“Hello, Songbird! How are you this evening?” cried Tom, as he addressed a tall, scholarly-looking individual who wore his hair rather long. “Have you been writing any poetry today?”
“Well,—er—not exactly, Tom,” muttered John Powell, otherwise known as Songbird because of his numerous efforts to compose what he called poetry. “But I have been thinking up a few rhymes.”
“When are you going to get out that book of poetry?”
“What book is that, Tom?”
“Why, as if you didn’t know! Didn’t you tell me that you were going to get up a volume of ‘Original International Poems for the Grave and Gay;’ five hundred pages, fully illustrated; and bound in full leather, with title in gold, and...”
“Tom, Tom, now please stop your fooling!” pleaded Songbird, his face flushing. “Just because I write a poem now and then doesn’t say that I am going to publish a book.”
“No, but I’m sure you will some day, and you’ll make a fortune out of it—or fifteen dollars, anyway.”
“The same old Tom!” cried a merry voice, and another student clapped the fun-loving Rover on the shoulder. “I do believe you would rather joke than eat!”
“Not on your life, Spud! and I’ll prove it to you right now!” and linking his arm through that of Will Jackson, otherwise “Spud,” Tom led the way to one of the tables, with Sam and several of the other students following.
“What is on the docket for tonight?” asked Songbird, as he fell to eating.
“Tom and I are going to take a little run in the auto to Hope,” answered Sam.
“Oh, I see!” Songbird Powell shut one eye knowingly. “Going up there to see the teachers, I suppose!”
“Sure, that is what they always do!” came from Spud, with a wink.
“Sour grapes, Spud!” laughed Sam. “You would go there yourself if you had half a chance.”
“Yes, and Songbird would want to go along, too, if we were bound for the Sanderson cottage,” put in Tom. “You see, in Songbird’s eyes, Minnie Sanderson is just the nicest girl—”
“Now stop it, Tom, can’t you!” pleaded poor Songbird, growing decidedly red in the face. “Miss Sanderson is only a friend of mine, and you know it.”
Just at that moment the students at the table were interrupted by the approach of a tall, dudish-looking individual, who wore a reddish-brown suit, cut in the most up-to-date fashion, and who sported patent-leather shoes, and a white carnation in his buttonhole. The newcomer took a vacant chair, sitting down with a flourish.
“I’ve had a most delightful ramble, don’t you know,” he lisped, looking around at the others. “I have been through the sylvan woods and by the babbling brook, and have—”
“Great Caesar’s tombstone!” exclaimed Tom, looking at the newcomer critically. “Why, my dearly beloved William Philander, you don’t mean to say that you have been delving through the shadowy nooks, and playing with the babbling brook, in that outfit?”
“Oh, dear, no, Tom!” responded William Philander Tubbs. “I had another suit on, the one with the green stripe, don’t you know,—the one I had made last September—or maybe it was in October, I can’t really remember. But you must know the suit, don’t you?”
“Sure! I remember the suit. The green-striped one with the faded-out blue dots and the red diamond check in the corner. Isn’t that the same suit you took down to the pawnbroker’s last Wednesday night at fifteen minutes past seven and asked him to loan you two dollars and a half on it, and the pawnbroker wanted to know if the suit was your own?”
“My dear Tom!” and William Philander looked aghast. “You know well enough I never took that suit to a pawnbroker.”
“Well, maybe it was some other suit. Possibly the black one with the blue stripes, or maybe it was the blue one with the black stripes. Really, my dearest Philander, it is immaterial to me what suit it was.” And Tom looked coldly indifferent as he buttered another slice of bread.
“But I tell you, I never went to any pawn-broker!” pleaded the dudish student. “I would not be seen in any such horrid place!”
