“Here’s a bouquet for you!”
“My kindest regards, Tubbs!”
“Oh, isn’t it grand to be a real, live Emperor!”
“Hi, let up, will you!” fairly shrieked poor Tubbs, as the things hit him in the head and shoulders, “Let up, I tell you! Oh, what a joke! Let me get out of the carriage! I can’t make a speech! Stop throwing at me! Oh, my eye!” he added, as a beet top caught him in the left optic. Then, watching his chance, he leaped from the carriage, dove like a madman through the crowd, and rushed for one of the dormitories, quickly disappearing from view.
“Good bye, my boy, good bye!” sang out several. And then Tom sent the dress-suit case after him; and the fun came to an end.
“Poor William Philander, he won’t forget that in a hurry!” was Dick’s comment. “Just the same, I am afraid the sport got a little too rough at the end.”
“Maybe it did,” answered Tom. “If you want it, I’ll speak to Tubbs and apologize.”
“I see that apology in a gold frame right now!” declared Sam, with a laugh. “Tom, let him alone and he’ll be all right.”
All of the boys wondered how Tubbs would act when he showed himself. Much to their amazement he called Tom to one side that evening and shook hands cordially.
“It was all a mistake—this report that I had—er—been knighted, don’t you know,” he lisped. “But it was very nice to get up such a reception in my honor, Thomas, really it was—although it got a bit rough towards the end. But I know it was meant well, and I thank you, honestly I do.” And the dudish student shook Tom’s hand again.
And then, for once in his life, Tom Rover didn’t know what to say. As he afterwards admitted, he was completely “stumped.” Poor, innocent Tubbs had really thought it an honor! To Tom that was “the limit.”
“I’ll never really know that chap,” he said to his brothers. “His head must be filled with sawdust and punk.”
“Well, let him drop now,” advised Dick. “Quit your fooling, Tom, and get at your studies. You know what I told you. We may have to leave Brill before we anticipated. And we want to get all the learning we can.”
“Have you heard anything more from dad?” demanded the fun-loving Rover quickly.
“Yes, a letter came this evening. That business affair is in a worse twist than ever. But dad hopes he can straighten it out. But he writes that he isn’t feeling as well as he was. If he gets sick, we’ll have to jump in—or at least I will—and take his place.”
“We’ll all jump in,” was Sam’s comment. “I’d like to do something in a business way.”
“Did dad give any particulars?” asked Tom.
“None but what we already know. He felt too ill to write much.”
“Has he heard anything more of Crabtree or Sobber?”
“Nothing.”
During the following week there was some excitement at Brill because of a football game between that college and another institution of learning. It was a gala occasion, and the Rover boys hired a three-seated carriage and brought Dora, Nellie and Grace to the game. Brill won the contest, and a great jubilee lasting far into the night followed. The Rovers and the three girls had a little feast of their own at the Ashton hotel, and on the way back to Hope the young people sang songs, and had a good time generally. Perhaps some very sentimental things were said—especially between Dick and Dora—but if so, who can blame them? The placing of that engagement ring on Dora’s finger by Dick had made them both exceedingly happy.
During those days the boys took several short trips in the Dartaway, once landing in the field on the Dawson farm. They sought out Dan Murdock and asked him if he had seen anything more of Koswell and Larkspur.
“Yes, I see ’em last week, but they got out of sight in the woods, and I couldn’t find ’em,” answered the farm hand.
“Around here?” asked Dick.
“No, that was on the edge of the big woods back of Hope Seminary. I was driving along, with some crates of eggs for the girls’ college, when I see ’em, sitting on a fallen tree, smoking cigarettes. I stopped my hosses and spoke to ’em, and then they up and run into the woods as fast as they could go! I looked for ’em, but I couldn’t git on their track nohow.”
“What can they be doing up around Hope?” murmured Sam.
“Maybe they are sweet on some of the girls,” returned Tom. “I know they used to go up there, when they attended Brill.”
“I hope, if they visit Hope, they don’t speak to Dora and the others,” said Dick, as his face clouded.
“Maybe we better warn the girls,” said Sam.
