The Rover Boys in Alaska: or, Lost in the Fields of Ice

"Poor William Philander!" murmured Sam. "It was rather a rough joke, Tom."

"Oh, it will do him good," was the answer. "He's too uppish to live."

"Yes, he wants some of the conceit knocked out of him," added Stanley. "But come on, if we are going for a walk, let us get started."

"Wish I had been in the classroom to see the fun," mused Tom, his old-time grin overspreading his face. No matter how old Tom got he'd never give up his boyish pranks.

The crowd of students were soon on the way in the direction of the Sanderson farm. But at the first turn in the road they left that highway, and following a path across a pasture lot, plunged into the depths of what was known as Lanker's woods. Through the woods ran a fair-sized stream of water, and at one spot there was an old dam and the remains of a saw mill, now going to decay.

"Sam, don't you wish you had the old Dartaway back," remarked Stanley, presently. "You used to cover this part of the country pretty well with that flying machine?"

"I've never wanted it back since it got smashed up on the railroad track," was the answer. "Flying was good enough, but I don't think I was cut out for a birdman."

"I'd like to go up again some day," put in Tom. "But not regularly. I'd rather travel in an auto, or behind a fast horse."

"Give me a horse every time," said Songbird. And then he warbled softly:

"To rush along at railroad speed,In auto, or on wings of air,Is well enough for some, I think,To make you jump and make you stare.But when I journey roundabout,I'll take a horse, or maybe two,And then I'll – I'll – ""And then I won't bust any tiresAnd walk home feeling pretty blue!"

added Tom. "Say, that's right, Songbird, although you can't burst tires on a flying machine," he added.

"That isn't just the way I was going to finish the verse," said the would-be poet. "But it will do."

On went the boys, deeper and deeper into the woods, chatting gaily and occasionally singing snatches of college songs. Sam kept close to his brother and he was glad to note that Tom was acting quite like his old self.

"What he needs is plenty of fresh air and rest from studying," thought the younger Rover. "Hang it all, it was a mistake for Tom to get down to the grind so soon. He ought to have taken a trip out West, or to Europe, or somewhere."

Presently the students came out on the bank of the stream and there, in the sunshine, they rested on a fallen tree and some rocks. It was pleasant to watch the swiftly-rushing water, as it tumbled over the stones.

"The brook is pretty strong on account of those rains we had," remarked Sam.

"Yes, I never saw it so swift," answered Stanley.

"Humph! this is nothing," announced Spud. "I saw it once when it ran so swiftly that the water couldn't make the turn at the bend below here and ran right up the hill and over on Shelby's barn, drowning sixteen cows! And some of the water hit the barn roof and bounced off into the chimney of Shelby's cottage and put out the fire, and – "

"Wow, Spud! put on the soft pedal!" interrupted Sam.

"Oh, it's absolutely true. Some day I'll show you the tombstone they erected over the sixteen cows. It's of granite and a hundred and ten feet high."

"Never mind the tombstone," interrupted Tom. "What I want to see is the match box Shelby stored that water in after it hit the barn." And at this sally a general laugh went up.

On the boys went again, and half an hour later reached the abandoned saw mill. All that was left was the dam with the broken wheel and one end of what had once been a long, low, one-storied building.

"Let's have a look inside," suggested Stanley, and led the way, and the others followed. Sam was the last to enter, coming directly behind his brother and he saw Tom suddenly put his hand to the back of his head and stop.

"Does it hurt again, Tom?" he whispered, kindly.

"Just a – a – spasm!" gasped poor Tom, and then he drew a long breath. "There, it's gone now," he added, and walked on. Sam sighed and shook his head. What was this queer condition of Tom going to lead to? It made him shiver to think of it.

There was but little to see in the old mill. It was a damp, unwholesome place, and the boys soon came out again. Not far away was a well hole, rather deep and partly filled with water.

Tom was the first to notice this hole, which was partly covered with rotted boards. Of a sudden he commenced to grin, as if he scented a huge joke. He ran up and rearranged the rotted boards, so they completely covered the hole. Then in the center he placed the bright-colored cap he had been wearing, and hurried along, to the path leading beside the dam.

"Hi, Stanley!" he called out, as the others came from the mill. "Get my cap, will you? The wind blew it off. It's back there somewhere."

"I see it!" shouted Stanley.

"I see it, too," came from Spud, who was close by. "I'll race you for it, Stan."