“Oh, pawnbrokers are not so bad,” came from Spud Jackson, as he helped himself to more potatoes. “I knew of one fellow down in New Haven who used to loan thousands of dollars to the students at Yale. He was considered a public benefactor. When he died they closed up the college for three days and gave him a funeral over two miles long. And after that, the students raised a fund of sixteen thousand dollars with which to erect a monument to his memory. Now, that is absolutely true, and if you don’t believe it you can come to my room and I will show you some dried rose leaves which came from one of the wreathes used at the obsequies.” And a general laugh went up over this extravagant statement.
“The same old Spud!” cried Sam, as he gave the story-teller of the college a nudge in the ribs. “Spud, you are about as bad as Tom.”
“Chust vat I tinks,” came from Max Spangler, a German-American student who was still struggling with the difficulties of the language. “Only I tinks bod of dem vas worser dan de udder.” And at this rather mixed statement another laugh went up.
“I wish you fellows would stop your nonsense and talk baseball,” came from Bob Grimes, another student. “Do you realize that if we expect to do anything this spring, we have got to get busy?”
“Well, Bob,” returned Sam, “I don’t see how that is going to interest me particularly. I don’t expect to be on any nine this year.”
“I know, Sam, but Tom, here, has promised to play if he can possibly get the time.”
“And so I will play,” said Tom. “That is, provided I remain at Brill.”
“What, do you mean to say you are going to leave!” cried several students.
“We can’t do without you, Tom,” added Songbird.
“Of course we can’t,” came from Bob Grimes. “We need Tom the worst way this year.”
“Well, I’ll talk that over with you fellows some other time. Tonight we are in a hurry.” And thus speaking, Tom tapped his brother on the shoulder, and both left the dining-room.
As my old readers know, the Rover boys possessed a very fine automobile. This was kept in one of the new garages on the place, which was presided over by Abner Filbury, the son of the old man who had worked for years around the dormitories.
“Is she all ready, Ab?” questioned Tom, as the young man came forward to greet them.
“Yes, sir, I filled her up with gas and oil, and she’s in apple-pie order.”
“Why, Tom!” broke in Sam, in surprise. “You must have given this order before supper.”
“I did,” and Tom grinned at his younger brother. “I took it for granted that you would make the trip.” And thus speaking, Tom leaped into the driver’s seat of the new touring car. Then Sam took his place beside his brother, and in a moment more the car was gliding out of the garage, and down the curving, gravel path leading to the highway running from Ashton past Brill College to Hope Seminary.
As Tom had predicted, it was a clear night, with the full moon just showing over the distant hills. Swinging into the highway, Tom increased the speed and was soon running at twenty-five to thirty miles an hour.
“Don’t run too fast,” cautioned Sam. “Remember this road has several dangerous curves in it, and remember, too, a good many of the countrymen around here don’t carry lights when they drive.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful,” returned Tom, lightly. “But about the lights, I think some of the countrymen ought to be fined for driving in the darkness as they do. I think—”
“Hark! what sort of a noise is that?” interrupted the younger Rover.
Both boys strained their ears. A shrill honk of a horn had been followed by a heavy rumble, and now, around a curve of the road, shot the beams from a single headlight perched on a heavy auto-truck. This huge truck was coming along at great speed, and it
passed the Rovers with a loud roar, and a scattering of dust and small stones in all directions.
“Great Scott!” gasped Sam, after he had recovered from his amazement. “Did you ever see such an auto-truck as that, and running at such speed?”
“Certainly some truck,” was Tom’s comment. “That must have weighed four or five tons. I wonder if it came over the Paxton River bridge?”
“If it did, it must have given the bridge an awful shaking up. That bridge isn’t any too strong. It shakes fearfully every time we go over it. Better run slow, Tom, when we get there.”
“I will.” And then Tom put on speed once more and the automobile forged ahead as before.
A short run up-hill brought them to the point where the road ran down to the Paxton River. In the bright moonlight the boys could see the stream flowing like a sheet of silver down between the bushes and trees. A minute more, and they came in sight of the bridge.
