"What can that be?"
"Must be somebody in trouble!"
"Maybe it is old Duff!"
"Let us go and see!"
With these hasty exclamations both boys leaped from the carriage they occupied and ran towards the delapidated cottage. The cries continued, coming from somewhere in the interior.
"Wait—we'll look in the window first," suggested Sam. "Maybe old Duff is having a quarrel with one of his neighbors, and if so it might not be wise to interfere."
There was a window with small panes of glass close at hand, and going to this the two youths peered into the cottage. To their surprise they could see nobody. Both lower rooms of the old building seemed to be unoccupied.
"Let's go around to the rear. Maybe the sounds come from there," suggested Songbird.
There was a path full of weeds leading to a rear porch that was almost ready to fall down. The back door stood partly open. Nobody was in sight.
"The call comes from somewhere inside," said Sam. "Come on in. But be on your guard, Songbird. We don't want to get into trouble."
Both lads crossed the rickety porch and entered what was the kitchen of the cottage. A musty odor pervaded the building, for old Duff usually kept everything tightly closed.
The place was in disorder, a chair being overturned and several cooking utensils littering the floor. On the stove, which was cold, lay a big carving knife.
"What do you want? Where are you?" called out Sam.
"Oh, help me! Get me out of here!" came the somewhat faint reply. "I am in the cellar!"
"In the cellar!" repeated Songbird. "Are you Mr. Duff?"
"Yes. Help me out, please."
Both boys looked around for a stairs, but there was none. Then, to one side of the kitchen floor, they saw a trap door. It was shut down and bolted by means of a plug stuck through two staples.
It was an easy matter to kick the plug away and raise the trap door. The boys peered down into the opening below and saw Hiram Duff sitting on the lower step of the stairs. He looked hollow-eyed and almost exhausted.
"What's the matter, Mr. Duff? How did you get shut up this way?" asked Sam, kindly.
"Oh, my! Oh, my!" sighed the old miser. "Ca—can't you help me up the stairs? I am so—so weak I can't hardly walk. Where is the rascal who shut me up this way? I'll have the police on him!"
"Did somebody shut you up In this cellar?" asked Sam, as he and Songbird crawled below to give the old man assistance. They saw that the cellar was merely a big hole in the ground and the stairs were very steep and not particularly safe.
"Yes, somebody got me to come down here and then locked that trap door on me," grumbled the miser. He got up with difficulty and crawled slowly to the kitchen, the boys coming after him to see that he did not fall back. "Oh, dear, what a time I have had of it!" he whined.
"When was this?" asked Songbird.
"I don't know—that is, I can't tell how long it was until I know what time it is now."
"It is half-past ten," answered Sam, consulting his watch.
"What! Do you mean half-past ten in the morning?" burst out Hiram Duff. "If that's true then I've been down cellar all night—ever since yesterday afternoon! No wonder I was hungry and thirsty. I've got to have something to eat and drink soon, or I'll starve to death!" And he walked to the kitchen cupboard and got out some bread and meat. There was water in a pail on the bench and he took a long drink of this.
"Who was it locked you in the cellar?" asked Sam.
"Who be you boys?" asked the miser in return.
"We belong to Brill College. We were driving past and we heard you yell," answered Songbird.
"Yes, I thought I heard a carriage on the road, so I called as loud as I could. I did that ever since that fellow went away, but I guess nobody heard me—leastwise, they didn't pay no attention."
"Will you tell us how it all happened?" asked Sam, and then he added aside to Songbird. "Don't say anything about Tom." And the would-be poet of Brill nodded to show he understood.
"It was this way," answered Hiram Duff, dropping down on the chair Sam fixed for him. "I was sitting on the back porch mending my coat when all of a sudden a fellow came around the corner of the house. He was a strange looking young fellow and he wore a funny looking cap pulled away down over his eyes. He asked me if I wasn't Hackler. I said I wasn't, that my name was Hiram Duff. Then he says, 'I knew it, I knew it! At last!' and sits down on the porch. I says, 'At last, what?' and he says something about a nugget of gold. He acted awful mysterious like, and finally he asks me if I'd like to own half of a big nugget of gold. I told him I certainly would."