"Done!" was the reply, and side by side the two collegians raced for the cap.

"An apple for the fellow who wins!" shouted Sam, who saw nothing wrong in what was going on.

"Leg it, both of you!" added Songbird.

Side by side Stanley and Spud sped over the uneven ground in the direction of the cap. Then both made a plunge forward in true football style. In a heap they landed on the rotted boards, each catching hold of the coveted headwear. Then came an ominous crash, and both boys disappeared headlong into the well hole!

"Look! Look what has happened!" shrieked Sam, in dismay.

"They are in the old well!" gasped Songbird.

"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho!" came from Tom, and he shook with laughter. "Isn't that the dandy joke? I thought Stanley would go in, but I didn't expect to catch the pair of 'em."

"Tom!" cried Sam, in new horror. "You didn't really mean – "

"Sure I did. I put my cap there on purpose. Say, they had some tumble, didn't they?" And Tom commenced to laugh again – a strange laugh that didn't sound like him at all.

"They'll be drowned – we must save them!" exclaimed Sam, hoarsely. "Songbird, what can we do?" he added, turning to his chum.

"I don't know – maybe we can throw 'em a rope – if there is one around."

"Let 'em crawl out – it's easy enough," came from Tom. "Don't you spoil the joke." And he commenced to laugh again.

"Tom, don't act as if you were crazy!" said Sam, catching him by the arm and shaking him. "Those fellows can't get out without help – it's too deep! And the sides may cave in on top of them! And there is water down there, too! We must help them, and at once."

Tom stared at his brother in bewilderment. Then of a sudden the look of fun died out of his face and was succeeded by a look of horror and terror combined.

"Did I do that, Sam? Oh, what a foolish thing to do! Yes, we must help them! What shall I do? I'll jump down after them if you say so!" And Tom started forward.

"No, don't do that!" Sam held him back. "We'll get a rope, or a long pole. Don't go too close or you may cave the top of the well in on 'em."

"Yes, we must get a rope, or a pole," gasped poor Tom and ran off on a search. "And I thought I was having a good joke! Oh, I certainly must be going crazy!" he muttered.

In the meantime Songbird had thrown himself on his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the old well hole. He called out several times, but got no reply. He heard a great floundering and splashing.

"Hi, you!" he continued. "Are you alive?"

"Sa – save us!" came the spluttered-out words, from Spud. "Sa – save us!"

"Are you both alive?" continued Songbird, anxiously.

"Yes," answered Stanley. "But we need help, for the water is over our heads. Get a rope, or something, and be quick about it!"

"Hang on the best you can and we'll help you," was the answer.

"Well, don't be too long about it, or we'll be drowned!" came in a shivering tone from Spud.

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD WELL HOLE

The three youths at the top of the old well hole gazed around anxiously. All were looking for a rope, but no such article presented itself to their view. There was a bit of iron chain lying in the dead leaves nearby, but it was too short to be of service.

"I don't see anything to use," remarked Songbird, wildly. "Oh, Sam, this is awful!"

"Come on, I think I see something," answered the younger Rover. "Tom, you can help bring it over."

He took his half-dazed brother by the arm, more to keep him from approaching too close to the well than for any other reason, and the three boys raced to where a number of saplings were growing. Sam had noted that one of the saplings had been bent over by the wind and was partly uprooted.

"Maybe we can get it up – we've got to do it!" he cried. "Come, catch hold and pull for all you are worth!"

The others understood and laid hold of the young tree, which was all of fifteen feet high and several inches in diameter. It had but few branches, which was an advantage. They bent it down and pulled with a will, and out of the ground it came, so suddenly that the boys fell flat on their backs.

"Wait, I'll break off some of the branches!" cried Sam. "Tom, Songbird, try to break off that twisted root. There, that will do. Now, if we can get it down the well they ought to be able to climb up on it."

It was but the work of a few seconds to drag the sapling to the hole. Then it was lifted upright, so that the end might not dig into the sides of the well and cause a cave-in.

"Look out below there!" shouted Sam.

"Don't knock any stones on us!" came back from Stanley. He and Spud had braced themselves on the sides of the old well, with the water up to their waists.

"We'll be as careful as we can," answered Songbird.

"Look out for dirt in your eyes," added Tom. All the fun had died out of him and his face was full of concern.

