CHAPTER XXVIII

"They thought of closing it, Tom, but at the last moment something went wrong and the men who were going into the matter withdrew. That put a large part of the burden on our shoulders. We have at least forty thousand dollars invested in it. Now, if Waltham has bought a controlling interest, as dad says, he will be able to swing it any way he pleases, just as he may be able to swing the Lansing deal, too."

"How much money have we got locked up in that? The last I heard it was only about eight thousand dollars."

"When I left, dad said he expected to put in another twelve thousand, which would make a total of twenty thousand dollars, Tom."

"Phew! Then that makes a grand total of sixty thousand dollars in the two deals. Chester Waltham must have a lot of loose money, if he can jump into deals as big as those are at a moment's notice."

"Oh, a young millionaire like Waltham can get hold of cash whenever he wants it," answered Dick. He ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully. "This looks bad to me. Perhaps I had better take a train back to New York without delay."

"Oh, if you did that it would spoil the trip for Dora," protested his brother.

"It's better to spoil the trip than to let Chester Waltham get the better of us."

"Why not send a telegram asking if it will do any good for you to come home?" questioned Tom. And after a little discussion Dick decided to do this, and the telegram was sent without delay. A few hours later word came back that if Dick was needed his father would send for him.

The stay in Topeka was extended to the best part of a week, for that night a furious rainstorm set in which lasted two days. The downpour was unusually heavy, and as a consequence many of the outlying roads became well-nigh impassable.

During the last day of the storm Sam received a long letter from Songbird in which the would-be poet told of how he was working to make his way in the world and also earn some money that he might pay back the amount lost by Mr. Sanderson. He added that so far the authorities had been unable to find any further trace of Blackie Crowden.

"It's too bad!" was Sam's comment, after he had read this communication. "Poor Songbird! I suppose he feels as bad as ever over the loss of that money."

At last the sun once more broke through the clouds and the journey of the tourists was resumed. Close to the city the roads were in fairly good condition, but farther out they soon found evidences of the tremendous downpour of the days before. Deep gullies had been cut here and there, and occasionally they came across washed-out trees and brushwood.

"We'll have to take it a bit slowly, especially after dark," remarked Dick.

When they passed over some of the rivers they found the rushing waters reached almost to the flooring of the bridges; and on the second day out they found one bridge swept completely away, so that they had to make a detour of many miles to gain another crossing.

"What a tremendous loss to some of these farmers," remarked Mrs. Laning, as they rolled past numerous cornfields where the stalks had been swept down and covered with mud. "I am glad to say we never had anything like this at Cedarville."

"And we never had anything like it at Valley Brook either," returned Dick. "This is the worst washout I ever saw."

At noon they stopped at a small town for dinner and there they heard numerous reports concerning the storm. In one place it had taken away a barn and a cowshed and in another it had undermined the foundations of several houses.

"The water up to Hickyville was three feet deep in the street," said one man at the hotel. "The folks had to rescue people by boats and rafts. One man had four cows drowned, and up at Ganey Point a man lost all his pigs and two horses."

The party had scarcely left that town when it began to rain again. The downpour, however, was for a time so light that they did not think it worth while to stop or to turn back.

"We'll put the tops up," said Tom, "and maybe in a little while the clouds will blow away."

But Tom's hopes were doomed to disappointment. The downpour was comparatively light for about an hour, but then, just as they were passing through a patch of timber, it suddenly came on with great fury.

"Great Scott!" burst out Sam, as a gust of wind drove the rain under the automobile tops. "We'll have to put down the side curtains."

"Right you are!" answered Dick; and then the machines were halted and all the curtains were lowered and fastened. But even this did not protect them entirely, for the wind drove the rain in between the numerous cracks of the covering.

"How many miles to the next stopping place?" queried Nellie.

"About thirty," answered Tom. "That is, if we go as far as we calculated to when we left this morning."

"Oh, I don't see how we are going to make thirty miles more in such a storm as this!" cried her sister.

"We'll be lucky to make any kind of stopping place," announced Dick, grimly. "Just listen to that!"

