The Rover Boys at College | Page 9

died, three years ago."
The boys gazed at the distant seminary buildings with interest, and as they did so Dick thought of Dora Stanhope and Tom and Sam remembered the Lanings. All thought how jolly it would be to live so close together during the college term.
"Now we've got only two miles more," said Mr. Sanderson as he set his team on a trot again. "I'll land you at Brill inside of fifteen minutes, even if the road ain't none of the best."
The country road ran directly into the town of Ashton, but there was a short cut to the college and they turned into this. Soon the lads caught sight of the pile of buildings in the distance. They were set in a sort of park, with the road running in front and a river in the rear. Out on the grounds and down by the stream the Rover boys saw a number of students walking around and standing in groups talking.
With a crack of his whip Mr. Sanderson whirled from the road into the grounds and drove up to the steps of the main building.
"This is the place where new students report," he said with a smile. "I'll take your grips over to the dormitory."
"Thank you, Mr. Sanderson," said Dick. "And here are your two dollars," and he handed the money over.
While Dick was paying the farmer Sam turned to the back of the carriage to look at the dress-suit cases. He gave an exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom.
"Didn't you have a suit case, Tom?"
"Certainly."
"Well, it's gone."
CHAPTER IV
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CAMPUS FENCE
"Gone?"
"Yes, gone Are you sure you put it in the carriage?"
"Positive," was Tom's answer. "I put it on top of yours and Dick's."
"Then it must have jounced out somewhere on the road."
"What's up?" asked Dick, catching a little of the talk.
"Tom's case is gone. He put it on top of ours, and I suppose coming over that rough road jounced it out."
"One of the satchels gone, eh?" came from Mr. Sanderson. "Sure you put it in?"
"Yes, I am positive."
"Too bad. Reckon I'd better go back at once and pick it up."
"I'll go with you," said Tom.
The matter was talked over for a minute and then Tom and the farmer re?ntered the carriage and drove off. As they did this a man came out to meet Dick and Sam.
"New students?" he asked shortly.
"Yes," replied Dick.
"Please step this way."
The doorman led them along a broad hall and into a large office. Here they signed a register and were then introduced by an under teacher to Dr. Wallington, a gray-haired man of sixty, tall and thin, with a scholarly aspect. The president of Brill shook hands cordially.
"I feel that I know you young gentlemen," he said. "Your father and I were old school chums. I hope you like it here and that your coming will do you much good."
"Thank you, I hope so too," answered Dick, and Sam said about the same. The two boys felt at once that the doctor would prove their friend so long as they conducted themselves properly, but they also felt that the aged president of Brill would stand for no nonsense.
Having been questioned by the doctor and one of the teachers, the boys were placed in charge of the house master, who said he would show them to their rooms in the dormitory. Dick had already explained the absence of Tom.
"Your father wrote that you would prefer to room together," said the house master. "But that will be impossible, since our rooms accommodate but two students each. We have assigned Samuel and Thomas to room No. 25 and Richard to room No. 26, next door."
"And who will I have with me?" asked Dick with interest. He did not much fancy having a stranger.
"Well, we were going to place a boy with you named Stanley Browne, a very fine lad, but day before yesterday we received a new application and the applicant said he desired very much to be put with the Rovers. So he can go with you, if you wish it."
"Who was the applicant?" asked Dick quickly.
"John A. Powell. He said he was an old school chum of yours at Putnam Hall and had been on a treasure hunt with you during the past summer."
"Songbird!" cried Dick, and his face broke out in a smile. "Oh, that's good news! It suits me perfectly."
"Did you call the young man Songbird?" queried the house master.
"Yes, that's his nickname."
"Then he must be a singer."
"No, he composes poetry--or at least verses that he calls poetry," answered the eldest Rover.
"I wish some more of the old Putnam Hall crowd were coming," put in Sam. "Think of having Hans Mueller here!" And the very idea made him grin.
"Hans isn't fit for college yet, Sam. But there may be others,"