"And then?" asked Sam, as the old miser paused to take a bite of bread and meat.
"Then he told a queer story about a nugget of gold brought down to this place from Alaska. He was very mysterious, and at last he said the nugget was right down in my cellar, and if I'd dig it up fer him he'd give me half. At first I thought he was fooling, or wasn't just right in his mind, but a nugget of gold—even a little one—isn't to be sneezed at, and it wouldn't cost me nuthing to go down cellar and look. So I starts to go down the stairs when he says to be careful, that he would look around, to make sure nobuddy was a-spying on him. He said the nugget was in the northwest corner. I went down and the next thing I knew I heard a strange cry upstairs. 'You shan't rob me! The nugget is mine!' yells that fellow and bang! goes that trap door, and then he up and bolts it fast, so I couldn't open it. I calls to let me out, and he calls back for me to keep quiet until he got some friends, so I couldn't rob him of that nugget. Then he slammed around upstairs here something awful. At last he went away; and that's the last I seen or heard of him."
"What did you do? Didn't you try to get out?" questioned Songbird.
"For a long time I waited, thinking he would come back. And as he seemed so sure about the nugget I took the lantern and looked for it. But there wasn't no signs of any gold. Then the lantern got dry and went out, leaving me in the dark. I didn't know what to make of it. I went up the stairs and tried to open the door, but I couldn't budge it. Then I tried to dig my way out of the hole, but the old shovel I had broke and there I was. I'm an old man and pretty full of rheumatism, and staying down cellar all night has most finished me," concluded Hiram Duff, with a groan.
"Did the fellow say where he was going?" asked Sam, after a pause.
"Said he was going to get help, that's all, so I couldn't rob him of that nugget. I don't know what to make of it. Might be he was a lunatic, eh?" went on the old miser, suddenly. "Maybe he run away from some asylum."
"Possibly," answered Sam, shortly. "Did he take anything, do you suppose?" he went on.
"Take anything? You mean steal anything?" cried Hiram Duff, and started back. The sandwich he had made for himself dropped from his hand. "I—I wonder if he did take anything," he muttered, and his eyes roved towards the other room of the cottage.
"Better take a look around, if you had anything of value," said Sam, and gave Songbird a meaning look.
With feeble steps the old miser walked out of the kitchen into what had been the sitting room of the cottage. As he was too feeble to sleep upstairs, Hiram Duff now used the apartment for a bedroom as well. He closed the door between the two rooms and the boys heard him rummaging around among his possessions. Then came a wild cry.
"It's gone! It's gone! My tin box is gone!"
"Your tin box?" repeated Songbird, as the old man threw open the door.
"Yes! yes! The fellow has robbed me! Oh, this is dreadful! What shall I do? I am a poor man! Oh, I'll have to go to the poorhouse!" And the miser commenced to wring his hands.
"What did you have in the box?" questioned Sam.
"I had—some—er—some money, and some—er—jewelry," faltered Hiram Duff. He was a very secretive man naturally and it galled him to make the admission.
"How much money, Mr. Duff?"
"Oh, a—er—quite some. Oh, this is too bad! What shall I do? This will ruin me! Oh, where is that rascal? How can I catch him?" and the old man ran around the kitchen, staring at one thing and another, and at the boys.
"This must be Tom's work," whispered Sam to Songbird. "I wonder what I had best do about it?"
"Wait until you are sure it was Tom," advised the would-be poet.
Sam commenced to question the old miser regarding the looks of the fellow who had visited him. He soon became convinced that it must have been Tom. Clearly his brother must now be completely out of his mind.
"Poor, poor Tom," he sighed. "If he is going to act this way, what will he do next? I wish I could find him, and that Dick was here to help me to take care of him and clear up this mess."
"I don't know what I'm a-going to do," whined Hiram Duff. "I gotter find that box."
"How big a box was it?" questioned Sam.
