ntinued to
stalk on until he came to a flat rock, when he suddenly sat down to
rest, at the same time putting both hands to his head.

It was here that Songbird found them and informed them of what the
others and himself proposed to do.

"All right, Songbird; I guess that is best," said Sam, softly. "Tom
doesn't feel just right and he'll rest here awhile."

"Oh, I'm not sick!" cried Tom. "I'm sorry I played the trick, but I
don't see any reason for Stanley and Spud to cut up about it." And
then he got up as suddenly as he had sat down and stalked on once more.

"Do your best to fix it up, Songbird," pleaded Sam, in a low tone.
"You can see Tom isn't himself. Try to explain to those fellows."

"I will. I think Tom ought to have a doctor," was the low reply; and
then Songbird rejoined Stanley and Spud and the three started back to
Brill.

Tom stalked on for fully half a mile without speaking and Sam came
behind him. The younger Rover was busy thinking and did not say a
word. Presently the pair reached the end of the river path and came to
a bridge and the highway. On the bridge Tom sat down again.

"Want to go any further, Tom?" asked Sam, as pleasantly as he could.

"I don't care where I go!" burst out the other. "I'm sick of it all!
Sick of the college, sick of studying, sick of those fellows, sick of
everything and everybody! I wish I could go to Africa, or the North
Pole, or somewhere else, where I wouldn't see or hear of 'em again!"

"Tom!"

"I mean it. What's the use of keeping in the grind day after day, like
a horse on a tread mill? What does a fellow get out of it? Nothing
but hard work and a pain in the head! Some times my head hurts to beat
the band! I can't stand it, and I won't! They are all against me,
every one of 'em!" And Tom commenced to wring his hands, while two
tears stood in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

CHAPTER V

TOM'S QUEER ACTIONS

Sam did not know what to say or what to do. He realized more fully
than ever that his brother was not himself. He was growing wilder and
more irrational every moment.

"Tom," he asked suddenly, "have you got those pills with you that the
doctor gave you to take?"

"Sure," was the ready answer.

"Have you taken any lately?"

"No. What's the use? They don't seem to help me."

"Let me see them, please."

"There they are." Tom brought the box from his pocket. "They might as
well be bread pills, or Gumley's red o