TOM'S JOKE
"What did you do to him?" asked Sam, quickly.
"Put an advertisement of pills on his back and some other ads. in his
text books," answered Tom. "Say, he looks some mad; doesn't he?"
"I should say yes," came from Stanley.
William Philander was approaching with long strides. In one hand he
held the poster Tom had fastened on his back, and he was shaking his
other fist wrathfully.
"Tom Rover, you've--er--insulted me!" he gasped as he came up. "You've
humiliated me before the whole class! I'll--I'll----" The dudish
student was so full of wrath he could not speak.
"Take a cough drop and clear your throat Billy," suggested Tom, coolly.
"Don't get so excited, you might drop dead from heart disease."
"How dare you put that--er--that advertisement of Gumley's Red Pills on
my back?" stormed the stylishly-dressed one.
"'Gumley's Red Pills for Red-Blooded People,'" quoted Spud, from the
poster. "Say, they are fine, Willie. Didn't you ever take 'em?"
"No, and I don't want to. I want Tom Ro----"
"Say, if you haven't taken any of Gumley's pills you don't know what
you've missed," went on Spud, with a wink at the others. "Why, there
was a man over in Rottenberg who was flat on his back with half a dozen
fatal diseases. The doctors gave him just three days to live,--three
days, think of it! His wife nearly cried her eyes out. Then along
came this Gumley man with a trunk full of his Red Pills for Red-Blooded
People. He didn't exactly know if the dying man was red-blooded or
not, but he took a chance and gave the fellow sixteen pills, four after
breakfast, four after dinner, four after supper and four on retiring,
and the next day, what do you think happened? That man got up and went
to work, and he's been at his Job ever since."
"Yes, and not only that," added Tom, earnestly. "That man organized a
tug-of-war team,--the plumbers against the Local Conclave of the R. W.
Q. Society,--and they've had three tug-of-war matches, and he has
pulled the R. W. Q. Society over the line every time. Talk about pills
that are worth their weight in gold! Why, Gumley's Red Pills for
Red-Blooded People are worth their weight in diamonds, and you ought to
get down on your bended knees and thank somebody for having been given
the opportunity to advertise them."
"Oh, you make me--er--tired, don't you know," gasped William Philander.
"It was a--er--a horrid trick. All the class were laughing at me. And
when I opened my Greek book, out fell one of those horrid bills! And
then I dropped another bill on the platform, and--oh, it was awful!
I'll never forgive you, Tom Rover, never!" And William Philander
stalked away, still clutching the poster in his hand.
"Poor William Philander!" murmured Sam. "It was rather a rough joke,
Tom."
"Oh, it will do him good," was the answer. "He's too uppish to live."
"Yes, he wants some of the conceit knocked out of him," added Stanley.
"But come on, if we are going for a walk, let us get started."
"Wish I had been in the classroom to see the fun," mused Tom, his
old-time grin overspreading his face. No matter how old Tom got he'd
never give up his boyish pranks.
The crowd of students were soon on the way in the direction of the
Sanderson farm. But at the first turn in the road they left that
highway, and following a path across a pasture lot, plunged into the
depths of what was known as Lanker's woods. Through the woods ran a
fair-sized stream of water, and at one spot there was an old dam and
the remains of a saw mill, now going to decay.
"Sam, don't you wish you had the old _Dartaway_ back," remarked
Stanley, presently. "You used to cover this part of the country pretty
well with that flying machine?"
"I've never wanted it back since it got smashed up on the railroad
track," was the answer. "Flying was good enough, but I don't think I
was cut out for a birdman."
"I'd like to go up again some day," put in Tom. "But not regularly.
I'd rather travel in an auto, or behind a fast horse."
"Give me a horse every time," said Songbird. And then he warbled
softly:
"To rush along at railroad speed,
In auto, or on wings of air,
Is well enough for some, I think,
To make you jump and make you stare.
But when I journey roundabout,
I'll take a horse, or maybe two,
And then I'll--I'll----"
"And then I won't bust any tires
And walk home feeling pretty blue!"
added Tom. "Say, that's right, Songbird, although you can't burst
tires on a flying machine," he added.
"That isn't just the way I was going to finish the verse," said the
would-be poet. "But it will do."
On went the boys, deeper and deeper into the woods, chatting gaily and
occasionally singing snatches of college songs. Sam kept close to his
brother and he was glad to note that Tom was acting quite like his old
self.
"What he needs is plenty of fresh air and rest from studying," thought
the younger Rover. "Hang it all, it was a mistake for Tom to get down
to the grind so soon. He ought to have taken a trip out West, or to
Europe, or somewhere."
Presently the students came out on the bank of the stream and there, in
the sunshine, they rested on a fallen tree and some rocks. It was
pleasant to watch the swiftly-rushing water, as it tumbled over the
stones.
"The brook is pretty strong on account of those rains we had," remarked
Sam.
