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

"Maybe," returned Stanley, hesitatingly. "I've been talking it over with Spud and maybe I was a little harsh. But to be tumbled in that well hole, in the mud and water, made me mad clean through."

"It would make anybody mad, and I wouldn't stand for it either, if Tom was in his right mind. But you can see how it is. Sam and I feel terrible over it. I want you to forgive him, and I want you and Spud and Songbird to help Sam watch him."

"Why, do you think he'll do something desperate?" asked Stanley, curiously.

"I don't know what to think. If a fellow is out of his head he is liable to do almost anything. I want him watched, and what is more, I'd like you fellows to keep this to yourselves. I don't want the whole college to know it."

"You can trust me to keep mum," said Spud, promptly.

"I shan't say a word," added Songbird. "I think too much of Tom. Why, he is one of the finest fellows in the world when he is all right!"

"All right, I'll keep quiet too," said Stanley. "And I won't hold anything against him. But you had better watch him pretty closely," was the warning.

Of course Tom wanted to know all about his father's business and Dick told him as much as he thought was necessary. He did not want to worry his sick brother and so kept back a good deal of what he had related to Sam.

"Don't you worry about me, Dick!" cried Tom, on parting. "I'll be all right!" And he waved his hand gaily, and so did Sam, as the big touring car moved away in the direction of Ashton.

Fortunately for the boys, the lessons that day were not hard and Tom and Sam came through without missing. Then followed a settling down to the work of the term; and thus a week slipped by.

Day by day Sam watched Tom closely. He made his brother take his pills regularly and also made him take outdoor exercise, and aided him as much as possible in his studies and with his themes. All the others were very friendly, and even Stanley came up and told Tom that he was sorry he had been so harsh.

"Well, I don't blame you, Stanley," said Tom, frankly. "It was a mighty poor joke. I don't see how I did it." And there the matter was dropped.

It was ideal weather for outdoor sports and sometimes the lads would go out for a game of baseball, or football, just as the whim seized them. Of course the college had its regular teams on the diamond and the gridiron, but the Rovers did not care enough for the sport to try for these, even though they had made creditable records at Putnam Hall.

"Great news!" cried Tom, coming into the gymnasium one afternoon, after playing with some of the students on the campus.

"What's that?" asked several, curiously.

"A couple of moving picture men from Chicago have leased Cameron's Hall in Ashton and they are going to open a moving picture theater next week. Won't that be fine? I love the movies, and now we'll be able to go there whenever we want to."

CHAPTER VIII

THE JOKE ON WILLIAM PHILANDER

The news Tom had brought created much interest in Brill. In the past anything in the shape of public amusement for the students had been scarce. Once in a while a cheap theatrical company would stop at Ashton and give a performance, but usually it was of such a poor order that if the boys went they would poke fun at it.

"How do you know it will be any good, Tom?" asked Songbird.

"Oh, I'm not sure that it will be. But the druggist told me that the men were well-known in the movies and had some first-class show-houses elsewhere, so I'm hoping it will be all right."

"Is it going to be a five or ten-cent house?" asked another.

"Five in the afternoon and ten at night."

"Then I'm going to begin to save my pennies," announced Spud, seriously. "I've got two saved already and if I am careful for the next month or two I'll have enough to buy a ticket."

"That is, provided I'll lend you one cent," added Tom, and this caused a general grin. He looked around and saw William Philander approaching. "Hi, Tubblets!" he called out. "Here's a job for you." And he waved his hand quickly for the dudish student to approach.

"Now, no more jokes, Tom Rover," was the warning of the stylishly-dressed one. "No more jokes."

"Jokes?" repeated Tom. "This is a job – a splendid situation – open to just such a handsome, well-proportioned young gentleman like yourself."

"What – ah – do you want?" asked William Philander, curiously.

"Wouldn't you like to assist during the evening at a new entertainment at Ashton? A couple of gentlemen are getting up an entertainment for the benefit of the ladies and gentlemen and they wish the aid of a real nice young man, to show the folks to their seats and make them comfortable, and all that. And maybe they'll want you to sing – just to help things along, you know."

"Oh, is that it?" and the dudish student's face brightened. On several occasions he had assisted at charity bazaars and the like, and had been in his element among the well-dressed girls and their mothers.

