William Philander. And then, as he saw that the girls at the soda fountain had heard all that was going on, he turned red.
"I hardly think you will do for the job," went on the moving picture man. "You don't look—er—well, strong enough."
"Job," wailed William Philander. "I—er—I don't want any job! Oh, this is dreadful, horrible! It's one of Tom Rover's jokes! I might have known it. Sent me all the way to Ashton to try to get a position in a horrid moving picture show! Oh, this is the worst ever!" And looking the picture of despair, poor Tubbs rushed from the drug store, with the laughter of the proprietor, the show man, and the girls ringing in his ears.
From the window and the side door Tom, Sam, and the others had seen and heard all that took place. They had all they could do to suppress their mirth, and when Tubbs came storming out of the drug store they lost no time in disappearing out of sight behind the building. They watched the stylishly-dressed student prance down the street, brandishing his cane viciously in the air.
"Just wait till he catches you, Tom," remarked Spud.
"He'll about half kill you," added Stanley.
"Oh, I guess I can stand it," answered the fun-loving Rover, calmly.
"It was rather a rough joke," was Sam's comment.
"Oh, he needs something like that, to take the awful conceit out of him," came from Songbird. "Why, he is getting worse and worse every day. Half the students are down on him. This may do him good."
"I doubt if you can make William Philander improve," was Stanley's comment. "The only thing that will do it is to send him off to sea, or on a ranch, and make him rough it for a while."
Tom expected to see Tubbs that evening, but the dudish student kept out of sight. He did not show himself until Sunday afternoon, and then he had but little to say. But he eyed Tom in a manner that was new to William Philander.
"He is going to get back at you, Tom," said Sam. "Better keep your eyes open."
On Monday afternoon Tom and Sam went down to the water for a short row. They came back just before supper and rushed up to their room to fix up a bit.
"Hello, the door is locked!" cried Tom, trying it.
"And the keyhole is plugged," added Sam, taking a look.
Then the brothers looked at each other.
"I guess William Philander Tubbs did it," said Tom.
It was useless to try to open the door. The lock was filled up with a wad of paper that refused to budge.
"If it's only paper we can burn it out," suggested Sam. "But it may scorch the door."
"We'll go through by the way of Songbird's room," said Tom.
There was a door connecting the two rooms. It was not supposed to be used, for one of the beds was against it. But the bed was rolled to one side by Tom. Songbird and his roommate had already gone below.
"Here's the key," said Sam, bringing it from a nearby nail. "It's a wonder William Philander didn't plug this keyhole, too."
"Maybe he didn't have time," answered Tom. "Always supposing it really was Tubbs."
"That's so—iy may have been somebody else."
The connecting door was unlocked and Tom and Sam walked into their own apartment. Both gave a cry of astonishment.
And not without reason. The room had been "stacked," and every boy who has ever attended boarding school or college knows what that means. In the center of the room lay the parts of the two beds in a heap and on top of those parts were piled a miscellaneous collection of books, chairs, clothing, the table and bureau, looking glass, an empty water pitcher, football, baseball bats, shoes, bed clothing, rugs, papers, pens, pencils, soap, caps, a steamer trunk from the closet, several framed photographs, some college banners, and a score of other articles. On the very top of the heap was a fancy sofa pillow Nellie had given to Tom and to this was pinned a card, on which was written, in a disguised scrawl:
Hoping you will enjoy your job!
"It was William Philander all right enough,", murmured Sam, as he and his brother inspected the card. "You sent him to one job, and he is sending us to another," and he heaved a deep sigh.
"Some work, Sammy," returned Tom. "Well, we can't go at it now—it will take us two hours to straighten things up. We'll do it after supper."
"Going after Tubbs for this?"
"What's the use? I don't blame him for getting back at us. I guess, after all, that joke I played on him was rather rough," replied Tom.
