The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“William Philander, Tom.”

“To be sure, I am glad I am sorry that I remember I forgot,” answered Tom, gravely. “It shan’t occur again the last time, I assure you.”

“Oh, Tom, let up!” put in Dick, who had come up. “We have passed – doesn’t that make you feel good?”

“And you at the head of the class, Dick! Say, if I had wings, or an aeroplane, I’d fly!”

“Come on for a last swing on the rings!” exclaimed Dick, and led the way, and soon all of the brothers were exercising on the flying rings with which the college gymnasium was equipped.

It was Monday afternoon and studies were practically at an end and all the boys had to do was to pack up their things and wait for the time to go home.

On Sunday morning the three Rovers had driven over to Hope Seminary and taken Dora and the Lanings to church. At that time it had been arranged that all should start for home on the early morning train on the following Wednesday. They would travel together as far as a place called Cartown and then separate, the girls to go on to Cedarville and the lads to journey to Oak Run, the nearest railroad station to the farm.

“Some of the fellows are going home Tuesday night,” said Dick. “So if we are going to have any fun we had better have it Monday night,” and so it was arranged.

The Rovers had had no further opportunity to talk to Dudd Flockley. They noticed that Flockley avoided them and seemed to be in deep thought.

“I suppose he is thinking of Koswell and Larkspur,” said Dick. “Poor fellow, I feel sorry for him! I hope he doesn’t let them drag him down any deeper.”

“He has only himself to blame for the position he is in,” said Sam. “We did what we could for him – more than most fellows would do, Dick.”

“That is true, Sam.”

Supper was had at the usual hour and then the students commenced to gather on the campus and down by the river. Nearly everybody was in good humor, and they sang, and made a racket generally. Bonfires were lit, and also a string of paper lanterns.

“I’ve got a surprise for the crowd,” said Tom to Sam. “Come on and help me to wake Brill up.”

“How?” questioned the younger Rover.

“I’ll soon show you – come with me.”

Tom led the way to a storeroom behind the gymnasium. In one corner, under some old canvas, was a box several feet long, that had come in by express.

“I had the time of my life getting this here without having it pass inspection by the Head,” said Tom.

“What’s in it, Tom?”

“Fireworks – a regular Fourth of July outfit – rockets, Roman candles, pinwheels, bombs, and all. I sent the order to the city a week ago.”

“Good for you!” cried Sam, with a grin. “This will certainly wake up the natives.”

“See if you can get Dick to help us. But be careful – I want to surprise all the rest, even Stanley.”

“I’ll get him,” answered Sam, and hurried off.

A little later, when it was quite dark, the three Rover boys shouldered the big box and carried it to the edge of the woods beside the campus. Then they opened the box and took out the fireworks.

“Guess we’ll send up a few bombs first, just to wake everybody up,” said Tom.

A minute later a large-sized bomb went whistling upward in the air. It flew high over the college building, to burst with a deafening report.

“Hello, what’s that?” yelled several.

“Who fired that shot?”

“Did a cannon go off?”

“It was an aerial bomb – and there goes another!” cried Allen Charter. “Somebody is celebrating in earnest.”

All of the students on the campus stared at the bombs in wonder, while others came rushing from various buildings, to learn the meaning of the reports.

“Who shot off the cannon?” stormed Professor Sharp. “It’s against the rules to shoot off that cannon without permission.”

“It wasn’t the cannon, Professor,” explained Frank Holden. “It was a bomb. Somebody – ”

Boom! went another bomb, and it was right over the professor’s head. The professor was scared and ducked wildly.

“I want the person who is doing that – ” he commenced, but got no further, for just then a big rocket went hissing through the air, to burst a second later and let fall a beautiful shower of golden rain.

“Oh, isn’t that grand!”

“Say, this is something like!”

“Must be that Doctor Wallington meant to surprise us.”

Far into the sky flew two more rockets, one letting fall some chains of red, white and blue and the other some strange fish-like shapes that darted hither and thither.

“This is certainly all to the merry!” murmured Stanley. “It’s as good as a Fourth of July exhibition.”

“Look at the Roman candles!” cried Max, pointing over to the woods. From among the trees three large Roman candles were sending their balls of various colors high into the air.

“This is a surprise and no mistake,” murmured Doctor Wallington, as he gazed at the fireworks.

“Didn’t you know about them, Doctor?” questioned Allen Charter.

