It was nearly ten o'clock when Sam and his chum returned to the college. Tom had not yet shown himself, nor had he sent in any word.

His books and his clothing were exactly as he had left them.

"Well, he didn't take anything with him," was Sam's comment, as several of his chums came in to sympathize with him. "That looks as if he hadn't meant to go far."

"Oh, he'll be back, don't worry," said Spud, optimistically.

All did their best to cheer poor Sam up, but this did little good. Sam was much worried and his face showed it.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "I certainly don't feel like going to bed."

One of the proctors had heard that Tom was missing and came to the room to see about it. Sam told him all he knew and the proctor said he would immediately report the case to Doctor Wallington.

"You know he can't stay out as late as this without permission,"

observed the proctor.

"Permission or no permission I wish he was here," answered Sam. "He is sick and I am very much worried about him." And then the proctor left.

An hour dragged by and the other students went to bed. Sam sat up in an easy chair, trying to doze, but starting up at every sound. He tried to figure out what would be best for him to do, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion. He looked out of the window. The moon was setting and soon all became dark. A wagon rattled by on the roadway beyond the campus, and the clock in the college tower tolled out the hour of midnight.

"This is simply awful!" murmured Sam, as he walked back to the easy chair and dropped down. "I wonder if I hadn't better send a message to d.i.c.k? But I can't do it until seven o'clock--the telegraph office is closed."

At last Sam became so worn out that he could keep his eyes open no longer. He flung himself on his bed, dressed as he was, and fell into a fitful doze. And thus the hours went by until the sun shone over the hills in the East.

"Did he come in?" It was a question put by Songbird, as he came to the door.

"No."

"Say, Sam, this is strange. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know--telegraph to d.i.c.k and send out a general alarm, I guess."

"You don't think he simply ran away, do you?"

"What, without telling me? You know better than that, Songbird."

"Then he must have wandered off while he was out of his mind. Maybe he's somewhere in the woods around here."

"Maybe. I only hope he isn't hurt."

"Well, if I can do anything, let me know," answered Songbird, and stepped back into his room to dress.

As soon as possible Sam went to Doctor Wallington and talked the matter over with the head of Brill. The worthy doctor knew about the case already and was all sympathy.

"We had better send out a general alarm," he said. "And you can notify your folks. It was a mistake to let your brother come back here so soon after being hurt. You can take one of the carriages and drive down to Ashton at once, if you wish, and also drive around to some of the other places in this vicinity. Somebody must have seen your brother after he left here, or after Mr. Sanderson saw him."

"Would you mind if I take John Powell with me?" asked Sam. "I may need somebody to help me."

"Very well, Rover, he can go if he wishes."

"To be sure I'll go," said Songbird, when told of this. "And we'll find Tom, see if we don't," he added, by way of cheering Sam.

Sam waited until nine o'clock to see if Tom would show himself and then he and Songbird drove over the Ashton. A search lasting the best part of an hour followed, but nothing new was learned. Then, rather reluctantly--for he knew that d.i.c.k was having trouble enough attending to their father's affairs--he sent a telegram to his big brother, telling of Tom's disappearance, and adding that he would telegraph again, if anything new turned up.

In driving over to Hope Seminary Mr. Sanderson had pointed out to Sam the spot where he had seen--or thought he had seen--Tom. Sam now determined to visit that spot and see if from that point he could not get on the trail of his brother.

The place was near a turn of the road and just beyond was another road.

At the forks stood an old stone house, wherein lived an old basketmaker named Rater. The girls of Hope often bought baskets from the man just to help him along.

Sam and Songbird found Rater sitting on a side porch of his home, with his basket-making materials scattered around him. He was a tall, thin man, somewhat deaf, but with a pair of sharp eyes.

"Come to buy a basket?" he asked, briskly.

"No, I came for a little information, if you can give it, Mr. Rater,"

replied Sam.

"What do you want to know?"

"Were you here yesterday?"

"I sure was--all day long."

"Did you see anything of my brother?" went on Sam. "He is a little larger than I am, and here is his picture," and the youngest Rover produced a photograph he had brought along.

The old basketmaker looked at the photograph carefully.

"Why, yes, I see that feller," he said slowly. "He stopped at my gate fer a minute or two. He acted sort o' strange."

"In what way?"

"He didn't speak to me, he spoke to hisself. Said something about a basketful o' nuggets. I asked him if he wanted to buy a basket, but he only shook his head an' said somethin' about wantin' to git the nuggets o' gold first. Then, all of a sudden like, he ran away."

"And which way did he go?" asked Sam, with interest.

"Up the Hoopville road," and the old basketmaker pointed to the side road which ran past his home.

"Did he have any baggage with him?" questioned Songbird.

"Nary a thing."

"Thank you for the information," said Sam, and pa.s.sed over a quarter, which Rater pocketed with a broad smile. Ready money was scarce with him.

"We'll drive to Hoopville," said Sam, a minute later, as he and Songbird got in the buggy. "And we'll ask about Tom on the way."

A quarter of a mile was pa.s.sed and they came to a lonely spot on the highway. Here, the only building in sight was a half tumbled down cottage belonging to a man named Hiram Duff. Duff pretended to be poor, but common report had it that he was a miser and fairly well to do.

"Going to stop here?" questioned Songbird, as they drove near.

"We might as well," returned Sam. "Old Duff is a tough customer, but in this case----"