"I think you would just fill the bill, Willie," went on Tom. "You are the best looking fellow here, and of course we know nobody dresses quite as well as you do."

"Oh, yes, of course – it's very kind to mention that, Tom," and William Philander commenced to swell up with pride. "Yes, I do try to keep up with the fashions. But about this entertainment. Who is getting it up and what benefit is it for?"

"Two gentlemen named Carr and Beckwith are getting it up. I don't know about the benefit. You can find out about that from them. But it's a splendid chance to show what you can do. You know all about showing folks to seats, and all that, don't you?"

"Why, yes, of course."

"And you could sing, eh?"

"Well, – ah – I might render that spring song – 'Come Where the Flowers are Blooming, Dearest Mary.'"

"Just the cheese – I mean it would be fine, Tubby. They'd all go wild about that song. It's the same one you sang for the Prince of Moneco, isn't it? – or was it the Duke of Twisters?"

"I – er – I never sang for those folks, Tom – I sang it at the Ladies Aid of the Golden Hope Society, and at the Quarterly Gathering of the Poladic Society."

"Yes, yes, I remember now. Well, you are just the one to fill the bill, Bill, yes, you are."

"Please don't call me Bill, it's horrid. But where shall I find out about this – er – entertainment?"

"At Carter's new drug-store. The gentlemen are to be there Saturday afternoon, to make all arrangements. You go by all means – I know they will be delighted to have your assistance."

"This isn't a – er – a joke, Tom?" asked William Philander, suspiciously.

"They want somebody, I tell you, honest. Don't they, Jepson?" went on Tom, turning to a lad who had been to Ashton with him.

"They sure do," answered Jepson, and then turned away to hide the broad grin on his face.

"How long is the entertainment to last?"

"You will have to get all the information from the gentlemen," answered Tom, calmly. "Just go down to the drug store and ask for Mr. Carr and Mr. Beckwith, and they'll tell you all about it. It's a fine chance for you, Tubby," concluded Tom, and then walked away, followed by his chums.

"Tom, what is the game?" demanded Sam, when they were out of hearing.

"We'll go down to the drug store Saturday afternoon and see," was the reply.

"Are Carr and Beckwith the moving picture men?"

"Yes, and they want a young man to play usher, and do a lot of other things – one who can sing preferred," and the fun-loving Tom grinned broadly.

"Oh, Tom, and you would send William Philander there!" cried Songbird. "Such a dude as he is! He'll never forgive you!"

"There is seven dollars a week in it to start," answered the fun-loving Rover calmly, and this made all in the crowd roar, for they knew how rich Tubbs was and how working for seven dollars a week would appeal to him.

This conversation occurred on Thursday and the crowd of boys waited impatiently for Saturday to come. Sam was glad to notice that Tom seemed to improve daily and was acting very much like his old self.

On Saturday, directly after lunch, Sam and Tom saw William Philander start off for Ashton. He was stylishly dressed as usual and carried a gold-headed cane, and in his buttonhole was a large carnation.

"Now for the fun!" cried Tom, and he and Sam quickly gathered their chums together and all went after the dude, but kept out of his sight.

The drug store that William Philander was bound for was located on a corner, with doors opening on both streets. On the side street there was also an ordinary window, and both doors and window were wide open.

"We'll go around to the side and watch him," suggested Tom, and this was done.

Sprucing up, so as to look his very best, William Philander strode into the drug store. As it chanced, several young ladies of the town were having soda at the fountain, and as he had once met one of them, he made a most profound bow, lifting his hat as he did so. Then he approached the proprietor of the shop, who was putting up a prescription at the rear counter, close to the open window.

"Mr. Carter I believe?" he lisped.

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I am Mr. William Philander Tubbs, from Brill College," was the lofty answer. "Perhaps you have heard of me. I came in to meet two gentlemen, Mr. Carr and Mr. Beckwith. Are they here?"

"Not yet, Mr – er – Mr. Phillips?"

"No, no, Mr. William Philander Tubbs. When will they be here, may I ask?"

"I expect 'em any moment, Mr – er – Mr. Tubbs."

"Then I'll wait for them," answered the dude, and sank down in a chair.

"Have you got an interest in that show?" asked the druggist, as he continued to compound the prescription.