“No. It must be the work of some students.”

“I’m going to see who is doing it!” cried Stanley, and ran for the woods, followed by a score of others.

When the crowd arrived they found Dick, Tom and Sam in the act of setting off more rockets and Roman candles.

“Say, you sure surprised us!” cried Stanley.

“It’s out of sight!” murmured Spud.

“Huh! I am sorry,” murmured Tom. “I thought it was very much in sight.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, Tom. It’s bang-up.”

“It sure is that!” cried Sam, as one of the rockets exploded with a loud report.

“Here are some packages of red lights,” said Tom. “I want every fellow here to take one and light it. Then we’ll form a procession and march around the buildings.”

“That’s the talk!” cried Stanley. “Say, if we only had a band!”

“I’ll go and git my drum,” cried Max, who chanced to own one.

“And I’ll get my bugle,” added a student who possessed such an instrument.

By the time the drum and bugle were brought the red lights were lit, and amid a general cheering the students got into line and the march around the college buildings began.

“Come on in, Dudd!” cried Dick, to Flockley, who stood looking on, and he passed over a red light which the student took rather unwillingly. “Everybody in this march!”

Around and around the buildings marched the students. William Philander Tubbs wanted to keep out of the procession, but he was caught by Sam and Tom and made to carry a flag consisting of an old red sweater tied to the handle of a broom. Other boys carried the college colors, and they added to the din with tin horns and wooden rattles.

“My! but this is disgraceful!” muttered Professor Sharp, in disgust.

“Disgraceful?” cried Doctor Wallington. “Not at all, sir. Let the young men enjoy themselves. They are doing no harm.”

“I don’t like so much noise,” snapped Asa Sharp, and retired to the college building.

“I’ve got about a dozen packs of firecrackers,” said Tom, a little later. “We mustn’t forget to shoot them off.”

“Pass ’em around, Tom!” cried Stanley, and the firecrackers were quickly distributed.

“Come on and give old Filbury a scare,” suggested Spud, and before anybody could stop him he went off after the old man who worked around the dormitories. He found Filbury on a step-ladder, fixing a lamp, and he very quietly pinned his firecrackers to the old man’s coat tail.

“What do you want, sir?” asked the old man, as he started to come down the step-ladder.

“I wanted to ask you if you knew where my baseball was,” asked Spud, innocently.

“No, I don’t know nuthing about baseballs,” growled Filbury. He sniffed the air. “Say, smells like something burning around here!” he cried. “Did any of them fireworks set fire to the buildings?”

“I guess not,” answered Spud. “But about that ball – ”

Crack! bang! crack! went a number of the firecrackers and poor Filbury leaped several feet into the air. Then he turned hastily around.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, and then a long string of the firecrackers went off, causing him to whirl first to one side and then another. He put his hands behind him. “Ouch! I’m burnt!” he screamed.

“Whoopla! that’s the way to celebrate!” roared Spud. “Nothing like having fun while you are at it!”

“I’ll ‘fun’ you!” yelled Filbury, in anger, and of a sudden he drew off his coat and commenced to chase Spud. Down the corridor went the pair. And then Filbury cast the coat with the firecrackers still exploding, at Spud’s head.

Spud ducked and the coat sailed over his head, to enter a doorway that was partly open. Then another person appeared. It was Professor Asa Sharp. He stepped on the coat and as he did so several of the firecrackers went off, one hitting him directly in the chin.

“Oh!” he screamed. “I am hit! Take those fireworks away!” And he bolted down the hallway with all the speed he could command. He ran out on a porch and then down on the campus, where Tom and Sam were bending over something on the ground.

“Look out! Run!” yelled Tom, and then he and his brother leaped back. In bewilderment Professor Asa Sharp stood still. Then a terrific explosion rent the air, and a great shower of sparks flew in all directions.

CHAPTER VI

GOOD-BYE TO BRILL

“Say, that was an explosion!”

“Who was that stood so close?”

“Was he hurt?”

These and a number of other cries and questions came from the students of Brill who had witnessed the setting off, by Tom and Sam, of the last of the fireworks.

As for the two Rover boys, they knew not what to say. Both stared helplessly for a moment at Professor Sharp.

“Hi! hi!” spluttered that individual. “Stop it! Do you want to blow me to pieces? Oh, I’m all on fire!” And, seeing that his coat had ignited from some of the sparks, he commenced to dance around in terror.