"'Twasn't so very big—a fellow could put it in his pocket. But it had gold—I mean money—in it, and my dead wife's jewelry."
"How much money, Mr. Duff?"
"What business is that of yours?" demanded the miser, suspiciously.
"Why, I think—maybe I can help you get it back," stammered Sam. He grew red in the face. "To tell the plain truth, I think I know who that fellow was."
"Who?"
"Tell me what you lost first."
"Well, if you must know, that box had three hundred dollars in gold in it, besides the jewelry. That my wife got from her folks when they died, and they said it was wuth over a hundred dollars."
"Is that all?"
"Ain't that enough? Land sakes! I ain't no millionaire! That gold was a-going to keep me from the poorhouse." And Hiram Duff shook his head dolefully. He did not tell the young collegiates that he had an even ten thousand dollars in the banks. He had saved money all his life, denying himself and his wife almost the necessities of life.
"Do you suppose anybody else could have come in and taken the box?" said Songbird.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, did anybody come in after that fellow left?"
"How should I know?—I was down cellar."
"Did you hear anybody?"
"I heard something. Maybe it was somebody, or maybe it was my sheep. They come up to the house sometimes."
"I see."
"But what do you know about this?" demanded Hiram Duff, turning to Sam. "You said you might help me to git the money back."
"I'll tell you," said Sam, and related how his brother had disappeared and how the blow on the head seemed to have affected him.
"That's it! That's him! That's the man!" cried the old miser. "He did it! You catch him and git my money back!" he went on, excitedly.
"I'll certainly do my best to find him, Mr. Duff," answered Sam. "And if he really took your box you shall have what you lost back."
"Is he crazy, do you think?"
"He wouldn't do such a thing if he was in his right mind."
"Tom Rover is as honest as the day is long," declared Songbird. "If he really took your box he didn't know what he was doing."
"Well, he certainly did act queer," agreed Hiram Duff. "But that ain't here nor there. I want my box back, with all that's in it, and I'm going to have it. I guess I had better go to town and tell the police about this."
The old miser was very much excited and began to pace the floor of his cottage.
"Yes, I better tell the police, that's what I better do," he muttered.
"There won't be any necessity to tell the police—if it was really my brother who did it," said Sam.
"Why not, I'd like to know?" challenged Hiram Duff. "He ain't no better'n other folks."
"If he took the box, I and my family will see to it that you are repaid for your loss, Mr. Duff," answered the youngest Rover.
"Humph! Do you guarantee that?" demanded the old miser, suspiciously.
"Yes."
"And you can take his word for it, sir," added Songbird. "The Rovers are well-known and wealthy, and they will do exactly as they promise.
"I've heard that name before. Didn't you have some trouble with the railroad company?" asked Hiram Duff. "About a busted-up flying machine?"
"Yes," replied Sam.
"And got the best of that skinflint lawyer, Belright Fogg?"
"We made Mr. Fogg pay for the biplane, yes."
"I know all about it," chuckled Hiram Duff. "Served Fogg right. And he lost his job with the railroad company, too." The old man pursed up his lips. "Well, if you'll give me your word that you will settle with me I won't go to the police. But I want every cent that is coming to me, understand that."
"You'll get it—if my brother took the box," answered Sam. "But listen to me. First of all I want to find my brother. I think he ought to be under a doctor's care."
"He ought to be in an asylum," responded Hiram Duff, bluntly. "It's dangerous to allow sech a feller at large."
"Maybe. We are going on a hunt for him right now," answered Sam. "I'll come back here, or you can come to see me at Brill. And don't worry, Mr. Duff,—you'll not lose a cent," added the youth, earnestly.
Luckily Hiram Duff had heard all about the trouble the Rovers had had with the railroad lawyer, and had at the time also heard that Sam's family were wealthy and of high standing. This being so, he took matters far more calmly than would otherwise have been the case. But he wanted something in writing and Sam quickly wrote out a statement and signed it.
"Now we must get after my brother," said the youth. "Although you say you have no idea where he went?"