There was a wild roaring of wind outside, and then came a flash of lightning followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

"Oh! Oh!" came in a shriek from the girls; and involuntarily they placed their hands to their ears.

"Richard, do you think it is safe to stay under the trees in such a storm as this?" questioned Mrs. Stanhope, fearfully.

Before Dick could reply to this question there came more lightning and thunder, and then a crash in the woods as a big tree was laid low.

"Oh, dear! Listen!" cried Nellie. "Suppose one of the trees should come down on the autos!"

"That is what I was afraid of," added her mother. "I think we had better get out of here."

"All right, if you say so," answered Dick. "I was only thinking about the awful wind. It's going to hit us pretty hard when we get out on the open road."

The automobiles had drawn up side by side, so that those in one machine could converse with those in the other. Now Dick started up one of the touring cars and was followed a minute later by Tom, at the wheel of the other automobile.

Once in the open air, those in the machines realized how furiously the wind was blowing and how heavily the rain was descending. The automobiles fairly shook and shivered in the blasts, and despite their efforts to keep themselves dry all those in the automobiles were speedily drenched. The downpour was so heavy that the landscape on all sides was completely blotted out.

"Oh, Dick! what in the world shall we do?" gasped Dora, and it was plainly to be seen that she was badly frightened.

"I'd turn in somewhere if I only knew where," answered her husband, trying his best to peer through the rain-spattered wind-shield. "I don't see anything like a house anywhere around, do you?"

"No, I can't see a thing."

Dick was running along cautiously, and now, of a sudden, he put on the brakes. Just ahead of him had appeared a flood of water, and how deep it was there was no telling.

"Listen!" cried Mrs. Stanhope, when the automobile had come to a standstill. "Did I hear somebody calling?"

Scarcely had she spoken when there came another vivid flash of lightning followed by more thunder, and then a downpour heavier than ever. As the lightning flashed out Dick was surprised to see a girl splashing through the water on the road and running toward them.

"Look! Look!" he ejaculated. "Unless I am mistaken it's Ada Waltham!"

"It is! It is!" exclaimed Dora. "What in the world is she doing out alone in such a downpour as this!"

As the girl on the road came closer to the touring car Dick threw up one of the curtains, opened the door, and sprang out to meet her.

"Oh, Mr. Rover!" gasped Ada Waltham, "is it really you? How fortunate! Won't you please help me?"

"What's wrong?" he demanded quickly.

"Chester! He's lost!"

"Lost! Where?"

"He tried to cross the river yonder in the storm, and the bridge broke and let the automobile down. I managed to save myself and jumped ashore, but he was carried off by the torrent." The rich girl clasped her hands nervously. "Oh, please save him, Mr. Rover! Please do!"

By this time the second automobile had come up, and Dick waved to Tom to stop. Seeing that something was wrong, Tom quickly alighted, followed by Sam.

"What's wrong?" came from both of the new arrivals, as they gazed at Ada Waltham in astonishment.

"Miss Waltham says her brother is lost—that he has been carried off in the flood of yonder river," answered Dick.

"Oh, please hurry!" burst out the girl eagerly. "Please hurry, or it will be too late! I don't think Chester can swim."

"All right, we'll tell the others where we are going and then we'll do what we can," answered Dick. "But if that flood is very strong we may have——"

Dick was unable to finish his speech. Just then there came more lightning followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Then the very heavens seemed to open, to let down a torrent of water which seemed to fairly engulf them.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" came from the women and the girls. "Oh! what a terrible storm!"

"It is a cloudburst! That's what it is!" gasped Sam.

"You're right!" ejaculated Tom. "Look! See how the water in the river is rising! It's a cloudburst and a flood!"

Tom was right—there had been a cloudburst, but fortunately not directly over the heads of our friends, otherwise they might have perished in the terrible downpour which immediately followed. The catastrophe had occurred at a point about a mile farther up the river, and now the waters from this flood were coming down with great swiftness and rising higher and higher every instant.

"We've got to get out of here," was Sam's comment. Already they were standing in water up to their ankles. "We've got to find higher ground."

