The Rover Boys at College

Anyone who has been within range of a television set, a radio or a newspaper over the past ten years obviously knows what's been happening on the nation's college campuses. The new sexual freedom, the racial turmoil, the antiwar demonstrations, the student confrontations with police and National Guardsmen. In short, the whole violent spectrum that exploded in the Sixties and is still sputtering in the Seventies.

I had always thought that I was as aware of the new college scene as anyone. However, it wasn't until I visited the campus of a large Western university recently (my first trip, I must confess, to a college in some years) that the full impact of the phenomenon really hit home. From the bizarre group living arrangements to the myriad campus booths collecting money to fight pollution and free H. Rap Brown, to the graphic no-holds-barred posters such as War is Bullshit and Curb the Population Growth, Use a Condom, I was frankly stunned and not a little awed by the incredible transformation that had taken place in such a relatively short period of time.

While I am, for the most part, in sympathy with any cause to advance individual freedom, particularly among the country's youth, I can't help feeling a little sad. Once again, something sweet and innocent from my reveries of the past has been rocked to its very foundation.

As a child of those now-storied Thirties, my whole concept of college and campus life was nurtured by boys' books. And of all the books on the subject, one group towered mightily over the rest--the Rover Boys series. Ah, those three clean-cut, intrepid Rovers. Sired by the prolific Arthur M. Winfield in the 1890s, they not only thrilled us and our fathers with an adventure a year for decades but they begat four manly, wide-awake sons who had adventures of their own in a second Rover Boys series.

But getting back to the Rovers pères, it was through their pulse-pounding experiences in school, circa 1900, that we learned all we had to know about college: that it was a place of warm camaraderie, school spirit, spine-freezing football games, blackhearted but strangely appealing villains, a little book cracking and a lot of cheering and singing. It was where freshmen always wore beanies, where profs were pedagogic, absentminded and lovable and where coeds were beautiful and pure.

I can't deny that when I entered college myself in the Forties, part of my dream was shattered. For one thing, there were no beanies and, for another, there was a rumor that a girl at Sigma Kappa kissed with her mouth open. But aside from that, the image pretty much held fast. Who would dream that we would go from the Forties into the Sixties (as we all know, there were no Fifties) and get all this?

If I may, I'd like to go back into a special corner of my past and re-create from memory a much simpler time--the wonderful, happy image of college life that I had as a boy. There were giants in the ivy-covered earth in those days and their names were Dick, Tom and Sam Rover. And one of their typical adventures usually went something like this:

• • •

The makeshift flying craft hovered over the campus of Brill College, and then began to make its slow descent. Aboard the strange vehicle, barely visible to the naked eye, were three figures.

From the campus buildings ran students to witness the sight.

"Jumping lobsters!" shouted a sophomore. "What is going on here?"

"By crickey!" said a junior. "There are three lads aboard that odd craft. I wonder who they can be."

"Gosh all hemlock!" cried a senior slangily. "I do fancy it's the Rover Boys arriving on campus for the fall semester."

"What an unusual way to travel," said the sophomore.

"Unusual, indeed," vouchsafed a jealous freshman. "Why can't they come by train or horse and carriage, like the rest of us?"

"Because they are always up to something new and original," said another.

"They are so full of grit and push," said the freshman grudgingly. "I wish I were like them. But I never had a chance."

"Boys like the Rovers make their own chances," said the junior simply. Whereupon the others nodded their heads respectfully and awfully.

The craft came close to the ground, and then with a few light bumps, it touched down on campus. One at a time, the Rovers began to climb out.

"Look," said a student. "There is Dick, the eldest Rover."

"Hello, college chums," said Dick, his noble, well-chiseled features gleaming in the autumn sunlight. "It is indeed grand to be back on campus with all you keen fellows again."

"And look," said another. "There is Tom, the fun-loving Rover."

Another manly lad stepped out and waved cheerily.

"Bless me," said a dudish chap, who was new on campus, "who is the third lad?"

"Humph," said the senior impatiently. "That is the youngest brother, sturdy Sam, as any fool can plainly see."