"No, I ain't got the least idee."
"Let us drive on towards Hoopville," suggested Songbird. "We can make inquiries along the way."
In a few minutes more the pair were on the way, Hiram Duff gazing after them anxiously.
"Don't forget to let me hear from you!" he called out.
"Songbird, this is terrible!" murmured Sam, as they drove on. "I wish Dick was here to advise me."
"He'll come as quickly as he can, don't worry about that, Sam. I only hope we catch Tom before he gets too far away."
About a mile was covered along the road leading to Hoopville, a small village, the single industry of which was the making of barrel hoops. Then they came to another farmhouse, where they saw a boy of fifteen sitting on a horse-block, whittling a stick.
"Hello, there!" called out Sam. "Say, I'm looking for a young fellow that passed here yesterday. Did you see anything of him? Here is his picture."
"Sure I saw him," answered the boy, after a glance at the photograph. "I drove him over to Morton's Junction."
"Drove him over to Morton's Junction?" repeated Sam. "When?"
"Yesterday afternoon. But we didn't git to the Junction till seven o'clock."
"Where did you go to?"
"What do you want to know for?" asked the boy, curiously.
"He is my brother and I want to find him, just as quickly as I can."
"Oh! Well, he wanted to catch a train. He just got it, too."
"What train?"
"The Western Express. He wouldn't have got it only it was about ten minutes late. He got aboard just as she started out from the depot."
Sam's heart sank at this news. Tom on the Western Express! For what place had he been bound?
"Did he say where he was going?" put in Songbird.
"To Chicago, I think. He talked to himself a good deal. Said something about Chicago and St. Paul and Seattle. I asked him if he was on business and he said he was going to pick up nuggets of gold. I guess he was poking fun at me," went on the boy, sheepishly. "But he paid me two dollars for driving him over," he added, with satisfaction.
"Did he have much money?" asked Sam. "Tell me all you know. I might as well tell tell you, that was my brother, and he is sick in his head, so that he doesn't know just what he is doing."
"Say, I thought he was queer—he had such a look out of his eyes, and talked so much to himself. He only had about ten dollars in bills. But he said he had some gold in his pocket, in a box. He didn't show it, though. He said he was on Bill Stiger's trail."
"Bill Stiger's trail," murmured Sam, and his mind went back to the night Tom had gone to see the moving picture drama entitled "Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska." Bill Stiger had been the name of the villain in the play—the rascal who had robbed the hero of his golden nuggets.
"He didn't have no ticket," went on the boy. "So he could get off the train anywhere."
"We must hurry to Morton's Junction and see if we can find out anything more," said Sam to his college chum. His face showed plainly how greatly he was worried.
The boy told them how to go and they made the best time possible, arriving at the Junction some time after noon. They found the depot master on the platform.
"I remember the fellow you mean," he said. "He got on the last car. Dunkirt, the conductor, helped him up. But I don't know where he went to. Maybe Dunkirt could tell you, when he gets back here."
"When will he be back?"
"He's off to-day and he'll be here on the one-thirty train. You can talk to him when he comes in, if you want to."
"I'll do it," answered Sam.
He and Songbird had an even hour to wait, and the latter suggested that they go to the Junction Hotel for dinner.
"Might as well eat, Sam," he said, kindly "It won't help matters any to go hungry."
"I don't care much about eating, Songbird," was the answer. "But I'll go along and take a bite. I wish I knew just where Tom had gone. I might telegraph ahead for him."
"Well, let us hope that conductor can tell you something."
With nothing to do but to wait, the boys took their time over the midday meal, and while doing this they had the team fed. Then they sauntered down to the depot to await the arrival of the man they wanted to interview. Presently the train came in and the depot master pointed out the conductor.
"Excuse me, but are you Mr. Dunkirt?" asked Sam.
"That's my handle," was the prompt reply.
"I am looking for the young man who jumped on your train just as it was leaving here yesterday."
"Ha! I thought somebody might be after that fellow!" exclaimed the conductor, quickly.
