"Where did he learn to pitch?"
"Who put him on the team?"
"Say, Tubbs, explain this, won't you?" This last remark came from four students in unison.
"You let me out of this!" cried the dudish student in despair. "It's all some horrid joke! I am not going to pitch! I don't know anything about pitching! I don't know hardly anything about baseball! I don't want to play! Why, when a fellow falls down running around the bases, he is apt to get all dirty! You let me out of this!" And so speaking, William Philander Tubbs pushed his way out of the crowd, and fairly ran for the nearest of the school buildings.
"I guess that will hold W. P. for a while," was Tom's comment, as the tall student vanished.
"Good joke, Tom!" returned Bob.
"What's the matter with keeping it up?" added Spud. "Don't let him know the truth. Maybe some day we can drag him out on the diamond."
"All right," answered Tom. "I'll do it;" and then, as the bell rang for breakfast, all of the students hurried inside.
Some days passed, and during that time the Rover boys waited anxiously for some news from their brother Dick, and also for word from Hope Seminary. In the meantime, the lads had settled down to the usual grind of college life, and were doing as well as could be expected considering the interruptions their studies had suffered.
The Rover boys had already learned that the bridge across the Paxton River had been repaired. The automobile, which had gone into the stream, had been found intact, only needing some cleaning to make it once more useable. It had been taken to the hotel garage. The young man, who had been thrown into the stream at the time, was still in bed under the doctor's care. Evidently, the shock to his system had been more severe than had been at first supposed.