“She says he went away looking very angry and muttering something about making mamma see him. Mamma watched him from an upper window and she wrote that he hung around the garden about half an hour before he went away.”
“The rascal! You had better get Mr. Laning to look into this for you. If he bothers you any more he ought to be locked up.”
“Just what I think. But mamma is too timid to go to the police, or anything like that.”
“I wish I was there when old Crabtree called—I’d give him a piece of my mind!”
“Oh, Dick, maybe he would want to—to—shoot you, or something!”
“No, Josiah Crabtree isn’t that kind. He belongs to the snake-in-the-grass variety of rascals. But perhaps he won’t come again—now that your mother has refused to see him.”
“I wish I could be sure of it,” sighed the girl.
“What have you done about the fortune, Dora?”
“Mamma has everything in the vault of a safe deposit company in Ithaca. We don’t know just what to do—thinking Tad Sobber may tie the money up again in the courts.”
“I don’t see how he can do that—unless he brings up some new evidence to prove that the fortune belongs to Sid Merrick’s estate.”
“Uncle John thought it might be best to buy Tad Sobber off—just to end the matter. But Sobber wanted too much.”
“I’d not give him a cent—he doesn’t deserve it—after the way he treated you, and us. I don’t believe Sid Merrick ever had a right to one dollar of the fortune.”
“I believe that, too.”
“I suppose Crabtree came around because he heard that you had more money than ever. Gracious, Dora, some day you’ll be real rich in your own name!”
“Well, won’t you like it,” she demanded brightly.
“I’ll not complain. But I’d take you just as quickly if you were poor,” added Dick earnestly.
“Would you, Dick?”
“Do you doubt me?”
“No, Dick, I don’t. I know you don’t want me for my money,” and Dora leaned forward to let her hand rest for a moment on his shoulder.
“I’ve got a little money of my own,” he went on, after a pause, in which they looked straight into each other’s eyes.
“A little! Oh, Dick, I guess you’ve got a good bit more than I’ve got.”
“Are you sorry for that, Dora?”
“Sorry? Oh, no, but—but—” And Dora suddenly turned very red.
“What, dear?” he whispered.
“Why—I—that is—you said you would take me just as quickly if I were poor. Well—I—I’d take you that way, too!” And now the girl hid her blushes in her handkerchief.
“Dora, you’re a darling, and true-blue!” whispered Dick, fervidly. “We’ll pull together, rich or poor, and be happy, see if we don’t!”
“First call for lunch!” announced a waiter, coming through the car.
“Say, that hits me!” came from Tom. “I had such a slim breakfast I am hollow clear to my shoes!”
“A slim breakfast!” sniffed Sam. “Fruit, sawdust and cream, fried eggs with bacon, half a dozen muffins, and coffee!”
“Get out! You’re thinking of your own breakfast!” retorted Tom. “Come on, let’s lead the way—before the dining car fills up.” And he caught Nellie by the arm.
“All right, we’re coming!” cried Sam, and followed with Grace. “Come on, Dick!” And he motioned to the others. Soon all were moving towards the dining car.
“Might as well do a little practicing,” was Tom’s comment, on the way, and linking his arm into that of Nellie, he began very softly to whistle a well-known wedding march.
“Oh, Tom Rover!” cried Nellie, giving him a playful poke in the side. “Of all things! And in a railroad car! I’ve a good mind not to walk with you.”
“All right, I’ll change the tune,” cried Tom, cheerfully, and commenced to whistle a funeral dirge, at which all of the girls shrieked with laughter.
It was a jolly crowd that sat down to the tables in the dining car, and the Rover boys saw to it that the girls were provided with whatever they desired on the bill of fare. They took their time over the meal, and the fun they had made even the waiters smile broadly.
“We’ll get to Cartown in an hour,” said Sam, after they had returned to the parlor car. “And then we’ll have to say good-bye.”
“Oh, it’s too bad!” pouted Grace. “I wish you were going through to Cedarville with us.”
“So do I.”