Slowly and cautiously the three boys lowered the sapling into the old well hole. In doing this they had to stand close to the edge, and once they sent down a shower of loose dirt that caused a wild cry of alarm from below.

"Go slow!" cried Spud, presently. "I've got it," he added, a second later. "Let her come," and then the sapling was lowered until the roots rested on the bottom of the hole. The top was now several feet below the top of the old well.

"The old chain – just the thing!" cried Sam, and took it up.

"You had better come up close together," suggested Songbird, peering down at those below. "Then, if the well caves in, you'll be up that far anyway."

This was thought good advice and Stanley and Spud determined to act on it. Stanley came first with Spud at his heels. The many small branches of the sapling afforded good holds, and as each of the youths was something of an athlete, both of them came up with comparative ease.

"Can't get any higher," remarked Stanley, when within two feet of the top of the sapling. "It's almost ready to break now."

"Catch hold of the chain!" cried Sam. "I'll hold it. Tom and Songbird, you hold me, so I don't fall in."

Sam had the chain twisted around his right hand and he leaned far over into the well hole, his brother and Songbird holding him by his free arm. The loose end of the chain dangled close to Stanley and he grasped hold. Then came a short, hard pull, and Stanley came sprawling out on the grass. Then Spud crawled up a little higher and he was hauled out the same way.

Both boys were wet to the skin and covered with mud, presenting anything but an enviable appearance. For several seconds they sat on the grass, panting for breath.

"Phew! that was a close shave!" gasped Spud, presently. "I'm mightily glad the old well didn't cave in on us!"

"We went down head first," came from Stanley. "If it hadn't been for the water we would have smashed our skulls!"

"And the water came close to drowning us," added Spud; "And say, it was some cold, believe me," and he shivered.

"You'd better race around in the sun a bit, or you'll take cold," said Sam.

"Take off your coat, Spud, and put on mine," said Songbird, as he commenced to divest himself of his garment.

"Yes, and Stanley can have my coat," came from Tom. He now looked relieved, but his eyes had a strange light in them.

"It's queer how your old cap landed right on the top of the well," remarked Spud. "Why didn't the wind carry it to some safer place?"

At this remark Tom's face grew suddenly red. He tried to speak and gave a gulp.

"There isn't much wind now," added Stanley. "How was it, Tom?"

"I – er – I – the wind didn't blow the cap," was the lame answer. Just then Tom wished he was a thousand miles away. He could not look his chums in the face.

"It didn't blow the cap?" demanded Spud. "What do you mean?"

To this Tom did not answer. Sam wanted to speak, but did not know what to say. Songbird looked curiously at Tom.

"Say, look here!" burst out Stanley, striding forward. "Do you mean to say, Tom Rover, that you put that cap on the old well on purpose?"

"I – I – did," answered Tom feebly. "I – er – I thought it was a – a joke."

"A joke?" cried Spud, sarcastically.

"A joke, to put us in peril of drowning, or smothering to death!" roared Stanley. "If you call that a joke I don't, and I want you to know it!" And in a sudden passion he doubled up his fists and sprang towards Tom.

But Sam rushed between the pair.

"Stanley, don't, please don't!" he cried. "Tom made a mistake, – he knows it now."

"He'll know it after I am done with him!" cried the other, hotly. "He's not going to play a joke on me that puts me in danger of my life! I'll take it out of his hide!" And he tried to get past the younger Rover.

But still Sam held him back.

"Stanley, don't touch him. You know how sick he's been. He isn't himself. Let it pass. He's as sorry as any of us that it happened; aren't you, Tom?"

"Sure I am," answered Tom, readily; but his tone of voice was that of one who didn't care much, one way or the other. Tom was not himself, that was certain.

"Humph, maybe he's sorry and maybe he isn't," muttered Stanley. "I guess he ought to have a thrashing. Anyway, I am done with him," and he flung back the coat Tom had offered him.

All in the crowd looked at Tom, expecting him to say something more. But Tom shut his mouth tightly and walked away, up the river path. He was without his coat. Sam picked up the garment and made after his brother.

"Tom, come back here!"

"I won't, Sam. You can stay with them if you want to. I'll take a walk alone," was the moody answer, and Tom walked faster than ever.

"Of all the mean things to do!" murmured Spud, shaking his head slowly. "I would never have thought it of Tom Rover, never!"

"Tom hasn't acted just right since he came back to Brill," said Songbird, in a low tone, "You know he got an awful crack on the head, and, somehow, he's been different ever since. I wouldn't lay it up against him, if I were you fellows."