“No, don’t do that,” said Tom. “You’d only scare them. They know Koswell and Larkspur well enough. Don’t say anything.” And so the matter was dropped.
Two days later came a special delivery letter from home that filled the three boys with intense interest.
“Josiah Crabtree and Tad Sobber have at last shown their hand,” wrote Mr. Anderson Rover. “They have sent an unsigned communication to me demanding fifty thousand dollars. They give me just two weeks in which to get the money together in cash and place it at a certain spot along the road between our home and Oak Run. If the money is not forthcoming they promise to blow up every building on the farm. The communication says, ‘You can pay half of this and get the other half from your lady friends.’ Which means, of course, the Stanhopes and Lanings.”
“Of all the cowardly things!” cried Tom, after listening to the above. “Why, it’s a regular sort of Black Hand communication!”
“So it is,” added Sam. “What else does dad say,” he went on, and Dick continued the reading of the letter:
“At first I was inclined to treat the communication lightly and laugh at it, but then came another letter—a mere scrawl, stating they would give me a taste of what to expect that night. I told the detective of this and he came to the house and remained all night with us. About three o’clock in the morning there was an explosion outside, and when we dressed and ran out we found one of the chicken houses blown to flinders by dynamite or some other explosive. About one hundred chickens were destroyed.”
“Just listen to that!” gasped Tom. “Oh, the rascals!”
“And Uncle Randolph’s prize stock chickens!” murmured Sam. “That must have made his heart ache!”
“I’ll wager Aunt Martha was scared to death,” added Tom. And Dick read on:
“Of course there was great excitement, and four of us, the detective, Ness, Pop, and myself, went after the rascals, leaving your Uncle Randolph to look after your aunt and the cook, both of whom were very much frightened. We hunted around until daylight, but without success. Then we went to the old mill in the auto, but the place was deserted. After that I notified the local authorities, and I have hired ten watchmen to guard the farm and every building on it. I have also sent for two more detectives, and I am hoping that, sooner or later, they will be able to trace the scoundrels and run them down.”
“Does he say how he is feeling?” questioned Sam, as his brother paused in the reading of the letter.
“Yes, he says he is about the same, but that Uncle Randolph is very much upset over the loss of his chickens and wants to know if they hadn’t better pay the money demanded.”
“Oh, I hope they don’t pay a cent!” cried Tom.
“So do I,” added Sam. “But I don’t want to see them blown up either,” he continued, seriously.
“None of us want that,” said Dick. “But I’d not give them a cent—I’d be blown up a dozen times before I’d do it!” he continued, firmly.
“Do they want us home?” asked Tom.
“No, dad says it will do no good for us to come home. He says he will write or telegraph if anything new develops. He thinks, with the extra watchmen on guard, and the detectives at work, Crabtree and Sobber will get scared and leave them alone.”
“I hope they do,” said Sam. He heaved a deep sigh. “Gracious! it seems to me that no sooner are we out of one trouble than we get into another!”
“That is true.”
“It’s too bad—to have this piled on poor dad when he’s so worried about that business affair.”
“Well, you know the old saying, ‘troubles never come singly,’” answered the older brother.
After that the three boys watched the mails anxiously for over a week. Then came another letter from their father, in which he stated that nothing new had developed. Then came another wait—until the day after that set by Crabtree and Sobber for the delivery of the fifty thousand dollars,—when Dick got a telegram, as follows:
“All quiet. Received another letter, to which I have paid no attention. Feel almost sure the rascals have left this part of the country. All fairly well.”
“Well, that’s some comfort,” was Tom’s comment. “I hope they have gone away, and that we never see or hear of them again.”
“Don’t comfort yourself that way, Tom,” answered Dick. “They are bound to show their hand again, sooner or later. We won’t be safe from them until they are in jail.”
CHAPTER XX
GRACE’S REVELATION
One clear afternoon the three Rover boys decided to take a run up to Hope Seminary in the Dartaway. There was very little wind and, although it was growing colder, they knew they could easily bundle up in their aviation coats and boots. Sam and Tom had been trying out the biplane, and they pronounced everything in perfect order for a flight.
