WILLIAM PHILANDER TURNS THE TABLES
It was useless to try to open the door. The lock was filled up with a
wad of paper that refused to budge.
"If it's only paper we can burn it out," suggested Sam. "But it may
scorch the door."
"We'll go through by the way of Songbird's room," said Tom.
There was a door connecting the two rooms. It was not supposed to be
used, for one of the beds was against it. But the bed was rolled to
one side by Tom. Songbird and his roommate had already gone below.
"Here's the key," said Sam, bringing it from a nearby nail. "It's a
wonder William Philander didn't plug this keyhole, too."
"Maybe he didn't have time," answered Tom. "Always supposing it really
was Tubbs."
"That's so--iy may have been somebody else."
The connecting door was unlocked and Tom and Sam walked into their own
apartment. Both gave a cry of astonishment.
And not without reason. The room had been "stacked," and every boy who
has ever attended boarding school or college knows what that means. In
the center of the room lay the parts of the two beds in a heap and on
top of those parts were piled a miscellaneous collection of books,
chairs, clothing, the table and bureau, looking glass, an empty water
pitcher, football, baseball bats, shoes, bed clothing, rugs, papers,
pens, pencils, soap, caps, a steamer trunk from the closet, several
framed photographs, some college banners, and a score of other
articles. On the very top of the heap was a fancy sofa pillow Nellie
had given to Tom and to this was pinned a card, on which was written,
in a disguised scrawl:
_Hoping you will enjoy your job!_
"It was William Philander all right enough,", murmured Sam, as he and
his brother inspected the card. "You sent him to one job, and he is
sending us to another," and he heaved a deep sigh.
"Some work, Sammy," returned Tom. "Well, we can't go at it now--it
will take us two hours to straighten things up. We'll do it after
supper."
"Going after Tubbs for this?"
"What's the use? I don't blame him for getting back at us. I guess,
after all, that joke I played on him was rather rough," replied Tom.
It took the best part of three hours to put the room back into shape.
Some ink had been spilled on one of the mattresses, and the glass over
one of the photographs had been broken, but that was all the real
damage that had been done, and it looked to be accidental. The wad of
paper in the keyhole was picked out piece-meal by means of a big
fishhook. The key was in the heap on the floor, having been flung
through the open transom after the door was locked and plugged.
"Well, he got back at you right enough," said Songbird, while the room
was being re-arranged.
"Dot's chust vot he did, py golly!" came from Max Spangler.
After this incident the boys settled down to their studies for the best
part of a week. Tom was now doing very well, although he still
complained of his head.
"I've got an idea," said Sam, one afternoon, after the Eclipse photo
playhouse in Ashton had been opened. "Why can't we make up a party
some afternoon or evening and take the girls to the show?"
"I thought of that," answered Tom. "But don't you think it would be
best for us to go alone first and see what sort of a place it is? Some
of these country show places have pretty rough audiences."
"Oh, Ashton isn't such a common town as that, Tom. But maybe it would
be better to size it up first. What do you say if we go down next
Wednesday evening? We might make up a little party, with Songbird and
the others."
"That suits me."
The matter was talked over with the others, and it was speedily
arranged that nine of the students should go, including Sam, Tom,
Songbird, and Spud. Stanley could not get away, and Max had some
lessons he wanted to make up.
"I hope they have some thrilling films," said Tom, when the time came
to leave for Ashton. "I hate these wishy-washy love stories and
would-be funny scenes. I once saw a shipwreck that was fine, and a
slide down a mountainside that couldn't be beaten."
"Well, we'll have to take what comes," said Sam. "I understand they
change the pictures twice a week."
When the students arrived at the playhouse in Ashton an agreeable
surprise awaited them. Instead of the dingy hall they had expected to
see, they saw that the place had been completely transformed. There
was a large electric sign over the door, and several big billboards
announced the various attractions. A crowd was purchasing tickets at
the booth in front, and already the showhouse was half filled for the
first performance of the evening.
"'Her First Love,'" read Tom, from a billboard. "That sounds a little
mushy. 'Broncho Bill's Reward,'" he went on. "That might be
interesting. 'Lost in the Ice Fields of Alaska, in Two Parts.' Say,
that sounds as if it might be something worth while," he added,
brightening up.
"Yes, I'd like to see some pictures of Alaska," returned Songbird.
"Provided they weren't taken in Hoboken, or somewhere like that,"
answered Sam. "Some of these moving pictures are great fakes. They
take real scenes in China right in New York City, and show you the
bottom of the sea, taken on the sixth floor of an office building in
Chicago!"
"Never mind, I guess we'll get our money's worth," said another of the
students, and then the crowd passed inside, each youth buying his own
ticket, as was the usual custom.
They managed to get seats almost in the center of the hall, which was
long and narrow, just the shape for such an exhibition. They noticed
that a tall, lanky town boy was usher, and Tom nudged Sam in the ribs.
"Just think, William Philander might have had that job!" he chuckled.
"Well, you did the best you could for him," answered Sam, dryly.
The end of a funny reel was being shown and the audience was laughing
heartily. Then came an illustrated song, sung by a young woman with a
fairly good voice, and after that "Broncho Bill's Reward," a short
drama of the plains, with cowboys and cattle thieves, and a sheriff,
who aided Broncho Bill to get back his employer's cattle and win the
hand of the girl he loved.