"Oh, Sam! Sam! please don't let my brother drown!" pleaded Ada Waltham, catching him by the arm.

"We'll do what we can to save him, Ada, but we've got to save ourselves first," he answered.

"See! there is a little hill ahead," came from Dick, as he did his best to look through the rain, which was coming down as heavily as ever. "Let us run to the top of the rise, then we'll be in less danger from the flood if the river gets much higher." He turned to the distracted girl. "Come, you had better go with us, then we will see what we can do for your brother."

"Oh, Dick! Dick! If you don't hurry we'll be swept away, sure!" cried Dora, and then made room so that Ada might get in beside her.

In a moment more the three Rovers had re-entered the touring cars, and then the machines were sent forward through the water, which was now nearly a foot deep on the roadway.

"Oh! I never saw such a storm in my life," was Mrs. Laning's comment.

"If only we get out of this alive!" breathed Mrs. Stanhope. Being naturally a very nervous woman, she was on the verge of a collapse.

Running with care through the swirling water that covered the roadway, they at length reached a rise of ground several feet above the flood. Here they stopped at the highest point they could gain, bringing the machines side by side.

When the storm had started in earnest the three Rovers had donned their raincoats. Now, with rain caps pulled well down over their heads, they once more alighted.

"If you can show us where your auto went into the river we'll see if we can locate your brother," announced Dick to Ada Waltham. "Maybe he got out and is walking somewhere around here," he added, by way of encouragement.

"Oh, dear! I'm so nervous I can scarcely stand!" gasped the girl, and when she reached the ground they had to support her.

Splashing along through the water that covered the roadway, they slowly progressed until they gained a point where the youths felt it would be impossible for Ada Waltham to go any farther.

"There is what is left of the bridge over yonder," cried the girl, pointing with her hand.

The Rovers looked in that direction and saw a few sticks of timber sticking out of the swirling waters, which were running down stream as turbulently as ever.

"I don't think there is any use of looking for Chester around that bridge," was Tom's remark. "Most likely he was carried down stream—how far there is no telling. I think the best thing we can do is to take a look farther down."

"That is just my opinion," returned his older brother. "I think you had better return to the autos. It won't do any good for you to remain out in this storm," he continued to the girl.

When the party got back to the cars they found a farmer and his grown son standing by the machines.

"I was just telling the ladies you had better run your automobiles up to my place," said the farmer. "It's about ten or fifteen feet higher than this, and, consequently, just so much safer. Besides, the ladies can come into the house."

"We want to find this young lady's brother. He was swept off the bridge yonder," returned Dick.

"So the ladies were telling me," returned James Barlow. "You come up to the house, and I'll go out with you. We've got a big rowboat that may come in handy. Say! ain't this some storm? Worst let-down I've ever seen in these parts."

CHAPTER XXIX

"Here is my rowboat," announced the farmer, pointing to where the craft was tied fast to a large tree. "You can use it if you want to, but it looks to me like rather a hopeless matter to try to do anything while the river is raging like this. You had better wait until it calms down a little."

"The trouble of it is, it may then be too late," answered Tom. He looked at his brothers. "I think we can manage it," he added.

The matter was discussed for fully a quarter of an hour, and during that time the storm seemed to let up a little. The first awful effects of the cloudburst were passing, and the water was going down slowly but surely.

"We'll try it," announced Dick, at last. "If we can't manage the rowboat we'll come ashore farther down the stream."

The craft was a substantial one, and there were two pairs of oars, and to these James Barlow added a sweep to be used as a rudder. Then the three Rovers embarked, Tom and Sam to do the rowing and the other brother to guide the craft. It was hard, dangerous work, as they realized as soon as they struck the current of the swollen stream. They were sent along pell-mell, and it was all they could do to keep themselves from crashing into one object or another on the way.

"Look out, or you'll get upset!" yelled James Barlow to them, and then his voice was drowned out in the rushing and roaring of the elements around them.

A half hour passed—which to the Rovers just then seemed almost an age. During that time the three kept their eyes wide open for a possible sight of Chester Waltham or anybody else who might have been carried away by the flood.