"Yes, I never saw it so swift," answered Stanley.
"Humph! this is nothing," announced Spud. "I saw it once when it ran
so swiftly that the water couldn't make the turn at the bend below here
and ran right up the hill and over on Shelby's barn, drowning sixteen
cows! And some of the water hit the barn roof and bounced off into the
chimney of Shelby's cottage and put out the fire, and----"
"Wow, Spud! put on the soft pedal!" interrupted Sam.
"Oh, it's absolutely true. Some day I'll show you the tombstone they
erected over the sixteen cows. It's of granite and a hundred and ten
feet high."
"Never mind the tombstone," interrupted Tom. "What I want to see is
the match box Shelby stored that water in after it hit the barn." And
at this sally a general laugh went up.
On the boys went again, and half an hour later reached the abandoned
saw mill. All that was left was the dam with the broken wheel and one
end of what had once been a long, low, one-storied building.
"Let's have a look inside," suggested Stanley, and led the way, and the
others followed. Sam was the last to enter, coming directly behind his
brother and he saw Tom suddenly put his hand to the back of his head
and stop.
"Does it hurt again, Tom?" he whispered, kindly.
"Just a--a--spasm!" gasped poor Tom, and then he drew a long breath.
"There, it's gone now," he added, and walked on. Sam sighed and shook
his head. What was this queer condition of Tom going to lead to? It
made him shiver to think of it.
There was but little to see in the old mill. It was a damp,
unwholesome place, and the boys soon came out again. Not far away was
a well hole, rather deep and partly filled with water.
Tom was the first to notice this hole, which was partly covered with
rotted boards. Of a sudden he commenced to grin, as if he scented a
huge joke. He ran up and rearranged the rotted boards, so they
completely covered the hole. Then in the center he placed the
bright-colored cap he had been wearing, and hurried along, to the path
leading beside the dam.
"Hi, Stanley!" he called out, as the others came from the mill. "Get
my cap, will you? The wind blew it off. It's back there somewhere."
"I see it!" shouted Stanley.
"I see it, too," came from Spud, who was close by. "I'll race you for
it, Stan."
"Done!" was the reply, and side by side the two collegians raced for
the cap.
"An apple for the fellow who wins!" shouted Sam, who saw nothing wrong
in what was going on.
"Leg it, both of you!" added Songbird.
Side by side Stanley and Spud sped over the uneven ground in the
direction of the cap. Then both made a plunge forward in true football
style. In a heap they landed on the rotted boards, each catching hold
of the coveted headwear. Then came an ominous crash, and both boys
disappeared headlong into the well hole!
"Look! Look what has happened!" shrieked Sam, in dismay.
"They are in the old well!" gasped Songbird.
"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho!" came from Tom, and he shook with laughter.
"Isn't that the dandy joke? I thought Stanley would go in, but I
didn't expect to catch the pair of 'em."
"Tom!" cried Sam, in new horror. "You didn't really mean----"
"Sure I did. I put my cap there on purpose. Say, they had some
tumble, didn't they?" And Tom commenced to laugh again--a strange
laugh that didn't sound like him at all.
"They'll be drowned--we must save them!" exclaimed Sam, hoarsely.
"Songbird, what can we do?" he added, turning to his chum.
"I don't know--maybe we can throw 'em a rope--if there is one around."
"Let 'em crawl out--it's easy enough," came from Tom. "Don't you spoil
the joke." And he commenced to laugh again.
"Tom, don't act as if you were crazy!" said Sam, catching him by the
arm and shaking him. "Those fellows can't get out without help--it's
too deep! And the sides may cave in on top of them! And there is
water down there, too! We must help them, and at once."
Tom stared at his brother in bewilderment. Then of a sudden the look
of fun died out of his face and was succeeded by a look of horror and
terror combined.
"Did I do that, Sam? Oh, what a foolish thing to do! Yes, we must
help them! What shall I do? I'll jump down after them if you say so!"
And Tom started forward.
"No, don't do that!" Sam held him back. "We'll get a rope, or a long
pole. Don't go too close or you may cave the top of the well in on
'em."
"Yes, we must get a rope, or a pole," gasped poor Tom and ran off on a
search. "And I thought I was having a good joke! Oh, I certainly must
be going crazy!" he muttered.
In the meantime Songbird had thrown himself on his hands and knees and
crawled to the edge of the old well hole. He called out several times,
but got no reply. He heard a great floundering and splashing.
"Hi, you!" he continued. "Are you alive?"
"Sa--save us!" came the spluttered-out words, from Spud. "Sa--save us!"
"Are you both alive?" continued Songbird, anxiously.
"Yes," answered Stanley. "But we need help, for the water is over our
heads. Get a rope, or something, and be quick about it!"
"Hang on the best you can and we'll help you," was the answer.
"Well, don't be too long about it, or we'll be drowned!" came in a
shivering tone from Spud.