"Maybe you could write some verses about that girl," suggested Sam to
Songbird, in a whisper. "You could call it 'The Cowboy's Sweetheart,'
or something like that."
"So I could," murmured the would-be poet, and immediately commenced to
make up rhymes, which he scribbled on some paper in the dark.
At last came the well-advertised drama, "Lost in the Ice Fields of
Alaska." It was a well put together play, the opening scene taking
place in a shipping office in Seattle. Next came the departure of the
steamer for the North. There were several views on shipboard, and
quite a complicated plot, the villain of the play trying to get the
best of a young gold hunter and his partner. A girl appeared, and she
exposed the villain, and the latter stalked around and vowed vengeance
on both the girl and the young gold hunter.
The second part of the play took place in Alaska, and there was shown a
typical mining town and then the mountains. It was mid-winter and the
mountains were covered with snow. The young gold hunter and his
partner had discovered several nuggets of good size, enough to make
them rich, and were bound back to the mining camp when the villain and
his cronies appeared and robbed them. Then came a fierce snowstorm and
a blizzard, and the young gold hunter and his partner were lost on the
fields of ice. This was tremendously realistic, and the audience held
its breath in suspense, wondering what would happen next.
"Isn't it great!" murmured Tom, his eyes fairly glued to the screen
before him. "I never saw anything so real!"
"That must surely have been taken in Alaska," answered Sam.
[Illustration: "THAT MUST SURELY HAVE BEEN TAKEN IN ALASKA," SAID SAM.
_The Rover Boys in Alaska._]
"Lost in the ice fields!" went on Tom. "How terrible!"
The play went on. The young gold hunter and his partner were almost
frozen to death, when the scene shifted to the mining camp. Word of
the robbery was brought in by an Indian, and the father of the girl
organized a rescuing party, taking his daughter and half a dozen men
with him. On the way they ran across the villain and his cronies,
frozen stiff in the ice and snow and with the stolen nuggets in their
possession. Then the rescuing party went on, until they reached the
young gold hunter and his partner just in time to save them from death.
The young man was given his nuggets, and he asked for the hand of the
girl who had aided in the search; and all ended happily.
"Well, that was certainly a great play!" was Spud's comment, as the
students left the photo playhouse. "Wow! it made me fairly shiver to
look at that snow and those fields of ice!"
"It was just as if a fellow was there," said Sam.
"Think of the work of taking those films!" said Bob Grimes. "I'll
wager the photographer had pretty cold fingers!"
Thus the talk ran on, all of the students being enthusiastic over the
production. The only one who was rather quiet was Tom, and soon Sam
noticed this.
"What's the matter, Tom; don't you feel well?" he asked, anxiously.
"Nothing extra," was the answer, and Tom put his hands to his eyes. "I
guess that moving picture strained my head too much. But it was
great--best picture I ever saw! Say, I'd like to go to Alaska once,
wouldn't you, Sam?"
"Yes, but not to be caught in the ice and snow like that," returned the
younger Rover boy. "Say, it's a good show for the girls, all right,"
he went on.
"Fine. We'll take 'em as soon as we can arrange it."
All the way back to Brill the students talked about the wonderful
Alaskan film, which had really been taken on the spot and had cost a
good deal of money. Evidently in opening the new photo playhouse
Messrs. Carr and Beckwith had resolved to give the audiences their
money's worth.
It was a good advertisement, too, for not only did the town people
flock to the place, but the college students told their friends, and
the next evening a score or more of the boys attended the performance.
The dimes flowed in steadily, much to the delight of the owners of the
project.
That evening Sam noticed that Tom was quite feverish and he advised his
brother to take an extra pill, to quiet him.
"Oh, all I need is sleep," said Tom. "That picture hurt my eyes a
little. After they are rested I'll be all right." And then he
undressed and retired.
Sam had been asleep about two hours when he awoke with a start. He sat
up, and in the dim light of the room saw his brother thrashing wildly
in the bed.
"Give me the nuggets!" murmured poor Tom, in a nightmare. "I must have
the money! Ha, the biggest nugget in Alaska!" He clutched at the
pillow. "Out of my way, I say! It is mine! Look, it is snowing!
Where is the trail? We are lost! See the ice and snow! Lost! lost!
lost!" And Tom floundered around more wildly than ever.
Sam leaped out of bed, and, catching his brother by the arm, shook him
vigorously.
"Tom! Tom! wake up!" he cried. "You're asleep! Wake up! You are not
in Alaska! Wake up!"
"Oh, the ice and snow! And the trail is lost! We shall die! Can
nothing save---- Er--er--eh? What's the--the matter?" stammered Tom,
and suddenly opened his eyes. "What are you shaking me for, Sam?" he
demanded.
"You've got a nightmare, Tom, and you were shouting to beat the band!"
"Was I? Say, I--I thought I was in Alaska, right in that field of snow
and ice. And I was lost! Gosh! what a scare I had!" And poor Tom
fairly trembled.
"Well, go to sleep and try to forget it," said Sam, and Tom laid down
again, and soon dropped off. Sam also retired once more, but he was
much troubled.
"I guess it didn't do Tom any good to go to that show," he reasoned.