"There is somebody!" suddenly called out Dick. "A man caught in a tree!"

"Is it Waltham?" demanded Tom, quickly.

"I can't make out. He is crouched in a heap on some limbs and is waving frantically for us."

Not without additional peril did the Rovers turn the rowboat across the river, for the tree in which the man was crouching was on the shore opposite to that from which they had embarked.

"Hello! there are two fellows in the tree!" announced Tom, as they drew closer.

The second man crouched behind the trunk, so that they had not at first been able to see him.

"Help! Help!" came from the fellow who had been waving so frantically to them. And now, as they drew still closer, they saw that the individual was Chester Waltham. The young millionaire was capless and coatless, and his face and hands were much scratched.

"We're in luck, that's sure," was Tom's comment, in a low voice.

"And I'm glad on his sister's account," added Sam.

"When we bring the boat up beside the tree you lower yourself into it, Waltham," directed Dick. "But be careful how you do it or we'll upset. The current here is very swift."

"Yes, yes, I'll be careful," answered the young millionaire in a voice which trembled so that he could scarcely speak. He was, of course, much surprised to discover that it was the Rovers who had come to his assistance.

He was so exhausted that to get out of the tree in safety was all but impossible, and finally Dick had to assist him while Tom and Sam did all they could to hold the rowboat in position.

"It's fine of you to come for me!" panted Chester Waltham, when he found himself safe in the rowboat. "Di-did my si-sister get you, or what?"

"Yes, she escaped and told us of your plight," answered Dick, briefly.

"Good for Ada! Now get me safe on shore once more and I'll pay you handsomely for your trouble."

"You won't have to pay us a cent, Waltham," was Sam's quick reply. "Just sit still so that the boat doesn't go over."

"Can I help you in any way?"

"No. Sit still, that's all," came from Tom, sharply. The idea of having Waltham speak of paying them at such a time disgusted him.

In the meantime the second fellow in the tree had moved down a limb or two with the idea of following Waltham into the rowboat. But now, as he looked at the three Rovers, he suddenly drew back.

"Hi there! don't you want to come with us?" cried Dick, considerably astonished over the man's actions.

To this the individual in the tree made no reply. He kept behind the trunk and finally waved a hand as if to motion them away.

"Say! is that fellow crazy?" questioned Sam.

"He must be," was Tom's comment. He turned to Chester Waltham. "Do you know him!"

"No, he's a stranger to me. I tried to speak to him, but he was so scared and cold from the ducking he got he did nothing but chatter, so I couldn't understand him."

"See here, it's foolish to stay up there," called out Dick. "Come on down and we'll take you ashore."

"D-do-don't want to g-g-go," came the stuttered-out reply. "G-go-wheep!" came in a funny little whistle. "G-g-go a-away!"

"Well, of all the scared fellows——" commenced Tom.

"Great Scott! I wonder if that fellow can be Blackie Crowden!" ejaculated Sam.

"G-g-go a-wa-way!" stuttered the man in the tree, and then tried to say something more, but the words only ended in a strange little whistle.

"Sam, do you really think it can be the fellow who robbed Songbird?" demanded Dick. "What would he be doing away out here?"

"Why, Blackie Crowden came from Denver or Colorado Springs," announced the youngest Rover. "Remember, we are not so many miles away from those places." He raised his voice. "You come down out of there, Crowden. We know you and we want you."

At this command the man in the tree seemed much disturbed. He tried to speak, but because of his natural stutter and his terror of the situation through which he was passing, his effort was a failure.

"If you don't come down, we'll haul you down," ordered Dick, finally, and then, after a little more urging, the fellow finally consented to come out of the tree, and dropped into the rowboat.

"Blackie Crowden, as sure as fate!" murmured Sam, as soon as he got a good look at the fellow's features. "Well, if this isn't luck!"

"Evidently you know this fellow," came from Chester Waltham, curiously.

"We sure do!" declared Sam. "He's the man who knocked our college chum, John Powell, down on the road near Ashton and robbed him of four thousand dollars."

