nes," and he grinned for a moment
at the recollection of the trick played on William Philander Tubbs.

Sam took the box and looked at the directions carefully. "It says to
take one three times a day when needed," he said. "You had better take
one now, Tom. Come on."

"It won't do any good, Sam."

"Well, take one for me, that's a good fellow. Wait, I've got my pocket
cup and I'll get some water." And he did so.

"Oh, dear, you're bound to feed me pills," sighed Tom, and made a wry
face as he swallowed the one Sam handed him. Sam kept the box, making
up his mind that he would play nurse after this.

"I guess we had better walk some more," said Tom, suddenly. "I hate
sitting still. If we had the old _Dartaway_ I'd take a sail from here
to San Francisco, or some other far-off place."

"Wait a little, I'm tired," answered Sam, soothingly. "Just see those
little fishes!" he said, pointing to the water under the bridge.

He made Tom get down and watch the fishes and bathed his brother's
forehead. At first Tom was rather restless, but soon the pill seemed
to take effect and he grew quiet.

"I'm getting awfully tired," he announced, presently. "I guess we had
better be getting back, Sam."

"Just as you say, Tom," was the quiet reply.

It was growing dark when they reached the college grounds and most of
the students had gone in to supper. Tom said he did not feel much like
eating, but his brother told him he had better have a little food, and
they went in together. They saw Songbird and the others at another
table. The would-be poet and Spud nodded to them, but Stanley paid no
attention.

Sam and Tom still occupied their old room, Number 25, while Songbird
was still in Number 26. Since Dick was not to return to Brill his
place in the latter room had been taken by Max Spangler, a jolly fellow
of German-American parentage.

"Vot is der madder mit Dom Rofer?" asked Max of the would-be poet, as
both came up to the room after supper.

"Oh, he isn't feeling very well, Max," was the reply. "What makes you
ask?"

"Oh, I see him put his hands by his head on so many dimes," said Max.
"He got knocked owit, didn't he?"

"Yes, a rascal hit him over the head with a wooden footstool and nearly
cracked his skull."

"Den he should be py der hospital, yah, instead of py college," said
the German-American student.

"Well, maybe they'll have to take him to the hospital, or somewhere,"
returned Songbird, though