WHAT FLOCKLEY HAD TO TELL
It was not long before the carryall of the college and several carriages
were brought into use and in these the girls and their teacher were
placed.
“We’ll see you Sunday!” called out Dick to Dora.
“Yes, we might as well go to church together,” added Sam; and so it was
arranged.
“But about those messages home?” asked Nellie.
“We’ll send ’em—don’t you worry,” answered Tom. “We’ll go right down to
Ashton now—on our bicycles.” And then the turnouts rolled away, and the
students of Brill were left once more to themselves.
“Well, those girls can be thankful that the fire was no worse,” was
Stanley’s comment.
“I reckon they are thankful,” answered Dick.
“They were mighty glad we came up with the boats,” said another student.
“Some of them thanked us over and over again.”
“Huh! I don’t think the boats were needed,” muttered Dudd Flockley. “The
water isn’t over two feet deep. They could have waded ashore.”
“The water is four to six feet deep and the bottom out there is soft
mud!” cried Tom, “They’d either have to swim or run the risk of getting
stuck in the mud!”
“Oh, Dudd is sore—because his hat was mashed,” cried another pupil.
“He’s sore because none of the girls thanked him,” added another.
“And he wasn’t thanked because he didn’t do anything,” said Spud.
“Aw! give us a rest!” muttered Flockley, and then walked away without
another word.
“Say, did anybody notice William Philander Tubbs?” queried Will Faley.
“He didn’t do much towards rescuing the girls, but when they got ashore
he ran all the way to the college to get a whisk broom, to brush them
off!”
“Hurrah for Washtub! He’s the real hero!” cried Tom. “He thinks of the
truly important things!”
“It was a grand spectacle—the thick black smoke pouring from that
steamer,” came from Songbird. “I—er—I helped to get the sand. But even as
I worked I couldn’t help but make up a few lines. They run like this:”
“All wrapt in flames, behold our craft!
She’ll plough the main no more!
Her gallant crew may well shed tears——”
“She’s burnt out to the core!”
finished Tom. “Only that isn’t true, for the Thistle wasn’t burnt to the
core—in fact, the captain says she was burnt very little—thanks to the
unswerving devotion of the gallant band of Brill fire-fighters who,
undaunted by the terrifying perils of the horrible occasion succeeded,
after almost superhuman endeavors, in quelling——”
“Great hambones! Tom’s sprung a leak!” interrupted Sam. “Tom, put on your
low speed, or you’ll run away with yourself.”
“Ha, wretch! to interrupt such a superb flow of oratory!” cried the
fun-loving Rover, in assumed grieved tones.
“As if you didn’t interrupt my poetry,” came ruefully from Songbird. “The
next time I—er—recite I’ll see to it that you are not around.”
“Don’t do it, Birdie, I beg of you. I wouldn’t miss your verses for a
quart of freckles.”
“Ashton—and the telegraph office!” sang out Dick. “Who is going along?”
And the touch of hard feelings between Tom and Songbird was forgotten.
Tom knew he had no right to interrupt the would-be poet the way he did,
but—well, Tom was Tom, and he couldn’t help it.
The matter was talked over, and a party of nine was made up, including
the Rovers and Songbird and Stanley. Soon the lads were on the way,
having received permission from Doctor Wallington to be a little late for
supper.
“We’ll return home by the Carlip Road,” said Dick.
“Right you are,” added Tom. He knew this would please Songbird, for the
route mentioned would take them past the Sanderson farm, and the would-be
poet would have a chance to see Minnie, the farmer’s daughter, with whom
Songbird had of late been quite smitten.
The messages for the Lanings and Mrs. Stanhope were soon despatched, and
the Rovers also sent word to their folks, saying when they might be
expected home. Then the crowd divided, and Tom, Dick, Sam and Songbird
took to the road leading past the Sanderson cottage.
“Remember how we pitched into Flockley and Koswell here?” remarked Sam,
as the farm came into view.
“Indeed I do,” answered Dick. He turned to Songbird. “You can ride ahead
if you wish. We’ll go on slowly.”
“All right,” answered the other. “I won’t be long. I only want to leave a
volume of ‘Poems of Love’ I picked up in a bookstore yesterday,” and away
Songbird pedaled towards the Sanderson house.
“He’s got ’em sure,” said Sam, with a grin. “Well, Minnie is a nice
girl.”
“Huh! I suppose Songbird has as much right to be soft on her as you have
to be soft on Grace!” was Tom’s blunt comment.
“Not to mention you and Nellie,” retorted his younger brother.
The three Rovers rode past the house and then stopped to rest under a
wide-spreading tree. Some June apples were handy, and they munched on
these until Songbird reappeared, about a quarter of an hour later.
“Say, it took more than two minutes to deliver that book,” remarked Dick.
“We were just getting ready to go on without you.”
“Don’t forget we want some supper,” added Sam.
“I—er—I just stopped to point out several poems of special interest,”
explained Songbird. “One was on ‘Her Eyes So Blue and True.’ It’s a grand
poem, and——”
“Let me see, Miss Sanderson’s eyes are blue, aren’t they?” questioned
Sam, gravely.