"I di-didn't r-r-rob any bo-body," stuttered Blackie Crowden. "It's all a mi-mis-mis-mista-ta-take!" and he ended with his usual queer whistle.

"We'll see about that later, Crowden," put in Dick, sternly. "Now you sit perfectly still or else maybe you'll go overboard and be drowned."

It would be difficult to describe the joy with which Ada Waltham greeted her brother on his safe return. She flew into his arms and, as wet as he was, hugged him over and over again.

"Oh! I was so afraid you'd be drowned, Chester!" and then she added quickly: "How grand it was for the Rovers to go to your assistance!"

"It certainly was very fine of them to do it," returned the young millionaire. And now it must be admitted that he seemed very much disturbed in mind. "I'm going to pay them back, you see if I don't," he added, after a thoughtful pause.

Blackie Crowden had done his best to make them believe that he was not guilty of the attack upon Songbird, but the Rovers would not listen to this, and put him through such a grilling that finally he broke down and confessed all.

"I wouldn't have done the deed at all if it hadn't been that I was worried over another matter," he said amid much stuttering and whistling. "I ain't a bad man naturally, even though I do drink and gamble a little. If it hadn't been for a lawyer named Belright Fogg I would never have robbed the young man."

"Belright Fogg!" came from the Rovers.

"What has that shyster lawyer to do with it?" added Sam.

"Do you know he is a shyster lawyer?"

"We sure do!" added Tom, promptly.

"Then you will understand me when I tell you how it was. Some time ago I was mixed up in a land transaction. It is a long story, and all I need to tell you is that Belright Fogg was in it, too. I did some things that I oughtn't to, and that gave Fogg a hold on me. Finally he claimed that I owed him three hundred dollars, and he said if I didn't pay up he would make it hot for me and maybe land me in jail. That got me scared and I said I'd get the money somehow.

"Then by accident I saw Powell get the money from the bank, and I followed him on horseback, passed him, and took the cash, as you know. As soon as the deed was done I was sorry for it, but then it was too late," stuttered Blackie Crowden, and hung his head.

"And did you go to Belright Fogg and give him the three hundred dollars?" queried Sam.

"Yes. I met him in Leadenfield, at a road house kept by a Frenchman named Bissette."

"Then I was right after all!" cried Sam. "I accused Fogg of meeting you, but he denied it."

"Well, he got the three hundred all right enough," stuttered Crowden.

"And how was it you tried to keep out of our sight in that flood?" asked Sam curiously. "Did you know us?"

"I knew you—saw you follow me to the depot at Dentonville. You thought I got on that train. But I didn't—I took a night freight."

"I see. That is why the authorities didn't spot you."

"That's it. But you were asking about Fogg," continued Blackie Crowden, speculatively.

"And did he know you had stolen the money?" demanded Dick, sharply.

"I'm pretty sure he did, although he didn't ask any questions. He knew about the robbery, and he knew well enough that I didn't have any three hundred dollars of my own to give him."

"What did you do with the rest of the money, Crowden? I hope you didn't spend it?" questioned Sam, anxiously.

"Spend it!" came in a bitter stutter from the criminal. "I didn't get any chance to spend it. All I had was two hundred dollars!"

"Then what became of the other thirty-five hundred?" questioned Tom.

"It's in a room at the Ashton hotel, unless somebody found it and stole it."

"At the Ashton hotel!" cried Sam.

"That's it. You see, after I met Fogg I stopped at Ashton for one night and put up at the old hotel on the Cheesley turnpike. I hid the money in an out-of-the-way corner of a clothes closet, because I didn't want to carry it on my person. Then, when I was on the street, I heard that you were on my trail, and I got scared and I was afraid to go back to the hotel to get it."

"Can you remember what room it was?" queried Tom.

"Yes, it was a back room—number twenty-two. I put the money in a hole in the wall back of an upper shelf."

"We had better notify the authorities at Ashton of this," said Tom to his brothers.

