The messages for the Lanings and Mrs. Stanhope were soon despatched, and the Rovers also sent word to their folks, saying when they might be expected home. Then the crowd divided, and Tom, Dick, Sam and Songbird took to the road leading past the Sanderson cottage.
“Remember how we pitched into Flockley and Koswell here?” remarked Sam, as the farm came into view.
“Indeed I do,” answered Dick. He turned to Songbird. “You can ride ahead if you wish. We’ll go on slowly.”
“All right,” answered the other. “I won’t be long. I only want to leave a volume of ‘Poems of Love’ I picked up in a bookstore yesterday,” and away Songbird pedaled towards the Sanderson house.
“He’s got ’em sure,” said Sam, with a grin. “Well, Minnie is a nice girl.”
“Huh! I suppose Songbird has as much right to be soft on her as you have to be soft on Grace!” was Tom’s blunt comment.
“Not to mention you and Nellie,” retorted his younger brother.
The three Rovers rode past the house and then stopped to rest under a wide-spreading tree. Some June apples were handy, and they munched on these until Songbird reappeared, about a quarter of an hour later.
“Say, it took more than two minutes to deliver that book,” remarked Dick. “We were just getting ready to go on without you.”
“Don’t forget we want some supper,” added Sam.
“I—er—I just stopped to point out several poems of special interest,” explained Songbird. “One was on ‘Her Eyes So Blue and True.’ It’s a grand poem, and—”
“Let me see, Miss Sanderson’s eyes are blue, aren’t they?” questioned Sam, gravely.
“I wasn’t speaking of her eyes—I meant the poem’s—that is—those spoken of in the poem,” stammered Songbird. “By the way,” he added, hastily, to hide his confusion, “I just heard strange news. Minnie and her father were down in Ashton a couple of days ago and they saw Dudd Flockley at the depot, and he was talking with Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur.”
“Koswell and Larkspur!” exclaimed Dick. “I didn’t think they would dare to show themselves around here.”
“Just what I thought, but Mr. Sanderson and Minnie were both sure they saw the pair. They were talking very earnestly to Flockley, as if trying to get him to do something, and Minnie says Flockley said, ‘I’ll see about it—maybe I can go.’”
“Humph! Flockley promised that he would drop Koswell and Larkspur,” said Sam.
“He’d better—if he knows where he is well off,” added Tom.
“What became of Koswell and Larkspur?” questioned Dick.
“Minnie says they took the night train for the East.”
“The through train?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then they must be a good many miles from Ashton—and I am glad of it.”
“Speaking of Flockley puts me in mind of one thing—I mustn’t forget to pay for that hat I smashed,” said Tom.
“Better see him tonight and settle up,” said Dick. “And I’ll go with you. I want to speak to Flockley,” he added, thoughtfully.
When the boys returned to the college they found their classmates just finishing supper. Professor Blackie looked at them rather severely, but Sam explained that they had permission from the Head to be late, so nothing was said further.
From one of the other students Dick and Sam learned that Flockley had gone for a walk behind the gymnasium, where a path led to the river. As soon as they had finished eating Tom got some money, and he and his brother set off to find the dudish student.
“There he is!” cried Dick, after quite a long walk, and he pointed to Dudd Flockley, seated on a rustic bench, smoking a cigarette. The student was alone, and looked to be in a thoughtful mood.
“Flockley, I want to settle with you for that hat,” said Tom, as he came up. “And let me tell you honestly that I am sorry I mashed it.”
“I think you did it on purpose,” grumbled the dudish student. “You Rovers think you can do just as you please at Brill. I suppose you’ll feel more important than ever—after that affair of the burning steamer,” he added, bitterly.
“Dudd, let Tom pay you for the hat and then let me talk to you,” said Dick, quietly. “How much did it cost?”
“Five dollars.”
“Here you are then,” came from Tom, and he passed over a five-dollar bill. “I didn’t mash it on purpose, no matter what you think.”
