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"Songbird" on account of his propensity for writing doggerel which he insisted on calling poetry. At the same time there came to Brill from Putnam Hall one William Philander Tubbs, a very dudish student with whom the boys often had great fun.

      It did not take the three Rover boys long to make a number of friends at Brill. These included Stanley Browne, a tall, gentlemanly youth; Bob Grimes, who was greatly interested in baseball; Will Jackson, always called Spud, because of his unusual fondness for potatoes; and Max Spangler, a German-American youth, who was still struggling with the language, and who had failed to advance in his studies, so that at the present time he was only in the sophomore class. They had also made several enemies, but these had for the time being left Brill.

      "You'll be the hero of this occasion, Sam," remarked Stanley, as the students tramped in the direction of the college campus.

      "Hero of the occasion, I suppose, for hitting Mr. Fogg in the head," returned Sam, with a slight grin.

      "Oh, forget that!" burst out Spud. "I don't think he'll do a thing. Remember the affair occurred on the college grounds, just as Stanley said."

      "Say! where is Songbird to-day?" asked Paul Orben. "He ought to have been in this fight."

      "He wanted to come very much," answered Sam, "but he had a special errand to do for Mr. Sanderson, who is laid up with a broken ankle."

      "Was he doing the errand for Mr. Sanderson or for Minnie?" questioned Stanley; and then a short laugh went up, for it was well known among the young collegians that Songbird Powell and the daughter of Mr. Sanderson, a prosperous farmer of that vicinity, were much attached to each other.

      As Sam Rover and his friends reached the college campus, a great cheer arose.

      "There he is!"

      "Here the conquering hero comes!"

      "Let us put him up on our shoulders, fellows!" and a rush was made towards the youngest Rover boy.

      "Not much! Not to-day!" returned Sam, and slid back behind some of his friends.

      "Aw! come on, Sam!" cried one of the students. "You are the hero of the occasion, and you know it."

      "Forget it, Snips," answered Sam. "What did the fellows do with those banners?"

      "Lentwell has them. He is keeping them for you. I suppose you'll nail them up in your den?"

      "Surest thing you know!"

      "Maybe the freshies and sophs will want them back," put in another youth in the crowd.

      "Not much! They can have them back after I graduate next June," answered Sam. "They have got to understand – Stop it, fellows, stop it! I don't want to – Well, if you've got to, I suppose I'll have to submit." And an instant later Sam found himself hoisted up on the shoulders of several stalwart seniors, who tramped around and around the college campus with him while all the other seniors, and also the juniors, cheered wildly and waved their caps.

      "Doesn't that make you feel proud, Sam?" asked Spud, during a lull in the proceedings.

      "It sure does, Spud," was the quick reply. "I've only got one regret – that Dick and Tom aren't here to share this victory with us."

      "Yes, it's a shame. And just to think of it, after next June, when we graduate, we'll all be scattered here, there, and everywhere, and the good old times at Brill will be a thing of the past."

      "Don't mention such things," put in Stanley. "It makes me sick clean to the heels every time I think of it. But I suppose college days can't last forever. We've got to go out into the world, just as our fathers did before us."

      "Yes, and I've got to get into business," answered Sam. "I want to help father, as well as Dick and Tom, all I can."

      "Hi, fellows!" was the unexpected cry from the lower end of the campus. "Here come the freshies and the sophs back! Line up and be ready to receive them!"

      "That's it! Line up, line up, everybody!" ordered Stanley. "Give them our old song of victory!"

      CHAPTER III

      WHAT HAPPENED TO SONGBIRD

      It was fully half an hour later before Sam Rover could break away from his college chums and run up to room Number 25, which he had formerly occupied with his brother Tom and which he now shared with Songbird Powell.

      Nearly a week before, the youngest Rover had made a date with Grace Laning, inviting her, if the snow remained on the ground, to a sleighride that afternoon and evening. At that time Sam had forgotten completely that this day was the date set for the annual snowballing contest.

      "I think I'll go anyway," he had remarked to Songbird, the day before. But then had come word to his roommate that Mr. Sanderson wanted him on a matter of importance, and Stanley, as the leader of the seniors, had insisted upon it that he could not spare both of his chums.

      "All right, then," Sam had answered finally; "you can go, Songbird, and do what Mr. Sanderson wants you to, and I'll put off my sleighride with Grace until after the contest;" and so it had been settled.

      There were no public turnouts at the college, but Sam had arranged with Abner Filbury, who worked around the place with his father, to obtain for him a first-class horse and cutter from the Ashton livery stable.

      "That horse is some goer, believe me!" remarked Abner, when he came to the door of Sam's room, to tell him that the turnout was in readiness. "You'll have to keep your eye on him, Mr. Rover."

      "All right, Ab. Trust me to take care of him," returned Sam lightly. "Don't forget that I was brought up on a farm, and my Uncle Randolph had some pretty spirited animals."

      "Have a good time, Sam!" cried Spud, who was present to see his chum depart. "Wish I was going to see such a nice girl."

      "Oh, your time will come some day," answered Sam.

      "Are you going directly to Hope?"

      "Yes."

      "Alone?"

      "I expect to unless you want to ride along that far."

      "Say! I'd like that first-rate," returned Spud, eagerly. "I know some of the girls up there, and I'd like to call on them. I wouldn't mind walking back later on."

      "Then come on if you are ready. I haven't any time to wait."

      "Oh, I'm always ready," came from Spud; and he lost no time in bestowing himself beside Sam.

      The latter gathered up the reins, gave a slight chirp to the horse, and away they sped out of the college grounds and on to the highway leading past Hope Seminary, which was about two miles distant.

      The air was cool and bracing, and the snow on the highway well packed down, so that the cutter slid over it with ease. As Abner Filbury had said, the steed was a mettlesome one, and soon Sam found he had all he could do to hold the horse in.

      "Some goer, that!" remarked Spud, as he pulled his cap down tighter to keep it from flying off. "Puts me in mind of a race horse."

      "Yes, I shouldn't wonder but what he could make a mile in almost record time," responded Sam, as they flew along past the trees, bushes and occasional farm buildings which lined the roadway near Brill.

      "You want to watch yourself with a horse that goes as fast as that," returned Spud, with a chuckle. "If you don't, you'll get a mile or two past Hope before you know it;" and at this little joke Sam grinned.

      Early in the ride they passed one or two cutters and several farm wagons. Then they reached a turn in the road, and to their surprise saw ahead of them a sign resting on a large wooden horse:

      ROAD CLOSED

      "Hello! What does this mean?" queried Sam, as he brought his horse to a standstill. "I didn't know this road was shut off."

      "Oh, yes, I heard something about this, come to think of it," returned Spud. "They are going to move that old Jackson barn from one side of the road to the other, and they must have closed the road for that purpose. You'll have to take the old road on the left, Sam."

      "I suppose so," grumbled the other. "Too bad, too, for this road was just about perfect for

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