In a few words Sam explained as much of the situation as seemed necessary, the conductor listening with interest. He nodded his head several times.
"I thought he was a little bit off in his upper story," he said. "He talked rather wildly of going far away to get gold nuggets. He paid his fare to Chicago and that's as far as I carried him."
"What did he pay with?" asked Sam.
"He gave me a ten-dollar gold piece. He had quite a lot of gold with him."
"Did he say where he was going from Chicago?"
"Oh, yes, he had it all mapped out. He was going to St. Paul first and then straight west to Seattle. From there he was going to Alaska."
"Alaska!" cried Sam and Songbird, in a breath.
"That is what he said."
"What part of Alaska?" asked Sam, faintly.
"He didn't tell me and I didn't ask him. I rather thought he was kidding me, he acted so queer-like when he talked."
After this the conductor told all he could remember about Tom. He said that the youth had left the train at Chicago in a large crowd and that was the last he had seen of the youth.
"I'll send another telegram to Dick," said Sam to his chum.
"Why not telephone to Ashton first?" suggested the other. "There may be a telegram for you there."
"I'll do it," said Sam, and got the station master at Ashton on the wire as soon as possible.
"Yes, a telegram came in for you an hour ago," was the answer, over the telephone wire. "I sent it up to Brill."
"Will you have the operator read it to me?" asked the youth.
"Sure. Hold the wire a minute."
Another connection was apparently made and Sam heard a different voice.
"Is this Samuel Rover?"
"Yes."
"Want that message from Richard Rover?"
"If you please."
"He says he is coming up to Ashton on the train that gets here at eleven-fifteen tonight."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Thank you," and Sam hung up the receiver.
"What's the news, Sam?" questioned Songbird, and when told he looked relieved. "Dick will know what to do."
"I know what I am going to do, Songbird. I am going right back to Brill and get ready to follow Tom."
"I supposed you'd do that. I'd like to go with you."
"I know it. But that won't be necessary—if Dick goes with me." Sam drew a deep breath. "I—I guess I'd better stop at Hope on the way back and let the girls know how matters stand," he added, soberly.
"I can go up to-morrow and tell them, Sam."
"No. I'd rather tell them myself," answered the youngest Rover. He knew exactly how Nellie and Grace would feel when he broke the news to them.
It was a very sober and thoughtful pair of boys that got in the carriage and started back to Brill by the way of Hope Seminary. Sam was laying his plans how to follow Tom in his wild trip West and Songbird was wondering how he could be of assistance to the Rovers. Several times the would-be poet started to quote some original verse, but each time cut himself short.
Presently they came in sight of Hope, just as the girls were coming from their afternoon classes. They espied Nellie and Grace, and beckoned to them. Both came forward on a run.
"What is the news, Sam?" asked Nellie, quickly.
"It's not very good, Nellie," he said, kindly. "Tom has run away."
"Run away!" gasped the girl, and turned pale. "Oh, you don't mean it!"
"Where did he go to?" questioned Grace.
"To Chicago."
"And from there, so he told a train conductor, he was going to Seattle and then to Alaska," said Songbird. "Sam and Dick are going after him, just as soon as they can."
"To Alaska! Tom has gone to Alaska!" murmured Nellie, and then she turned and swayed, and the next moment fainted in Sam's arms.
"Get some water, Songbird, quick!"
"Oh, Sam, shall I get some smelling salts!" cried Grace.
"I guess the water will do, Grace. Here, stand on this side, so those other girls can't see Nellie," went on the boy. "No use of letting them know everything."
Grace understood and she and Sam shielded Nellie and carried her to a campus bench. Then Songbird arrived with a cup of water from a well. Just as he handed it over, Nellie opened her eyes.
"Oh! I—I—what happened?" she murmured. "Oh, I remember now!" And a look of pain crossed her face.
"Take a drink of water, dear," said her sister, and held the cup. Nellie took a sip and then Grace bathed her forehead with some water poured on a handkerchief that Sam passed over. Soon the girl sat up straight.