“Well, the best of friends must part, as the oyster said to the shell,” observed Tom, and at this joke the others smiled faintly. But now that they were to separate so soon all felt rather sober. Little did they dream of the exciting occurrence that was to bring them together again.
CHAPTER VIII
HOME ONCE MORE
“And now for Oak Run and home!”
It was Dick who spoke, as he and his brothers boarded another train at Cartown. The girls had gone on in the first train and the boys had had to wait half an hour for the one on the line which would take them close to Valley Brook farm.
“Home it is!” returned Sam. “And I’ll be glad to see dad again—and the rest of ’em.”
“Right you are, Sam,” joined in Tom. “After all, there is no place like home.”
“Remember how you used to hate the farm, Tom?”
“Well, that was when we got too much of it. I don’t like all farm and nothing else.”
“I wonder if Uncle Randolph has any new fads this summer?” came from Dick. Their uncle was more or less of a scientific farmer, and was always trying new ways, and usually losing money on them.
“He’s got bees in his bonnet,” answered Tom.
“What’s that?” demanded Dick, indignantly. “Tom, Uncle Randolph is no more crazy than you are. He has a right to experiment if he wants to.”
“Who said he was crazy?”
“You said ‘he has bees in his bonnet.’ It’s the same thing.”
“Not much,” answered Tom dryly. “He’s got bees on the brain—if that suits you better. Aunt Martha wrote me that he had invested in half a dozen hives of bees, and got a queen bee worth I don’t know how much to boss the colony.”
“Oh, so he’s going into bee culture!” murmured Dick. “I hope he doesn’t get stung.”
“He’ll be stung right enough,” answered Sam. “If not in one way then in another. He never makes his experiments pay. Say, I rather think I’ll steer clear of those bees.”
“Maybe we can have some fun with them,” mused Tom, and immediately commenced to lay plans for that purpose.
They had a three hours’ ride to Oak Run and on the way made several stops of more or less importance. At one place, near the depot, was a cigar store, and Tom left the train and came back with three cigars of large size in his hand.
“What are you going to do with those,” questioned Sam, “learn to smoke?”
“No, I am going to treat some of my particular friends,” answered Tom, and winked one eye, suggestively.
“Oh, let me in on the joke!” pleaded his younger brother.
“Here it is then,” answered Tom, and brought from his pocket a small round wooden box. Taking off the cover he disclosed to view some pellets that were coated with what looked like silver.
“What are they?” questioned Sam.
“The fireworks catalogue called them Serpent’s Eggs. You light one and the first thing you know it commences to swell up—”
“Oh, yes, and then pushes out just like a great big worm, or snake!” finished Sam. “I had a box of ’em last year. And are you going—”
“To put them in the cigars. They are harmless, but we can get some fun out of ’em,” concluded Tom.
It was an easy matter to cut out a portion of the
tobacco from the smoking end of each cigar, and this done Tom inserted three of the pellets in each. Then he placed the cigars carefully in his pocket.
On the way to Oak Run the three lads discussed the doings at Brill, and also the news concerning Tad Sobber and Josiah Crabtree.
“Both of these rascals would like to get their hands on the Stanhope fortune,” said Dick.
“Yes, but in different ways,” returned Sam.
“Well, neither of ’em shall get his hands on a dollar—if I can help it,” answered Dick.
“I should think Crabtree would be ashamed to show himself,” went on Sam. “If I was in his place, I’d travel to some new part of the globe, change my name, and make a new try at living.”
“In one way I am sorry for him,” was Dick’s comment. “A man coming out of prison hasn’t much chance to get work. Nobody will trust him, no matter if he does want to be honest.”
“Do you suppose Crabtree has any money?” asked Tom.
“I don’t know, I’m sure.”
At last they were only a few miles from Oak Run, and they gathered up the few things they were carrying, fishing rods, cameras, and a small valise.
“Oak Run!” cried the porter.
“Here we are!” exclaimed Tom, the first to get off. “I don’t see anything of Jack Ness,” he added, mentioning the hired man from the farm, who usually came for them with the team.