It took the best part of three hours to put the room back into shape. Some ink had been spilled on one of the mattresses, and the glass over one of the photographs had been broken, but that was all the real damage that had been done, and it looked to be accidental. The wad of paper in the keyhole was picked out piece-meal by means of a big fishhook. The key was in the heap on the floor, having been flung through the open transom after the door was locked and plugged.
"Well, he got back at you right enough," said Songbird, while the room was being re-arranged.
"Dot's chust vot he did, py golly!" came from Max Spangler.
After this incident the boys settled down to their studies for the best part of a week. Tom was now doing very well, although he still complained of his head.
"I've got an idea," said Sam, one afternoon, after the Eclipse photo playhouse in Ashton had been opened. "Why can't we make up a party some afternoon or evening and take the girls to the show?"
"I thought of that," answered Tom. "But don't you think it would be best for us to go alone first and see what sort of a place it is? Some of these country show places have pretty rough audiences."
"Oh, Ashton isn't such a common town as that, Tom. But maybe it would be better to size it up first. What do you say if we go down next Wednesday evening? We might make up a little party, with Songbird and the others."
"That suits me."
The matter was talked over with the others, and it was speedily arranged that nine of the students should go, including Sam, Tom, Songbird, and Spud. Stanley could not get away, and Max had some lessons he wanted to make up.
"I hope they have some thrilling films," said Tom, when the time came to leave for Ashton. "I hate these wishy-washy love stories and would-be funny scenes. I once saw a shipwreck that was fine, and a slide down a mountainside that couldn't be beaten."
"Well, we'll have to take what comes," said Sam. "I understand they change the pictures twice a week."
When the students arrived at the playhouse in Ashton an agreeable surprise awaited them. Instead of the dingy hall they had expected to see, they saw that the place had been completely transformed. There was a large electric sign over the door, and several big billboards announced the various attractions. A crowd was purchasing tickets at the booth in front, and already the showhouse was half filled for the first performance of the evening.
"'Her First Love,'" read Tom, from a billboard. "That sounds a little mushy. 'Broncho Bill's Reward,'" he went on. "That might be interesting. 'Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska, in Two Parts.' Say, that sounds as if it might be something worth while," he added, brightening up.
"Yes, I'd like to see some pictures of Alaska," returned Songbird.
"Provided they weren't taken in Hoboken, or somewhere like that," answered Sam. "Some of these moving pictures are great fakes. They take real scenes in China right in New York City, and show you the bottom of the sea, taken on the sixth floor of an office building in Chicago!"
"Never mind, I guess we'll get our money's worth," said another of the students, and then the crowd passed inside, each youth buying his own ticket, as was the usual custom.
They managed to get seats almost in the center of the hall, which was long and narrow, just the shape for such an exhibition. They noticed that a tall, lanky town boy was usher, and Tom nudged Sam in the ribs.
"Just think, William Philander might have had that job!" he chuckled.
"Well, you did the best you could for him," answered Sam, dryly.
The end of a funny reel was being shown and the audience was laughing heartily. Then came an illustrated song, sung by a young woman with a fairly good voice, and after that "Broncho Bill's Reward," a short drama of the plains, with cowboys and cattle thieves, and a sheriff, who aided Broncho Bill to get back his employer's cattle and win the hand of the girl he loved.
"Maybe you could write some verses about that girl," suggested Sam to Songbird, in a whisper. "You could call it 'The Cowboy's Sweetheart,' or something like that."
"So I could," murmured the would-be poet, and immediately commenced to make up rhymes, which he scribbled on some paper in the dark.
At last came the well-advertised drama, "Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska." It was a well put together play, the opening scene taking place in a shipping office in Seattle. Next came the departure of the steamer for the North. There were several views on shipboard, and quite a complicated plot, the villain of the play trying to get the best of a young gold hunter and his partner. A girl appeared, and she exposed the villain, and the latter stalked around and vowed vengeance on both the girl and the young gold hunter.