"I—I'm all right now," she faltered. "It—it was such a—a shock. Oh, Sam, do you really think Tom is bound for Alaska?"
"It looks like it, Nellie," he answered. "I'll tell you all about it, if you'll walk down the road, away from those other students." And then, as they walked away slowly, Sam and Songbird told their story, the two girls hanging on their every word.
"It's awful, terrible!" murmured Grace. "Poor Tom, he must be clear out of his mind!"
"That's the only explanation," answered Sam. "He'd never do such a thing if he was in his right senses."
"Oh, but he may lose his mind entirely," gasped Nellie. "I've read of such cases in the newspapers. A person wanders off and forgets who he is, or where he came from, and all that! Supposing Tom went to Alaska and that happened to him! Why, we might never be able to find him!" And the tears began to course down Nellie's cheeks.
"We'll find him," answered Sam, sturdily. "Why, we've got to do it!"
"But Alaska is so big, Sam! And think of going out to those mining camps, and out in that snow and ice! Oh, I can't stand it!" And Nellie's tears started afresh.
"We'll have to catch him before he has a chance to leave St. Paul or Seattle," returned the youth.
"I think they had better telegraph ahead and set somebody on the watch," said Songbird. "It will cost money to send a description of Tom, but it may pay to do it."
"Yes, yes! Do that, Sam! Anything to find Tom!" pleaded Nellie.
"We'll do what we can, Nellie, you can be sure of that," was the reply.
The boys remained with the girls a short time longer and then took their departure.
"Take care of yourself, Sam," said Grace, on parting. "If you go West don't get into any trouble."
"I won't get into any more trouble than I can help," he replied. "But we are bound to find Tom and bring him back."
It was dark when the boys got back to Brill, and while Songbird prepared to go to supper, Sam hurried to the office of the head of the institution. He found Doctor Wallington pouring over some teacher's reports. He listened with a troubled face to what Sam had to tell and shook his head slowly.
"Too bad, Rover, and I sympathize with you and your family from the bottom of my heart. Clearly that blow on the head has put your brother completely out of his mind. I am glad that Richard is coming to Ashton to aid you. What you had better do next is a problem."
"I think we'll send word West about Tom and then try to follow him," answered Sam. "That is why I came here—to notify you that I'd have to leave."
"I shall be sorry to lose you, Samuel. Let us hope that you'll be able to come back in a few days—and that Thomas's case will not prove as bad as we think. I agree that it is best for you to move at once, for there is no telling what your missing brother may do. Can I aid in any way?"
"You may cash a check for me—I may need some ready money,—if Dick doesn't happen to have enough with him."
"I'll do that with pleasure. Anything else?"
"I want to go to Ashton late this evening, to meet Dick. I'll take a suitcase with me."
"One of the men can drive you down. Will your brother come here?"
"Possibly. But both of us may stay in Ashton, to take the one o'clock train for Chicago. It stops on signal, you know."
"Yes. Very well. Anything else?"
"No, sir," answered Sam, and then he wrote out the check and got his money. A little later, after a hasty supper, he started to pack his suitcase with such things as he thought he might need for the trip to Chicago.
He was in the midst of his labors when Songbird came in, followed by Spud, Stanley, Max and several others. All wanted to assist him, yet they could do little. Each was deeply sympathetic.
"It's too bad, Sam," said Spud. "I hope you catch Tom before he has a chance to leave Chicago. Why when a chap gets out of his mind there is no telling what he'll do, or where he'll go."
"Oxactly so," came from Max. "I knowed a man vonce dot goes his mind owid. He took an axe, and—veil neffer mind, Dom ton't do nuddings like dot anyvay," added the German-American student hastily, after a warning look from Songbird.
"I think that moving picture must have hit Tom hard," said Stanley. "It was so lifelike. He talked about it a great deal."
"Yes, he couldn't forget it. He even talked about it in his sleep," returned Sam. "He wanted to go out and get those nuggets of gold."
