The other student was looking to one side as he came forward and he did not notice the elbow in his way. The elbow caught him in the ribs, causing him to give a grunt, and the armful of books were scattered on the walk.
“My gracious me!” gasped the stylishly-dressed youth. “What did you do that for, Tom Rover?”
“Sorry, Tubblets,” answered Tom, making as sober a face as possible. “I didn’t know you wanted the whole walk.”
“You did that on purpose, Tom Rover, you know you did!”
“Did what on purpose, Tubby?”
“How many times must I tell you that my name is not Tubby or Tubblets. It is William Philander Tubbs, and I want you to call me by my right name after this.”
“Very well, Mr. W. P. Washbasin—I mean Tubbs. I’ll not forget again,” and Tom made a low bow.
“And I don’t want you to knock my books out of my arm again,” went on William Philander, drawing himself up disdainfully.
“Your books, Willie?”
“Yes, my books,” came wrathfully from the dudish student “And don’t you dare to call me Willie. My name is—”
“Oh, yes, I remember now, Philugger.”
“It’s not Philugger, either. It is Wil—”
“Sure, I know, Philliam Tubbander Williams. Sorry I forgot before.” And Tom looked truly sorrowful.
“Oh, you are simply horrid, that’s what you are!” declared the stylishly-dressed student, in despair. “And my books are all covered with dirt!”
“I beg a million pardons,” cried Tom, and started to pick the books up, one after another. As he did this one hand went again into that pocket before mentioned and, on the sly, he inserted a printed sheet of paper into each book. “Now you are all fixed, Tubbly,” he added. “And you can run along to school like a nice little boy. But wait a moment till I fix your collar,” he went on, as he turned the other youth around.
“What’s the matter with my collar?” demanded the dudish student, suspiciously.
“Talcum powder, I guess. You mustn’t use so much after this.” And Tom commenced to brush the collar vigorously.
“I—er—I didn’t use much—just a little for my nose, don’t you know,” answered William Philander Tubbs, who made much of his personal appearance.
Tom continued to brush the coat collar off with one hand, while unfolding a printed bill with the other. An advertising wagon had gone past the college grounds the day before, and from a fellow distributing handbills Tom had gotten a sheet telling of the merits of “Gumley’s Red Pills for Red-Blooded People,” and also some small bills relating to the same wonderful cure for many ills. The small sheets were in the books; the large sheet he now proceeded to place on William Philander’s back, fastening it under the turned-down coat collar. There were a few specks of talcum powder on the coat collar, but not enough to have attracted any attention.
“Now you are all right, Tubbsky,” said the fun-loving Rover. “My, but you certainly do know how to dress!” he added, in affected admiration.
“Ah, really?” lisped the dude “Thanks. But please don’t knock my books down again,” he added, and then proceeded on his way to one of the classrooms.
“Well, that makes me feel a little better,” murmured Tom, and then he followed slowly, to watch the fun. He saw a number of students gather and all commenced to snicker at Tubbs, who, totally unconscious of what was taking place, marched on, holding his head erect.
“Wish it was my class, I’d like to see it out,” mused Tom. “But never mind, I guess I’ll hear about it later,” and he turned back to the campus, to wait for Sam. As he did this, a queer pain shot through his head and he murmured a suppressed groan.
“If that keeps on I’ll have to do as Sam says, go and see a doctor,” he told himself. “Gosh, how queer I feel! Just as if I was getting batty!”
“Hullo, Tom!” came the salute from nearby, and looking in that direction the fun-loving youth saw another student coming up rapidly. “Sam just told me you were going to take a walk and asked me to go along.”
“Yes, Songbird, we’ll start as soon as Sam gets through with the lesson he’s studying. How’s the muse these days?”
“Oh, I’m not writing much poetry now,” answered John Powell, otherwise known as Songbird, because of his efforts at composing verses. “I’ve got too much to do studying.”
