gotten into a big row and Sobber had ended by blackening the legal gentleman’s left eye. Then Sobber had mysteriously disappeared, but the next day he had sent a rambling letter to Mrs. Stanhope, stating that, even if thrown out of court, he considered that the fortune from Treasure Isle belonged to him, and, sooner or later, he meant to gain possession of it.

“We’ll have to watch out for Tad Sobber,” had been Dick’s comment, on learning the news. “He is growing desperate, and there is no telling what he will do next.”

“He’s the same old sneak he was at Putnam Hall,” declared Tom.

“This will scare Mrs. Stanhope, and Mrs. Laning, too,” had been Sam’s comment.

“And the girls,” his oldest brother had added. “I wish we could round Tad Sobber up, and put him where he couldn’t worry them any more.”

“Maybe he’ll drop out of sight,” said Tom. But this was not to be. Tad Sobber was to cause a great deal of trouble, as we shall learn in the near future. The young rascal had convinced himself that the Stanhope fortune belonged to him, and he meant to leave no stone unturned to get possession of it.

CHAPTER II
THE FIRE ON THE STEAMER

“That’s the way to do it!”

The cry came as Tom knocked a neat liner out to center field. He managed to get to first base with ease, while Dick, on the alert, slid to the home plate just before the ball came in.

“That gives us five runs, anyway!” was Stanley’s comment. “Now, Spud, see what you can do.”

“Here is where I knock one across the river and back,” declared Spud Jackson, as he came forward with a bat. “Better chase your men away out,” he added to Frank Holden.

“They can use nets,” answered the pitcher with a grin.

Spud had a ball and a strike called on him and then met the leather and sent it to the shortstop. Tom had to run for second and he legged it with might and main. But the ball got there ahead of him and he was put out, and so was the runner at first.

“Wow!” cried Songbird. “Thought you were going to knock the ball across the river and back, Spud.”

“So I did,” answered Spud, as he walked up from first. “It landed on the other side, bounced back, and the shortstop got it. Fierce luck, eh?” And he cut a face that made many of the students standing by laugh outright.

In the next inning the other side added two runs to their total. One of these runs was made by Sam, much to the youngest Rover’s satisfaction.

“We’ve got you going!” he cried, to his brothers and the others. “Might as well give up.”

“Huh! we haven’t started yet,” retorted Tom. He turned to William Philander Tubbs, who had strolled near. “Say, Tubby, old boy, lend me your green socks for luck, will you?”

“Oh, Tom, please don’t ask me to—ah—lend those socks,” pleaded William Philander, innocently. “They are the only pair of that shade I have, and the young ladies say——”

“They can’t resist you when you have them on,” finished Tom. “All right, if you want me to lose the game, keep the socks,” and the fun-loving Rover put on a mournful look.

“But, my dear Tom, how can my socks have anything to do with the game?” questioned the dude, helplessly.

“Why, it’s a psychological phenomena, Tublets. Sort of an inter-mental telepathy, so to speak—a rhomboid compendium indexus, as it were. Of course you understand,” said Tom, soberly.

“Why—ah—I don’t think I do, Tom,” stammered the dude. “But I can’t loan the socks, really I can’t!” And he backed away with all possible haste, while some of the students poked each other in the ribs and some laughed