The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  Dick knocked lightly on the door, and receiving no answer, knocked again. Still there was silence.

  “Must be pretty heavy sleepers,” murmured Tom. “Try the doorknob.”

  Dick did so, and found the door locked. Then he knocked again, this time louder than before.

  “You’ll knock a long time to wake them up,” said a voice behind them, and turning they saw Frank Holden grinning at them.

  “Hello,” said Dick softly. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Nobody in that room, that’s all,” answered the sophomore.

  “Don’t Flood and Crossley sleep here?” asked Sam.

  “Yes, when they are at college, but they got permission to go home yesterday, and they went, and they won’t be back until Monday.”

  At this Dick whistled softly to himself.

  “It’s all up, so far as finding out who used the wheels is concerned,” he said to his brothers. “Whoever took them did so, most likely, without permission.”

  “I guess you are right,” returned Tom.

  “Anything I can do for you?” asked Frank Holden pleasantly.

  “Nothing, thank you,” replied Dick; and then he and his brothers withdrew and made their way to their own rooms as silently as possible. On the way they stopped at the doors of the rooms occupied by Koswell and Larkspur and listened. The students within were snoring.

  “No use,” said Tom softly. “We’ll have to catch them some other way—if they are guilty,” And his brothers agreed with him.

  CHAPTER XVI

  SOMETHING ABOUT A CANE

  But if Koswell and Larkspur were guilty, they kept very quiet about it, and the Rover boys were unable to prove anything against them. The bill for the cut-up tire came to Dick, and he paid it.

  The college talk was now largely about football, and one day a notice was posted that all candidates for admission on the big eleven should register at the gymnasium.

  “I think I’ll put my name down,” said Tom.

  “And I’ll do the same,” returned Dick, “but I doubt if well get much of a show, since they know nothing of our playing qualities here.”

  There were about thirty candidates, including thirteen who had played on the big team before. But two of these candidates were behind in then studies, and had to be dropped, by order of the faculty.

  “That leaves a full eleven anyway of old players,” said Sam. “Not much hope for you,” he added to his brothers.

  “They’ll do considerable shifting; every college team does,” said Dick; and he was right. After a good deal of scrub work and a general sizing up of the different candidates, four of the old players were dropped, while another went to the substitutes’ bench.

  It was now a question between nine of the new candidates, and after another tryout Dick was put in as a guard, he having shown an exceptional fitness for filling that position. Tom got on the substitutes’ bench, which was something, if not much. Then practice began in earnest, for the college was to play a game against Roxley, another college, on a Saturday, ten days later.

  “I hope you win, Dick,” said Sam, “And it’s a pity you didn’t get on the gridiron, Tom,” he continued.

  “Oh, I’ll get on, sooner or later,” answered Tom with a grin. “Football is no baby play, and somebody is bound to get hurt.”

  “You’re not wishing that, are you?” asked Songbird.

  “No, indeed! But I know how it goes. Haven’t I been hurt myself, more than once?”

  The football game was to take place at Brill, on the athletic field, and the college students were privileged to invite a certain number of their friends. The Rovers promptly invited Dora, Nellie and Grace, and it was arranged that Sam should see to it that the girls got there.

  “Sam will have as good a time as anybody,” said Tom. “He’ll have the three girls all to himself.”

  “Well, you can’t have everything in this world,” replied the youngest Rover with a grin. “I guess football honors will be enough for you this time.”

  “If we win,” put in Dick. “I understand Roxley has a splendid eleven this season. They won out at Stanwell yesterday, 24 to 10.”

  “I hear they are heavier than we are,” said Tom. “At least ten pounds to the man. That is going to count for something.”

  At that moment William Philander Tubbs came up. He was attired, as usual, in the height of fashion, and sported a light gold-headed cane.

  “For gracious sake, look at Tubby!” exclaimed Sam. “Talk about a fashion plate!”

  “Hello, Billy boy!” called out Tom. “Going to make a social call on your washerwoman?”