“Here – wait, Professor!” called out Tom. “Let me knock out that fire!” And he began to beat out the flames with his hands.

“Don’t – don’t hit me so hard, Rover!” snarled the professor, for in his excitement Tom was pounding away harder than intended. Sam also came forward to put out the sparks, and so did Dick and some others.

“Here, give me that broom, Tubbs!” cried the eldest Rover, and catching the article, Dick whipped off the red sweater and then used the broom to sweep from Asa Sharp what was left of the fire.

In a few seconds more the danger was over. In the meanwhile a big crowd commenced to collect around the instructor and those who had set off the fireworks.

“This is an outrage!” fumed Professor Sharp. “An outrage! I’ll have the law on you for it!” And he glared savagely at Tom and Sam.

“I don’t see how you can blame us, sir,” answered Tom, stoutly. “We were just setting off the fireworks when you ran right into the midst of them.”

“Nonsense! nonsense! You did it on purpose!”

“You certainly ran right into the things, just as we had lit them,” said Sam. “I don’t see how you can blame us for that.”

“You’ll see! I shall report to Doctor Wallington at once!” stormed Asa Sharp, and hurried off with his face drawn down in sour determination.

“Phew! I guess we are in hot water, Tom!” whispered Sam.

“I don’t see how he can blame us, Sam.”

“Well, in one way, we had no right to set off the fireworks.”

“Indeed! And why not, on the last day of the term, I’d like to know? The doctor saw us, and he didn’t say anything about stopping.”

“I really think it was Professor Sharp’s fault,” said Allen Charter, who had been standing near. “He certainly ran right into the midst of the lighted fireworks. I saw him do it.”

“Will you say a word for us, Charter, if we are reported to the Head?” asked Tom.

“Certainly.”

“And so will I,” added Stanley.

“And I – if you won’t make me carry that horrid broom any longer,” lisped William Philander Tubbs.

“Say, I guess I’m as much to blame as anybody!” came from Spud, who had followed Asa Sharp from the college building. And then he told of what had happened between himself, Filbury and the instructor.

“I doubt if you hear any more about it,” said Charter. And he was practically right. The subject was barely mentioned by Doctor Wallington, and neither Tom nor Sam were censured for what had occurred. And that was fair, for the Rover boys had really not been to blame.

Later in the evening the college boys had something of a feast. A number had “chipped in” and bought some soda water, ginger ale, ice-cream and cake in Ashton, and the improvised feast was held in the boathouse, which was strung with lanterns. Several of the students made speeches, others sang, and Songbird was called on to recite an original poem, a request that pleased him greatly.

“Say, boys, Brill is a great place after all!” remarked Dick, when he and his brothers were retiring for the night “At first I thought I shouldn’t like it quite as well as dear old Putnam Hall, but I am gradually changing my mind.”

“This place grows on one,” returned Tom. “I suppose by the time we finish up here we’ll hate to leave, just as we hated to leave old Putnam.”

“Well, we won’t be college boys so very long,” remarked Sam. “Almost before you know it, we’ll be men and out in the world of business.”

“And settled down, maybe, with a family of children to support,” added Tom, with a grin.

After the strenuous times of the evening before, the Rovers were glad to take it easy on Tuesday. They finished the last of their packing and Tom played a last joke on William Philander Tubbs by placing in the trunk of the fastidious student a pair of old overalls and three old farm hats found in the barn of Brill. They were hidden in the middle of the dude’s things, and he locked up the trunk without discovering them.

“I hope he unpacks that trunk when the ladies are around,” said Tom. “Then he can show ’em how he used to play farm hand, and wear three big straw hats at a time.”

“It’s too bad to part!” sighed Songbird. “Wish we were all going on another treasure hunt!” And then he commenced to warble softly:

“I love to sail the briny deep!The briny deep for me!I love to watch the sunlit wavesThat brighten up the sea!I love to listen to the windThat fills the snowy sails!I love to roam around the deck – ”“And eat the fishes’ tails!”

interrupted Tom. And then he went on:

“I love to swim upon the sand,And dance upon the brine,And write my name in salty waves,And hope for dinner timeTo come, so I can eat my fillOf sea-foam snaps and cream;And stand upon the quarter-deckA halfback of the team!”

