blue!"

added Tom. "Say, that's right, Songbird, although you can't burst tires on a flying machine," he added.

"That isn't just the way I was going to finish the verse," said the would-be poet. "But it will do."

On went the boys, deeper and deeper into the woods, chatting gaily and occasionally singing snatches of college songs. Sam kept close to his brother and he was glad to note that Tom was acting quite like his old self.

"What he needs is plenty of fresh air and rest from studying," thought the younger Rover. "Hang it all, it was a mistake for Tom to get down to the grind so soon. He ought to have taken a trip out West, or to Europe, or somewhere."

Presently the students came out on the bank of the stream and there, in the sunshine, they rested on a fallen tree and some rocks. It was pleasant to watch the swiftly-rushing water, as it tumbled over the stones.

"The brook is pretty strong on account of those rains we had," remarked Sam.

"Yes, I never saw it so swift," answered Stanley.

"Humph! this is nothing," announced Spud. "I saw it once when it ran so swiftly that the water couldn't make the turn at the bend below here and ran right up the hill and over on Shelby's barn, drowning sixteen cows! And some of the water hit the barn roof and bounced off into the chimney of Shelby's cottage and put out the fire, and——"

"Wow, Spud! put on the soft pedal!" interrupted Sam.

"Oh, it's absolutely true. Some day I'll show you the tombstone they erected over the sixteen cows. It's of granite and a hundred and ten feet high."

"Never mind the tombstone," interrupted Tom. "What I want to see is the match box Shelby stored that water in after it hit the barn." And at this sally a general laugh went up.

On the boys went again, and half an hour later reached the abandoned saw mill. All that was left was the dam with the broken wheel and one end of what had once been a long, low, one-storied building.

"Let's have a look inside," suggested Stanley, and led the way, and the others followed. Sam was the last to enter, coming directly behind his brother and he saw Tom suddenly put his hand to the back of his head and stop.

"Does it hurt again, Tom?" he whispered, kindly.

"Just a—a—spasm!" gasped poor Tom, and then he drew a long breath. "There, it's gone now," he added, and walked on. Sam sighed and shook his head. What was this queer condition of Tom going to lead to? It made him shiver to think of it.

There was but little to see in the old mill. It was a damp, unwholesome place, and the boys soon came out again. Not far away was a well hole, rather deep and partly filled with water.

Tom was the first to notice this hole, which was partly covered with rotted boards. Of a sudden he commenced to grin, as if he scented a huge joke. He ran up and rearranged the rotted boards, so they completely covered the hole. Then in the center he placed the bright-colored cap he had been wearing, and hurried along, to the path leading beside the dam.

"Hi, Stanley!" he called out, as the others came from the mill. "Get my cap, will you? The wind blew it off. It's back there somewhere."

"I see it!" shouted Stanley.

"I see it, too," came from Spud, who was close by. "I'll race you for it, Stan."

"Done!" was the reply, and side by side the two collegians raced for the cap.

"An apple for the fellow who wins!" shouted Sam, who saw nothing wrong in what was going on.

"Leg it, both of you!" added Songbird.

Side by side Stanley and Spud sped over the uneven ground in the direction of the cap. Then both made a plunge forward in true football style. In a heap they landed on the rotted boards, each catching hold of the coveted headwear. Then came an ominous crash, and both boys disappeared headlong into the well hole!

"Look! Look what has happened!" shrieked Sam, in dismay.

"They are in the old well!" gasped Songbird.

"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho!" came from Tom, and he shook with laughter. "Isn't that the dandy joke? I thought Stanley would go in, but I didn't expect to catch the pair of 'em."

"Tom!" cried Sam, in new horror. "You didn't really mean——"

"Sure I did. I put my cap there on purpose. Say, they had some tumble, didn't they?" And Tom commenced to laugh again—a strange laugh that didn't sound like him at all.

"They'll be drowned—we must save them!" exclaimed Sam, hoarsely. "Songbird, what can we do?" he added, turning to his chum.

"I don't know—maybe we can throw 'em a rope—if there is one around."

"Let 'em crawl out—it's easy enough," came from Tom. "Don't you spoil the joke." And he commenced to laugh again.

"Tom, don't act as if you were crazy!" said Sam, catching him by the arm and shaking him. "Those fellows can't get out without help—it's too deep! And the sides may cave in on top of them! And there is water down there, too! We must help them, and at once."

Tom stared at his brother in bewilderment. Then of a sudden the look of fun died out of his face and was succeeded by a look of horror and terror combined.

"Did I do that, Sam? Oh, what a foolish thing to do! Yes, we must help them! What shall I do? I'll jump down after them if you say so!" And Tom started forward.

"No, don't do that!" Sam held him back. "We'll get a rope, or a long pole. Don't go too close or you may cave the top of the well in on 'em."

"Yes, we must get a rope, or a pole," gasped poor Tom and ran off on a search. "And I thought I was having a good joke! Oh, I certainly must be going crazy!" he muttered.

In the meantime Songbird had thrown himself on his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the old well hole. He called out several times, but got no reply. He heard a great floundering and splashing.

"Hi, you!" he continued. "Are you alive?"

"Sa—save us!" came the spluttered-out words, from Spud. "Sa—save us!"

"Are you both alive?" continued Songbird, anxiously.

"Yes," answered Stanley. "But we need help, for the water is over our heads. Get a rope, or something, and be quick about it!"

"Hang on the best you can and we'll help you," was the answer.

"Well, don't be too long about it, or we'll be drowned!" came in a shivering tone from Spud.

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD WELL HOLE

The three youths at the top of the old well hole gazed around anxiously. All were looking for a rope, but no such article presented itself to their view. There was a bit of iron chain lying in the dead leaves nearby, but it was too short to be of service.

"I don't see anything to use," remarked Songbird, wildly. "Oh, Sam, this is awful!"

"Come on, I think I see something," answered the younger Rover. "Tom, you can help bring it over."

He took his half-dazed brother by the arm, more to keep him from approaching too close to the well than for any other reason, and the three boys raced to where a number of saplings were growing. Sam had noted that one of the saplings had been bent over by the wind and was partly uprooted.

"Maybe we can get it up—we've got to do it!" he cried. "Come, catch hold and pull for all you are worth!"

The others understood and laid hold of the young tree, which was all of fifteen feet high and several inches in diameter. It had but few branches, which was an advantage. They bent it down and pulled with a will, and out of the ground it came, so suddenly that the boys fell flat on their backs.

"Wait, I'll break off some of the branches!" cried Sam. "Tom, Songbird, try to break off that twisted root. There, that will do. Now, if we can get it down the well they ought to be able to climb up on it."

It was but the work of a few seconds to drag the sapling to the hole. Then it was lifted upright, so that the end might not dig into the sides of the well and cause a cave-in.

"Look