"Well, I'd like some nuggets myself," cried Spud. "But I am not going to the ice fields of Alaska for 'em," he added, grimly, and this caused a faint smile to spread on some of the boys' faces.
Songbird had received permission to accompany Sam to Ashton, and at nine o'clock the youths were on the way, in a carriage driven by one of the college drivers. They went directly to the depot, there to await the arrival of the train that was to bring Dick.
It was a cold, disagreeable evening, with a promise of rain in the air. The boys were glad enough to go into the station, which was kept open for the coming of the late train.
"Can a fellow get on that one o'clock Chicago train from here?" asked Sam, of the ticket man.
"Yes, if he's got a ticket," was the reply. "I'll have to signal it to stop though."
"Well, I'll let you know about it as soon as I see my brother. He is coming in on the eleven-thirty."
It had begun to rain by the time the last-named train rolled in. Only three passengers got off, but one of them was Dick. He had a suitcase with him, and he fairly ran to meet Sam and Songbird.
"Any more news?" he demanded.
Sam related the particulars of what had occurred. In the meantime the train had gone on and the station was deserted by all but the ticket man.
"Going to lock up now," he said to the boys, who had gathered in the station, out of the rain.
"Wait just one minute please," pleaded Sam.
"Here, go out and get some cigars for yourself," added Dick, and passed over a quarter.
"Thanks, I will," returned the ticket man, and walked off to an all-night resort not far from the station.
"I don't see anything to do but to follow Tom to Chicago," said Dick. "We might send a telegram to the authorities, but I can't see how it would do any good. They don't know him, and in a big city like that it is hard enough to find a fellow when he is well-known. If we take that one o'clock train we'll be in Chicago by morning, and I'd rather look around myself than trust the police to do it."
"All right, I came prepared for the trip," answered Sam, and pointed to his suitcase.
When the station man came back they purchased two tickets for Chicago and the man set out his lantern to signal the express. Then Songbird said good-bye, wishing them all kinds of good luck, and rode back to Brill.
"Sam, this is simply terrible," observed the big brother, as he paced the depot platform, the station master having gone away. "I never thought such a thing as this would come to Tom."
"Neither did I, Dick. Nellie is all broke up over it, too."
"Naturally."
"Did you send word home? I didn't."
"No, I didn't want to worry the folks until the last minute. But Dora knows, and so does Mrs. Stanhope."
"What about Dad's business, Dick? Can you get away from it?"
"I can't get away any too easily, Sam. Things are in a fearful snarl. But I telephoned to Mr. Powell, the lawyer, to look after matters during my absence. I think we've got those brokers under our thumb—at least I hope so. But if we haven't, we stand to lose a bunch of money."
"How much?"
"Twenty or thirty thousand dollars."
"That's too bad. If you think you ought to go back, I might look for Tom alone."
"Don't you dare to mention such a thing, Sam. I think more of Tom than I do of twice that amount of money—and so do you and the rest of the family. Our whole duty is to find Tom, and do it, too, before he gets into more mischief, or gets hurt," concluded the oldest Rover.
Promptly on time the night express bound west came along. It seldom stopped at Brill and the conductor gazed curiously at the two youths as they got aboard. Then the lantern was extinguished and set aside, and the heavy train rolled on.
Fortunately travel was light that night, so the lads had no trouble in getting a section of a sleeper from the Pullman porter. They had only the lower berth made up, and on that laid down, to talk matters over and get some sleep.
"Yes, it must have been that moving picture that set Tom off," said Dick, during the course of the conversation. "And that gives us something like a clue to work on. The main scenes took place in Alaska, and he may be just topsy-turvy enough in his mind to want to find those places. Talking about golden nuggets, and about being on the trail of Bill Stiger, looks like it, anyway."
"I think so myself, Dick. But his mind may change and he may go to Mexico, or Europe," and Sam sighed deeply.
Neither of the boys slept much and both were up almost as early as anybody on the train. More to pass the time than because they felt hungry, they went into the dining car for breakfast.
At last the train rolled into the suburbs of the great city of the lakes and finally came to a stop at the big depot. The youths took up their suitcases and filed out with the other passengers.
