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[Illustration: THE ARRIVAL AT THE BARLOW FARMHOUSE.]
THE ROVER BOYS
ON A TOUR
OR
_LAST DAYS AT BRILL COLLEGE_
BY
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
(Edward Stratemeyer)
AUTHOR OF THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL, THE
ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN, THE PUTNAM
HALL SERIES, ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
BOOKS BY ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
(Edward Stratemeyer)
THE FIRST ROVER BOYS SERIES
THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE JUNGLE
THE ROVER BOYS OUT WEST
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE MOUNTAINS
THE ROVER BOYS IN CAMP
THE ROVER BOYS ON LAND AND SEA
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE RIVER
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE PLAINS
THE ROVER BOYS IN SOUTHERN WATERS
THE ROVER BOYS ON THE FARM
THE ROVER BOYS ON TREASURE ISLE
THE ROVER BOYS AT COLLEGE
THE ROVER BOYS DOWN EAST
THE ROVER BOYS IN THE AIR
THE ROVER BOYS IN NEW YORK
THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA
THE ROVER BOYS IN BUSINESS
THE ROVER BOYS ON A TOUR
THE SECOND ROVER BOYS SERIES
THE ROVER BOYS AT COLBY HALL
THE PUTNAM HALL SERIES
THE PUTNAM HALL CADETS
THE PUTNAM HALL RIVALS
THE PUTNAM HALL CHAMPIONS
THE PUTNAM HALL REBELLION
THE PUTNAM HALL ENCAMPMENT
THE PUTNAM HALL MYSTERY
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER,
_The Rover Boys on a Tour_
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS: This book is a complete story in itself, but forms the
twentieth volume in a line issued under the general title, "The Rover
Boys Series for Young Americans."
As I have mentioned in other volumes, this line was started a number of
years ago with the publication of "The Rover Boys at School," "On the
Ocean," and "In the Jungle." These stories were so well received that
there was an immediate cry for more, and so, year by year, they were
followed by the publication of "The Rover Boys Out West," "On the Great
Lakes," "In the Mountains," "In Camp," "On Land and Sea," "On the
River," "On the Plains," "In Southern Waters," "On the Farm," "On
Treasure Isle," "At College," "Down East," "In the Air," "In New York,"
"In Alaska," and finally, "In Business," where we last left our heroes.
The Rover boys have, of course, gradually been growing older. Dick and
Tom are both married and doing what they can to carry on their father's
business in New York City. Sam, the youngest of the boys, is still at
Brill College. The particulars are given of some winter sports around
that institution of learning, and then of a great baseball game in which
the youngest Rover distinguishes himself. Then Sam graduates from
college, and all the boys, with some others, go on a long automobile
tour, during which a number of exciting adventures occur. The party is
caught in a storm on the mountains, and later on are caught in a great
flood. What the Rover boys did under such trying circumstances I leave
for the pages which follow to disclose.
Once more I wish to thank all my young friends for the many gratifying
things they have said about my books. I trust that the present volume
will fulfil all their expectations, and that the reading of the same
will do them good.
Affectionately and sincerely yours,
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE SNOWBALL FIGHT 1
II SOMETHING ABOUT THE ROVER BOYS 14
III WHAT HAPPENED TO SONGBIRD 25
IV THE CHASE 35
V AT THE RAILROAD STATION 46
VI AT THE SANDERSON HOME 57
VII SAM AND GRACE 67
VIII SOMETHING ABOUT BLACKIE CROWDEN 78
IX IN WHICH TOM ARRIVES 90
X THE FEAST 100
XI TOM FREES HIS MIND 111
XII OLD GRISLEY COMES TO TERMS 121
XIII SAM ON THE ROAD 133
XIV DAYS OF WAITING 143
XV BASEBALL TALK 154
XVI THE OPENING OF THE BALL GAME 166
XVII HOW THE GAME ENDED 176
XVIII GOOD-BYE TO BRILL 187
XIX GETTING READY FOR THE TOUR 201
XX A MOMENT OF PERIL 211
XXI NEWS OF BLACKIE CROWDEN 221
XXII ON THE TRAIL 232
XXIII BACK AT ASHTON 242
XXIV AT THE FESTIVAL 252
XXV A CALL FOR ASSISTANCE 262
XXVI SAM FREES HIS MIND 272
XXVII A TELEGRAM FROM NEW YORK 282
XXVIII CLOUDBURST AND FLOOD 292
XXIX THE RESCUE ON THE RIVER 304
XXX MRS. SAM ROVER--CONCLUSION 314
THE ROVER BOYS ON A TOUR
CHAPTER I
THE SNOWBALL FIGHT
"Now then, boys, are you ready?"