"Huh! I guess you'd lay it up against him if you had been soused down into that old well hole and were all wet and covered with mud!" growled Stanley. "Fun is fun, but that was no joke, I can tell you that! He deserves a good thrashing."

"If he isn't right in his head they ought to put him under the doctor's care, or in a sanitarium," remarked Spud. "Why, if he isn't right in his mind there is no telling what he'll do next! He might take it into his head to murder some of us!"

"Oh, I don't think it's as bad as that," answered Songbird, hastily. "I think in a short while he'll be just as he used to be. But the excitement of that capture of those brokers and old Crabtree, and the fight, and then Dick's wedding, were too much for him. What he needs, I think, is a good, long rest."

"Well, he can keep away from me after this," grumbled Stanley, as he looked at his wet and bedrabbled clothes. "Nice sight we'll present going back to the college!"

"I'll tell you what I'll do," suggested Songbird. "I'll go ahead, to the gym., and get you some changes and you can put them on in Dobb's barn. Then nobody will know about it."

"All right," said Stanley, his face brightening a trifle.

"What of Sam and Tom?" asked Spud, who was not as angry as his companion in misfortune.

"I'll tell them we are going back," answered Songbird, and ran after the Rovers.

In the meantime Sam and Tom had kept on walking – or rather Tom had hurried on and his brother had kept up with him, trying to make him turn back. But to all of Sam's entreaties Tom turned a deaf ear.

"I came out for a walk and I'm going to walk," he said, stubbornly. "If they want to go back they can do it – and you and Songbird can go with 'em."

"But, Tom, that isn't fair," insisted Sam. "They are all wet, and – "

"Humph! a little water won't hurt 'em. I've been soaked myself more than once. If they can't take a joke let 'em go," and Tom continued to stalk on until he came to a flat rock, when he suddenly sat down to rest, at the same time putting both hands to his head.

It was here that Songbird found them and informed them of what the others and himself proposed to do.

"All right, Songbird; I guess that is best," said Sam, softly. "Tom doesn't feel just right and he'll rest here awhile."

"Oh, I'm not sick!" cried Tom. "I'm sorry I played the trick, but I don't see any reason for Stanley and Spud to cut up about it." And then he got up as suddenly as he had sat down and stalked on once more.

"Do your best to fix it up, Songbird," pleaded Sam, in a low tone. "You can see Tom isn't himself. Try to explain to those fellows."

"I will. I think Tom ought to have a doctor," was the low reply; and then Songbird rejoined Stanley and Spud and the three started back to Brill.

Tom stalked on for fully half a mile without speaking and Sam came behind him. The younger Rover was busy thinking and did not say a word. Presently the pair reached the end of the river path and came to a bridge and the highway. On the bridge Tom sat down again.

"Want to go any further, Tom?" asked Sam, as pleasantly as he could.

"I don't care where I go!" burst out the other. "I'm sick of it all! Sick of the college, sick of studying, sick of those fellows, sick of everything and everybody! I wish I could go to Africa, or the North Pole, or somewhere else, where I wouldn't see or hear of 'em again!"

"Tom!"

"I mean it. What's the use of keeping in the grind day after day, like a horse on a tread mill? What does a fellow get out of it? Nothing but hard work and a pain in the head! Some times my head hurts to beat the band! I can't stand it, and I won't! They are all against me, every one of 'em!" And Tom commenced to wring his hands, while two tears stood in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

CHAPTER V

TOM'S QUEER ACTIONS

Sam did not know what to say or what to do. He realized more fully than ever that his brother was not himself. He was growing wilder and more irrational every moment.

"Tom," he asked suddenly, "have you got those pills with you that the doctor gave you to take?"

"Sure," was the ready answer.

"Have you taken any lately?"

"No. What's the use? They don't seem to help me."

"Let me see them, please."

"There they are." Tom brought the box from his pocket. "They might as well be bread pills, or Gumley's red ones," and he grinned for a moment at the recollection of the trick played on William Philander Tubbs.

Sam took the box and looked at the directions carefully. "It says to take one three times a day when needed," he said. "You had better take one now, Tom. Come on."

"It won't do any good, Sam."

"Well, take one for me, that's a good fellow. Wait, I've got my pocket cup and I'll get some water." And he did so.