“Dick, let me run the machine over,” said Sam, and the big brother agreed, for Tom had been at the wheel on a previous occasion.
The boys had no classes to attend after lunch and so got away by two o’clock.
“I trust we can see the girls,” said Dick, as they started up the engine of the flying machine.
“Oh, they’ll be at liberty after hours,” answered Tom. “They always are.”
Previous to leaving, the boys had filled the oil feed and the gasoline tank, so they were prepared for quite a trip.
“Maybe we can get the girls to go up, for just a little sail, you know,” said Sam. “I am sure the Dartaway could carry them, on a pinch.”
“Where would they sit, in our laps?” asked Tom, with a grin.
“No, they could sit in the seats and we could sit back of them, like on a bob-sled,” answered the youngest Rover.
“I don’t think they’ll care to go up,” answered Dick. “They’d be too scared. As yet, flying machines are hardly built for ladies. But I think the time will come when they will use them.”
As they were in no hurry, the boys took their time in sailing over the farms and country roads. They did not go up very high, and often saw farmers and others staring at them, shouting things they could not catch.
“By and by flying machines will be as common as autos,” remarked Dick. “But now the sight of one is a great curiosity to these folks.”
Sam handled the machine like a veteran and even showed what he could do by making a small figure eight and a spiral dip.
“I wish we had a little monoplane, just for one,” he said. “My! couldn’t a fellow scoot around then!”
“Sam’s got the flying bee all right!” cried Tom.
“Well, wouldn’t you like it yourself?” demanded the youngest Rover.
“I’d rather have a big airship. Then I could give all my friends a ride—have a regular airship party.”
“Well, I’d like that too,” was Sam’s reply.
Presently they came in sight of the seminary buildings. They circled around for some time and then landed at the far end of the campus. A few girls were in sight, but not those they had come to visit.
“Good afternoon,” said Dick, to a girl he had met, named Ida Strong. “Can you tell me where I can find Miss Stanhope, or the Misses Laning?”
“The three of them went for a walk, about half an hour ago,” replied Ida Strong.
“Do you know where they went?”
“I do not, excepting that they took the road to Beechwood,” and the girl student pointed out the highway mentioned, one that ran through the big woods back of the seminary. It led to the village of Beechwood, which was several miles beyond.
“Thank you,” returned Dick. “If we shouldn’t meet them, will you tell them we called, in our biplane?”
“I will,” said the girl.
Dick was about to rejoin his brothers, and suggest that they go up and fly along over the woods road, when another girl, named Bess Haven, came running up.
“Oh, Mr. Rover, isn’t this queer!” she cried. “I thought you were hurt!”
“Hurt?” repeated Dick, puzzled. “How so?”
“Why Dora Stanhope said you were—that you had had a fall out of the flying machine.”
“That I fell out of the machine?” cried Dick. “There is some mistake here. I have had no fall. When did she tell you that?”
“About half an hour ago. She got some sort of a message, and she was terribly upset. She went off to visit you.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. But wait—yes, she did say you had had a fall in the woods.”
“Did she go alone?” And now Dick’s heart began to thump strangely. He was thinking of their many enemies. Was this some new trick?
“No, Nellie and Grace Laning, her cousins, went with her.”
Dick turned to Ida Strong.
“You saw them go?”
“Yes, just as I told you. Oh, Mr. Rover, is anything wrong?”
“I don’t know—I hope not. But I think we had better go after them at once. Good day.” And Dick fairly ran back to where Tom and Sam rested near the biplane.
“Start her up, quick!” he said to his brothers, in a low voice. “Something is wrong! We’ve got to get after the girls right away!”
“What is it?” demanded Tom, leaping to his feet, while Sam did the same.
“I’ll tell you when we are on the way. Quick, start the propellers! I’ll take the wheel,” and Dick sprang into the seat.
In another moment the engine had been started, and with a rush and a whizz the Dartaway left the campus. Dick made a turn, then headed in the direction of the road through the woods. He flew low and rather slowly.
“Keep your eyes open,” he cautioned, “for any sight of the girls—or any sight of our enemies.” And then he related as much as he knew of what had occurred.
