of the river path and came to a bridge and the highway. On the bridge Tom sat down again.
"Want to go any further, Tom?" asked Sam, as pleasantly as he could.
"I don't care where I go!" burst out the other. "I'm sick of it all! Sick of the college, sick of studying, sick of those fellows, sick of everything and everybody! I wish I could go to Africa, or the North Pole, or somewhere else, where I wouldn't see or hear of 'em again!"
"Tom!"
"I mean it. What's the use of keeping in the grind day after day, like a horse on a tread mill? What does a fellow get out of it? Nothing but hard work and a pain in the head! Some times my head hurts to beat the band! I can't stand it, and I won't! They are all against me, every one of 'em!" And Tom commenced to wring his hands, while two tears stood in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
CHAPTER V
TOM'S QUEER ACTIONS
Sam did not know what to say or what to do. He realized more fully than ever that his brother was not himself. He was growing wilder and more irrational every moment.
"Tom," he asked suddenly, "have you got those pills with you that the doctor gave you to take?"
"Sure," was the ready answer.
"Have you taken any lately?"
"No. What's the use? They don't seem to help me."
"Let me see them, please."
"There they are." Tom brought the box from his pocket. "They might as well be bread pills, or Gumley's red ones," and he grinned for a moment at the recollection of the trick played on William Philander Tubbs.
Sam took the box and looked at the directions carefully. "It says to take one three times a day when needed," he said. "You had better take one now, Tom. Come on."
"It won't do any good, Sam."
"Well, take one for me, that's a good fellow. Wait, I've got my pocket cup and I'll get some water." And he did so.
"Oh, dear, you're bound to feed me pills," sighed Tom, and made a wry face as he swallowed the one Sam handed him. Sam kept the box, making up his mind that he would play nurse after this.
"I guess we had better walk some more," said Tom, suddenly. "I hate sitting still. If we had the old Dartaway I'd take a sail from here to San Francisco, or some other far-off place."
"Wait a little, I'm tired," answered Sam, soothingly. "Just see those little fishes!" he said, pointing to the water under the bridge.
He made Tom get down and watch the fishes and bathed his brother's forehead. At first Tom was rather restless, but soon the pill seemed to take effect and he grew quiet.
"I'm getting awfully tired," he announced, presently. "I guess we had better be getting back, Sam."
"Just as you say, Tom," was the quiet reply.
It was growing dark when they reached the college grounds and most of the students had gone in to supper. Tom said he did not feel much like eating, but his brother told him he had better have a little food, and they went in together. They saw Songbird and the others at another table. The would-be poet and Spud nodded to them, but Stanley paid no attention.
Sam and Tom still occupied their old room, Number 25, while Songbird was still in Number 26. Since Dick was not to return to Brill his place in the latter room had been taken by Max Spangler, a jolly fellow of German-American parentage.
"Vot is der madder mit Dom Rofer?" asked Max of the would-be poet, as both came up to the room after supper.
"Oh, he isn't feeling very well, Max," was the reply. "What makes you ask?"
"Oh, I see him put his hands by his head on so many dimes," said Max. "He got knocked owit, didn't he?"
"Yes, a rascal hit him over the head with a wooden footstool and nearly cracked his skull."
"Den he should be py der hospital, yah, instead of py college," said the German-American student.
"Well, maybe they'll have to take him to the hospital, or somewhere," returned Songbird, thoughtfully. "Hang it all, with Dick gone and Tom acting as he does, times are not half as jolly as they used to be!"
In the next room Sam sat down to study. Tom had wanted to study, too, but his brother had persuaded him to lie down and rest, and now he was asleep and breathing heavily. Sam tiptoed his way across the room to gaze at him.
"Poor, poor Tom!" he murmured softly. "He'll have to take it easy. If he tries to keep up here it may kill him, or – " Sam did not finish. It was a terrorizing thought to imagine that Tom might go out of his mind. "He's got to have a doctor – some specialist. I'm glad Dick is coming, so we can talk it over. But it's too bad to burden Dick with this – and Dora, too – when they aren't over their honeymoon yet. Oh, dear, it's too bad Pelter threw that footstool at Tom!"
Tom continued to sleep and Sam tried his best to study. But it was hard work and the youngest Rover made slow progress. An hour passed and then there came a soft tap on the door. Songbird was there.
"I thought I'd ask how he was," he whispered, nodding towards Tom.
"Sound asleep, Songbird." Sam paused for a moment. "Come in," and his chum did so, and Sam closed the door again. "I wanted to ask you about Stanley and Spud."
"I – I tried to explain to them, without going into it too deeply," said Songbird. "I think Spud understands. But Stanley – well, he's pretty well riled yet. But I guess he'll get over it."
"You can tell 'em that Tom would never play such a trick if he was – well just right here," and Sam touched his forehead. "It's an awful state of affairs, Songbird! I hardly know what to do."
"Why not send Tom home for a rest?"
"How can I if he won't go?"
"Get the doctor to order it."
"That's an idea. I'll talk it over with Dick when he comes. But I wish you could fix it up with Stanley."
"I'll do my best," answered Songbird, and then, as Tom moved restlessly, he hastily left the room as quietly as he had entered it.
Before Sam went to bed Tom roused up and wanted a drink of water. His brother made him take another of the pills and then both retired. For a long time Sam could not sleep, but at last he fell into a profound slumber.
When Sam awoke it was with a start, for the sun was shining brightly and he feared he had overslept himself. He glanced to where Tom had been resting and uttered an exclamation.
"Gone! I wonder where he went to?"
He glanced at the chair on which Tom had placed his clothes and saw that it was empty. The door to the corridor was ajar.
"Can he have been walking in his sleep, or did he wander away out of his mind?" was the agonizing thought that rushed through Sam's, mind. In a jiffy he was out of bed and had begun to dress. He did not spend longer than was necessary on his toilet. Then he hurried out of the room and gazed about him. An assistant janitor was nearby, running a vacuum cleaner over the floor.
"Gilson, you know my brother Tom," he said. "Have you seen him?"