"Have you any idea where we ought to look first?" asked Sam.
"I think we may as well leave our bags on check at this depot and look around here," was the answer. "Tom started from here and maybe we'll be lucky enough to meet somebody who saw and remembered him."
Having checked the suitcases, the Rovers started in earnest, asking the men at the news stand and in the smoking room and at the lunch counter and restaurant. Then they questioned the taxicab drivers, and even some of the newsboys and bootblacks.
"It looks almost hopeless," said Sam, at last.
"Not yet," returned Dick. "We haven't struck the most important people yet. Funny we didn't think of them first."
"Whom do you mean?"
"The ticket sellers. Let me have that photo of Tom and we'll see if any of them remember him."
From one ticket window they went to another, until they reached an elderly man, who gazed at the photograph with interest.
"Yes, I remember that young man," he said, slowly. "He was here yesterday afternoon."
"Did he buy a railroad ticket?"
"He did."
"Where to?"
"Seattle."
"Can you remember on what train?" asked Sam.
"Sure. I had to hurry for him, for he took the four-ten train, by way of St. Paul," was the reply.
"Well, Sam we have done all we can do for the present."
"That's right, Dick."
"Whether it will do any good or not remains to be seen," and Dick gave a long-drawn sigh and leaned back in the sleeping car seat he occupied.
It was about three hours later and in that time the Rover boys had been very busy.
Following the announcement of the ticket seller that Tom had taken a train for Seattle by way of St. Paul, the Rovers had sent a telegram to the conductor of the train, asking him to look out for Tom and have him detained. They had procured accommodations on the train they were now on, and had so notified the railroad official, so he would know where to address them, provided the missing one was found. They had also sent a telegram to the folks at home and another to the girls at Hope.
"Perhaps we'll get word when we reach St. Paul," said Sam. "For all we know Tom may be there, awaiting our arrival."
"I sincerely hope so, Sam. I'm sure I don't want to go away out to the Pacific coast for him."
"It's too bad Tom didn't buy one of those railroad tickets that a fellow has to sign," observed Sam. "If he had done that, it would be easy to find him."
"That's true."
The train they were on was an express, making but few stops and would reach St. Paul late in the evening. It was only about three-quarters filled, so the Rovers had had no difficulty in getting a section of a sleeper. Whether they would go further than St. Paul was, however, as yet a problem.
"Next stop Milwaukee!" was the cry, and soon the train rolled into that city. Anxiously the two brothers looked out and saw one of the trainmen take several telegrams from a man on the platform. After the train had started again the trainman came through the train.
"Telegrams for Miss Baker, Mr. Josephs and Mr. Rover!" he called out.
"Here you are!" cried Sam, eagerly. "Rover." And the telegram was passed over. Hastily the envelope was torn open and the contents scanned. The boys looked at each other blankly. The telegram read as follows:
"No young man answering to name Tom Rover on this train. Will watch passengers closely as instructed."FOLSOM,Conductor."
"What do you make of this, Dick. Maybe Tom didn't use that ticket after he bought it," gasped Sam.
"But that ticket seller saw him rush for the gate. He must have gone on the train, Sam. He probably didn't answer to his name because if he is out of his mind he has forgotten what his real name is. And so long as he keeps quiet the trainmen won't suspect anything wrong with him."
"Perhaps we'll get another telegram at St. Paul."
"I hope so."
On and on rolled the train through the afternoon, coming presently to the shore of the upper Mississippi, with its wide stretches of marshland and its dead trees. It was not an inviting scene, and the two Rovers were glad enough, when the time came, to turn from it and go to the diner for dinner.
There was to be a stop of ten minutes at St. Paul and in that time the boys must make up their minds whether they were going to continue on that train or not. If they laid over, several more hours of precious time would be lost.
It was well towards midnight when the train reached St. Paul and a number of sleepy passengers got off and others got on. Dick and Sam waited impatiently for a messenger to appear. The telegram was there, sure enough, and this time it carried more interesting information.