  “No. He’s going to town to buy a pint of peanuts,” said Sam.

  “I thought he might be going to a funeral-dressed so soberly,” added Dick, and this caused a general laugh, for Tubbs was attired in a light gray suit, patent leathers with spats, and a cream-colored necktie, with gloves to match.

  “How do you do?” said William Philander politely, as if he had not seen the others in the classrooms an hour before. “Pleasant day.”

  “Looks a bit stormy to me,” answered Dick, as he saw several sophomores eyeing Tubbs angrily. It was against the rule of Brill for a freshman to carry a cane.

  “Stormy, did you say?” repeated the dude in dismay. “Why, I—ah—thought it very fine, don’t you know. Perhaps I had better take an—ah—umbrella instead of this cane.

  “It would be much safer,” returned Dick significantly.

  “But I—ah—don’t see any clouds,” went on William Philander, gazing up into the sky.

  “They are coming,” cried Tom.

  “Stand from under!” called out Sam.

  And then the “clouds” did come, although not the kind the dude anticipated. Six sophomores came up behind Tubbs, and while two caught him by the arms a third wrenched the gold-headed cane from his grasp.

  “Hi! hi! Stop that, I say!” cried William Philander in alarm. “Let me alone! Give me back my cane!”

  “You don’t get this cane back, freshie,” answered one of the second-year students.

  “You must give it to me! Why, Miss Margaret DeVoe Marlow gave me that cane last summer, when we were at Newport. I want—”

  “No more cane for you, freshie!” was the cry. And then, to Tubbs’ untold horror, one of the sophomores placed the cane across his knee as if to break it in two.

  “Don’t you break that cane! Don’t you dare to do it!” cried the dude, and then he commenced to struggle violently, for the cane was very dear to him, being a birthday gift from one of his warmest lady friends. In the scuffle which followed William Philander had his collar and necktie torn from him and his coat was split up the back.

  “Say, this is going too far!” cried Dick, and then he raised his voice: “Freshmen to the rescue!”

  “This is none of your affair,” growled the sophomore who had led the attack on Tubbs.

  “Don’t break that cane!” cried Tom. “If you do somebody will get a bloody nose!”

  “We’ll do as we please!” cried several second-year students.

  Then Tom and Sam rushed for the cane and got hold of it. Two sophomores held fast on the other side, and a regular tug-of-war ensued. In the meantime other sophomores were making life miserable for Tubbs. They took his hat and used it for a football, and threw the dude on his back and piled on top of him until he thought his ribs were going to be stove in.

  “What’s the row?” The call came from Stanley, and he and Max appeared, followed by Songbird and several others.

  “Attack on Tubblets!” called Tom. “To the rescue, everybody! Save the cane!”

  And then a crowd of at least twelve students surrounded the cane, hauling and twisting it this way and that. It was a determined but good-natured crowd. The sophomores felt they must break the offending stick i
nto bits, while the freshmen considered it the part of honor to save the same bit of wood from destruction.

  At last Sam saw his chance, and with a quick movement he leaped directly on the shoulders of one of the second-year students. As the fellow went down he caught hold of two of his chums to save himself. This loosened the hold on the cane, and in a twinkling Sam, aided by Stanley, had it in his possession. He leaped down and started on a run for the dormitory.

  “After him! Get the cane!”

  “Don’t let him get away with it!”

  “Nail him, somebody!”

  So the cries rang out. Several sophomores tried to head the youngest Rover off, but he was too quick for them. He dodged to the right and the left, and hurled one boy flat. Then he ran around a corner of a building, mounted the steps to a side door, and disappeared from view.

  “Hurrah for Sam Rover!”

  “Say, that was as good as a run on the football field!”

  “That’s the time the sophs got left.”

  “Hi! Where’s my cane?” howled William Philander, gazing around in perplexity as soon as the second-year students let go of him.

  “Sam has it,” answered Tom. “And it wasn’t broken, either,” he added with pride.

