The Rover Boys on a Tour: or, Last Days at Brill College. Stratemeyer Edward
I suppose I can get through on the other road well enough."
They turned back a distance of less than two hundred feet, and then took to the side road which Spud had mentioned. This was more hilly than the other, and ran through a long patch of timberland on which no houses were located.
"Hark! Don't I hear another sleigh coming?" questioned Spud, a minute later.
"Something is coming, that's sure," answered Sam. "Gracious me! Look at that!"
Coming to another bend of the woodland road, the youngest Rover had barely time to pull his steed well toward the right hand and almost into some bushes when another cutter hove into sight, coming along at a furious rate. The horse was on a gallop, and the man driving him, a fellow wrapped up in a heavy overcoat and with a fur cap pulled far down over his forehead, was using his whip freely.
"Wow! That fellow must be in some hurry," observed Spud, as the other turnout flashed past. "He isn't sparing his horse any."
"It's a lucky thing for me that I pulled in here as I did," returned Sam, and his tone of voice showed his anger. "If I hadn't done it he would have run into us, sure pop."
"You're right, Sam. That fellow had no right to come along in that fashion. He ought to be arrested for reckless driving. But maybe he wants to catch a train at Ashton or something like that."
"No train he could catch for an hour and a half, Spud. And he could walk to the station in that time;" and thus speaking, Sam chirruped to the horse, and they resumed their ride.
A little farther on the woodland road made another turn, and here the way was uphill. The numerous rains of the summer previous had washed the rocks bare of dirt, and often the cutter bumped and scraped so badly that Sam was compelled to bring his steed down to a walk.
"Well, one satisfaction, we'll be back to the main road before long," observed Spud, as they finally reached the top of the hill and could get a view of the surroundings. "There is the other road just below us."
"Hello! What's that ahead?" cried Sam, pointing with his left hand. "Looks to me like somebody lying in the snow."
"It is somebody!" exclaimed his chum. "Say! do you suppose that other horse was running away, and this fellow fell out?"
"Not much, with that other fellow using the whip as he was!" returned Sam. "This fellow ahead probably had nothing to do with that other cutter. Excepting he may have been knocked down by the horse," he added suddenly.
"That's what the trouble is! That rascal knocked this fellow down and then hurried on, Sam! Poor fellow! I wonder if he is much hurt?"
By this time the cutter had reached a point opposite to where the person in the snow rested. All the boys could see was some person, wrapped in an overcoat, lying face downward. A cap that looked strangely familiar to Sam lay close at hand. Stopping the horse, Sam leaped from the cutter, and Spud did the same.
"Say, Sam!" burst out the latter, "it looks like – "
"Songbird!" burst out the Rover boy. "It's Songbird, Spud, and he's badly hurt."
It was indeed poor Songbird Powell who rested there in the snow by the roadside. He had on his overcoat and his fur-lined gloves, but his head was bare, and from a cut on his left temple the blood was flowing. The boys turned their college chum over, and at this Songbird uttered a low moan.
"He has either had an accident or been attacked," was Spud's comment. "I wonder how badly he's hurt?"
"I'm afraid it's pretty bad," answered Sam, soberly. "That's a nasty cut. And say! his chin is all swelled up as if he had been hit there with a club!"
The two boys knelt beside their unconscious chum and did what they could to revive him. But Songbird did not open his eyes, nor did he make any other sound than a low moan.
"We'll have to get him somewhere out of this biting, cold air," observed Sam. "There is a farmhouse just below here on the main road. Let us put him in the cutter and carry him there."
When they picked Songbird up he uttered another moan and for an instant his eyes opened; but then he collapsed as before. They deposited him on the seat of the turnout, and Sam picked up his cap and several books that lay scattered around. With sober faces the boys led the mettlesome horse down the slope to the main road. Both kept their eyes on their chum, but he still remained insensible.
"Maybe he won't get over it," suggested Spud.
"Oh, don't say that!" cried Sam in horror. "It can't be as bad as that." And then he added: "Spud, did you notice the looks of that horse when he dashed past us?"
"I didn't have time to notice much," was the reply.
"Did he wear white stockings?"
"What? Oh! I know what you mean – white feet. Yes, he had white feet. I know that much."
"And did he have any white under his neck?"
"Yes, I think he did. Do you think you know the horse, Sam?"
"I know Mr. Sanderson has a horse with white feet and a white chest – a dark horse, just like that one was."
"Then it must have been Mr. Sanderson's horse and cutter!" cried Spud. "If it was, do you think that man was running away with the outfit?"
"I don't know what to think, Spud. To my mind it's a mighty serious piece of business. But our first duty is to do all we can for poor Songbird."
Arriving at the nearest farmhouse, Spud ran ahead and knocked on the door. A woman answered the summons, and as she happened to know the youth, she readily consented to have Songbird brought in and laid on a couch in the dining-room. Hardly had this been done when the sufferer slowly opened his eyes.
"Don – don't hit m-m-me again!" he murmured. "Ple-please don't!"
"It's all right, Songbird. Don't you know me?" said Sam, quietly.
The injured collegian opened his eyes again and stared at the youth before him.
"Sam! Wh-where did you co-come from?"
"Spud and I found you on the road, face down in the snow," answered Sam. "What happened? Did you fall out of the cutter, or were you attacked?"
"I – I – Oh! how my head spins!" muttered Songbird. He closed his eyes again and was silent for a moment. Then he looked once more at Sam.
"I was attacked," he mumbled. "The man – he hit me – with a club – and hauled me out of the cutter."
"It must have been the fellow we saw on the road!" exclaimed Spud. "Songbird, why did he do it?"
"I – I – do-don't know," mumbled the sufferer. "But maybe I do!" he suddenly shouted, in a strangely unnatural voice. Then with a sudden strength born of fear, he raised his left hand and dived down into the inner pocket of his coat. "The package! It's gone!"
"The package! What package?" queried Sam.
"The package belonging to Mr. Sanderson!" gasped poor Songbird. "The package with the four thousand dollars in it! It's gone!" and with another groan Songbird lapsed once more into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER IV
THE CHASE
It must be confessed that Sam and Spud, as well as the woman of the house, were very much surprised over the statement made by Songbird.
"Attacked and robbed!" murmured Sam. "What an awful thing to do!"
"He said he had been robbed of four thousand dollars!" broke in Spud. "Where in the world would he get that much money? He must be dreaming, Sam."
"I hardly think so, Spud. I know he was to go on a very important errand for Mr. Sanderson, who is laid up at home with a sprained ankle."
"Well, if Songbird was robbed, it's more than likely the fellow we saw in the cutter did it."
"Exactly! And the chances are he will get away just as fast as he possibly can," added Sam, bitterly.
"What do you think we ought to do?"
"I think we ought to notify the authorities, Spud."
"Hadn't