"Oh, dear, you're bound to feed me pills," sighed Tom, and made a wry face as he swallowed the one Sam handed him. Sam kept the box, making up his mind that he would play nurse after this.

"I guess we had better walk some more," said Tom, suddenly. "I hate sitting still. If we had the old Dartaway I'd take a sail from here to San Francisco, or some other far-off place."

"Wait a little, I'm tired," answered Sam, soothingly. "Just see those little fishes!" he said, pointing to the water under the bridge.

He made Tom get down and watch the fishes and bathed his brother's forehead. At first Tom was rather restless, but soon the pill seemed to take effect and he grew quiet.

"I'm getting awfully tired," he announced, presently. "I guess we had better be getting back, Sam."

"Just as you say, Tom," was the quiet reply.

It was growing dark when they reached the college grounds and most of the students had gone in to supper. Tom said he did not feel much like eating, but his brother told him he had better have a little food, and they went in together. They saw Songbird and the others at another table. The would-be poet and Spud nodded to them, but Stanley paid no attention.

Sam and Tom still occupied their old room, Number 25, while Songbird was still in Number 26. Since Dick was not to return to Brill his place in the latter room had been taken by Max Spangler, a jolly fellow of German-American parentage.

"Vot is der madder mit Dom Rofer?" asked Max of the would-be poet, as both came up to the room after supper.

"Oh, he isn't feeling very well, Max," was the reply. "What makes you ask?"

"Oh, I see him put his hands by his head on so many dimes," said Max. "He got knocked owit, didn't he?"

"Yes, a rascal hit him over the head with a wooden footstool and nearly cracked his skull."

"Den he should be py der hospital, yah, instead of py college," said the German-American student.

"Well, maybe they'll have to take him to the hospital, or somewhere," returned Songbird, thoughtfully. "Hang it all, with Dick gone and Tom acting as he does, times are not half as jolly as they used to be!"

In the next room Sam sat down to study. Tom had wanted to study, too, but his brother had persuaded him to lie down and rest, and now he was asleep and breathing heavily. Sam tiptoed his way across the room to gaze at him.

"Poor, poor Tom!" he murmured softly. "He'll have to take it easy. If he tries to keep up here it may kill him, or – " Sam did not finish. It was a terrorizing thought to imagine that Tom might go out of his mind. "He's got to have a doctor – some specialist. I'm glad Dick is coming, so we can talk it over. But it's too bad to burden Dick with this – and Dora, too – when they aren't over their honeymoon yet. Oh, dear, it's too bad Pelter threw that footstool at Tom!"

Tom continued to sleep and Sam tried his best to study. But it was hard work and the youngest Rover made slow progress. An hour passed and then there came a soft tap on the door. Songbird was there.

"I thought I'd ask how he was," he whispered, nodding towards Tom.

"Sound asleep, Songbird." Sam paused for a moment. "Come in," and his chum did so, and Sam closed the door again. "I wanted to ask you about Stanley and Spud."

"I – I tried to explain to them, without going into it too deeply," said Songbird. "I think Spud understands. But Stanley – well, he's pretty well riled yet. But I guess he'll get over it."

"You can tell 'em that Tom would never play such a trick if he was – well just right here," and Sam touched his forehead. "It's an awful state of affairs, Songbird! I hardly know what to do."

"Why not send Tom home for a rest?"

"How can I if he won't go?"

"Get the doctor to order it."

"That's an idea. I'll talk it over with Dick when he comes. But I wish you could fix it up with Stanley."

"I'll do my best," answered Songbird, and then, as Tom moved restlessly, he hastily left the room as quietly as he had entered it.

Before Sam went to bed Tom roused up and wanted a drink of water. His brother made him take another of the pills and then both retired. For a long time Sam could not sleep, but at last he fell into a profound slumber.

When Sam awoke it was with a start, for the sun was shining brightly and he feared he had overslept himself. He glanced to where Tom had been resting and uttered an exclamation.

"Gone! I wonder where he went to?"

He glanced at the chair on which Tom had placed his clothes and saw that it was empty. The door to the corridor was ajar.

"Can he have been walking in his sleep, or did he wander away out of his mind?" was the agonizing thought that rushed through Sam's, mind. In a jiffy he was out of bed and had begun to dress. He did not spend longer than was necessary on his toilet. Then he hurried out of the room and gazed about him. An assistant janitor was nearby, running a vacuum cleaner over the floor.