“He may be a little late—Jack often is,” answered Dick.
“Well, I shan’t mind it,” said Tom. “I want to see my old friend Mr. Ricks,” and he winked at Sam.
The station master at Oak Run was a crabbed old individual who rarely had a pleasant word for anybody. But he was faithful and probably that was why the railroad continued to employ him.
“Why, how do you do, Mr. Ricks, I am real glad to see you!” exclaimed Tom, as he rushed up after the train had gone and caught the station master by the hand. “It seems like old times to get back here.”
“Huh! Got back, eh?” muttered Mr. Ricks sourly. “Thought you boys went to college.”
“So we did. We are back for the summer holidays. You are looking well, Mr. Ricks.”
“I ain’t very well, I’ve got dyspepsy.”
“Is that so. Why don’t you smoke more?”
“Smoke?”
“Sure. Smoking is the best thing in the world for dyspepsia. Cured the king of England and the emperor of Germany. Here, have a cigar, and see how much better you feel after smoking it.”
Now, as it happened, Ricks loved cigars, although he usually smoked a pipe, that being cheaper. He took the big cigar that Tom handed out and started to place it in his pocket.
“Here, light up,” cried Tom, and produced a match.
“I’ll smoke after I git my ticket money counted up.”
“No, light up now,” said Tom, and struck the match. “I want you to get the benefit of that cigar at once. It’s a special brand and I am sure it will knock that dyspepsia higher than an airship.”
Ricks lit up as desired and took several long whiffs from the cigar.
“How do you like it?” questioned Tom, while Sam and Dick watched proceedings closely.
“Putty good,” returned the station master. The cigars had cost Tom ten cents each and they were better than those Ricks usually smoked.
A carriage had rolled up to the station and the boys saw Jack Ness coming towards them. He shook hands and then went off to get their trunks and bags, to be placed in a farm wagon driven by a neighbor’s boy.
Ricks entered his ticket office and then walked to the back platform of the station, where several farmers were congregated, sitting on some empty milk cans, talking crops. The boys continued to watch him.
“Hullo, where did ye get the smoke?” asked one of the farmers.
“Ricks is gittin’ high-toned,” said another. “Fust thing you know—”
He got no further, for just then Ricks caught sight of the smoking end of his cigar and his eyes stared wildly.
“What’s th—that!” he gasped, and took the cigar from his mouth.
“By gosh! Are ye raisin’ snakes, Ricks?” cried one of the farmers.
“Reckon he’s struck a nest o’ worms!” commented another.
“Wha—what do yo—you think it is?” groaned Ricks. He was so amazed that he could do little but stare at the cigar, from the end of which a snake-like curl was issuing, larger and larger.
“Where did you buy that cigar?” asked one of the farmers.
“Didn’t buy it—Tom Rover gave it to me!” answered Ricks. “Say, this is a put-up job!” he roared, and dashed the cigar to the ground. “Where is that imp, anyway?”
“Good-bye, Mr. Ricks!” sang out Tom from the carriage. “Hope you enjoy that smoke.”
“You come back here!” stormed the station master. “Just you let me get my fingers on you, that’s all!” And he shook his fist at the fun-loving youth.
“It’s a trick cigar, that’s what it is,” announced one of the farmers, and commenced to edge away. “Maybe it will blow up soon.”
“If that’s so, I’m going to get out!” cried another, and slid from the milk cans in a hurry.
“Say, you don’t suppose he put dynnymite in it, do you?” asked Ricks, fearfully. “He might blow up the whole station. He blew up a fire once I was building,” he added, referring to a joke Tom had once played on him, the particulars of which have already been set forth in “The Rover Boys at School.”
“Better put the cigar in a pail of water,” suggested one farmer.
“You do it, Snell.”
“Do it yourself, if you want it done,” answered Snell, and very gingerly Ricks gathered up the cigar and its “worms” on a shovel and cast them into a tub of rain water that was handy. The others gathered around, joked the station master unmercifully and he vowed that he would get square with Tom sooner or later.