“All right—have your own way about it, Rover,” and Dudd pocketed the bill carelessly.
“Dudd, you met Koswell and Larkspur the other day,” went on Dick, sitting down on the rustic bench.
“Did Minnie Sanderson tell you that?”
“She told Songbird Powell and he told us.”
“Well, what of it? They came to Ashton on business—they had to get their stuff away from the college.”
“Did you meet them by accident?”
“What business is that of yours?” And Dudd Flockley’s voice grew aggressive.
“Perhaps it is none of my business, Dudd. But, just the same, I am going to talk to you about it. You know all about what happened in the past. Koswell and Larkspur are bad eggs—and if they can drag you down with them they will do it. Now, you promised to turn over a new leaf and on the strength of that we went to Doctor Wallington and persuaded him to give you another chance. It isn’t fair for you to go back on your word, and take up with Koswell and Larkspur again.”
“Are you going to tell the doctor that I met them?” asked Flockley, in alarm.
“No—at least, not for the present. But I want you to promise to drop that pair.”
“I have dropped them—that is, as much as I can.”
“Then why do you meet them?”
“I’ll tell you why!” burst out the dudish student, bitterly. “Because I can’t drop them altogether. They know everything of what happened as well as I do, and they said if I dropped them entirely—refused to help them—they would expose me to the whole world! If they should tell my folks—” Flockley did not finish, but his head sunk on his breast, and Dick and Tom understood.
“It’s too bad—a burning shame!” murmured Tom. “Flockley, I am sorry from the bottom of my heart!”
“I don’t think I would take their threats too seriously,” said Dick. “They are down and out, and, of course, very bitter. But they don’t dare to come out against you openly.”
“Yes—but they can do a whole lot of things behind my back!” groaned Dudd Flockley. “Oh, you don’t know what I have suffered since Jerry and Bart ran away! They have written me letters, and they have demanded money—”
“Demanded money. Then they are blackmailers, Dudd!”
“Oh, they said I owed them the money on bets. But I didn’t—at least, I don’t think I did. But I had to give up. At the depot that day I gave them thirty dollars—all I could scrape up.”
“Where did they go to?”
“To New York, and from there they are going to Boston and then to some place off the coast of Maine.”
“And they wanted you to join them?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you do it!” cried Dick, earnestly. “Don’t you do it, Dudd! Wash your hands of them and refuse to have anything more to do with them.”
“I will—if I can,” murmured Dudd Flockley. And then, as some other students approached, the talk had to come to an end.
CHAPTER V
A CELEBRATION ON THE CAMPUS
“Say, Tom, this is great!”
“What now, Sam?”
“All of us have passed the exams with credit marks.”
“All of us? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I was in the classroom not five minutes ago and got the good word.”
“Say, that makes me feel like dancing a jig!” cried Tom Rover, and
he did a few steps on the floor of the gymnasium. “Won’t the folks at home be tickled when they hear of it!”
“Dick got the highest marks of the class,” went on the youngest Rover. “Stanley is next.”
“Where do we come in?”
“You are seventh.”
“Oh, lucky seventh!” murmured the fun-loving Rover. “It’s always that way! At baseball if I do anything at all it is usually in the seventh innings.”
“Don’t grow superstitious, Tom.”
“Where do you come in?”
“I stand fifth.”
“That’s splendid, Sam! Oh, come on and jig!” And Tom caught his brother by the waist and whirled him around. Over the gymnasium floor they went, to land suddenly into the form of William Philander Tubbs, who had just entered.
“Oh, I say, don’t you know—” spluttered William Philander. He had the breath all but knocked out of his body.
“Excuse me, Tublets,” cried Tom.
“Don’t call me Tublets, please,” expostulated the tall student. “And please don’t run into me again.”
“Oh, Sam and I were only doing a war dance,” cried Tom, gaily. “We have passed our exams.”
“You are very rude, don’t you know.”
“It shan’t occur again, Philliam Willander.”
“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 pass
ed 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.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 221