The second part of the play took place in Alaska, and there was shown a typical mining town and then the mountains. It was mid-winter and the mountains were covered with snow. The young gold hunter and his partner had discovered several nuggets of good size, enough to make them rich, and were bound back to the mining camp when the villain and his cronies appeared and robbed them. Then came a fierce snowstorm and a blizzard, and the young gold hunter and his partner were lost on the fields of ice. This was tremendously realistic, and the audience held its breath in suspense, wondering what would happen next.
"Isn't it great!" murmured Tom, his eyes fairly glued to the screen before him. "I never saw anything so real!"
"That must surely have been taken in Alaska," answered Sam.
"THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM. _The Rover Boys in Alaska._"THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM.The Rover Boys in Alaska.
"THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM. _The Rover Boys in Alaska._"THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM.The Rover Boys in Alaska.
"Lost in the ice fields!" went on Tom. "How terrible!"
The play went on. The young gold hunter and his partner were almost frozen to death, when the scene shifted to the mining camp. Word of the robbery was brought in by an Indian, and the father of the girl organized a rescuing party, taking his daughter and half a dozen men with him. On the way they ran across the villain and his cronies, frozen stiff in the ice and snow and with the stolen nuggets in their possession. Then the rescuing party went on, until they reached the young gold hunter and his partner just in time to save them from death. The young man was given his nuggets, and he asked for the hand of the girl who had aided in the search; and all ended happily.
"Well, that was certainly a great play!" was Spud's comment, as the students left the photo playhouse. "Wow! it made me fairly shiver to look at that snow and those fields of ice!"
"It was just as if a fellow was there," said Sam.
"Think of the work of taking those films!" said Bob Grimes. "I'll wager the photographer had pretty cold fingers!"
Thus the talk ran on, all of the students being enthusiastic over the production. The only one who was rather quiet was Tom, and soon Sam noticed this.
"What's the matter, Tom; don't you feel well?" he asked, anxiously.
"Nothing extra," was the answer, and Tom put his hands to his eyes. "I guess that moving picture strained my head too much. But it was great—best picture I ever saw! Say, I'd like to go to Alaska once, wouldn't you, Sam?"
"Yes, but not to be caught in the ice and snow like that," returned the younger Rover boy. "Say, it's a good show for the girls, all right," he went on.
"Fine. We'll take 'em as soon as we can arrange it."
All the way back to Brill the students talked about the wonderful Alaskan film, which had really been taken on the spot and had cost a good deal of money. Evidently in opening the new photo playhouse Messrs. Carr and Beckwith had resolved to give the audiences their money's worth.
It was a good advertisement, too, for not only did the town people flock to the place, but the college students told their friends, and the next evening a score or more of the boys attended the performance. The dimes flowed in steadily, much to the delight of the owners of the project.
That evening Sam noticed that Tom was quite feverish and he advised his brother to take an extra pill, to quiet him.
"Oh, all I need is sleep," said Tom. "That picture hurt my eyes a little. After they are rested I'll be all right." And then he undressed and retired.
Sam had been asleep about two hours when he awoke with a start. He sat up, and in the dim light of the room saw his brother thrashing wildly in the bed.
"Give me the nuggets!" murmured poor Tom, in a nightmare. "I must have the money! Ha, the biggest nugget in Alaska!" He clutched at the pillow. "Out of my way, I say! It is mine! Look, it is snowing! Where is the trail? We are lost! See the ice and snow! Lost! lost! lost!" And Tom floundered around more wildly than ever.
Sam leaped out of bed, and, catching his brother by the arm, shook him vigorously.
"Tom! Tom! wake up!" he cried. "You're asleep! Wake up! You are not in Alaska! Wake up!"
"Oh, the ice and snow! And the trail is lost! We shall die! Can nothing save—— Er—er—eh? What's the—the matter?" stammered Tom, and suddenly opened his eyes. "What are you shaking me for, Sam?" he demanded.
"You've got a nightmare, Tom, and you were shouting to beat the band!"