"Let us telegraph to Songbird and tell him to go to Ashton," suggested Sam. "If the money is there, Songbird ought to have the fun of getting it and returning it to Mr. Sanderson."

"All right, let's do it!" cried Dick; and so the matter was arranged.

CHAPTER XXX

"You can rest assured, Mr. Rover, that my opposition to your plans in New York will be withdrawn," he said to Dick. "I am going to telegraph to my agents as soon as I get a chance. And I want you and your brothers to understand that I appreciate thoroughly your goodness in coming to my rescue. It was a splendid thing to do. I am not going to insult you by offering you any reward—all I can say is that I thank you from the bottom of my heart." And that evening Chester Waltham and his sister had taken their departure, stating that the accident at the bridge had ended their idea of touring farther, and that they were going to take the first train they could get for the East.

The thing that Dick called "good news" was a long "Night Letter" sent over the wires by Songbird. The former poet of Brill had received their message concerning Blackie Crowden, and also Belright Fogg, and had at once hurried to Ashton and to the hotel on the Cheesley turnpike. There, in room twenty-two, as mentioned by Crowden, he had found the package containing the thirty-five hundred dollars. Next he had called on Belright Fogg and had scared the shyster lawyer so completely that Fogg had returned the three hundred dollars received from Crowden with scarcely a protest. Then the happy youth had driven over to the Sanderson place. The Sandersons had been surprised to see him and amazed to learn that he had recovered so large a portion of the stolen money.

"As I had already paid Mr. Sanderson one hundred dollars," wrote Songbird, "it made a total of thirty-nine hundred returned to him, and he told me that I need not bother about the other hundred. But I paid it just the same, for I had just been fortunate enough to sell six of my poems—two to a magazine and four to a weekly paper—for one hundred and sixty dollars.

"Of course we had a grand time, and Mr. Sanderson has forgiven everything. He and Minnie think you are mighty smart fellows, and I agree with them. Minnie and I have fixed matters all up between us, and we are the happiest couple you ever saw. I don't know how to thank you enough for what you have done for me, and all I can add is, God bless you, every one!"

"Good old Songbird!" murmured Sam, as he read the communication a second time. "I'll wager he feels a hundred per cent. better than he did."

"And to think he sold six of his poems!" commented Tom. "I shouldn't wonder if he thinks more of that than he does of getting the money back," he added, somewhat drily.

On the following day came another telegram, this time from Mr. Rover, stating that the opposition of the Waltham interests in Wall Street had been suddenly withdrawn. But he added that business matters in the metropolis were becoming more and more arduous for him, and he asked when Dick expected to get back.

"I'm afraid it's getting too much for dear, old dad," was Dick's comment, on perusing this message. "I think the best thing I can do is to get back and help him."

"Well, if you go back, I think I'll go back myself," said Tom. "Anyway, this tour seems to have come to a standstill, with so much rain."

"I'm willing to go back if you fellows say so," put in Sam.

"I'll wager he and Grace want to get ready for their wedding," remarked Tom, slily.

"That's just what we do," returned Sam, boldly. "We're going to be married early this fall, aren't we, Grace?" and he gazed fondly at the girl, who nodded, and then turned away to hide her blushes.

But the tour did not come to an end as quickly as might have been expected. On the day following it was such fair weather that they left the Barlow farm and started once more on their trip westward. Colorado Springs was soon gained, and, passing on to Manitou, they left the automobiles, and took the cog railway to the summit of Pike's Peak. Then, on the day following, they motored up to Denver.

"We can ship our automobiles home by freight," said Dick, "and by returning by train we can be back in New York in no time."

A week later found the entire party once more in the East. While Dick and Tom settled down to help their father at the offices in Wall Street, the others returned to Valley Brook and to Cedarville, to prepare for the coming wedding.

"And where is it to be, Sam?" questioned Tom, when the brothers were on the point of parting.

"Oh, it can only be in one place," was Sam's answer.

"And I guess I know where that is," returned Tom, with a grin.

