“Blackie Crowden, as sure as fate!” murmured Sam, as soon as he got a good look at the fellow’s features. “Well, if this isn’t luck!”
“Evidently you know this fellow,” came from Chester Waltham, curiously.
“We sure do!” declared Sam. “He’s the man who knocked our college chum, John Powell, down on the road near Ashton and robbed him of four thousand dollars.”
“I di-didn’t r-r-rob any bo-body,” stuttered Blackie Crowden. “It’s all a mi-mis-mis-mista-ta-take!” and he ended with his usual queer whistle.
“We’ll see about that later, Crowden,” put in Dick, sternly. “Now you sit perfectly still or else maybe you’ll go overboard and be drowned.”
It would be difficult to describe the joy with which Ada Waltham greeted her brother on his safe return. She flew into his arms and, as wet as he was, hugged him over and over again.
“Oh! I was so afraid you’d be drowned, Chester!” and then she added quickly: “How grand it was for the Rovers to go to your assistance!”
“It certainly was very fine of them to do it,” returned the young millionaire. And now it must be admitted that he seemed very much disturbed in mind. “I’m going to pay them back, you see if I don’t,” he added, after a thoughtful pause.
Blackie Crowden had done his best to make them believe that he was not guilty of the attack upon Songbird, but the Rovers would not listen to this, and put him through such a grilling that finally he broke down and confessed all.
“I wouldn’t have done the deed at all if it hadn’t been that I was worried over another matter,” he said amid much stuttering and whistling. “I ain’t a bad man naturally, even though I do drink and gamble a little. If it hadn’t been for a lawyer named Belright Fogg I would never have robbed the young man.”
“Belright Fogg!” came from the Rovers.
“What has that shyster lawyer to do with it?” added Sam.
“Do you know he is a shyster lawyer?”
“We sure do!” added Tom, promptly.
“Then you will understand me when I tell you how it was. Some time ago I was mixed up in a land transaction. It is a long story, and all I need to tell you is that Belright Fogg was in it, too. I did some things that I oughtn’t to, and that gave Fogg a hold on me. Finally he claimed that I owed him three hundred dollars, and he said if I didn’t pay up he would make it hot for me and maybe land me in jail. That got me scared and I said I’d get the money somehow.
“Then by accident I saw Powell get the money from the bank, and I followed him on horseback, passed him, and took the cash, as you know. As soon as the deed was done I was sorry for it, but then it was too late,” stuttered Blackie Crowden, and hung his head.
“And did you go to Belright Fogg and give him the three hundred dollars?” queried Sam.
“Yes. I met him in Leadenfield, at a road house kept by a Frenchman named Bissette.”
“Then I was right after all!” cried Sam. “I accused Fogg of meeting you, but he denied it.”
“Well, he got the three hundred all right enough,” stuttered Crowden.
“And how was it you tried to keep out of our sight in that flood?” asked Sam curiously. “Did you know us?”
“I knew you—saw you follow me to the depot at Dentonville. You thought I got on that train. But I didn’t—I took a night freight.”
“I see. That is why the authorities didn’t spot you.”
“That’s it. But you were asking about Fogg,” continued Blackie Crowden, speculatively.
“And did he know you had stolen the money?” demanded Dick, sharply.
“I’m pretty sure he did, although he didn’t ask any questions. He knew about the robbery, and he knew well enough that I didn’t have any three hundred dollars of my own to give him.”
“What did you do with the rest of the money, Crowden? I hope you didn’t spend it?” questioned Sam, anxiously.
“Spend it!” came in a bitter stutter from the criminal. “I didn’t get any chance to spend it. All I had was two hundred dollars!”
“Then what became of the other thirty-five hundred?” questioned Tom.
“It’s in a room at the Ashton hotel, unless somebody found it and stole it.”
“At the Ashton hotel!” cried Sam.