"Was I? Say, I—I thought I was in Alaska, right in that field of snow and ice. And I was lost! Gosh! what a scare I had!" And poor Tom fairly trembled.
"Well, go to sleep and try to forget it," said Sam, and Tom laid down again, and soon dropped off. Sam also retired once more, but he was much troubled.
"I guess it didn't do Tom any good to go to that show," he reasoned.
Sam was the first one up in the morning. He found Tom thrashing around in his bed. He had an uncertain look in his eyes and was feverish.
"How do you feel, Tom?" he asked, sitting down and taking his brother's hand.
"Not as good as usual," was the reply. Tom put his hand to his head, as of old. "I've got a fierce pain here," he added.
"Shall I send for a doctor?"
"No, I'll keep quiet and maybe it will go over, Sam."
"All right, I'll have you excused from lessons."
Sam dressed and went below, and after breakfast came up again. He found Tom sound asleep.
"I guess sleep will do him as much good as anything," he told himself, and went out again, closing the door softly.
Sam had two classes to attend before dinner, so it was not until quarter to twelve that he had a chance to run up to the room again. To his surprise Tom was gone.
"Songbird, did you see Tom?" he called to his chum, who was in the next room.
"No."
"He's gone, and I left him sound asleep when I went to lessons."
"Oh, he must be somewhere around," suggested the would-be poet of the college. "Maybe he's taking a bath."
"I'll find out," said Sam.
On the way to the bathroom he met Spud and asked about Tom.
"Why, I saw Tom about eleven o'clock," said Spud. "He told me he was going to town to see a doctor."
"Doctor Havens?"
"Yes."
"Oh, all right," and Sam felt much relieved. He went to dinner with the others and then waited for Tom's return. A full hour went by and still Tom did not show himself, and then Sam sought out Spud once more.
"How did Tom act when he went away, Spud?"
"Act? What do you mean?"
"Was he all right?"
"Well, to tell the truth, Sam, I think he looked a bit strange in his eyes. But I guess he was all right. I'd not worry too much if I was you. He'll be back before long. Maybe Doctor Havens was out and he had to wait."
"That's so."
Presently Sam had a lecture to attend and went off to it. At half-past three he was free once more and hurried again to his room. Tom was still absent, and nobody seemed to know anything about him.
"I guess I had better go to town and see where he is," thought Sam, and he asked Songbird if he wanted to go along.
"Yes, I'll go, Sam. But don't worry so much—I'm certain Tom is O.K."
"Maybe, Songbird. But you know how queer he acted. He didn't seem to be able to get over that crack in his head."
"Well, it was an awful blow, Sam. It would have killed some people."
Before long the pair were on their way to Ashton. About half way to the town they met two students who had been away from Brill for several days.
"Did you come from Ashton, Cabot?" asked Sam, of one of the boys.
"We did."
"See anything of my brother Tom?"
"No."
"I think I saw him," said the other student, a fellow named Lambert.
"Where?"
"Down at the depot. I was looking for my baggage. I think I saw him near the freight house."
"Was he alone?"
"Yes, so far as I know. Why, what's wrong, Rover?"
"Oh, nothing, only I want to find him," said Sam, and to avoid further questioning, he hurried on, pulling Songbird with him.
"If Tom was at the freight house he must have been taking a walk," suggested Songbird.
"Perhaps; but I am awfully worried about this."
It did not take the two students long to reach Ashton, and Sam went directly to the home of Doctor Havens, located in a grove of trees on a side street. A man was washing down the front piazza with a pail of water.
"Is the doctor in?" asked Sam.
"No, sir, he won't he in until about six o'clock," said the man.
"How long has he been gone, may I ask?"
"He went to the city directly after breakfast this morning, for a consultation with some other doctors."
"He hasn't any assistant?"
"No, sir, but he said if anybody needed a doctor in a hurry to call old Doctor Slate."
"Where does he live?"
"In the big white house on the hill, opposite the depot."