Both Dick and Tom had been married in the Cedarville Union Church, a little stone edifice covered with ivy, which was located not a great distance from the homes of the Lanings and the Stanhopes, and also Putnam Hall. As before, it was a question if the numerous guests who were expected to the ceremony would be able to get into the building. But both Grace and Sam said they would have to make the best of it.

As soon as the wedding invitations were issued, the presents began to come in, and they were fully as numerous and as costly as had been the gifts bestowed upon Dora and upon Nellie. From Mr. Rover came, as was to be expected, a bankbook containing an amount written therein which was the duplicate of that he had bestowed upon Dick and Dora and likewise upon Tom and Nellie.

"You can always depend on dad," was Sam's comment, his voice choking a little. "The best dad anybody ever had!"

"Indeed you are right!" answered the bride-to-be. "And I'm going to love him just as if he were my own father."

Sam's own present to his bride was a gold wrist-watch set in diamonds and pearls—a beautiful affair over which the happy girl went wild with delight.

At last came the eventful day, full of golden sunshine. All of the Rovers had arrived in Cedarville and were quartered at the hotel. Many other guests were at the Stanhope homestead and at the Laning farm, and still others—former cadets—had come back not only to attend the wedding but also to take another look at dear old Putnam Hall.

Among the old guard who had thus presented themselves were Fred Garrison, Larry Colby, Bart Conners and Harry Blossom. Among those who had attended Brill were Stanley Browne, Spud Jackson, Bob Grimes and, of course, Songbird.

"I'm engaged to Minnie," whispered the latter to the Rovers at the first opportunity. "We are going to be married just as soon as my income will permit. And what do you think? I've sold four more poems—got eighty dollars for them," and his face beamed as they had never seen it shine before.

"I congratulate you, Songbird," returned Sam, heartily. "I certainly hope you get to be the best-known poet in the United States."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I am going to buckle down to business. My uncle thinks I am doing wonderfully well, and he says if I keep on he is going to give me a substantial increase in salary after the first of the year. I'm going to write verses just as a side issue."

As at the other weddings, the ceremony was set for high noon. Soon the guests began to arrive, and before long the old church was crowded to its capacity, with many standing up in the aisles and in the rear and even at the side windows, which were wide open.

Captain Putnam, in full uniform and looking a little grayer than ever, was there, and with him, George Strong, his head assistant, with whom Sam had always been very friendly. There were also numerous girls there who had formerly attended Hope Seminary, and of these one was a flower girl and two were bridesmaids.

Sam's best man was his old Putnam Hall chum, Fred Garrison, while among the ushers were Songbird, Stanley, Spud, Bob, and some others of his former classmates.

Presently the organ pealed out and the minister appeared, followed a moment later by Sam. Then up the aisle came Grace on the arm of Mr. Laning, and daintily attired in white with a flowing veil beset with orange blossoms.

"Oh, how pretty she looks!" said more than one; and they spoke the truth, for Grace certainly made a beautiful bride.

The ceremony was a brief but solemn one, and then, as the organ pealed out joyously, the happy pair walked forth from the church, to enter an automobile which whirled them off to the Laning homestead. To that place they were followed by a great number of invited guests. An elaborate wedding dinner had been prepared, and an orchestra from the city had been hired, and all sat down to a feast of good things with music.

"We'll have to give them a send-off—same as they gave me," said Tom to his brother Dick, while the festivities were at their height. "They'll be getting ready to go away soon."

"Sure! we'll give them a send-off," returned the oldest brother. "Come on, let us get busy."

Down at the barns an automobile was in readiness to take Sam and his bride away on their wedding trip. This car Dick and Tom and a number of others lost no time in decorating with white streamers and a placard which read: We are on our wedding trip. Congratulate us.

"Aren't you going to stay to have a dance?" questioned Nellie of her sister, a little later.

"Of course," answered Grace; and shortly after that she and Sam tripped around to the tuneful measures of a two-step. All of the young folks present joined in, the older folks looking on with much satisfaction.

"I can hardly believe it," declared old Aunt Martha, as she took off her spectacles to wipe her eyes. "Why, it don't seem no time since Sam was just a baby!"