“That’s it. You see, after I met Fogg I stopped at Ashton for one night and put up at the old hotel on the Cheesley turnpike. I hid the money in an out-of-the-way corner of a clothes closet, because I didn’t want to carry it on my person. Then, when I was on the street, I heard that you were on my trail, and I got scared and I was afraid to go back to the hotel to get it.”
“Can you remember what room it was?” queried Tom.
“Yes, it was a back room—number twenty-two. I put the money in a hole in the wall back of an upper shelf.”
“We had better notify the authorities at Ashton of this,” said Tom to his brothers.
“Let us telegraph to Songbird and tell him to go to Ashton,” suggested Sam. “If the money is there, Songbird ought to have the fun of getting it and returning it to Mr. Sanderson.”
“All right, let’s do it!” cried Dick; and so the matter was arranged.
CHAPTER XXX
MRS. SAM ROVER—CONCLUSION
“Well, that’s good news and I’m mighty glad to hear it.”
It was Dick who spoke, three days after the incidents recorded in the last chapter. Our friends had been staying at the farmhouse of Mr. Barlow. Blackie Crowden had been turned over to the local authorities, the oldest Rover making the charge against him. Crowden had pleaded for mercy, but the boys, while sympathizing with him, had thought it best to let the law take its course. Chester Waltham and his sister had also remained at the farmhouse, which fortunately was a large one, so that the whole party was not particularly crowded for room.
The rescue of the young millionaire from the river had worked wonders, and he was now heartily ashamed of himself, not only for the way he had treated Grace but also on account of the instructions he had sent to his agents in Wall Street.
“You can rest assured, Mr. Rover, that my opposition to your plans in New York will be withdrawn,” he said to Dick. “I am going to telegraph to my agents as soon as I get a chance. And I want you and your brothers to understand that I appreciate thoroughly your goodness in coming to my rescue. It was a splendid thing to do. I am not going to insult you by offering you any reward—all I can say is that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” And that evening Chester Waltham and his sister had taken their departure, stating that the accident at the bridge had ended their idea of touring farther, and that they were going to take the first train they could get for the East.
The thing that Dick called “good news” was a long “Night Letter” sent over the wires by Songbird. The former poet of Brill had received their message concerning Blackie Crowden, and also Belright Fogg, and had at once hurried to Ashton and to the hotel on the Cheesley turnpike. There, in room twenty-two, as mentioned by Crowden, he had found the package containing the thirty-five hundred dollars. Next he had called on Belright Fogg and had scared the shyster lawyer so completely that Fogg had returned the three hundred dollars received from Crowden with scarcely a protest. Then the happy youth had driven over to the Sanderson place. The Sandersons had been surprised to see him and amazed to learn that he had recovered so large a portion of the stolen money.
“As I had already paid Mr. Sanderson one hundred dollars,” wrote Songbird, “it made a total of thirty-nine hundred returned to him, and he told me that I need not bother about the other hundred. But I paid it just the same, for I had just been fortunate enough to sell six of my poems—two to a magazine and four to a weekly paper—for one hundred and sixty dollars.
“Of course we had a grand time, and Mr. Sanderson has forgiven everything. He and Minnie think you are mighty smart fell
ows, and I agree with them. Minnie and I have fixed matters all up between us, and we are the happiest couple you ever saw. I don’t know how to thank you enough for what you have done for me, and all I can add is, God bless you, every one!”
“Good old Songbird!” murmured Sam, as he read the communication a second time. “I’ll wager he feels a hundred per cent. better than he did.”
“And to think he sold six of his poems!” commented Tom. “I shouldn’t wonder if he thinks more of that than he does of getting the money back,” he added, somewhat drily.
On the following day came another telegram, this time from Mr. Rover, stating that the opposition of the Waltham interests in Wall Street had been suddenly withdrawn. But he added that business matters in the metropolis were becoming more and more arduous for him, and he asked when Dick expected to get back.
“I’m afraid it’s getting too much for dear, old dad,” was Dick’s comment, on perusing this message. “I think the best thing I can do is to get back and help him.”