“Humph! do you call that poetry?” snorted Songbird. “It sounds as much like it as a dog’s bark sounds like a hymn!”

“Well, it would be a ‘him’ if he was a gentleman dog!” retorted Tom, and then Songbird turned away in momentary disgust. But soon his good humor returned and Tom and the others allowed him to “spout poetry” to his heart’s content.

It had been arranged that the Rovers, Dora, and the Laning girls should meet at the Ashton depot, and it is needless to say that the three boys were on time. They were alone, for Songbird and Stanley and some of their other chums were going to take different trains.

“Don’t forget to let me hear from you this summer!” said Songbird, on parting.

“Oh, we’ll be sure to write,” answered Dick. “Come and see me – if you get anywhere near my home,” said Stanley.

“We’ll remember that,” returned Tom.

The boys were taken to Ashton depot in an automobile belonging to the college. Their trunks and dress-suit cases had preceded them, and as soon as they arrived they had their baggage checked straight through to Oak Run.

“I see the girls’ trunks,” announced Sam, who had been looking the pile of baggage over. “We could get them checked, too, if we had their tickets.”

“Wonder where the girls are?” came from Tom, as he looked at his watch.

“How much time, Tom?”

“Ten minutes yet – and this train will most likely be late.”

Rather impatiently the Rover boys walked up and down the platform. Presently they saw one of the Hope carryalls coming and went to meet it.

“They aren’t in that,” cried Sam, disappointedly.

“Another carriage coming from Hope?” queried Tom, of the carryall driver.

“Two of ’em,” was the reply.

The second carriage arrived a minute later. It contained six girls and among them was Grace.

“Dora and Nellie are in the last carriage,” announced the younger Laning girl. “I came on ahead to get the trunks and bags checked.”

“We’ll do that,” answered Sam promptly. “Got the railroad tickets?”

“Yes, here they are,” and Grace handed the tickets over.

It took several minutes to check the baggage, for the agent was busy, and all of the Rovers gave a hand in shifting the heavy trunks out to a place close to the tracks. Then Dick looked at his watch.

“Time for the train now,” he announced. “Wonder why that carriage doesn’t get here?”

“Dick is getting nervous,” said Sam, with a wink.

“Oh, you are all right – with Grace here,” retorted his brother.

Tom had gone up to a bend of the road to take a look. Now he came back with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Nothing but a farm wagon in sight,” he announced. “And the horses are kicking up such a dust I can’t see behind it.”

“Oh, Tom, is it time for the train?” asked Grace, anxiously.

“It’s three minutes past the time,” answered Dick.

“Maybe the train is a good deal late,” said Sam, hopefully. “I’ll ask the agent.”

He went off and in the meantime the others continued to watch the country road leading to the railroad station. All they could see was a cloud of dust that betokened the coming of a big farm wagon, on the front seat of which sat an old farmer.

“The train is coming!” cried Sam in dismay, on returning. “The agent says it will be here in about two minutes.”

“Two minutes!” burst out Dick and Tom.

“Oh, they’ll get left!” moaned Grace. “What shall we do? I can’t go home alone! And I’ve got their tickets!”

“Perhaps the agent will hold the train a bit,” suggested Dick.

“I hear the train now!” cried Sam, as a distant whistle sounded through the air. A moment later they saw the cars, making a broad curve around the distant hills.

Dick ran to the man who sold tickets and looked after the baggage.

“Say, we are waiting for some more passengers – some young ladies from Hope Seminary,” he explained. “Can’t you hold the train till they come?”

“Not much!” was the sharp answer. “The train is late already, and orders are to make as short a stop as possible.”

“They are coming!” yelled Tom. “I see them away down the road!”

“Oh, call to them to hurry!” burst out Grace.

“They can’t hear me,” answered Tom. “They are coming as fast as the team can go.”

“Won’t you hold the train just a couple of minutes?” pleaded Dick.

“No, sir!” And the agent spoke with a positive snap in his voice.

Dick looked across the tracks. The farm wagon had come up, and on the seat he recognized the fat and jolly Mr. Sanderson, the father of the girl they had once saved from the annoyances of Dudd Flockley and Jerry Koswell.

“I’ll get Mr. Sanderson to do the trick for me!” he muttered to himself, and ran to where the farm wagon had come to a halt.

CHAPTER VII

DREAMS OF YOUTH

“Mr. Sanderson!”