"Not yet, but I may have," answered William Philander, calmly. "It will be quite a grand affair, I presume."

"They say it will be the best Ashton ever had."

"Is that so! Then I am very glad I came to take part," went on William Philander, warming up. "I am sure I can be of great service to Messrs. Carr and Beckwith. I have had a great deal of experience, you know."

"Thought you said you were from Brill?"

"Oh, yes, but, don't you know, I have assisted at many entertainments," gushed William Philander. "Why, some entertainments would have been absolute failures if I had not taken part."

"Hum, is that so!" returned the druggist. Tubbs' dudish ways did not strike him very favorably. "Well, here is Mr. Beckwith now, you can tell him about it," he added.

A burly, red-faced man, with a heavy moustache, had entered. He was evidently in a hurry and full of business.

"Anybody call about that job, Mr. Carter?" he asked, abruptly.

"This young man wants to see you," answered the druggist, and indicated William Philander.

"You are Mr. Beckwith?"

"Yes."

"Permit me," and the stylish-dressed student presented his card. "I was told you were getting up an entertainment and needed some assistance," continued William Philander. "Now I have had a great deal of experience in that line, and the ladies always seem to be glad to see me. I can aid in getting up the proper programme, and all that, you know. I was on the committee of the Charity Bazaar, and the Plainvine Dog Show, and the Ladies' Aid of the Golden Hope Society, and the Blue Banner Social, and – "

"Say, what are you pouring into me?" gasped Mr. Beckwith, in astonishment. "Do you think I am running a pink tea, or a ladies' sewing circle? I don't need anybody to help me to get up a programme; my partner, Mr. Carr, attends to that end of it. What I need is a strong, willing fellow to take tickets and usher folks to seats, and keep the floor free of rubbish, and all that."

"W-h-a-t!" shrieked William Philander. "You – you – what sort of an entertainment are you going to give?" he faltered.

"Why, didn't you know? We are going to open the Eclipse Moving Picture Theater, in Cameron's Hall, over yonder. We advertised for a young man, to take tickets, usher, and make himself generally useful. We'll have a little vaudeville with the photo plays, and if the young fellow can sing, or dance, we'll give him a chance at it."

"Oh, dear me! Did you ever!" gasped poor William Philander. And then, as he saw that the girls at the soda fountain had heard all that was going on, he turned red.

"I hardly think you will do for the job," went on the moving picture man. "You don't look – er – well, strong enough."

"Job," wailed William Philander. "I – er – I don't want any job! Oh, this is dreadful, horrible! It's one of Tom Rover's jokes! I might have known it. Sent me all the way to Ashton to try to get a position in a horrid moving picture show! Oh, this is the worst ever!" And looking the picture of despair, poor Tubbs rushed from the drug store, with the laughter of the proprietor, the show man, and the girls ringing in his ears.

From the window and the side door Tom, Sam, and the others had seen and heard all that took place. They had all they could do to suppress their mirth, and when Tubbs came storming out of the drug store they lost no time in disappearing out of sight behind the building. They watched the stylishly-dressed student prance down the street, brandishing his cane viciously in the air.

"Just wait till he catches you, Tom," remarked Spud.

"He'll about half kill you," added Stanley.

"Oh, I guess I can stand it," answered the fun-loving Rover, calmly.

"It was rather a rough joke," was Sam's comment.

"Oh, he needs something like that, to take the awful conceit out of him," came from Songbird. "Why, he is getting worse and worse every day. Half the students are down on him. This may do him good."

"I doubt if you can make William Philander improve," was Stanley's comment. "The only thing that will do it is to send him off to sea, or on a ranch, and make him rough it for a while."

Tom expected to see Tubbs that evening, but the dudish student kept out of sight. He did not show himself until Sunday afternoon, and then he had but little to say. But he eyed Tom in a manner that was new to William Philander.

"He is going to get back at you, Tom," said Sam. "Better keep your eyes open."

On Monday afternoon Tom and Sam went down to the water for a short row. They came back just before supper and rushed up to their room to fix up a bit.

"Hello, the door is locked!" cried Tom, trying it.

"And the keyhole is plugged," added Sam, taking a look.

Then the brothers looked at each other.