“Well, if you go back, I think I’ll go back myself,” said Tom. “Anyway, this tour seems to have come to a standstill, with so much rain.”
“I’m willing to go back if you fellows say so,” put in Sam.
“I’ll wager he and Grace want to get ready for their wedding,” remarked Tom, slily.
“That’s just what we do,” returned Sam, boldly. “We’re going to be married early this fall, aren’t we, Grace?” and he gazed fondly at the girl, who nodded, and then turned away to hide her blushes.
But the tour did not come to an end as quickly as might have been expected. On the day following it was such fair weather that they left the Barlow farm and started once more on their trip westward. Colorado Springs was soon gained, and, passing on to Manitou, they left the automobiles, and took the cog railway to the summit of Pike’s Peak. Then, on the day following, they motored up to Denver.
“We can ship our automobiles home by freight,” said Dick, “and by returning by train we can be back in New York in no time.”
A week later found the entire party once more in the East. While Dick and Tom settled down to help their father at the offices in Wall Street, the others returned to Valley Brook and to Cedarville, to prepare for the coming wedding.
“And where is it to be, Sam?” questioned Tom, when the brothers were on the point of parting.
“Oh, it can only be in one place,” was Sam’s answer.
“And I guess I know where that is,” returned Tom, with a grin.
Both Dick and Tom had been married in the Cedarville Union Church, a little stone edifice covered with ivy, which was located not a great distance from the homes of the Lanings and the Stanhopes, and also Putnam Hall. As before, it was a question if the numerous guests who were expected to the ceremony would be able to get into the building. But both Grace and Sam said they would have to make the best of it.
As soon as the wedding invitations were issued, the presents began to come in, and they were fully as numerous and as costly as had been the gifts bestowed upon Dora and upon Nellie. From Mr. Rover came, as was to be expected, a bankbook containing an amount written therein which was the duplicate of that he had bestowed upon Dick and Dora and likewise upon Tom and Nellie.
“You can always depend on dad,” was Sam’s comment, his voice choking a little. “The best dad anybody ever had!”
“Indeed you are right!” answered the bride-to-be. “And I’m going to love him just as if he were my own father.”
Sam’s own present to his bride was a gold wrist-watch set in diamonds and pearls—a beautiful affair over which the happy girl went wild with delight.
At last came the eventful day, full of golden sunshine. All of the Rovers had arrived in Cedarville and were quartered at the hotel. Many other guests were at the Stanhope homestead and at the Laning farm, and still others—former cadets—had come back not only to attend the wedding but also to take another look at dear old Putnam Hall.
Among the old guard who had thus presented themselves were Fred Garrison, Larry Colby, Bart Conners and Harry Blossom. Among those who had attended Brill were Stanley Browne, Spud Jackson, Bob Grimes and, of course, Songbird.
“I’m engaged to Minnie,” whispered the latter to the Rovers at the first opportunity. “We are going to be married just as soon as my income will permit. And what do you think? I’ve sold four more poems—got eighty dollars for them,” and his face beamed as they had never seen it shine before.
“I congratulate you, Songbird,” returned Sam, heartily. “I certainly hope you get to be the best-known poet in the United States.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I am going to buckle down to business. My uncle thinks I am doing wonderfully well, and he says if I keep on he is going to give me a substantial increase in salary after the first of the year. I’m going to write verses just as a side issue.”
As at the other weddings, the ceremony was set for high noon. Soon the guests began to arrive, and before long the old church was crowded to its capacity, with many standing up in the aisles and in the rear and even at the side windows, which were wide open.
Captain Putnam, in full uniform and looking a little grayer than ever, was there, and with him, George Strong, his head assistant, with whom Sam had always been very friendly. There were also numerous girls there who had formerly attended Hope Seminary, and of these one was a flower girl and two were bridesmaids.
