“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.
“Gilson, you know my brother Tom,” he said. “Have you seen him?”
“Saw him outside quite a while ago,” was the reply.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He was near the gym.”
“Thanks.”
It did not take Sam long to reach the campus. Fully a score of Brill students were in evidence, but a quick glance showed that Tom was not among them.
“Hello, Sam!” came from Bob Grimes, one of the crowd. “How goes it this morning?”
“Fine, Bob. Have you seen Tom?”
“Yes, he took a walk down the road.”
“Which way?”
“Towards town.”
“Long ago?”
“Best part of half an hour, I guess.”
Sam said no more but hurried across the broad campus and on to the highway leading to Ashton. The big bell in the tower was sending out its last call for breakfast. Sam put down the road on a run, all sorts of thoughts wandering through his brain. What if Tom was clean out of his mind and had wandered off?
“Whoop! Sam! Where bound in such a hurry, child?” came the unexpected call from a nearby field, and Tom vaulted the rail fence lightly. “Taking the morning air, like myself?”
“Tom!” gasped the younger brother, coming to a halt. He ran up closer and gave the other a quick look. Tom’s eyes were as bright as they had ever been. “Are you feeling all right this morning?” he faltered.
“Best I’ve felt in a long time, Sam. Say, were you coming after me?” demanded Tom, quickly.
“Yes, if you want to know.”
“Thought I was going to run away, eh? Well, you’re mistaken, Sammy, my son. I’m not going to do anything of the sort. You know how bad I felt yesterday.”
“You certainly were bad yesterday. But come on, it’s time for breakfast.”
“All right, Sam,” and the two walked to the college side by side. “Say, I did some queer things yesterday, didn’t I?” went on the fun-loving Rover, anxiously.
“You certainly did, Tom.”
“Got Spud and Stanley in a regular mess.”
“Worse than that. They were in danger of their lives.”
“I was a fool, Sam, a regular, downright fool, and I’ll tell ’em so when I get a chance. But it was my head,—it wasn’t just right.”
“You must take another pill, Tom. Here it is, take it as soon as you can get some water.”
“All right, Sam, you’re the doctor and what you say goes. I certainly don’t want to act like I did yesterday again,” and poor Tom looked greatly worried.
“It’s that crack you got on the head, Tom. You want to go slow with studying and with all excitement. Maybe you had better go back home and take it easy.”
“Well, I will if I don’t feel stronger in a week or two,” was the slow and thoughtful answer. And then Tom put his hand to the back of his head, as he had done so many times lately.
It was not until the noon hour that the fun-loving Rover had a chance to talk to Spud and Stanley. He went up to both of his chums frankly and told them what he had told Sam.
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Spud, quickly. “I knew you weren’t yourself, Tom. Don’t say anything more about it.”
With Stanley, however, it was different. He had spoiled a good suit of clothing and scratched his chin and hands. Sam had told him to send the suit to the cleaner’s at the Rovers’ expense, but even this had not altogether satisfied the big student.
“It was a mean joke, and I don’t like it,” said Stanley. “It was no sort of thing to do at all, Tom Rover. If you are going to act like that in the future I don’t want anything to do with you,” and he left Tom standing helplessly where the two had met. Then Tom rejoined Sam, feeling as uncomfortable as ever.
“I suppose it is all right, Tom,” said his younger brother.
“It’s all right as far as Spud is concerned,” was the moody reply.
“What about Stanley, didn’t you speak to him?”
“I did, but he is as mad as hops. He said if I was going to play that kind of jokes he didn’t want anything to do with me,” and Tom sank in an easy chair in the room. “Sam, I guess I put my foot in it that time. Stanley is a fine fellow and if he talks like that he’s got a reason for it.”
“He doesn’t understand the situation, Tom. I’ll speak to him as soon as I get a chance.”
“No, don’t do it. I told him how it was, but he won’t believe it. And why should he? I’m all right, am I not? I’m not crazy, or anything like that, am I?” and Tom looked at his brother pleadingly. “I ought to know what I am doing.”
“Of course you are not crazy, Tom. Nobody said you were. That crack on the head put you—well, a little out of sorts, that’s all.”
“If I thought I was going crazy, I’d—I’d—well I guess I’d jump overboard,” said Tom, and he heaved a deep sigh. Then he very abruptly turned to the table, got out one of his text books, and commenced to study.
CHAPTER VI
BOYS AND GIRLS
“Hurrah, Tom! Here’s good news!”
“From Dick and Dora?”
“Yes. They will be here at half-past two. Dick stopped to transact that business first, so he and Dora can spend the rest of the time with us and with the girls at Hope. Isn’t that just fine?” And Sam’s face showed his pleasure.
“All to the merry,” was Tom’s comment. “Say, I guess we can all go over to Hope together, can’t we?” he asked anxiously.
“We’ll make a try for it anyway,” returned his brother.
It was the day after the events recorded in the last chapter, and Tom had declared in the morning that he felt b
etter than ever. He had even gone out on the campus to joke with Songbird and William Philander Tubbs, and speak a few words with Spud. Stanley had seen him and kept out of his way, and that was the only cloud on the horizon.
“I’ve got nothing on today after two o’clock,” went on Tom, with a grin. “How about you?”
“I’ve got a physics lecture, but I guess I can cut it,” answered Sam. “I’ll get Spud to tell me all about it afterwards. I wouldn’t miss the chance to go to Hope for anything.”
They had heard from Dick early in the morning by telegram, and now had come in a message over the long-distance telephone. The oldest Rover brother and his bride were making the tour in the Rover family car, doing this for the express purpose of giving the others a ride when they stopped at Brill and Hope. Dick of course wanted to see all the boys at the college and Dora was equally anxious to visit with the girls at the seminary.
Promptly on time the shrill tone of an auto horn was heard, and Tom and Sam ran across the campus to greet the new arrivals. Dick was at the wheel and Dora sat beside him, smiling and blushing prettily. In the tonneau of the big car rested several bags and wraps.
“Welcome to our city!” sang out Tom gaily. “And how is Mrs. Rover this afternoon?” and he made a profound bow and swept the ground with his cap.
“The same old Tom, I see!” cried Dora gaily. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, quickly.
“Sure,” was the answer. Tom was the last one to put on a doleful face in front of a lady.
“Talk about style,” came from Sam, merrily. “Nothing like keeping the Rover name up!” And he leaped on the running board and shook hands. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Fine. Not a puncture,” answered Dick.
“Oh, it was just too lovely for anything!” cried Dora. “If Dick had the time I’d like to go on a tour for a month!”
“I thought maybe you fellows would like to get in and run over to Hope,” went on Dick, with a smile.
“You couldn’t keep us out,” answered Tom, promptly.
“We telephoned for them to be ready for us,” said Dora. “But you will have to take our baggage out, to make room.”
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