“Stop!” said Sam. “I may be mistaken, but that bridge looks shifted to me.”
“So it does,” returned Tom, and brought the automobile to a standstill. Both boys leaped out and walked forward.
To inspect the bridge in the bright moonlight was easy, and in less than a minute the boys made a startling discovery, which was to the effect that the opposite end of the structure had been thrown from its supports and was in danger of falling at any instant.
“This is mighty bad,” was Sam’s comment. “Why, Tom, this is positively dangerous. If anybody should come along here—”
“Hark!” Tom put up his hand, and both boys listened. From the top of the hill they had left but a moment before, came the sounds of an approaching automobile. An instant later the rays of the headlights shot into view, almost blinding them.
“We must stop them!” came from both boys simultaneously. But scarcely had the words left their lips, when they saw that such a course might be impossible. The strange automobile was coming down the hill at a furious rate. Now, as the driver saw the Rovers’ machine, he sounded his horn shrilly.
“He’ll have a smash-up as sure as fate!” yelled Sam, and put up his hand in warning. Tom did likewise, and also yelled at the top of his lungs.
But it was too late. The occupant of the strange automobile—for the machine carried but a single person—tried to come to a stop. The brakes groaned and squeaked, and the car swept slightly to one side, thus avoiding the Rovers’ machine. Then, with power thrown off and the hand-brake set, it rolled out on the bridge. There was a snap, followed by a tremendous crash, and the next instant machine and driver disappeared with a splash into the swiftly-flowing river.
CHAPTER II
TO THE RESCUE
The accident at the bridge had occurred so suddenly that, for the instant, neither Rover boy knew what to do. They saw that the farther end of the bridge had given way completely. Just where the end rested in the water they beheld several small objects floating about, one of them evidently a cap, and another a small wooden box. But the automobile with its driver was nowhere to be seen.
“My gracious! That fellow will surely be drowned!” gasped Sam, on recovering from the shock. “Tom, do you see him anywhere?”
“No, I don’t.” Tom took a few steps forward and gazed down into the swiftly-flowing stream. “Perhaps he is pinned under the auto, Sam!”
“Wait, I’ll get the searchlight,” cried the younger Rover, and ran back to their automobile. The boys made a point of carrying an electric pocket searchlight to be used in case they had to make repairs in the dark. Securing this, and turning on the light, Sam ran forward to the river bank, with Tom beside him.
To those who have read the previous volumes in this “Rover Boys Series” the lads just mentioned will need no special introduction. For the benefit of others, however, let me state that the Rover boys were three in number; Dick being the oldest, fun-loving Tom coming next, and sturdy Sam being the youngest. When at home, which was only for a short time each year, the boys lived with their father, Anderson Rover, and their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha on a farm called Valley Brook, in New York State.
While their father was in Africa, the boys had been sent to Putnam Hall Military Academy, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled “The Rover Boys at School.” There they had made quite a few friends, and, also, some enemies.*
*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
The first term at school was followed by an exciting trip on the ocean, and then another trip into the jungles of Africa, where the boys went looking for their parent. Then came a journey to the West, and some grand times on the Great Lakes and in the Mountains. After that, the Rover boys came back to the Hall to go into camp with their fellow-cadets. Then they took a long journey over land and sea, being cast away on a lonely island in the Pacific.
On returning home, the boys had imagined they were to settle down to a quiet life, but such was not to be. On a houseboat the lads, with some friends, sailed down the Ohio and the Mississippi rivers, and then found themselves on the Plains, where they solved the mystery of Red Rock ranch. Then they set sail on Southern Waters, and in the Gulf of Mexico discovered a deserted yacht.
“Now for a good rest,” Sam had said, and the three lads had returned to the home farm, where, quite unexpectedly, more adventures befell them. Then they returned to Putnam Hall; and all graduated with considerable honor.