“Do you think somebody sent that message to decoy Dora away from the seminary, Dick?” asked Sam.
“Doesn’t it look that way? Why should anybody send word that I was hurt, when I wasn’t?”
“I think you are right!” declared Tom. “I think I can see through it,” he went on quickly. “They found out they couldn’t dynamite dad or Uncle Randolph into giving up that money, and they couldn’t get at Mrs. Stanhope or Mrs. Laning to get it, so now they are going to see what they can do through Dora—and maybe Nellie and Grace.”
“That’s exactly the way I figure it!” exclaimed Dick. “And the sooner we reach the girls the better! For all we know, it may even now be too late!”
“Oh, let us hope not!” cried Sam.
“Did they go on foot?” asked Tom.
“Yes.”
“Were they to meet anybody?”
“I don’t know. Miss Haven said they went off in a great hurry—which was natural, if they thought I had tumbled out of the biplane and been hurt. I suppose poor Dora was scared half to death,” and Dick heaved a long sigh.
As the flying machine swept along over the woods and the roadway the three youths kept their eyes on the alert for a sight of the girls. For a long time they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then Sam uttered a cry:
“See! see! There is Grace! She is wa
ving her handkerchief at us!”
All looked in the direction indicated, and at a spot along the road where there was quite a cleared space they saw Grace Laning standing on a flat rock, waving frantically at them. They had to make a circle, and then, with care, Dick brought the biplane down into the roadway.
“What is it, Grace?” yelled Sam, as he leaped from his seat. “Where are the others?”
“Oh, Sam!” moaned the girl, and then they saw that her hair was awry and her shoes were covered with dust. “Oh, save them! Go after them at once!” And then she staggered forward and fainted in Sam’s arms.
The three Rovers were greatly alarmed and for the moment did not know what to do. Then Dick rushed to the side of the roadway, where some water trickled along in a hollow, and brought some, using a collapsible cup they carried when on a trip. With this they bathed Grace’s face and they forced a little water into her mouth, and soon she opened her eyes and stared around her.
“Go away! Go away! Don’t touch me!” she gasped.
“Hush, Grace, you are safe,” answered Sam, gently.
“Oh, Sam! I forgot!” She struggled to her feet, he still supporting her. “Did—did you find them? Did you bring them back?” she asked wildly.
“You mean Dora and Nellie?” asked Dick and Tom, in a breath.
“Yes! yes!”
“We don’t know where they are. Tell us about it,” went on Dick.
“Oh, it’s terrible!” cried Grace, and now the tears began to course down her cheeks. “We got a note—at least Dora did—stating you had had a fall from the biplane and were hurt. The note was signed ‘Tom,’ and we of course thought Tom had sent it. It said to keep the matter quiet but to come without delay—down this road to the old white cottage. So the three of us started off as soon as we could. Dora was so afraid it was serious she ran nearly all the way, and Nellie and I ran, too. We had thought you were at the cottage, but when we got there we didn’t see anybody. While we hunted around a big touring car, one of the kind with a closed coach top, dashed up. There was a man running the car and another man inside, a fellow who looked like a doctor. The driver asked if we were the girls who had come to see Dick Rover, the aviator, and we said yes. Then he said the car had been sent for us and for the doctor, and for us to get in and he would take us to Dick Rover at once. We got in, and then, before we knew it, the touring car was rushing along the road at a great rate of speed. We asked the doctor about you, Dick, but he said he hadn’t seen you yet. Then we asked the driver, but he acted so queer we began to get suspicious. Then, oh, wasn’t it strange? Nellie saw a card on the floor of the car, and picked it up, and it was Josiah Crabtree’s visiting card! She showed it to Dora and I, and Dora screamed, and wanted to leap out of the car. But the doctor—if he was a doctor—held her, and held Nellie, too. But I was too much for him. I don’t know how I did it, but, just as we were rounding a curve rather slowly, I flung myself out of the door, and I landed in some bushes. I got scratched a little, as you can see, but I wasn’t hurt, and I started to run back to the seminary and was doing that when I saw your flying machine. You know the rest.” And now Grace stopped, too exhausted to say another word.
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