  “But—ah—why did he—ah—run away with it?” queried Tubbs innocently.

  “To stop the slaughter of the innocents,” answered Dick. “He’ll give it back to you later. But don’t try to carry it again,” went on Dick in a low voice.

  “Just look at me!” moaned William Philander as he gazed at the wreck of his outfit. “Look at this tie—and it cost me a dollar and seventy-five cents!”

  “Be thankful you weren’t killed,” answered a sophomore. “Don’t you know better than to carry a cane.”

  “I—ah—fancy I’ll carry a cane if I wish,” answered Tubbs with great dignity.

  “Not around Brill,” answered several.

  “And—ah—why not?”

  “Because you’re a freshie, that’s why. You can wear the colors—because of the necktie rush—but you can’t carry a cane.”

  “Oh—ah—so that’s it!” cried William Philander, a light breaking in on him. “But why didn’t you come up politely and tell me so, instead of rushing at me like a—ah—like mad bulls? It was very rude, don’t you know.”

  “Next time we’ll send you a scented note by special liveried messenger,” said one of the second-year students in disgust.

  “We’ll have it on engraved paper, too,” added another.

  “Thank you. That will be—ah—better,” replied William Philander calmly. “But look at my suit,” he continued, and gave a groan. “I can’t—ah—make any afternoon calls today, and I was going to a pink tea—”

  “Wow! A pink tea, boys!” yelled one of the boys. “Wouldn’t that rattle your back teeth?”

  “Never mind, Tubby. The cook will give you a cup of coffee instead,” said Tom.

  “I should think you’d feel blue instead of pink,” added Spud Jackson.

  “Sew up the coat with a shoestring, and let it go at that,” suggested Max.

  “If you want to paste that collar fast again I’ve got a bottle of glue,” said Songbird.

  “Now—ah—don’t you poke fun at me!” stormed William Philander. “Haven’t I suffered enough already?”

  “Why, we’re not poking fun; we’re weeping,” said Tom, and pretended to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.

  “I am so sorry I could eat real doughnuts,” said Dick.

  “Maybe you want to send a substitute to that pink tea,” came from Stanley. “You might call on Professor Sharp.”

  “Or Pinkey, the watchman,” said Max. “He’ll do it for a quarter, maybe.”

  “I—ah—don’t want any substitute,” growled William Philander. “I—ah—think you are—ah—very rude, all of you. I am going back to my room, that is what I am going to do.”

  At this Tom began to sing softly:

  “Don’t be angry, William, darling!

  Wipe the raindrops from your eyes.

  All your sorrows will be passing

  When you’re eating Christmas pies!”

  “You stop that—you mean thing!” burst out the dude, and then turning, he almost ran for the dormitory, the laughter of the students ringing out loudly after him.

  CHAPTER XVII

  A MISUNDERSTANDING

  “Here’s a letter from father—quite an important one, too,” said Dick as he joined his brothers in one of the rooms several days later.

  “What about?” questioned Sam, while Tom looked up from a book with interest.

  “It’s about Tad Sobber and that fortune from Treasure Isle,” answered Dick.

  “What! Has that rascal showed up again?” exclaimed Tom.

  “He has; and according to what father says, he is going to make all the trouble possible for the Stanhopes and the Lanings,”

  “That’s too bad,” said Sam.

  “I’ll read the letter,” went on Dick, and proceeded to do so. In part the communication ran as follows:

  “You wrote that you knew about Sobber’s call upon Mrs. Stanhope. Well, after the girls left for Hope Seminary, Sobber and a lawyer named Martin Snodd called upon Mr. Laning and then upon me. Sobber was very bitter, and he wanted to know all about what had been done with the treasure. He claims that he and his uncle, who is dead, were robbed of the boxes. Evidently Sobber and the lawyer had talked the matter over carefully, for the latter intimated that Sobber might settle the case if the Stanhopes and the Lanings would give him seventy-five per cent. of the fortune. Mr. Laning did not wish to go to law, and told Sobber he might be willing to settle for a small amount, say two or three thousand dollars. But Sobber wouldn’t listen to this, and went off declaring he would have it all.