"I guess William Philander Tubbs did it," said Tom.

CHAPTER IX

WILLIAM PHILANDER TURNS THE TABLES

It was useless to try to open the door. The lock was filled up with a wad of paper that refused to budge.

"If it's only paper we can burn it out," suggested Sam. "But it may scorch the door."

"We'll go through by the way of Songbird's room," said Tom.

There was a door connecting the two rooms. It was not supposed to be used, for one of the beds was against it. But the bed was rolled to one side by Tom. Songbird and his roommate had already gone below.

"Here's the key," said Sam, bringing it from a nearby nail. "It's a wonder William Philander didn't plug this keyhole, too."

"Maybe he didn't have time," answered Tom. "Always supposing it really was Tubbs."

"That's so – iy may have been somebody else."

The connecting door was unlocked and Tom and Sam walked into their own apartment. Both gave a cry of astonishment.

And not without reason. The room had been "stacked," and every boy who has ever attended boarding school or college knows what that means. In the center of the room lay the parts of the two beds in a heap and on top of those parts were piled a miscellaneous collection of books, chairs, clothing, the table and bureau, looking glass, an empty water pitcher, football, baseball bats, shoes, bed clothing, rugs, papers, pens, pencils, soap, caps, a steamer trunk from the closet, several framed photographs, some college banners, and a score of other articles. On the very top of the heap was a fancy sofa pillow Nellie had given to Tom and to this was pinned a card, on which was written, in a disguised scrawl:

Hoping you will enjoy your job!

"It was William Philander all right enough,", murmured Sam, as he and his brother inspected the card. "You sent him to one job, and he is sending us to another," and he heaved a deep sigh.

"Some work, Sammy," returned Tom. "Well, we can't go at it now – it will take us two hours to straighten things up. We'll do it after supper."

"Going after Tubbs for this?"

"What's the use? I don't blame him for getting back at us. I guess, after all, that joke I played on him was rather rough," replied Tom.

It took the best part of three hours to put the room back into shape. Some ink had been spilled on one of the mattresses, and the glass over one of the photographs had been broken, but that was all the real damage that had been done, and it looked to be accidental. The wad of paper in the keyhole was picked out piece-meal by means of a big fishhook. The key was in the heap on the floor, having been flung through the open transom after the door was locked and plugged.

"Well, he got back at you right enough," said Songbird, while the room was being re-arranged.

"Dot's chust vot he did, py golly!" came from Max Spangler.

After this incident the boys settled down to their studies for the best part of a week. Tom was now doing very well, although he still complained of his head.

"I've got an idea," said Sam, one afternoon, after the Eclipse photo playhouse in Ashton had been opened. "Why can't we make up a party some afternoon or evening and take the girls to the show?"

"I thought of that," answered Tom. "But don't you think it would be best for us to go alone first and see what sort of a place it is? Some of these country show places have pretty rough audiences."

"Oh, Ashton isn't such a common town as that, Tom. But maybe it would be better to size it up first. What do you say if we go down next Wednesday evening? We might make up a little party, with Songbird and the others."

"That suits me."

The matter was talked over with the others, and it was speedily arranged that nine of the students should go, including Sam, Tom, Songbird, and Spud. Stanley could not get away, and Max had some lessons he wanted to make up.

"I hope they have some thrilling films," said Tom, when the time came to leave for Ashton. "I hate these wishy-washy love stories and would-be funny scenes. I once saw a shipwreck that was fine, and a slide down a mountainside that couldn't be beaten."

"Well, we'll have to take what comes," said Sam. "I understand they change the pictures twice a week."

When the students arrived at the playhouse in Ashton an agreeable surprise awaited them. Instead of the dingy hall they had expected to see, they saw that the place had been completely transformed. There was a large electric sign over the door, and several big billboards announced the various attractions. A crowd was purchasing tickets at the booth in front, and already the showhouse was half filled for the first performance of the evening.

"'Her First Love,'" read Tom, from a billboard. "That sounds a little mushy. 'Broncho Bill's Reward,'" he went on. "That might be interesting. 'Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska, in Two Parts.' Say, that sounds as if it might be something worth while," he added, brightening up.

"Yes, I'd like to see some pictures of Alaska," returned Songbird.