"I know the place," put in Songbird.
"We'll go there," said Sam. "Much obliged," he added, to the man.
"Maybe Tom went there and that is how Lambert came to see him near the freight house," suggested Songbird.
"We'll soon know," returned the youngest Rover.
It did not take the students long to cross the railroad tracks and reach Doctor Slate's residence. They found the old doctor out in his garden, tying up some bushes. He was a white-haired gentleman and had given up his regular practice some years before.
"No, there has been no young man to see me," he said, in answer to Sam's question. "Old Mrs. Powers was in, and Pop Slocum, the negro, and that's all."
"In that case, Tom must be hanging around town, waiting for Doctor Havens to return," said Songbird.
"It's a puzzle to me," said Sam, with a deep sigh, and he and his chum walked slowly away.
"I wouldn't worry so much, Sam," said Songbird, sympathetically. "I am sure it will be all right."
"It would be if Tom was all right in his head, Songbird. But you know how he acted that day Stanley and Spud went into the old well hole, and——"
"Well, what could happen to him in Ashton, such a sleepy country town as this is? Oh, he's around somewhere and will soon turn up, take my word for it."
They found the depot deserted, for it was a time of day when there were no trains. Then they walked up the main street, past the stores and the Eclipse photo playhouse. The afternoon performance was just over at the show place and a crowd of about a hundred, mostly women and children, was pouring forth. In the crowd were a burly, jolly looking farmer and a pretty girl, his daughter.
"Why, Mr. Sanderson!" cried Songbird, his face lighting up. "And you, Minnie! This is a surprise!" and he shook hands.
"Oh!" cried the girl, and smiled sweetly. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"We were doing some tradin' in town and thought we'd run in and see the movin' picters," said Mr. Sanderson, who knew the boys well. "They sure are great."
"We came in to find Tom," said Sam, as he, too, shook hands. He and his brothers had once done Minnie Sanderson a great service, the particulars of which I have related in "The Rover Boys at College." Since that time Songbird had frequently visited the Sanderson homestead, to call on Minnie, whom he regarded as the nicest young lady of his acquaintance.
"To find Tom?" repeated Minnie.
"Yes. Have you seen him?"
"I saw him about noon time," said Mr. Sanderson.
"Where?"
"Why, he was walking along the road to Hope Seminary."
"The road to Hope?" cried Sam. "Are you sure?"
"Tolerably sure, Sam. I was drivin' rather fast an' didn't take much of a look. But I reckon it was Tom."
"Maybe he went there to call on Nellie," suggested Songbird.
"This mixes me up," murmured Sam. "I don't know what to think."
"I trust there is nothing wrong, Sam," said Minnie, sweetly. She counted the Rovers among her warmest friends.
"I—I hope not, and yet I am very much worried. You see, Tom hasn't been just himself ever since he got that blow on the head. He came to Ashton to see a doctor, but the doctor was away on business. Now I can't find him anywhere."
"If you want to go to Hope I'll drive you there," said Mr. Sanderson. "I've got to go there anyway—to see about some potatoes they wanted. Minnie said she would stay in town and do some more shopping, until I got back. But I've only got a buggy big enough for two," added the farmer.
"I could stay in town with Minnie until you got back," said Songbird, eagerly, to Sam. "I could keep my eyes open for Tom."
"We could both look for him," added the girl. It pleased her to think she might have the would-be poet's company.
The matter was talked over for several minutes and then it was agreed that Sam should ride over to the seminary with the farmer.
"You won't have to hurry back," said Songbird, on parting. "If it gets too late Minnie and I can go over to the hotel for supper," and he smiled at the girl, who blushed and smiled in return.
Mr. Sanderson had always owned some excellent horses and the mare attached to his buggy was a swift animal. He and Sam got into the turnout, and away they went with a whirl, soon leaving Ashton behind.
