The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“I should think Crabtree would be ashamed to show himself,” went on Sam. “If I was in his place, I’d travel to some new part of the globe, change my name, and make a new try at living.”

“In one way I am sorry for him,” was Dick’s comment. “A man coming out of prison hasn’t much chance to get work. Nobody will trust him, no matter if he does want to be honest.”

“Do you suppose Crabtree has any money?” asked Tom.

“I don’t know, I’m sure.”

At last they were only a few miles from Oak Run, and they gathered up the few things they were carrying, fishing rods, cameras, and a small valise.

“Oak Run!” cried the porter.

“Here we are!” exclaimed Tom, the first to get off. “I don’t see anything of Jack Ness,” he added, mentioning the hired man from the farm, who usually came for them with the team.

“He may be a little late – Jack often is,” answered Dick.

“Well, I shan’t mind it,” said Tom. “I want to see my old friend Mr. Ricks,” and he winked at Sam.

The station master at Oak Run was a crabbed old individual who rarely had a pleasant word for anybody. But he was faithful and probably that was why the railroad continued to employ him.

“Why, how do you do, Mr. Ricks, I am real glad to see you!” exclaimed Tom, as he rushed up after the train had gone and caught the station master by the hand. “It seems like old times to get back here.”

“Huh! Got back, eh?” muttered Mr. Ricks sourly. “Thought you boys went to college.”

“So we did. We are back for the summer holidays. You are looking well, Mr. Ricks.”

“I ain’t very well, I’ve got dyspepsy.”

“Is that so. Why don’t you smoke more?”

“Smoke?”

“Sure. Smoking is the best thing in the world for dyspepsia. Cured the king of England and the emperor of Germany. Here, have a cigar, and see how much better you feel after smoking it.”

Now, as it happened, Ricks loved cigars, although he usually smoked a pipe, that being cheaper. He took the big cigar that Tom handed out and started to place it in his pocket.

“Here, light up,” cried Tom, and produced a match.

“I’ll smoke after I git my ticket money counted up.”

“No, light up now,” said Tom, and struck the match. “I want you to get the benefit of that cigar at once. It’s a special brand and I am sure it will knock that dyspepsia higher than an airship.”

Ricks lit up as desired and took several long whiffs from the cigar.

“How do you like it?” questioned Tom, while Sam and Dick watched proceedings closely.

“Putty good,” returned the station master. The cigars had cost Tom ten cents each and they were better than those Ricks usually smoked.

A carriage had rolled up to the station and the boys saw Jack Ness coming towards them. He shook hands and then went off to get their trunks and bags, to be placed in a farm wagon driven by a neighbor’s boy.

Ricks entered his ticket office and then walked to the back platform of the station, where several farmers were congregated, sitting on some empty milk cans, talking crops. The boys continued to watch him.

“Hullo, where did ye get the smoke?” asked one of the farmers.

“Ricks is gittin’ high-toned,” said another. “Fust thing you know – ”

He got no further, for just then Ricks caught sight of the smoking end of his cigar and his eyes stared wildly.

“What’s th – that!” he gasped, and took the cigar from his mouth.

“By gosh! Are ye raisin’ snakes, Ricks?” cried one of the farmers.

“Reckon he’s struck a nest o’ worms!” commented another.

“Wha – what do yo – you think it is?” groaned Ricks. He was so amazed that he could do little but stare at the cigar, from the end of which a snake-like curl was issuing, larger and larger.

“Where did you buy that cigar?” asked one of the farmers.

“Didn’t buy it – Tom Rover gave it to me!” answered Ricks. “Say, this is a put-up job!” he roared, and dashed the cigar to the ground. “Where is that imp, anyway?”

“Good-bye, Mr. Ricks!” sang out Tom from the carriage. “Hope you enjoy that smoke.”

“You come back here!” stormed the station master. “Just you let me get my fingers on you, that’s all!” And he shook his fist at the fun-loving youth.

“It’s a trick cigar, that’s what it is,” announced one of the farmers, and commenced to edge away. “Maybe it will blow up soon.”

“If that’s so, I’m going to get out!” cried another, and slid from the milk cans in a hurry.

“Say, you don’t suppose he put dynnymite in it, do you?” asked Ricks, fearfully. “He might blow up the whole station. He blew up a fire once I was building,” he added, referring to a joke Tom had once played on him, the particulars of which have already been set forth in “The Rover Boys at School.”

“Better put the cigar in a pail of water,” suggested one farmer.

“You do it, Snell.”

“Do it yourself, if you want it done,” answered Snell, and very gingerly Ricks gathered up the cigar and its “worms” on a shovel and cast them into a tub of rain water that was handy. The others gathered around, joked the station master unmercifully and he vowed that he would get square with Tom sooner or later.

In the meantime the Rover boys lost no time in leaving the railroad station. They had Jack Ness urge on the team, and soon they were crossing the Swift River and driving through the village of Dexter’s Corners. Several folks of the village saw them and waved them a welcome, for the lads were great favorites. Then they started along the country road leading to Valley Brook farm.

“And how are all the folks, Jack?” asked Dick.

“All fairly well, sir,” answered the hired man. “Your uncle, he got ’em rather bad last week.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of his new bees stung him – and they stung me, too.”

“Too bad!” murmured Dick. “Any other news?”

“I don’t know of none. The hay crop is going to be heavy, so they say.”