"I am!"
"Been ready for the last five minutes!"
"Sure you've got all the snowballs you can carry?"
"I couldn't carry any more if I tried," came from Sam Rover, with a
grin. "Just see how I am loaded up," and he glanced down at both hands,
which were filled with snowballs, and at the snowballs held under either
arm.
"I've got some dandy hard ones," put in Spud Jackson.
"Oh, you can't use soakers, Spud!" cried Stanley Browne, who was the
leader of the snowballing contingent. "That's against the rules."
"They are not soakers, Stanley," was the reply. "They are only good and
hard, that's all."
"Hi, you fellows! When are you going to start things?" came a cry from
behind a snow wall up the slope of a hill. "We can't waste the whole
afternoon waiting for you."
"We're coming, don't fear," answered Stanley Browne.
"And when we arrive you won't know what's struck you," announced Sam
Rover gaily.
"It's all vell enough to brag, but you'd chust better start dot fight,"
came in German-American accents from behind the snow wall, and a merry
face appeared in sight for an instant and a fist was shaken playfully at
those beyond.
"Sound that bugle, Paul!" yelled the leader of the attacking party, and
an instant later the mellow notes of a bugle floated out on the crisp,
wintry air.
It was the signal for the attack, and with merry shouts the students at
the foot of the hill charged upward through the snow toward the wall
above.
The occasion was the annual snowball fight at Brill College. Snow fights
there were, of course, without number, but each year there was one big
contest in which the freshmen and sophomores attempted to hold a snow
fort located on the hill back of the institution against the attacks of
the juniors and seniors. According to the rules, three charges were
allowable, all of which must be made inside of two hours, and if all of
these failed to take the fort, then the victory went to the defenders,
and they were permitted to crow over their success until the following
winter.
A little over an hour and a half had been spent in the sport and two
attacks had been made and repulsed, much to the chagrin of Stanley
Browne, the senior in charge of the attacking army. Juniors and seniors
had fought nobly, but the freshmen and sophomores outnumbered them, and,
being strongly intrenched behind the snow wall of the so-called fort,
had succeeded in forcing a first, and then a second, retreat.
"Say, fellows, we've got to do it this time, sure!" cried Sam Rover, as,
side by side with Stanley, he led the attack. "If we don't oust them
they'll never get done talking about it."
"Right you are, Sam!" answered Bob Grimes, who also had hands and arms
full of well-made snowballs.
"Remember what I told you," came from Stanley, as he turned slightly to
address his followers. "Don't throw any snowballs yet. Do as the
soldiers did in Revolutionary days--wait until you can see the whites of
their eyes."
"And then make those whites blacks!" burst out Spud Jackson, gaily.
"Come ahead, and no turning back."
Up the snowy hillside sped the crowd of students, while a number of
professors and visitors watched the advance from a distance.
"Get ready for 'em! Don't let them come too near!" came in a rallying
cry from behind the snow wall. And then, as the attacking party came
closer, a volley of white spheres came flying through the air into the
faces of the juniors and seniors.
It was a sharp and heavy volley, and for the instant the air seemed to
be filled with flying snowballs. Many of them, of course, went wild, but
others landed on the heads and bodies of the attacking party, and for
the moment the advance was checked.
"Wow!" came from one of the juniors who had been hit in the ear. "Why
can't we do some throwing ourselves?"
"That's the talk! Give it to 'em!" came from another student who had had
his cap knocked off by a snowball.
"No, no," answered Stanley. "Save your snowballs until we get closer."
"Come on, we'll soon be up there," put in Sam Rover. "Only a hundred
feet more, fellows!"
There was a yell of assent, and forward the charging party went again
in the face of another volley of snowballs. By bending low the juniors
and seniors protected themselves as much as possible from the onslaught,
but many were hit, two so stingingly that they had to retire to the
rear.