"Provided they weren't taken in Hoboken, or somewhere like that," answered Sam. "Some of these moving pictures are great fakes. They take real scenes in China right in New York City, and show you the bottom of the sea, taken on the sixth floor of an office building in Chicago!"

"Never mind, I guess we'll get our money's worth," said another of the students, and then the crowd passed inside, each youth buying his own ticket, as was the usual custom.

They managed to get seats almost in the center of the hall, which was long and narrow, just the shape for such an exhibition. They noticed that a tall, lanky town boy was usher, and Tom nudged Sam in the ribs.

"Just think, William Philander might have had that job!" he chuckled.

"Well, you did the best you could for him," answered Sam, dryly.

The end of a funny reel was being shown and the audience was laughing heartily. Then came an illustrated song, sung by a young woman with a fairly good voice, and after that "Broncho Bill's Reward," a short drama of the plains, with cowboys and cattle thieves, and a sheriff, who aided Broncho Bill to get back his employer's cattle and win the hand of the girl he loved.

"Maybe you could write some verses about that girl," suggested Sam to Songbird, in a whisper. "You could call it 'The Cowboy's Sweetheart,' or something like that."

"So I could," murmured the would-be poet, and immediately commenced to make up rhymes, which he scribbled on some paper in the dark.

At last came the well-advertised drama, "Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska." It was a well put together play, the opening scene taking place in a shipping office in Seattle. Next came the departure of the steamer for the North. There were several views on shipboard, and quite a complicated plot, the villain of the play trying to get the best of a young gold hunter and his partner. A girl appeared, and she exposed the villain, and the latter stalked around and vowed vengeance on both the girl and the young gold hunter.

The second part of the play took place in Alaska, and there was shown a typical mining town and then the mountains. It was mid-winter and the mountains were covered with snow. The young gold hunter and his partner had discovered several nuggets of good size, enough to make them rich, and were bound back to the mining camp when the villain and his cronies appeared and robbed them. Then came a fierce snowstorm and a blizzard, and the young gold hunter and his partner were lost on the fields of ice. This was tremendously realistic, and the audience held its breath in suspense, wondering what would happen next.

"Isn't it great!" murmured Tom, his eyes fairly glued to the screen before him. "I never saw anything so real!"

"That must surely have been taken in Alaska," answered Sam.

"Lost in the ice fields!" went on Tom. "How terrible!"

The play went on. The young gold hunter and his partner were almost frozen to death, when the scene shifted to the mining camp. Word of the robbery was brought in by an Indian, and the father of the girl organized a rescuing party, taking his daughter and half a dozen men with him. On the way they ran across the villain and his cronies, frozen stiff in the ice and snow and with the stolen nuggets in their possession. Then the rescuing party went on, until they reached the young gold hunter and his partner just in time to save them from death. The young man was given his nuggets, and he asked for the hand of the girl who had aided in the search; and all ended happily.

"Well, that was certainly a great play!" was Spud's comment, as the students left the photo playhouse. "Wow! it made me fairly shiver to look at that snow and those fields of ice!"

"It was just as if a fellow was there," said Sam.

"Think of the work of taking those films!" said Bob Grimes. "I'll wager the photographer had pretty cold fingers!"

Thus the talk ran on, all of the students being enthusiastic over the production. The only one who was rather quiet was Tom, and soon Sam noticed this.

"What's the matter, Tom; don't you feel well?" he asked, anxiously.

"Nothing extra," was the answer, and Tom put his hands to his eyes. "I guess that moving picture strained my head too much. But it was great – best picture I ever saw! Say, I'd like to go to Alaska once, wouldn't you, Sam?"

"Yes, but not to be caught in the ice and snow like that," returned the younger Rover boy. "Say, it's a good show for the girls, all right," he went on.

"Fine. We'll take 'em as soon as we can arrange it."

All the way back to Brill the students talked about the wonderful Alaskan film, which had really been taken on the spot and had cost a good deal of money. Evidently in opening the new photo playhouse Messrs. Carr and Beckwith had resolved to give the audiences their money's worth.

It was a good advertisement, too, for not only did the town people flock to the place, but the college students told their friends, and the next evening a score or more of the boys attended the performance. The dimes flowed in steadily, much to the delight of the owners of the project.