In the meantime the Rover boys lost no time in leaving the railroad station. They had Jack Ness urge on the team, and soon they were crossing the Swift River and driving through the village of Dexter’s Corners. Several folks of the village saw them and waved them a welcome, for the lads were great favorites. Then they started along the country road leading to Valley Brook farm.
“And how are all the folks, Jack?” asked Dick.
“All fairly well, sir,” answered the hired man. “Your uncle, he got ’em rather bad last week.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of his new bees stung him—and they stung me, too.”
“Too bad!” murmured Dick. “Any other news?”
“I don’t know of none. The hay crop is going to be heavy, so they say.”
“Well, we need hay for the stock.”
“We miss you boys, so we do,” went on the hired man. “When you are away the farm is like as if we was havin’ a funeral.”
“Oh, we’ll warm you up,” cried Tom. “Eh, Sam?”
“We’ll try to, anyway,” answered the youngest Rover.
“We are going to have a great Fourth of July celebration,” said Tom. “I ordered some fireworks for home at the same time I had those sent to the college,” he added, to his brothers.
“Yes, we’ll have to celebrate in fine style,” answered Dick.
They went on, and soon a turn of the road brought them in sight of the farmhouse nestling so cozily among the hills.
“Home again!” sang out Tom. “Let’s give them a call!” And he set up a cheer, in which the others readily joined.
“I see dad!” cried Sam, a moment later, as his father appeared around a corner of the house and waved his hand.
“And there is Uncle Randolph, down among his bee hives,” added Dick.
“And Aunt Martha is on the piazza!” came from Sam. “And there is Aleck Pop!” he contin
ued, as the ebony face of a smiling negro showed itself from between the trees.
“Boys, I am glad to welcome you home again!” cried Anderson Rover, as the carriage rolled up and the lads leaped out in a bunch.
“And we are glad to see you, dad!” they answered in a chorus, and shook hands. Then Tom made one leap for the piazza and fairly lifted his aunt from her feet. “How are you, Aunt Martha!”
“Oh, Tom, yo—you bear!” gasped Mrs. Rover, but with a beaming face. “My boy, how big you are getting!” And then she kissed him heartily, and kissed the others.
“Back again! and welcome!” said Randolph Rover, as he walked up quickly. Then he, too, shook hands; and all went into the house.
CHAPTER IX
PREPARATIONS FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY
It was a great home-coming. As was to be expected, Aunt Martha had had the cook prepare a most elaborate supper, and, to this the lads did full justice. The long ride on the cars had tired them, yet they remained up long enough to tell about affairs at college, and learn what their father and their other relatives had to say.
“Say, this is like old times!” exclaimed Dick, as he entered his bedroom. “Looks as natural as it ever did.”
“Anyt’ing I can do fo’ yo’ young gen’men?” asked a voice from the doorway, and Aleck Pop showed himself, his mouth on a grin from ear to ear. Indeed Aleck had not stopped grinning since the boys had appeared.
“Not that I know of, Aleck,” answered Dick. “How have you been since we went away?”
“I ain’t been well, sah,” answered the colored man, and his face fell for a moment. “It’s been dat awful lonesome lik I thinks I was a gwine to die sometimes.”
“Never mind, Aleck, we’ll cheer you up some day,” came from Tom.
“I guess I ought to be at a boahdin’ school, or a collidge,” went on Aleck. “Perhaps I’ll go back to Putnam Hall—if de cap’n will take me.”
“Oh, he’ll take you back fast enough,” answered Sam. “But why not try for a place at Brill?”
“Yo’ collidge? Would da hab me dar, yo’ t’ink?”
“Perhaps. They have some colored help.”
“Den say, won’t you put in a good word fo’ me, all ob yo’?” asked Aleck, earnestly. “I’d gib most anyt’ing fo’ to be wid yo’, ’deed I would!” and his eyes rolled from one lad to another.
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