  “‘Since that time Martin Snodd has been busy, and he has obtained a temporary injunction against the Stanhopes and the Lanings, so that they cannot touch a dollar of the money, which, as you know, is now in several banks. The matter will now have to await the result of the case, which will probably be tried in court some months from now.

  “‘I have learned that Sobber has little or no money, and that Martin Snodd has taken the case on speculation, Sobber to allow him half of whatever he gets out of it. Snodd’s reputation is anything but good, so I am afraid he will have a lot of evidence manufactured to order. I have recommended a firm of first-class lawyers to Mrs. Stanhope and the Lanings, and they will, of course, fight the matter to the bitter end.”

  “This is too bad!” cried Sam after Dick had finished. “So the fortune is tied up so they can’t spend a cent of what’s left?”

  “They can’t touch a cent until the courts decide who the fortune really belongs to,” answered Dick, “and if Sobber should win, the Stanhopes and the Lanings will have to pay back that which they have already used.”

  “Oh, how can Sobber win?” cried Tom. “Father said the Stanhope and Laning claims were perfectly legal.”

  “True, Tom; but you can never tell how a case is going to turn out in court. If this Martin Snodd is a shyster he may have all sorts of evidence cooked up against our friends. Sobber would most likely swear to anything, and so would some of the sailors saved from the Josephine. And then there are some of Sid Merrick’s other relatives, who would try to benefit by the case. They’d probably testify in favor of Sobber, for they wouldn’t expect anything from Mrs. Stanhope or the Lanings.”

  “But the records of Mr. Stanhope’s business deals ought, to be clear,” said Sam.

  “They are not as clear as one would wish, so father told me,” answered Dick. He gave a long sigh. “Too bad! And just when we thought the Stanhopes and the Lanings could sit down and enjoy all that fortune.”

  “I wonder if the girls know of this yet?” mused Tom.

  “M
ost likely they have had word from home,” answered Dick.

  “It will make them feel pretty sore,” said Sam.

  “Yes, it would make anybody feel sore,” answered the oldest Rover. “We’ll have to drive over and see, the first chance we get.”

  When they met the girls the boys learned that they knew all about the affair. All were worried, and showed it.

  “This will upset mamma very much,” said Dora. “I am afraid it will put her in bed.”

  “It’s too bad, but it can’t be helped,” said Dick.

  “Dick, do you think we ought to buy Sobber off?”

  “No. He doesn’t deserve a cent of that money.”

  “Papa says the case will not come up for a long time, the courts are so crowded with cases,” remarked Nellie. “He is about as worried as anybody, for he has already spent several thousand dollars, and if we lose he won’t know how to pay it back,”

  “We’ll lend him the cash,” said Tom promptly, and for this Nellie gave him a grateful look.

  The boys did their best to cheer up the girls, but their efforts were not entirely successful. All felt that the coming legal contest would be a bitter one, and that Tad Sobber and the shyster lawyer who was aiding him would do all in their power to get possession of the fortune found on Treasure Isle.

  The girls were coming to the football game with Sam, and all said they trusted Brill would win the contest.

  “We are all going to carry Brill flags,” said Grace, “and I am going to root—isn’t that what you call it?—as hard as I can.”

  “Then we’ll be sure to win!” cried Dick.

  Yet the oldest Rover was by no means confident. The Brill eleven had heard that their opponents were in the pink of condition. They had played three games already, and won all of them. Brill had played against the scrub only, which was hardly a test of what it could do.

  The day for the contest dawned clear and bright, and early in the afternoon the visitors from Roxley, Hope, and other institutions of learning, as well as from Ashton and other towns, commenced to pour in. They came on foot, in carriages and automobiles, and on bicycles, and soon the grandstand and the bleachers were filled to overflowing. Flags and college colors were in evidence everywhere, and so were horns and rattles.