"Hurrah! We've got 'em on the run!" came from the leader of the fort
contingent, who had mounted a tree stump located behind the wall. "Give
it to 'em, fellows! Give it too 'em hot!"
"Now, then, boys, all together!" yelled Stanley at the top of his voice,
and then the eager juniors and seniors launched their snowballs with all
the swiftness and accuracy of aim at their command.
The two previous attacks which had been repulsed had taught the
advancing students a lesson, and now in this third attack scarcely a
snowball was wasted. Those in the front ran directly up to the wall of
the fort, while those farther back spread out, as directed by their
leader, to the right and to the left, sending in cross fires at points
where the fort was supposed to be weakest.
It was a thrilling and spirited fight, but, although the students were
greatly excited, there was little more actual roughness than there would
have been at a football or other athletic contest.
"Over the wall, boys! Over the wall!" burst out Sam Rover, and the next
instant he was up on the wall of the fort, quickly followed by Stanley,
Bob, Spud, and several others.
"Back there, you rebels! Back!" came in a yell from the interior of the
fort, and then a wild fusillade of snowballs struck Sam and his chums in
various parts of their bodies.
"Jumping hambones!" spluttered Spud, as a snowball took him directly in
the chin. "What do you think I'm built of, iron?"
"Get back or you'll get worse!" was the cry from the fort, and then
another snowball took Spud in the ear.
In the meantime, Sam Rover had dodged a ball which was coming directly
for his face, and now he returned the fire with a hard one that took the
sophomore below him in the ear. Then Sam jumped down into the fort,
quickly followed by eight or ten others.
"Clear them out! Don't let them stay here!" was the wild cry.
"Everybody around the flagpole!" was the command of the fort leader.
The flagpole was a small one located in the center of the enclosure, and
from it fluttered the banners of the freshmen and the sophomore classes.
Those making the attack would have to haul those banners down before
they could claim a victory.
Snowballs were now flying in all directions, and it was quite probable
that in the excitement many of the students let fly at their friends
instead of at the enemy; but it was all good, clean sport, and everybody
enjoyed it greatly.
"Now, then, fellows, for a center rush!" came from Stanley, when he and
Sam and about twenty others had forced their way to within ten yards of
the flagpole.
"Avalanche them, boys! Avalanche them!" came suddenly from one of the
sophomores, and then without warning huge chunks of loose snow were sent
flying through the air on the heads of those who were battling to get to
the flagpole.
"Great Caesar's ghost!" spluttered Bob, as some of the snow went down
inside his collar. "What is this; a snowslide?"
"Oh, you mustn't mind a little thing like that," answered Sam Rover.
"Come ahead, everybody! Push!"
There was a wild scramble, with many yells and shouts. Student after
student went down in the melee, a few to be trampled upon, but
fortunately nobody was seriously hurt. There was such a congestion that
to make or throw more snowballs was out of the question, and the most a
fighter could do was to snatch up a handful of loose snow and thrust it
down the neck of the student opposing him. Sam and Stanley, with four
others close by them, had now managed to get within a few feet of the
flagpole. Here, however, the freshmen and sophomores had planted
themselves in a solid mass, and it looked for the moment as if nothing
could budge them.
"Only six minutes more, boys! Only six minutes more!" came from one of
the sophomores who had been detailed as a timekeeper. "Save those
banners for six minutes and we'll win."
"Hit 'em, fellows, hit 'em!" roared Stanley. "We've got to get those
banners this year."
"And we're going to do it," added Sam. He turned to Bob and Spud. "Boost
me up, fellows, and I'll walk right over their heads to the pole."
"All right, if you want to take the chance," answered Spud, and in a
twinkling Sam was shoved up into the air onto the shoulders of the boy
in front of him.
This student let out a cry of alarm, but before he could do anything Sam
made a leap forward, landing on the shoulders of two students close to
the pole.
"Fire him back! Don't let him reach the pole!" came in a yell from
several throats.
"Hold him by the ankles! Don't let him jump!" cried out the leader of
the fort defenders.
Several students turned to clutch at the ankles of Sam Rover, but he was
too nimble for them, and with another leap he reached the flagpole and
clutched it tightly.
"Hurrah! Rover has reached the pole!"
"Get those banners, Sam! There is no time to spare!"