Sam stepped out and also waved at the throng. Then the three brothers were embraced manlily by the others.

"Say, Rovers," said the sophomore, "you have certainly chosen a bizarre way to arrive on campus. What do you call that strange vehicle?"

"Anything except late for dinner," said the fun-loving Tom, with a twinkle in his mischievous eyes, and there was a merry laugh all around. As he had done so many times in the past, irrepressible Tom had scored once again with his telling wit.

"But seriously, chums," said Dick modestly, "this is just a little something we pieced together on a rainy summer afternoon at home. We haven't decided yet what to call it."

"I have it," said sturdy Sam. "How about calling it an aeroplane?"

"Bully!" said Tom.

And somehow the name stuck.

"Well, well," said a cheery voice. "What a pleasure it is to see you red-blooded lads back again with us for the new semester."

"Oi sure, an' that it is," echoed a voice with a friendly Irish brogue.

Our three heroes turned and standing before them, their faces beaming, were two familiar figures.

"Why, it is Dean Hobart Brill," said Dick, overcome with emotion. "The beloved founder and president of this, the finest institution of learning in the entire Middle West."

"And his trusted campus law-enforcement officer, jolly Patrolman O'Brien!" shouted Tom.

"Outside of our Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha back at Valley Brook Farm, there are no two people dearer to us on the face of the earth," ejaculated sturdy Sam reverently.

"Hurrah for Dean Brill and Officer O'Brien!" shouted the Rovers and their fellow students, removing their caps. "Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

Whereupon the lads sang For He's a Jolly Good Mentor! Followed by What's the Matter with O'Brien? He's All Right! This followed by three more cheers, a locomotive and a tiger.

When the cheers ended, Dean Brill and Patrolman O'Brien were lifted onto the shoulders of Dick and Tom and carried to the dining hall for a grand campus ice-cream-and-cake festival that would be remembered long after that esteemed institution had turned to dust.

Several hours later, the boys headed for their dormitory, still tingling from all the jollification.

"Brill College is the cream," said Sam.

"It most assuredly is," agreed Dick.

"Boiled umbrellas," said Tom, with a broad grin, "but those were mighty tasty victuals."

And defenseless once again before the unrestrained humor of the fun-loving Rover, Dick and Sam laughed in spite of themselves.

"Yes," said Dick, "it is wonderful to be back at Brill, and I am certain that we shall have nothing but bully times again unless...."

He paused ominously.

"Unless what?" inquired sturdy Sam.

"Surely, Dick," said Tom, "you do not refer to our enemies."

"But no," said Sam. "They are all in the lockup, with the exception of Dan Baxter, who, after the severe thrashing we administered to him, has vowed to take the straight-and-narrow path."

"Yes," said Dick, "I suppose you are right. I fancy there is nothing to worry about. And now on to a new semester with lots of studying and good clean campus fun and horseplay."

And so it was with light steps and full hearts that the boys made their way across the campus, when suddenly from out of the darkness a brick came hurtling through the air. As it flew, deadly and true, toward poor Dick's head to perhaps kill him, or at the very least maim him for life, let us pause for a moment in our story.

To my older readers, the lads already mentioned will need no introduction. For the benefit of others, let me state that the Rovers were three typical, manly, wide-awake lads who, when not attending school, lived with their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha on a pleasant farm in Upstate New York. In addition to working hard, playing hard and going off on exciting world-wide adventures, they also found time to devote to three of the dearest, sweetest girls in the whole world. Dick was "stuck on," as the saying goes, Miss Dora Stanhope, or "friend Dora," as she was known to him intimately, while Tom and Sam regarded Dora's cousins, the Misses Nellie and Grace Laning, with extreme fondness. In my last book, The Rover Boys on Vacation, we learned how the boys fished in Maine, hunted in Michigan, (continued on page 226)Rover Boys at College(continued from page 128) stormed San Juan Hill with Colonel Roosevelt and laid the groundwork for the future discovery of penicillin. All in all, it was a not uneventful summer, but now it was back to studies, football, fun and a flying brick.