“Why, if it ain’t Mr. Rover!” cried the old farmer. “Glad to see ye! Bound fer hum, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Dick stepped close to the old farmer’s side. “Mr. Sanderson do you want to do me a great big favor and do it quick?” he went on, earnestly.

“O’ course. Wot is it?”

“Do you see that train coming?”

“Well, as my eyesight is putty good, I do,” and the old farmer chuckled.

“And do you see that carriage on the road?”

“Yes – it’s one of them turnouts from the gals’ school.”

“Some of our friends are in that carriage and I want to hold that train till they get here,” continued Dick, quickly. “The station agent won’t hold the train for me – so I want you to do it.”

“Me? I ain’t got nuthin’ to do with the railroad.”

“I know that. But you can hold the train, nevertheless. The train will stop just below this crossing – it always does. When it is about ready to start you drive on the track – and then your horse balks, see? You try to start him but he won’t start. You fuss and pull, but the horse don’t budge until those young ladies are on the train.”

“By gum! I’ll do it!” exclaimed the fat farmer, with a twinkle in his eyes. “This hoss is jest the one to balk, too.”

“I can depend on you?”

“You kin, Mr. Rover.”

“Thank you a thousand times!” returned Dick; and then he went off to rejoin his brothers and Grace.

The train had already rolled in and passengers were getting off and on, and the agent was loading on the trunks and handbags.

“Oh, if they would only hurry!” cried Grace.

“You can get aboard,” said Dick. “This train won’t leave just yet.”

“But it is going to go before they get here,” declared Sam. “It’s a shame! Two minutes more would fix it – and they could hold the train as well as not.”

“All aboard!” sang out the conductor, as the last of the baggage disappeared into the baggage car.

Dick looked ahead. Mr. Sanderson’s farm wagon had just started to cross the tracks. He was sawing on the reins and the horse was acting in a strange manner, not knowing what to make of it. He turned part way around and faced the locomotive.

“G’lang!” sang out the old farmer. “Consarn ye! What’s the matter of ye, Franky?”

“Oh, Dick, he’ll be killed!” burst out Sam, in horror.

“Looks as if the horse wanted to climb over the engine,” came from Tom.

“It’s all right,” answered the elder Rover boy in a whisper. “The engineer sees him and won’t start the train. Mr. Sanderson is doing it on purpose.”

“On purpose?” came from Sam and Tom, and then of a sudden they understood, and both had to turn away to hide the grins that broke out on their faces.

“Go ahead!” cried the conductor, and then he saw the trouble and ran forward to watch proceedings.

From the antics of the horse in front of the locomotive, the Rover boys turned their attention to the carriage that was approaching. As it came closer they saw Dora and Nellie waving their hands frantically.

“Wait! Wait for us!” cried out Dora, and as the carriage came to a stop she leaped out, followed by Nellie and the other girl students.

“Just in time!” sang out Dick, loudly. “Come on, here is our car!”

“Oh, what made you so late?” asked Grace. “We have been worried to death about you.”

“One of the girls forgot her pocketbook and we had to drive back for it,” explained Nellie. “Oh, we thought sure we would miss the train, when we saw it stop. We were so far off.”

“I’ll explain why you caught it later on,” whispered Dick. “Now excuse me a moment,” and he ran towards the locomotive.

A crowd had commenced to collect, and several folks were offering Mr. Sanderson advice. But though he seemed to try his best, his horse and wagon remained in front of the train.

“Here, let me aid you, Mr. Sanderson,” cried Dick, and gave the farmer the wink. “It’s all right,” he added, in a whisper. “I’m your friend for life after this.”

“Glad to be of service,” answered the old farmer, in an equally low tone. “G’lang, Franky!” he roared suddenly, and touched the horse with his whip. At once the animal turned partly around and ran off the tracks and down the country road as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Confound that fool nag!” muttered the conductor of the train, as he consulted his watch. “Here we’ve lost six minutes more. Tom, can you make it up?”

“I can try,” answered the engineer.

“All right! Let her go!” And Dick and the other passengers who had gone forward hopped on the train in a hurry, and the conductor followed. The train official did not suspect that the “blockading” had been done purposely, and Dick did not enlighten him.

The Rovers had secured seats for the girls and themselves in one of the parlor cars, and all were together. As the train rolled onward Dick related the particulars of the trick that had been played with the aid of Mr. Sanderson.

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