“Why don’t you write a poem to the professors? Maybe they’d excuse you from recitations for it,” and Tom smiled broadly.
“I—er—I did write one little poem about the lessons,” answered the would-be poet. “It went like this:
“The student sat in his room in a chair
With a look on his face of keen despair;
Outside his chums were playing ball
And oft to him they sent a call.
He wanted to play with all his heart,
But from his books he could not part.”
“Grand! Immense! You’ve struck the clothespin on the head the first clip!” cried Tom. “Any more of the same brand?”
“Well—er—I started the second verse, but I didn’t get it finished. It went like this:
“He had a lesson hard to learn,
It made his heart with anguish burn;
He wanted to throw those books away
And rush outside and run and play
And so—and so—and so——”
And so he kept on grinding there, Gnashing his teeth and pulling his hair,”
finished Tom. “I know, for I’ve been there. Really, Songbird, that’s a dandy poem. You ought to have it framed and hung up in the gym.”
“Do you really think so?” and the would-be poet looked pleased.
“I do. It would hit every fellow in Brill. And I think—What can that fellow want?” added Tom suddenly, as a messenger boy from the town came running up to him.
“Guess he’s got a message for you,” returned Songbird.
“For me? I trust it’s no bad news,” said Tom.
CHAPTER II
SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAST
“Is this Mr. Thomas Rover?” asked the messenger boy, as he came to a halt.
“Yes, that’s my handle,” answered Tom. “What have you got for me, a check for a thousand dollars or a bill?”
“Telegram,” was the laconic answer, and the lad held it out. “Sign here,” he added, bringing his receipt book into evidence. “It’s paid fer.”
“All right, son.” Tom signed the book, fished up a dime from his pocket and handed it to the lad, who took it with a broad grin.
“T’anks, mister. Any answer?”
“I’ll see,” said Tom, and tore open the envelope of the telegram. He perused the yellow sheet inside with interest.
“It’s from Dick!” he cried, to Songbird. “He’s got to come to Casford on business and he says he will make the trip in the auto and bring Dora along. They’ll be here tomorrow or the day after, and they’ll stop at Hope Seminary too. Say, this is great! I must tell Sam!” went on Tom, his face brightening. “You can go,” he told the messenger boy.
“Here comes Sam now,” announced Songbird. “He’s got Stanley and Spud with him.” And he pointed to one of the doors of the college building.
To my old readers the Rover boys will need no introduction. For the benefit of others, allow me to state that the youths were three in number, Dick being the oldest, fun-loving Tom coming next, and sturdy little Sam being the youngest. When at “the old homestead,” as they called it, they lived with their father, Anderson Rover, and their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha on a farm called Valley Brook, in New York State.
As related in the first volume of this series, entitled, “The Rover Boys at School,” the three lads had been sent to Putnam Hall Military Academy, a well-known institution of learning presided over by Captain Victor Putna
m. There they had made many friends and also a few enemies.*
The first term at school was followed by a trip on the ocean, and then another trip into the jungles of Africa. Then came a journey to the West, and jolly times on the Great Lakes and in the mountains. Next the boys returned to the Hall, to go in camp with their fellow cadets. After that they took a long journey over land and sea, being cast away on a lonely island of the Pacific.
“Now I’ve had enough adventures to last a lifetime,” said Dick, on returning home. But strenuous happenings to him and his brothers were not yet over. On a houseboat the Rover boys sailed down the Ohio and the Mississippi rivers, having many adventures by the way, and then found themselves on the Plains, where they solved the mystery of Red Rock ranch. Then they reached Southern Waters, and in the Gulf of Mexico discovered a deserted steam yacht, which they eventually turned over to its anxious owner.
“Now for a good rest,” said Sam, and the three lads returned to the home farm, where more adventures befell them. Next they returned to Putnam Hall, where all graduated with considerable honor.