The brick was now but two feet from the head of the eldest Rover, when the nimble-witted Dick, reacting to a sixth sense, skipped out of its way in the nick of time and the missile landed harmlessly against a tree. With a bound Dick disappeared in the brush and returned shortly to his brothers dragging a figure by the scruff of his neck.

"Why, it is Dan Baxter, our archenemy," ejaculated Sam.

"Perhaps you would care to explain the meaning of this nefarious deed," said Tom hotly to the scalawag.

"I hate you Rovers," sputtered the long-nosed, sharp-faced ruffian. "And every time I see you, I have the urge to throw something at you."

To the wretch's credit, what he said was true. At numerous times in the past, he had hurled at them such things at hand as a hammer, a sack of cement, an anchor chain and, on one bizarre occasion, a pygmy leper, as some of my old readers may recall in The Rover Boys on Devil's Island, or "To the Rescue of Captain Dreyfus with Their Chum, Emile Zola."

"What are you doing here on the campus of Brill College, you insufferable bounder?" asked Sam. "I thought you attended State University."

"None of your business, sturdy Sam," said the evil-minded boy.

"Dan Baxter," said Dick coolly, "you have gone back on your word. When are you going to learn that honesty is the best policy? You are not dumb, by any means. I do fancy that if you pursued an honorable course in life, you could make your own salt."

"I would just as lief follow my own bent," said the bully cockily.

"If you persist," warned Tom, "you will wind up with your cronies in the lockup."

"Humph," snorted the rascal. "My cronies in the lockup, indeed!"

The lads were taken aback by the remark.

"You mean," said Dick, "that those rotters are no longer in the lockup?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, Dick Rover," said Dan Baxter smugly.

The boys exchanged meaningful glances.

"Now, then, Rovers." said the scoundrel, "what do you intend to do with me?"

"That, Dan Baxter," said the fun-loving Tom, "is a mystery puzzle, and there is a reward of one herring bone for the correct solution."

At this outrageous humor, Sam laughed outright, but the eldest Rover stayed his impish brother.

"Tom, I fear you are wasting your time on this bounder," said Dick. "Fellows of his ilk little appreciate wit or satire."

Whereupon the eldest Rover fell upon the bully and proceeded to thrash him within an inch of his life, sending him skulking off into the night with yet another promise of character reformation.

"I fancy we shan't be seeing much of that mucker anymore," said Sam.

Tom nodded. But if the brothers had peered closely, they would have seen a look of anxiety pass briefly over their eldest brother's face.

Later that evening, Dick paid a call on Miss Greebe's House for Gentlewomen, one of several offcampus homes of a neighboring girls' school. When he asked to see Miss Dora Stanhope, he received a cold glance from the proprietress, perhaps owing to the lateness of the hour, it being already past seven o'clock. But nonetheless, that worthy duly notified the girl of a gentleman caller.

As he saw the figure of Dora coming down the stairs. Dick's heart began to beat faster. "Friend Dora," he called out, starting for the staircase.

Dora, still unable to see who had spoken to her and not hearing Dick's voice clearly, called out, "Who is that addressing me by name?"

"It is I, Dick Rover," said Dick intimately.

Quickly, the girl scampered down the stairs and ran with quickened steps to the side of the eldest Rover.

"Oh, Dick, Dick Rover," she said fondly.

"Dora," he cried. "You dear, dear girl."

They paused in front of each other for a breathless moment. And then, throwing caution to the wind, they flung themselves down in neighboring chairs and in a frenzy of youthful ardor gave each other a look that spoke volumes.

"How was your summer?" asked Dora, when she could trust herself to speak once more.

"Just peaches and cream," said the lad slangily. "Lots of hunting and a good deal of fishing."

He modestly omitted details of his and his brothers' exploits with Colonel Roosevelt, how they had all but single-handedly defeated the Spanish fleet in Santiago harbor and how they had braved pestilence and rebel bullets to help President McKinley secure a just peace and acquire Puerto Rico, Guam and the Philippines, while guaranteeing Cuban independence, knowing full well she would only have worried.

