The Rover Boys Down East Part 13

"Remember how you used to hate the farm, Tom?"

"Well, that was when we got too much of it. I don't like all farm and nothing else."

"I wonder if Uncle Randolph has any new fads this summer?" came from d.i.c.k. Their uncle was more or less of a scientific farmer, and was always trying new ways, and usually losing money on them.

"He's got bees in his bonnet," answered Tom.

"What's that?" demanded d.i.c.k, indignantly. "Tom, Uncle Randolph is no more crazy than you are. He has a right to experiment if he wants to."

"Who said he was crazy?"

"You said 'he has bees in his bonnet.' It's the same thing."

"Not much," answered Tom dryly. "He's got bees on the brain-if that suits you better. Aunt Martha wrote me that he had invested in half a dozen hives of bees, and got a queen bee worth I don't know how much to boss the colony."

"Oh, so he's going into bee culture!" murmured d.i.c.k. "I hope he doesn't get stung."

"He'll be stung right enough," answered Sam. "If not in one way then in another. He never makes his experiments pay. Say, I rather think I'll steer clear of those bees."

"Maybe we can have some fun with them," mused Tom, and immediately commenced to lay plans for that purpose.

They had a three hours' ride to Oak Run and on the way made several stops of more or less importance. At one place, near the depot, was a cigar store, and Tom left the train and came back with three cigars of large size in his hand.

"What are you going to do with those," questioned Sam, "learn to smoke?"

"No, I am going to treat some of my particular friends," answered Tom, and winked one eye, suggestively.

"Oh, let me in on the joke!" pleaded his younger brother.

"Here it is then," answered Tom, and brought from his pocket a small round wooden box. Taking off the cover he disclosed to view some pellets that were coated with what looked like silver.

"What are they?" questioned Sam.

"The fireworks catalogue called them Serpent's Eggs. You light one and the first thing you know it commences to swell up--"

"Oh, yes, and then pushes out just like a great big worm, or snake!"

finished Sam. "I had a box of 'em last year. And are you going--"

"To put them in the cigars. They are harmless, but we can get some fun out of 'em," concluded Tom.

It was an easy matter to cut out a portion of the tobacco from the smoking end of each cigar, and this done Tom inserted three of the pellets in each. Then he placed the cigars carefully in his pocket.

On the way to Oak Run the three lads discussed the doings at Brill, and also the news concerning Tad Sobber and Josiah Crabtree.

"Both of these rascals would like to get their hands on the Stanhope fortune," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, but in different ways," returned Sam.

"Well, neither of 'em shall get his hands on a dollar-if I can help it,"

answered d.i.c.k.

"I should think Crabtree would be ashamed to show himself," went on Sam.

"If I was in his place, I'd travel to some new part of the globe, change my name, and make a new try at living."

"In one way I am sorry for him," was d.i.c.k's comment. "A man coming out of prison hasn't much chance to get work. n.o.body will trust him, no matter if he does want to be honest."

"Do you suppose Crabtree has any money?" asked Tom.

"I don't know, I'm sure."

At last they were only a few miles from Oak Run, and they gathered up the few things they were carrying, fis.h.i.+ng rods, cameras, and a small valise.

"Oak Run!" cried the porter.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Tom, the first to get off. "I don't see anything of Jack Ness," he added, mentioning the hired man from the farm, who usually came for them with the team.

"He may be a little late-Jack often is," answered d.i.c.k.

"Well, I shan't mind it," said Tom. "I want to see my old friend Mr.

Ricks," and he winked at Sam.

The station master at Oak Run was a crabbed old individual who rarely had a pleasant word for anybody. But he was faithful and probably that was why the railroad continued to employ him.

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Ricks, I am real glad to see you!" exclaimed Tom, as he rushed up after the train had gone and caught the station master by the hand. "It seems like old times to get back here."

"Huh! Got back, eh?" muttered Mr. Ricks sourly. "Thought you boys went to college."

"So we did. We are back for the summer holidays. You are looking well, Mr. Ricks."

"I ain't very well, I've got dyspepsy."

"Is that so. Why don't you smoke more?"

"Smoke?"

"Sure. Smoking is the best thing in the world for dyspepsia. Cured the king of England and the emperor of Germany. Here, have a cigar, and see how much better you feel after smoking it."

Now, as it happened, Ricks loved cigars, although he usually smoked a pipe, that being cheaper. He took the big cigar that Tom handed out and started to place it in his pocket.

"Here, light up," cried Tom, and produced a match.

"I'll smoke after I git my ticket money counted up."

"No, light up now," said Tom, and struck the match. "I want you to get the benefit of that cigar at once. It's a special brand and I am sure it will knock that dyspepsia higher than an airs.h.i.+p."

Ricks lit up as desired and took several long whiffs from the cigar.

"How do you like it?" questioned Tom, while Sam and d.i.c.k watched proceedings closely.