"Hold him!" "Pull him down!" "Maul him!" cried the fort defenders.
"Don't let him climb up the pole!"
Several turned to clutch at Sam's legs and feet, but he thrashed out
wildly and all but one fell back, fearing injury. The undaunted student
caught Sam by a heel and held on very much as might a bulldog.
"Let go there," came from Spud, and the next instant he raised a chunk
of snow and shoved it directly into the open mouth of the boy who had
the grip. This was too much for the student, and he fell back among his
fellows.
"Only two minutes more!" yelled the timekeeper. "Two minutes more!"
"We won't need more than fifteen seconds," came triumphantly from Sam,
and as he spoke he commenced to climb the pole.
A sophomore followed, clutching again at one of his feet, but now the
Rover boy had his hand on the first of the banners, and down it came in
a twinkling, and the second quickly followed.
"Here you are, boys; catch them!" Sam cried and, wadding the banners
into something of a ball, he hurled them out into the midst of a group
of seniors.
"Hurrah! we've got 'em!" was the triumphant cry. "We've got 'em!"
"Time's up!" yelled the timekeeper.
A cheer arose from the juniors and seniors, who quickly held the
captured banners aloft. The freshmen and sophomores were, of course,
keenly disappointed, and a number of them showed it.
"Let's drive them out of the fort, anyway!" was the sudden cry. "Give it
to 'em! Send 'em flying!"
"Wait, wait, this contest is at an end," said a professor who was one of
the umpires.
"Never mind, let's have some fun anyway." This cry was taken up on every
side, and while some of the seniors retired with the two captured
banners, the other students continued the contest, those who had held
the fort doing all they possibly could to overcome and expel their
enemies.
As soon as he had thrown the banners Sam slid down the pole, and was now
trying his best to make his way out of the crowd of freshmen and
sophomores. These students were very bitter against the Rover boy, and
several did all they could to trip him up and cover him with snow.
"Say, Sam, that was great!" cried Spud. "Best I ever saw!"
"Out with 'em! Out with 'em!" was the yell. "Don't let 'em stay in the
fort even if they did get the banners."
"Come on!" cried Sam quickly. "Now we have the banners let us drive them
clean down the other side of the hill."
This suggestion received instant approval and, in spite of all that some
of the professors could do to stop it, the fight went on as furiously as
ever. Some of the students who had retreated to a safe distance came
back with a fresh supply of snowballs, and the air was once more filled
with the flying missiles.
"Come on, let us teach them a lesson," cried Bob Grimes. "They should
have stopped fighting as soon as the banners were captured. Let us give
the sophomores and freshmen all they want."
This cry was taken up on all sides, and around and around the enclosure
which had been designated the fort went the various crowds of students.
The blood of the juniors and seniors was now up, and slowly but surely
they forced the younger students to retreat. Then came a break and
something of a panic, and a few minutes later the fort defenders were
retreating down the other side of the hill, which led through some
brushwood to a road that ran to Ashton.
"After 'em! After 'em! Don't let 'em get away!" cried Sam, and was one
of the first to go down the hill after the retreating students. On the
way he paused only long enough to make several snowballs.
Having reached the road which led to the town, the freshmen and
sophomores divided, some going behind a barn and others taking to the
woods beyond. Not knowing exactly what to do next, Sam and several with
him halted to consider the matter.
"There they go!" was the cry a moment later, and a number of students
were seen speeding around a corner of the road.
"That's Bissel, the fellow who hit me in the ear," cried Sam. "I'm going
after him."
"And, yes, there is Dutz, who filled my mouth with snow," cried Spud.
"Come on!"
Sam was already on the run, and, coming to the turn in the road, he let
fly several snowballs.
"Here! Here! What do you mean by such actions?" came suddenly from
behind some brushwood which lined the roadway and then, as the students
advanced still further, they were surprised to find themselves
confronted by a tall man wearing a heavy, fur-lined overcoat. He had
likewise been wearing a beaver hat, but the tile now lay in the snow.
"Belright Fogg!" exclaimed Sam in dismay. "That lawyer who tried to get
the best of us! And I thought he was one of the students!"
"Ha! so it is you," snarled the man in the fur overcoat harshly. "What
do you mean, Rover, by attacking me in this fashion?"