"And how was your summer?" he asked.

"Absolutely first-rate," she replied. "Except for...." At which point she hesitated.

"Except for what?" he inquired with great concern.

"Er ... ah ... nothing," said the young lady, averting his withering gaze.

"Friend Dora," he said familiarly, boldly taking it upon himself to lay a hand on the corner of her sleeve, "did Dan Baxter and his pack of ruffians kidnap you again?"

She nodded painfully. Slowly the blood began to rise to the lad's temples. "Why, those ... those fiendish brutes!" he said. "This is the sixth holiday in a row in which they have kidnaped you."

"The seventh," she reminded him.

"Of course," he said. "I had almost forgotten the Shrove Tuesday abduction. Oh, those muckers!"

"It was only for two weeks this time," she said airily, endeavoring to temper his ire.

"Those insufferable knaves!" he cried.

"Time passed so swiftly, I hardly knew I was away," she said lightly.

"The bounders!"

"It was during the rainy season," she assured him.

"Oh, your poor mother," said Dick. "She has all she can do to make ends meet, let alone continually contribute portions of her meager widow's stipend for ransom payments."

"Dear Dick Rover," she said tenderly, "do not trouble yourself on our account. We can make do with what we have."

She looked so endearing and helpless before him that he could not refrain from changing the tenor of his thoughts. "Friend Dora," he said, looking her full in the face, "how long have we two known each other?"

"Oh, about five years or so, I fancy," said the young lady.

Twin patches of flame suddenly appeared on the lad's flawlessly chiseled cheeks, as he struggled with his next words. "Dora, there is something I would like to say to you."

"What is it, Dick?" she asked, in great anticipation, her heart suddenly hammering furiously at her chest.

"Dora, I would just like you to know that I ... I...." He was finding it very difficult to proceed.

"You would like me to know what, Dick?" she inquired. "I beg you. Do tell me."

"I have never said this to you before, but I ... I...." Suddenly, he blurted it out: "Dora, I respect you. There--I said it."

"Oh, Dick," she said excitedly, "do you? Do you really?"

"Yes, Dora," was his rejoinder. "I respect you with all the honor I can earnestly muster up."

With these words, the girl blushed furiously, but she was obviously not displeased. "Dick," she said, "shall I tell you something, too?"

"Please do."

"With all the honor I can muster up, I respect you, too."

"Earnestly?" he inquired, struggling to catch his breath.

"Most earnestly," she assured him.

The lad was overcome with joy. He could scarcely keep his heart from bursting. Then suddenly, a frown creased his forehead. "Dora," he said, "there is something else I fear I must say to you. I only pray that you will not think ill of me."

"What is it, dear Dick Rover?" she asked.

"I ... I...." Now the words came with even more difficulty than before. But he was lief to release them. "Dora, you must know that I ... I respected other girls before you."

He shamefacedly averted his eyes from her face.

For an instant she was crestfallen, but then she regained her composure. "Boys are different," she said fatalistically. "I did not expect to be the first."

"But you shall always be the last," he assured her. And with that, suddenly unable to contain himself any longer, he seized her hand and gave it a squeeze she would long remember.

From the other room, the proprietress of the house, who had been maliciously eavesdropping on the conversation, muttered to herself, "Humph, the way these young'uns carry on nowadays, it's easy for a body to see why this country is going to the dogs."

The next months passed swiftly for our young heroes. As always, they doggedly pursued their studies and maintained their high scholastic positions at the heads of their respective classes. But there was also time for jollity and more lighthearted college pursuits. There was the junior class hay ride, the college sing, the Student Union taffy pull and, of course, the legendary campus milk-and-cookie bust. Not to mention the football gridiron. With the three Rovers leading the way as always, the Brill eleven approached its final game undefeated and nigh unstoppable.

And so it was on the afternoon of the big contest with State, when we rejoin our young stalwarts. It was moments before the kickoff and they were warming up on the side line. Needless to say, the stands were packed and a fever pitch of excitement spread through the gathered assemblage.