“College next,” said Tom, and he made a wry face, for studying was not particularly in his line, although he could knuckle down as hard as anyone when it was necessary. But before they went to college the lads and their father, accompanied by some others, went off on a treasure hunt, locating what was known as the Stanhope fortune.
Brill College was a fine institution of learning, located in the middle west, not far from the town of Ashton. With the Rovers went their old-time school chum, Songbird Powell, already introduced. At the same time William Philander Tubbs came there from Putnam Hall. He was a dudish fellow who thought more of his dress and his personal appearance than anything else, and was often made the butt of some practical joke.
At Brill the Rovers soon made other friends, including Stanley Browne, a tall, gentlemanly youth, and Will Jackson, generally called Spud, because of his unusual fondness for potatoes. Spud was a great story teller and some of his yarns were certainly “the limit,” to use Sam’s way of expressing it.
While at Putnam Hall the Rover boys had made the acquaintance of Dora Stanhope, who lived nearby with her widowed mother, and also Nellie and Grace Laning, Dora’s two cousins. It was not long before Dick and Dora showed a great liking for each other, and at same time Tom commenced to “pair off” with Nellie and Sam was often seen in the company of Grace. Then came the time when the Rovers did a great service for Mrs. Stanhope, saving her from the rascality of Josiah Crabtree, a teacher at Putnam Hall who was trying to get possession of the money Mrs. Stanhope held in trust for Dora. Crabtree was exposed and then he lost no time in disappearing.
Not far from Brill College was located another institution of learning, Hope Seminary, for girls. When the Rovers went to Brill, Dora and her two cousins went to Hope, so the young folks met as often as before.
A short term at Brill was followed by an unexpected trip down East, where the lads again fell in with the rascally Crabtree. Then the youths returned home for a brief vacation and while there became the owners of a biplane and took several thrilling trips through the air, and, later on, by means of the same aircraft, managed to save Dora and Nellie from some rascals who had abducted them.
About this time, Mr. Anderson Rover, who was not well, was having much trouble with some brokers, who were trying to do him out of much valuable property. He went to New York and disappeared, and the sons immediately went in search of him, as related in the volume before this, entitled “The Rover Boys in New York.”
The brokers were Pelter, Japson & Company, and it was not long before Dick and his brothers discovered that they were in league with Josiah Crabtree. The plotters were holding Mr. Rover a prisoner, in the hope that he would sign away certain rights to them. The boys traced the crowd to a lonely farmhouse, and it was during the happenings which followed that poor Tom was struck on the head by a wooden footstool, thrown by Pelter, and knocked unconscious. Josiah Crabtree tried to escape from a garret window by means of a rope made of a blanket and this broke and he fell, breaking a leg in two places. He was taken to a hospital and the doctors there said he would be a cripple for life.
All of the Rovers were much concerned over Tom, and for some time it looked as if the youth might be seriously injured. But the boy had grit and pulled himself together, and presently announced himself as well as ever. But he often got that sharp pain through the head, and there were times when, for an instant, his mind became a blank.
While Dick was at college he had become formally engaged to Dora, and now it was decided that, as Mr. Rover was in no physical condition to look after his various financial affairs, and as Dick seemed to take more to business than to studying, he should leave college and take the reins out of his parent’s hands. Then he pleaded with Dora that they get married and she consented, only stipulating that they must both look after her mother. Then followed the grandest wedding that quiet Cedarville had ever known, and Dick and Dora went off on a short but exceedingly happy honeymoon trip.
“And now it is back to the college grind for us,” Sam had said to Tom.
“Right you are,” was the reply. “And we’ll have to work pretty hard to catch up with our classes.”
“But your head, Tom—”
“Oh, that has got to take care of itself,” had been Tom’s reply; and there the matter had dropped for the time being. But often Sam would watch his brother closely, for he knew that poor Tom had been seriously hurt and was by no means entirely over it.
When the two brothers had returned to Brill they had had to tell their chums of all their doings in and near New York. Songbird had smiled grimly on hearing of the fate of Josiah Crabtree.