"This year the seminary is going to buy all its potatoes from me," explained the farmer. "And they get their cabbages, and carrots and turnips from me, too, and a good many of their eggs and chickens. They are quite a customer, and I want to do my best to please 'em."
"It's a fine place," returned Sam. "Just as good as Brill."
"So it is, Sam. By the way, how is Dick makin' out? I understand he was lookin' after your father's business."
"He is, and he is getting along very well. Of course, our lawyer is helping him, for some matters are in an awful tangle."
"That feller who hit Tom over the head ought to have been put in jail."
"Well, he is going to lose most of his property—or at least, he had to give up what belonged to Dad. The lawyer thinks that will be punishment enough. We thought of prosecuting the bunch, but Dad is in such bad health he didn't want to bother. Besides, one of the crowd, Josiah Crabtree, broke his leg in two places and he will be a cripple for life."
"Serves the rascal right! He had no business to interfere with you, and with that Mrs. Stanhope an' her daughter. I ain't got no sympathy to waste on sech cattle," snorted the straight-minded farmer.
Presently they came in sight of Hope Seminary and Mr. Sanderson drove around to a side door, to interview the housekeeper. Sam walked around to the front, and rang the doorbell, and a maid answered his summons.
"I would like to see Miss Grace Laning," he said. "Or, if she isn't in, her sister, Miss Nellie."
"Yes, sir," and the girl ushered the young collegian into the reception room.
A few minutes later Grace appeared. She looked at Sam in surprise.
"Why, I thought you wrote you'd come next Tuesday," she cried.
"So I did, Grace. But this time I've come about Tom. Have you seen him?"
"Tom? No. Did he come here?"
"I thought he might have come. Mr. Sanderson saw him on the road, headed in this direction."
"Oh, Sam, you look so—so alarmed! What is it? What do you think has happened?"
"I don't know what has happened, Grace. But something is wrong, I feel sure of it," answered Sam, with conviction. "Tom is missing, and I can't imagine what has become of him."
After that, Sam related the particulars of what had occurred, to which Grace listened closely. As she did this, tears streamed down the cheeks of the girl.
"This will break Nellie's heart—if it isn't broken already," she faltered. "You know I wrote that I had something to tell you, Sam. It was about Nellie. But I can't tell you here—let us take a walk."
"All right. But I can't stay long—I must go back with Mr. Sanderson and continue this hunt for Tom."
"To be sure—I won't keep you but a few minutes." Grace led the way outside and down one of the campus walks. "You remember that time we came back from the auto ride?" she said.
"Of course."
"Well, when Nellie and I got to our room she threw herself on the bed and cried as if her heart was breaking. I couldn't do anything with her. I wanted to find out what it was all about, but at first she wouldn't tell me a word. Then she said it was Tom—that he had acted so queerly when they took a walk in the park he had scared her."
"What did he do?"
"Oh, he talked so queer! He told Nellie tie wished he had theDartawayback, so that they could go on a honeymoon trip to the moon. And then he laughed and asked her if she would go on a camelback ride with him through the Sahara desert. And then he said he didn't want to get married until he could lay a big nugget of gold at her feet—and a lot of nonsense like that. She was awfully scared at first, but after a while he got more rational and then she felt a little better. But she couldn't get it off her mind, and it made her feel dreadful! And then, the other day, Tom sent her the queerest letter, full of all sorts of the wildest kind of nonsense—about going to the North Pole and bringing the pole back with him, and about sending her a pair of slippers, to wear in place of gloves, and asking her to send him a red and blue handkerchief, to keep his head from aching. And he wrote that he didn't think he was cut out for college, that he would rather shovel nuggets in a gold mine—that is just what he wrote—'shovel nuggets in a gold mine!' Oh, such a mixed-up letter you never read! And it made Nellie cry again. Oh, Sam, what does it mean?"
He shook his head and gave a deep sigh.
"I don't know, Grace. It scares me almost as much as it has Nellie. Maybe Tom ought to be put in a sanitarium."