"What a grand day it is for a game," said Dick cheerily, tossing a ball to Sam.

"I do believe that with a bit of good fortune, we shall beat State today all hollow," expounded Sam.

"I feel absolutely first-rate," stated Tom. "It is most gratifying not to have a care in the world."

Suddenly, a scrap of paper wrapped around a rock fell to the earth at Dick's feet. The eldest Rover picked it up, perused the missive quickly, and then, angrily crumpling it into a ball, jammed it into his pocket.

"What is it, Dick?" asked sturdy Sam, sensing intuitively that something was amiss.

"I have just received bad news," said Dick. "Dora Stanhope has been kidnaped."

"Kidnaped?" said the once-fun-loving Rover, who was now grim of visage. "But it is impossible. It cannot be. Today is not a holiday."

"That is true," agreed Sam. "She has never been kidnaped on a nonholiday before."

"We are dealing with desperate men," ejaculated Dick. "But that is not all of the news. Nellie and Grace have also been abducted."

The two younger Rovers were clearly taken aback by this additional information. "But who could have perpetrated this dastardly deed?" asked Tom.

"Surely not Dan Baxter," offered Sam. "For there he stands, practicing with his State University teammates."

Sam indicated the bully on the other side of the field.

"Perhaps Dan Baxter did not personally commit the foul deed," Dick agreed. "But I'll wager he masterminded the operation."

"For what purpose?" inquired Tom.

"He most assuredly has gambled heavily on his team, as he is wont to do," replied the eldest brother. "And he wished to render us distraught and thus throw us off our game."

"The rotter!" cried Sam hotly, starting for the other side of the field. "He shall pay and pay dearly for this."

But Dick stopped his headstrong brother. "No time for that now, Sam," he said. "We've got work to do and we must move fast."

"Where do you fancy they are holding the girls?" asked Tom.

"It seems perfectly obvious to me," replied Dick.

"Of course," said Tom. "On the top of Kidnap Mountain."

Dick nodded grimly. His heart went out to poor Dora, on this, her eighth trip to the infamous headquarters of the vile abductors.

"But it is a precipitous climb through impenetrable brush," sturdy Sam reminded them. "It would take several hours for us to get there. We shan't have enough time to apprehend and thrash the rascals, rescue the girls and still be back to help win the game for Brill."

"You forget," said Dick. "There is a quick way to get up there."

"By jinks," said Tom slangily, "I had forgotten. The aeroplane!"

"Bully!" cried Sam.

Quickly, the boys ran to their coach, kindly Pop Armbruster, and explained the situation to him. Reluctantly, but with great sympathy, the craggy-faced, white-maned gridiron mentor wished them Godspeed, as he had so many times in the past when they were off to rescue kidnap victims before important games.

As the boys rushed off the field, Sam stopped and, addressing Dan Baxter, he shouted ominously, "By the great clam chowder of Pocahontas, you shall pay for this dastardly act, Dan Baxter!"

Looking the youngest Rover full in the face, the bully said innocently, "I don't know what you are talking about, sturdy Sam Rover."

But, of course, he most assuredly did.

The boys hopped aboard the aeroplane and left the ground; some time later, they were circling over the familiar cabin high atop Kidnap Mountain.

"Where shall we land her?" shouted Sam above the din of the roaring engine.

Dick pointed to a small clearing nearby. And no sooner said than done, the craft touched down on the field. In a twinkling, the Rovers scampered out of the vessel and sprinted toward the cabin. Quickly bursting the door open, they stormed inside. Seated in a corner, trussed together with their mouths gagged, were the three girls.

"Thank goodness," said Sam. "Not a moment too soon."

"I fear you are wrong, Sam Rover," said a voice in a corner. "You are several moments too late."

With that, seven figures suddenly appeared brandishing firearms and beset the youths from all sides. It was Dan Baxter's entire pack of ruffians: Josiah Crabtree, Tad Sobber, Lew Flapp, Jerry Koswell, Bart Larkspur, Dudd Flockley and, of course, the incorrigible Mumps Fenwick.