“I wasn’t speaking of her eyes—I meant the poem’s—that is—those spoken of
in the poem,” stammered Songbird. “By the way,” he added, hastily, to
hide his confusion, “I just heard strange news. Minnie and her father
were down in Ashton a couple of days ago and they saw Dudd Flockley at
the depot, and he was talking with Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur.”
“Koswell and Larkspur!” exclaimed Dick. “I didn’t think they would dare
to show themselves around here.”
“Just what I thought, but Mr. Sanderson and Minnie were both sure they
saw the pair. They were talking very earnestly to Flockley, as if trying
to get him to do something, and Minnie says Flockley said, ‘I’ll see
about it—maybe I can go.’”
“Humph! Flockley promised that he would drop Koswell and Larkspur,” said
Sam.
“He’d better—if he knows where he is well off,” added Tom.
“What became of Koswell and Larkspur?” questioned Dick.
“Minnie says they took the night train for the East.”
“The through train?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then they must be a good many miles from Ashton—and I am glad of
it.”
“Speaking of Flockley puts me in mind of one thing—I mustn’t forget to
pay for that hat I smashed,” said Tom.
“Better see him tonight and settle up,” said Dick. “And I’ll go with you.
I want to speak to Flockley,” he added, thoughtfully.
When the boys returned to the college they found their classmates just
finishing supper. Professor Blackie looked at them rather severely, but
Sam explained that they had permission from the Head to be late, so
nothing was said further.
From one of the other students Dick and Sam learned that Flockley had
gone for a walk behind the gymnasium, where a path led to the river. As
soon as they had finished eating Tom got some money, and he and his
brother set off to find the dudish student.
“There he is!” cried Dick, after quite a long walk, and he pointed to
Dudd Flockley, seated on a rustic bench, smoking a cigarette. The student
was alone, and looked to be in a thoughtful mood.
“Flockley, I want to settle with you for that hat,” said Tom, as he came
up. “And let me tell you honestly that I am sorry I mashed it.”
“I think you did it on purpose,” grumbled the dudish student. “You Rovers
think you can do just as you please at Brill. I suppose you’ll feel more
important than ever—after that affair of the burning steamer,” he added,
bitterly.
“Dudd, let Tom pay you for the hat and then let me talk to you,” said
Dick, quietly. “How much did it cost?”
“Five dollars.”
“Here you are then,” came from Tom, and he passed over a five-dollar
bill. “I didn’t mash it on purpose, no matter what you think.”
“All right—have your own way about it, Rover,” and Dudd pocketed the bill
carelessly.
“Dudd, you met Koswell and Larkspur the other day,” went on Dick, sitting
down on the rustic bench.
“Did Minnie Sanderson tell you that?”
“She told Songbird Powell and he told us.”
“Well, what of it? They came to Ashton on business—they had to get their
stuff away from the college.”
“Did you meet them by accident?”
“What business is that of yours?” And Dudd Flockley’s voice grew
aggressive.
“Perhaps it is none of my business, Dudd. But, just the same, I am going
to talk to you about it. You know all about what happened in the past.
Koswell and Larkspur are bad eggs—and if they can drag you down with them
they will do it. Now, you promised to turn over a new leaf and on the
strength of that we went to Doctor Wallington and persuaded him to give
you another chance. It isn’t fair for you to go back on your word, and
take up with Koswell and Larkspur again.”
“Are you going to tell the doctor that I met them?” asked Flockley, in
alarm.
“No—at least, not for the present. But I want you to promise to drop that
pair.”
“I have dropped them—that is, as much as I can.”
“Then why do you meet them?”
“I’ll tell you why!” burst out the dudish student, bitterly. “Because I
can’t drop them altogether. They know everything of what happened as well
as I do, and they said if I dropped them entirely—refused to help
them—they would expose me to the whole world! If they should tell my
folks——” Flockley did not finish, but his head sunk on his breast, and
Dick and Tom understood.
“It’s too bad—a burning shame!” murmured Tom. “Flockley, I am sorry from
the bottom of my heart!”
“I don’t think I would take their threats too seriously,” said Dick.
“They are down and out, and, of course, very bitter. But they don’t dare
to come out against you openly.”
“Yes—but they can do a whole lot of things behind my back!” groaned Dudd
Flockley. “Oh, you don’t know what I have suffered since Jerry and Bart
ran away! They have written me letters, and they have demanded money——”
“Demanded money. Then they are blackmailers, Dudd!”
“Oh, they said I owed them the money on bets. But I didn’t—at least, I
don’t think I did. But I had to give up. At the depot that day I gave
them thirty dollars—all I could scrape up.”
“Where did they go to?”
“To New York, and from there they are going to Boston and then to some
place off the coast of Maine.”
“And they wanted you to join them?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you do it!” cried Dick, earnestly. “Don’t you do it, Dudd! Wash
your hands of them and refuse to have anything more to do with them.”
“I will—if I can,” murmured Dudd Flockley. And then, as some other
students approached, the talk had to come to an end.