"Oh, do you think he is really out of his mind?"
"It almost looks that way. Poor Tom! and he was always so bright and full of fun!"
"But what can—Oh, Sam, here is Nellie now!" cried Grace, as her sister appeared and ran towards them.
"Oh, Sam, I just met Mr. Sanderson and he said you were looking for Tom!" cried Nellie, as she came closer.
"That's true, Nellie."
"He hasn't been here—at least I haven't seen him."
"So Grace just told me," Sam tried to look at the girl in front of him, but had to turn his gaze away. He knew only too well how much Nellie thought of his brother.
"Did he—he run away?" burst out Nellie.
"I don't know about that, Nellie," said Sam, and told his story over again, just as he had related it to her sister.
Nellie burst into tears, and Sam and Grace did their best to comfort her. Grace's own eyes were moist, and Sam had all he could do to keep from breaking down likewise.
"Oh, he is gone, I am sure of it!" cried Nellie. "He is not himself at all! For all we know he may have thrown himself into the river! Oh, what shall we do? What can we do?" and she wrung her hands.
"Don't take it so hard, Nellie, it may not be so bad after all," said her sister, soothingly. "Tom may be back to Brill by this time."
For several minutes the matter was talked over. Then Mr. Sanderson appeared, ready to return to Ashton for his daughter.
"I'll help you hunt for Tom," said the bluff farmer. "I know he must be somewhere around. Don't you worry so," for he could see that Nellie had been crying.
"Send word at once, when you do find him," begged Nellie, as the buggy drove away, and Sam promised.
On the way back to town but little was said. Near Brill they met quite a few students and the youngest Rover asked them if they had seen his brother. All replied in the negative.
When Ashton was reached it was dark, and they drove around to the hotel. Songbird and Minnie had been dining, and the student asked Mr. Sanderson and Sam to have something.
"No, I don't care to eat just now," said Sam. "I'll take another look around," and he left the Sandersons and Songbird together.
But Sam's walk around the town was productive of no results. He called again on the two doctors, only to be told that Tom had not shown himself at either place. At the depot nobody seemed to remember seeing him. The youth visited several stores where Tom was known, but none of the clerks had seen the missing one.
"I suppose all I can do is to return to Brill and wait," said Sam, on rejoining those at the hotel. "I might send out a general alarm, but I'd hate to do that and then have Tom walk in as if nothing unusual had happened."
"And it would be just like him to do it," returned Songbird.
It was nearly ten o'clock when Sam and his chum returned to the college. Tom had not yet shown himself, nor had he sent in any word. His books and his clothing were exactly as he had left them.
"Well, he didn't take anything with him," was Sam's comment, as several of his chums came in to sympathize with him. "That looks as if he hadn't meant to go far."
"Oh, he'll be back, don't worry," said Spud, optimistically.
All did their best to cheer poor Sam up, but this did little good. Sam was much worried and his face showed it.
"I don't know what to do," he said. "I certainly don't feel like going to bed."
One of the proctors had heard that Tom was missing and came to the room to see about it. Sam told him all he knew and the proctor said he would immediately report the case to Doctor Wallington.
"You know he can't stay out as late as this without permission," observed the proctor.
"Permission or no permission I wish he was here," answered Sam. "He is sick and I am very much worried about him." And then the proctor left.
An hour dragged by and the other students went to bed. Sam sat up in an easy chair, trying to doze, but starting up at every sound. He tried to figure out what would be best for him to do, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion. He looked out of the window. The moon was setting and soon all became dark. A wagon rattled by on the roadway beyond the campus, and the clock in the college tower tolled out the hour of midnight.
"This is simply awful!" murmured Sam, as he walked back to the easy chair and dropped down. "I wonder if I hadn't better send a message to Dick? But I can't do it until seven o'clock—the telegraph office is closed."
At last Sam became so worn out that he could keep his eyes open no longer. He flung himself on his bed, dressed as he was, and fell into a fitful doze. And thus the hours went by until the sun shone over the hills in the East.