"Come on, boys," said Sam steadfastly to his brothers. "Let us rush them."

But the eldest Rover once again stayed the headstrong Sam. "No, Sam," he said. "I fear we do not stand a chance. Had they not been armed, we most assuredly would have thrashed them handily; but in view of the circumstances, it behooves us to refrain from rash action."

"Very well put, Dick Rover," sneered the evil Mumps Fenwick. "And now, boys, tie 'em up, and we shall all wait for State to vanquish Brill, at which time we shall fill our coffers with much easy-earned pelf."

With this, the foul rascal laughed fiendishly.

All seemed lost now and Dick and Sam were most assuredly crestfallen. But the cheery Tom suddenly piped up, "Mumps Fenwick, had you and your cronies not been armed, we would have made vile-tasting cider out of you."

The bully scowled. "I do not follow the tenor of your thought, Tom Rover. How would you have made vile-tasting cider out of us?"

"What other cider could you make," asked the fun-loving Rover, "out of seven bad apples?"

With that, despite their dire predicament, Dick and Sam laughed loud and long. But Sam finally caught himself and said to his brother, "Tom, granted that was a rib-tickling riposte, but I hardly fancy that this is the time for levity."

But of a sudden, Tom gave his brothers a meaningful glance, the significance of which did not escape Dick, who felt his sinking heart begin to stir. It is a chance in a thousand, thought Dick, but Tom might just pull it off.

"Tie 'em up," repeated Mumps Fenwick.

"Excuse me, Mumps Fenwick," said the fun-loving Tom, "did you say my tie was up? As anyone can see, I am not wearing a tie."

With that, he pointed to his football uniform. At this devastating jape, several of the bullies giggled in spite of themselves.

Come on, Tom, thought Dick silently. It's up to you now.

"Shut up!" snarled Mumps Fenwick.

"Did you say shirt up?" asked Tom. "But I am not wearing a shirt, only a jersey."

At that withering sally, all the scoundrels save Mumps Fenwick began to laugh.

"Shut up at once!" roared Mumps Fenwick.

"Now, see here," said Tom. "Who are you calling a dunce?"

With that unerring witticism, all seven bullies, including Mumps Fenwick, were reduced to paroxysms of laughter, and back and forth they rolled helplessly on the floor. Dick was overjoyed. Tom's ploy had worked.

The knaves being in this condition, it took but a matter of moments for the determined Rovers to disarm them, thrash them soundly, tie them up and release the girls. There wasn't a moment to lose, but Dick felt he owed his brother a special debt of gratitude.

"Hurrah for fun-loving Tom!" shouted Dick, leading himself, Sam and the girls in a quick cheer. "Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"

This done, Dick quickly grabbed a sheet from a bed and gathered up the rope that had been used to bind the girls. "Now," he said, "let us make for the aeroplane."

"What are you doing with those, Dick?" asked Sam, meaning the sheet and rope.

"I cannot discuss it now," said Dick, "but we may need them."

In a twinkling, the six young people scampered for the aeroplane.

Meanwhile, back at the stadium, all seemed lost. State University was leading Brill by two points and time had just about run out.

"I fear we are doomed, coach," said a Brill substitute to kindly Pop Armbruster, who paced in front of the bench.

"Perhaps you are right," said the coach, "but there is always a chance."

"Chance?" said the not very plucky substitute. "What chance have we? There are only a few seconds left, time for but one more play. And, worst of all, State has the ball. All they need to do is run one more play and it is curtains for us."

In truth, the coach had all but given up hope and, looking heavenward, he began to silently pray. Suddenly, he saw a speck in the sky and it grew larger and larger, and then was heard the roar of a motor.

"Look!" shouted the coach. "It is the Rover Boys returning."

Word passed through the stands like wildfire and all gazed upward to watch the craft circle over the field.

Quickly, Pop Armbruster dashed out to the referee. "I am taking out three players and putting the Rovers in the game," he said breathlessly.