Sam’s best man was his old Putnam Hall chum, Fred Garrison, while among the ushers were Songbird, Stanley, Spud, Bob, and some others of his former classmates.
Presently the organ pealed out and the minister appeared, followed a moment later by Sam. Then up the aisle came Grace on the arm of Mr. Laning, and daintily attired in white with a flowing veil beset with orange blossoms.
“Oh, how pretty she looks!” said more than one; and they spoke the truth, for Grace certainly made a beautiful bride.
The ceremony was a brief but solemn one, and then, as the organ pealed out joyously, the happy pair walked forth from the church, to enter an automobile which whirled them off to the Laning homestead. To that place they were followed by a great number of invited guests. An elaborate wedding dinner had been prepared, and an orchestra from the city had been hired, and all sat down to a feast of good things with music.
“We’ll have to give them a send-off—same as they gave me,” said Tom to his brother Dick, while the festivities were at their height. “They’ll be getting ready to go away soon.”
“Sure! we’ll give them a send-off,” returned the oldest brother. “Come on, let us get busy.”
Down at the barns an automobile was in readiness to take Sam and his bride away on their wedding trip. This car Dick and Tom and a number of others lost no time in decorating with white streamers and a placard which read: We are on our wedding trip. Congratulate us.
“Aren’t you going to stay to have a dance?” questioned Nellie of her sister, a little later.
“Of course,” answered Grace; and shortly after that she and Sam tripped around to the tuneful measures of a two-step. All of the young folks present joined in, the older folks looking on with much satisfaction.
“I can hardly believe it,” declared old Aunt Martha, as she took off her spectacles to wipe her eyes. “Why, it don’t seem no time since Sam was just a baby!”
The dancing continued for some time but then, of a sudden, came a cry from Dora:
“Where are Sam and Grace? I don’t see them anywhere.”
“They are gone! They have given us the slip!”
“No, they’ve gone upstairs. Wait here, and we’ll give them a shower.”
The young folks gathered in the hallway and out on the piazza, and a few minutes later Sam and Grace appeared, both ready for their tour. Then came a grand shower of rice and confetti, mingled with two or three old shoes, and in the midst
of this the happy, laughing young couple escaped to the automobile which was now drawn up before the door. The chauffeur was ready for the start, and in an instant more the machine shot down the lane and out into the roadway.
“Good-bye! Good-bye and good luck to you!” was the cry.
“Good-bye, everybody!” came back from the touring car, and Sam and Grace stood up to wave their hands to those left behind. Then the touring car disappeared around a turn of the road, and they were gone.
* * * *
And now let me add a few words more and thus bring to a close this long series of adventures in which the three Rover boys, Dick, Tom, and Sam, have played such an important part.
A number of years have passed and many changes of importance have occurred. Mr. Anderson Rover has retired from active participation in The Rover Company, and Dick is now the president, with Tom secretary and Sam treasurer. The concern is doing remarkably well and all of the Rovers are reported to be wealthy. The father has returned to the farm at Valley Brook, where he lives in peace and comfort with Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha, who, despite their years, are still in the best of health.
A year after Sam’s marriage to Grace, Songbird Powell married Minnie Sanderson. The would-be poet has made quite a business man of himself and, what perhaps is of even greater pleasure to himself, has had many of his poems accepted by our leading periodicals.
When Sam was first married he went to live in an apartment close to those occupied by Dick and Tom, but two years later the three brothers had a chance to buy a beautiful plot of ground on Riverside Drive, facing the noble Hudson River, and on this they built three beautiful houses adjoining one another.
“I guess we are in New York to stay,” was the way the oldest brother had expressed himself, “and if that is so we may as well make ourselves as comfortable here as possible.”
Before the young folks moved into the new homes Dick and Dora were blessed with a little son, who later on was named John after Mr. John Laning. Little Jack, as he was always called by the others, was a wonderfully bright and clever lad and a great source of comfort to his parents. Later still the young couple had a daughter, whom they named Martha after Dick’s aunt.
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