"Did he come in?" It was a question put by Songbird, as he came to the door.
"No."
"Say, Sam, this is strange. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know—telegraph to Dick and send out a general alarm, I guess."
"You don't think he simply ran away, do you?"
"What, without telling me? You know better than that, Songbird."
"Then he must have wandered off while he was out of his mind. Maybe he's somewhere in the woods around here."
"Maybe. I only hope he isn't hurt."
"Well, if I can do anything, let me know," answered Songbird, and stepped back into his room to dress.
As soon as possible Sam went to Doctor Wallington and talked the matter over with the head of Brill. The worthy doctor knew about the case already and was all sympathy.
"We had better send out a general alarm," he said. "And you can notify your folks. It was a mistake to let your brother come back here so soon after being hurt. You can take one of the carriages and drive down to Ashton at once, if you wish, and also drive around to some of the other places in this vicinity. Somebody must have seen your brother after he left here, or after Mr. Sanderson saw him."
"Would you mind if I take John Powell with me?" asked Sam. "I may need somebody to help me."
"Very well, Rover, he can go if he wishes."
"To be sure I'll go," said Songbird, when told of this. "And we'll find Tom, see if we don't," he added, by way of cheering Sam.
Sam waited until nine o'clock to see if Tom would show himself and then he and Songbird drove over the Ashton. A search lasting the best part of an hour followed, but nothing new was learned. Then, rather reluctantly—for he knew that Dick was having trouble enough attending to their father's affairs—he sent a telegram to his big brother, telling of Tom's disappearance, and adding that he would telegraph again, if anything new turned up.
In driving over to Hope Seminary Mr. Sanderson had pointed out to Sam the spot where he had seen—or thought he had seen—Tom. Sam now determined to visit that spot and see if from that point he could not get on the trail of his brother.
The place was near a turn of the road and just beyond was another road. At the forks stood an old stone house, wherein lived an old basketmaker named Rater. The girls of Hope often bought baskets from the man just to help him along.
Sam and Songbird found Rater sitting on a side porch of his home, with his basket-making materials scattered around him. He was a tall, thin man, somewhat deaf, but with a pair of sharp eyes.
"Come to buy a basket?" he asked, briskly.
"No, I came for a little information, if you can give it, Mr. Rater," replied Sam.
"What do you want to know?"
"Were you here yesterday?"
"I sure was—all day long."
"Did you see anything of my brother?" went on Sam. "He is a little larger than I am, and here is his picture," and the youngest Rover produced a photograph he had brought along.
The old basketmaker looked at the photograph carefully.
"Why, yes, I see that feller," he said slowly. "He stopped at my gate fer a minute or two. He acted sort o' strange."
"In what way?"
"He didn't speak to me, he spoke to hisself. Said something about a basketful o' nuggets. I asked him if he wanted to buy a basket, but he only shook his head an' said somethin' about wantin' to git the nuggets o' gold first. Then, all of a sudden like, he ran away."
"And which way did he go?" asked Sam, with interest.
"Up the Hoopville road," and the old basketmaker pointed to the side road which ran past his home.
"Did he have any baggage with him?" questioned Songbird.
"Nary a thing."
"Thank you for the information," said Sam, and passed over a quarter, which Rater pocketed with a broad smile. Ready money was scarce with him.
"We'll drive to Hoopville," said Sam, a minute later, as he and Songbird got in the buggy. "And we'll ask about Tom on the way."
A quarter of a mile was passed and they came to a lonely spot on the highway. Here, the only building in sight was a half tumbled down cottage belonging to a man named Hiram Duff. Duff pretended to be poor, but common report had it that he was a miser and fairly well to do.
"Going to stop here?" questioned Songbird, as they drove near.
"We might as well," returned Sam. "Old Duff is a tough customer, but in this case——"
He did not finish for at that instant a muffled cry came from the old cottage, startling both boys.