"But you cannot do that," said the referee. "They are not on the field as yet and play is about to resume."

"They are in uniform and they are on my squad," said the coach. "Is there any rule that states that I cannot put them in at this moment?"

The referee scratched his head. "Very well," he said, "but I hardly see how they can be of assistance."

"They shall find a way," murmured kindly Pop Armbruster to himself. "Somehow I fancy they shall find a way."

As the two squads lined up for the final play of the game, the Brill eleven was three men short for the reason I have already cited. The center for State snapped the ball back to Dan Baxter. The bully looked upward at the now very low-flying craft and shouted, "You are too late, Rovers. Too late."

"Not yet, Dan Baxter!" called Dick from the aeroplane.

Suddenly, the referee's gun went off.

"Ha-ha-ha, Dick Rover!" laughed the rascal. "You heard the gun. The game is over."

"But the play has not been completed yet!" shouted Dick. And then, addressing his teammates, he shouted, "Fellow members of the Brill eleven, do not tackle the ball carrier."

To a man, the Brill squad responded to Dick's exhortation.

"See here, Dick Rover!" called the villain. "What are you up to?"

"Dan Baxter," taunted Dick. "You are a blackhearted villain, a brute, a scamp, a cad, a scoundrel, a rascal, a bully and a thoroughly bad egg!"

"Shut up, Dick Rover!" roared the villain. "Shut up!"

"You are also a bounder, a rogue and a knave!"

"I warn you!" cried Dan Baxter, his bile rising precipitously.

"Not to mention," added Dick, "a scalawag, a wretch, a mucker, a rotter and a perfect foursquare blower!"

The villain's face turned the color of a beet, and then, losing control of himself entirely, as he was always wont to do in the presence of the Rovers, he once again threw the nearest thing on hand at them. In this instance, as Dick had, of course, planned, it was the football!

In a high arc the ball floated through the air. Quickly, Dick stood up on a wing of the low-flying craft and made an effort to catch the ball; but, as luck would have it, it eluded his eager grasp.

A groan went up from the Brill adherents in the stand.

"The ball is now on a downward arc," said a disappointed student, "and it is beyond the reach of those on the aeroplane."

"All is lost, I fear," said another student.

"Wait, look, look!" shouted another. "Dick has leaped into the air in an effort to catch the ball."

"He shall be killed!" shouted another.

"Look, he has caught the ball!"

"He will still be killed!"

"Look, he is floating through the air."

"How is that possible? What is keeping him afloat?"

"Search me. It looks like a bed sheet and some rope."

Closer, closer to the ground floated the determined Dick, the ball clutched tightly under his arm. By now, his descent had carried him close to the State goal line. But the entire State team awaited him on the five-yard line, and he seemed to be heading straight into their arms. Perhaps he was a bit late after all.

All seemed lost, when suddenly, as luck would have it, a gust of wind caught the gritty youth in its path and carried him inches beyond the grasp of the State players and over the goal line in a heap.

The game was over. Brill had once again emerged triumphant!

That evening, there was celebration and jollification on campus, the likes of which had never been seen before nor would likely be seen again. The Brill students cheered the Rover Boys until their throats were sore, and there were enough candied apples and brownies to go around to, as fun-loving Tom humorously put it, "choke a horse." As for other matters, Dan Baxter and his evil toadies were given long sentences, this time in the largest lockup in the entire state. And although they subsequently escape to harass the lads in the next book in this series, The Rover Boys at the Big Ditch, or "Fun in Panama with Dr. Walter Reed and Other Chums," we shall leave them now, wishing them all the best of possible luck.

But not before Dean Hobart Brill was heard to say, "That was a remarkable display of heroics today, Dick Rover. I was particularly impressed by the way you floated down from your flying craft. Bless me, what was that strange new contraption you devised to transport you through space?"

"I haven't decided yet what to call it," said the eldest Rover modestly.

"I have it," said sturdy Sam. "How about calling it a parachute?"

"Bully!" said Tom.

And somehow the name stuck.