LITMIR.BIZ

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because he didn’t do anything,” said Spud.

      “Aw! give us a rest!” muttered Flockley, and then walked away without another word.

      “Say, did anybody notice William Philander Tubbs?” queried Will Faley. “He didn’t do much towards rescuing the girls, but when they got ashore he ran all the way to the college to get a whisk broom, to brush them off!”

      “Hurrah for Washtub! He’s the real hero!” cried Tom. “He thinks of the truly important things!”

      “It was a grand spectacle – the thick black smoke pouring from that steamer,” came from Songbird. “I – er – I helped to get the sand. But even as I worked I couldn’t help but make up a few lines. They run like this:”

      “All wrapt in flames, behold our craft!

      She’ll plough the main no more!

      Her gallant crew may well shed tears – ”

      “She’s burnt out to the core!”

      finished Tom. “Only that isn’t true, for the Thistle wasn’t burnt to the core – in fact, the captain says she was burnt very little – thanks to the unswerving devotion of the gallant band of Brill fire-fighters who, undaunted by the terrifying perils of the horrible occasion succeeded, after almost superhuman endeavors, in quelling – ”

      “Great hambones! Tom’s sprung a leak!” interrupted Sam. “Tom, put on your low speed, or you’ll run away with yourself.”

      “Ha, wretch! to interrupt such a superb flow of oratory!” cried the fun-loving Rover, in assumed grieved tones.

      “As if you didn’t interrupt my poetry,” came ruefully from Songbird. “The next time I – er – recite I’ll see to it that you are not around.”

      “Don’t do it, Birdie, I beg of you. I wouldn’t miss your verses for a quart of freckles.”

      “Ashton – and the telegraph office!” sang out Dick. “Who is going along?” And the touch of hard feelings between Tom and Songbird was forgotten. Tom knew he had no right to interrupt the would-be poet the way he did, but – well, Tom was Tom, and he couldn’t help it.

      The matter was talked over, and a party of nine was made up, including the Rovers and Songbird and Stanley. Soon the lads were on the way, having received permission from Doctor Wallington to be a little late for supper.

      “We’ll return home by the Carlip Road,” said Dick.

      “Right you are,” added Tom. He knew this would please Songbird, for the route mentioned would take them past the Sanderson farm, and the would-be poet would have a chance to see Minnie, the farmer’s daughter, with whom Songbird had of late been quite smitten.

      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,

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