It had been decided by Mr. Rover that the boys should next go to college, and he selected an institution of learning located in the Middle West, not far from the town of Ashton. Brill College was a fine place, and the Rovers knew they would like it as soon as they saw it. With them went their old-time school chum, Songbird Powell, already mentioned. At the same time, William Philander Tubbs came to the college from Putnam Hall. He was a dudish fellow, who thought far more of dress than of gaining an education, and he was often made the butt of some practical joke.
It did not take the Rover boys long to make a number of friends at Brill. These included Stanley Browne, a tall, gentlemanly youth; Bob Grimes, who was greatly interested in baseball and other sports; Max Spangler, a German-American youth, who was everybody’s friend; and Will Jackson, always called “Spud” because of his unusual fondness for potatoes. Spud was a great story-teller, and some of his yarns were marvelous in the extreme.
During their first term at Putnam Hall, the Rover boys had become well acquainted with Dora Stanhope, who lived near the school with her widowed mother, and, also, Nellie and Grace Laning, Dora’s two cousins, who resided but a short distance further away. It had not been long before Dick and Dora showed a great liking for each other, and, at the same time, Tom often “paired off” with Nellie, and Sam as often sought the company of Grace. Then came the time when the boys did a great service for Mrs. Stanhope, saving her from the wicked plotting of Josiah Crabtree, a teacher at Putnam Hall. Crabtree was exposed, and lost no time in leaving the school, threatening at the same time that, sooner or later, he would “square accounts with the Rovers.”
But a few miles away from Brill College was located Hope Seminary, an institution for girls. When the Rover boys went to Brill, Dora, Nellie and Grace entered Hope, so the young folks met almost as often as before. A term at Brill was followed by an unexpected trip Down East, where the Rover boys again brought the rascally Crabtree to terms. Then the lads became the possessors of a biplane, and took several thrilling trips through the air. About this time, Mr. Anderson Rover, who was not in the best of health, was having much trouble with some brokers, who were trying to swindle him out of valuable property. He went to New York City, and disappeared, and his three sons went at once on the hunt for him. The brokers were Pelter, Japson & Company, and it was not long befor
e Dick and his brothers discovered that Pelter and Japson were in league with Josiah Crabtree. In the end the boys found out what had become of their parent, and they managed to bring the brokers to terms. But, during a struggle, poor Tom was hit 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. This broke, and he sustained a heavy fall, breaking a leg in two places. He was taken to a hospital, and the doctors there said he would be a cripple for life.
“There is no use in talking, Dad,” Dick had said to his father, “you are not in a fit physical condition to take hold of these business matters. You had better leave them entirely to me.” And to this Mr. Rover had agreed. Then, as Dick was to leave college and spend most of his time in New York, it had been decided that he and Dora should get married. There had followed one of the grandest weddings the village of Cedarville had ever seen.
The blow on Tom’s head proved more serious than was at first anticipated. Through it the poor lad suddenly lost his mind, and while in that state he wandered away from Brill College, and went on a long journey, as related in detail in the volume preceding this, entitled “The Rover Boys in Alaska.”
As their father was too ill to take part in any search for the missing one, Dick and Sam took up the hunt, and after many thrilling adventures on the ice and in the snow, managed to locate their brother and bring him back home.
“And now, Tom, you must take a good long rest,” his kindly Aunt Martha had said, and she had insisted upon it that he be put under the care of a specialist. Tom had rested for several months, and then, declaring that he felt as good as ever, had returned to Brill. Sam was already in the grind, and soon Tom was doing his best to make up for the time he had lost on his strange trip.
Of course, Nellie Laning had been very much worried over Tom’s condition, and his disappearance had caused her intense dismay. Since he had returned to Brill, she had asked that he either call on her or write to her at least once a week. Tom preferred a visit to letter-writing, and as Sam was usually ready to go to Hope to see Grace whenever the opportunity afforded, the brothers usually took the trip together, as in the present instance.
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