The dancing continued for some time but then, of a sudden, came a cry from Dora:

"Where are Sam and Grace? I don't see them anywhere."

"They are gone! They have given us the slip!"

"No, they've gone upstairs. Wait here, and we'll give them a shower."

The young folks gathered in the hallway and out on the piazza, and a few minutes later Sam and Grace appeared, both ready for their tour. Then came a grand shower of rice and confetti, mingled with two or three old shoes, and in the midst of this the happy, laughing young couple escaped to the automobile which was now drawn up before the door. The chauffeur was ready for the start, and in an instant more the machine shot down the lane and out into the roadway.

"Good-bye! Good-bye and good luck to you!" was the cry.

"Good-bye, everybody!" came back from the touring car, and Sam and Grace stood up to wave their hands to those left behind. Then the touring car disappeared around a turn of the road, and they were gone.

And now let me add a few words more and thus bring to a close this long series of adventures in which the three Rover boys, Dick, Tom, and Sam, have played such an important part.

A number of years have passed and many changes of importance have occurred. Mr. Anderson Rover has retired from active participation in The Rover Company, and Dick is now the president, with Tom secretary and Sam treasurer. The concern is doing remarkably well and all of the Rovers are reported to be wealthy. The father has returned to the farm at Valley Brook, where he lives in peace and comfort with Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha, who, despite their years, are still in the best of health.

A year after Sam's marriage to Grace, Songbird Powell married Minnie Sanderson. The would-be poet has made quite a business man of himself and, what perhaps is of even greater pleasure to himself, has had many of his poems accepted by our leading periodicals.

When Sam was first married he went to live in an apartment close to those occupied by Dick and Tom, but two years later the three brothers had a chance to buy a beautiful plot of ground on Riverside Drive, facing the noble Hudson River, and on this they built three beautiful houses adjoining one another.

"I guess we are in New York to stay," was the way the oldest brother had expressed himself, "and if that is so we may as well make ourselves as comfortable here as possible."

Before the young folks moved into the new homes Dick and Dora were blessed with a little son, who later on was named John after Mr. John Laning. Little Jack, as he was always called by the others, was a wonderfully bright and clever lad and a great source of comfort to his parents. Later still the young couple had a daughter, whom they named Martha after Dick's aunt.

Tom and Nellie had twin boys that were speedily christened Andy after Mr. Anderson Rover, and Randy after Tom's Uncle Randolph. Then Sam came along with a daughter, who was called Mary after Mrs. Laning and with a son, whom he called Fred after his old school chum, Fred Garrison.

The young Rover boys had a great many qualities similar to those displayed by their fathers. Little Jack was as strong and sturdy as Dick had ever been, and young Fred had many of the peculiarities of Sam, while Andy and Randy, the twins, were the equal of their father, Tom, for creating fun.

"I don't know what we're ever going to do with those kids," remarked Tom, one day, after Andy and Randy had played a big joke on Jack and Fred. "Some day they'll pull the house down over our ears."

"Well, Andy and Randy are simply chips of the old block," laughed Dick Rover. "I suppose we'll all have to do as our folks did with us—send the lads off to some strict boarding school."

"If I ever do send them off, I know where it will be," answered Tom Rover. "Our old Putnam Hall chum, Larry Colby, has opened a first-class military academy which he calls Colby Hall. If I ever send them away I think I'll send them to Larry."

"That wouldn't be a half bad idea," put in Sam Rover. "Larry was always a first-class fellow and I don't doubt but what he is running a first-class school."

"Well, those boys are too young yet to leave home," was Dick Rover's comment. "If they are to go to boarding school that must come later."

A few years after that Jack, Andy and Randy, and Fred were sent to Colby Hall, and it is possible that some day I may tell you of what happened there to this younger generation of Rovers.

Dick, Tom, and Sam were happy, and with good reason. They had the best of wives, and children that they dearly loved, and though they worked hard they were surrounded with every comfort. Every summer, and at Christmas time, they left New York either for Valley Brook or for Cedarville, there to receive the warmest of welcomes. Life looked rosy to all of them, and here we will leave them and say good-bye.