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.