“Well, he deserved it,” the would-be poet had said. “He was a snake in the grass from the start.”
“I hope he doesn’t cross our path again,” Sam had replied. “I never want to see him, again.”
“Nor do I,” had come from Tom. “If he’s a cripple I reckon he’ll keep out of our sight.”
It was hard work, after all the excitement of their doings in New York, and the added excitement of the wedding, for Sam and Tom to settle down to the hum-drum routine of life at college, but the lads did their best. Nellie Laning and her sister Grace came back to Hope Seminary and the young folks managed to see each other at least once a week. Nellie was very solicitous about Tom, and when he admitted to her that his head still hurt at times she wanted to know why he didn’t return to the farm for a long rest.
“Oh, I don’t want to drop behind in my studies, Nellie,” had been his answer. “I want to get through, and go into business, like Dick has done,” and he gazed at her in a manner that caused her to blush deeply.
“Yes, I know. But, Tom dear, supposing your head—” She did not know how to go on.
“Oh, my head will be all right, Nellie, so don’t you fret. Why, I wouldn’t have you fret for the world!” And Tom had caught both her hands tightly within his own. They understood each other perfectly.
“But you know what the doctor said—that you must be very careful for a long, long time.” She had not added that one of the specialists had remarked that victims of such injuries sometimes went out of their minds.
“Oh, I’ll be all right I tell you, Nellie,” he had answered. “I’ll go through Brill with a rush, see if I don’t. And then we’ll get married—”
“Oh, Tom!”
“Surest thing you know,” he had added, and then, as they chanced to be alone, he had caught her in his arms and given her a quick little hug and a kiss that meant a great deal. To Tom, the whole world did not hold such another girl like Nellie. And to Nellie—well, there was Tom and that was all.
“Well, you take good care of yourself,” she had said on parting, and he had told her again not to worry.
“What’s the news?” asked Sam, as he came up to his brother and saw the telegr
am in Tom’s hand.
“Read it for yourself,” was the answer and the younger Rover did so.
“So Dick is coming to Casford; eh?” mused Sam. “I suppose it’s some more of Dad’s business. Well, I’ll be glad to see him and see Dora, too. We can all go up to Hope together.”
“Go to Hope to see the teachers, I suppose,” said Stanley Browne, closing one eye suggestively. “Fine fun that, seeing the teachers,” and then Sam made a playful pass at him with his fist.
“Sam said we were to take a walk,” put in Spud. “Where are we going?”
“We might go out towards the Sanderson farm,” suggested Songbird.
“So you can call on Minnie,” cried Tom, for he knew of Songbird’s deep regard for the farmer’s daughter. “All right, that suits me.”
“Let us go through Lanker’s woods and by the old mill,” suggested Sam. “That’s a fine walk, Tom, and almost as short as the regular road.”
“Just as short,” put in Songbird. “I’ve walked it several times and I know.” And then he bit his lip as several of the others commenced to laugh. “I don’t care—I’ve got a right to visit the Sandersons if I want to.”
“Sure you have,” answered Sam. “And Minnie—Great Scott! What’s the row now? Here comes Tubbs on the run and shaking his fist at us!”
“I guess I am in for it,” returned Tom. “I fancy Tubblets wants to see me.”
* For particulars regarding how Putnam Hall Military Academy was organized, and what fine times the cadets there enjoyed even before the Rovers appeared on the scene, read “The Putnam Hall Series,” six volumes, starting with “The Putnam Hall Cadets.”—PUBLISHERS.
CHAPTER III
TOM’S JOKE
“What did you do to him?” asked Sam, quickly.
“Put an advertisement of pills on his back and some other ads. in his text books,” answered Tom. “Say, he looks some mad; doesn’t he?”
“I should say yes,” came from Stanley.
William Philander was approaching with long strides. In one hand he held the poster Tom had fastened on his back, and he was shaking his other fist wrathfully.
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