he began to murmur to himself. Evidently the poem was already
beginning to shape itself in his fertile mind.

"I say, you Rovers!" came a call as the car swung into the roadway
lining one side of the campus. "What's the matter with giving us a joy
ride?" and one of the students came running forward, followed by
several others. Two of them carried torches made of old brooms dipped
in tar.

"Nothing doing to-night," returned Sam quickly, and added in a whisper
to Tom: "Those fellows would wreck the car completely."

"I know it," answered the older Rover, and then he said aloud: "We
have had all the run we want this evening. We are going to celebrate
with the rest of the crowd down at the river." And without stopping to
argue the matter, Tom ran the automobile to its garage.

"Back, safe an' sound, eh?" questioned Abner Filbury, as he came
forward to take charge of the machine.

"Ab, you look out that some of the fellows don't take this car
to-night," warned Tom.

"There ain't no cars goin' out less'n I've the correct orders for
'em," replied Abner. "This is the last machine in, an' I'm goin' to
lock up an' stay on guard. If anybody tries to break in here against
orders, they'll git a dose of buckshot in 'em." And Abner pointed
grimly at a shotgun that hung on one of the walls.

"Oh, Ab, don't go in for shooting anybody!" exclaimed Sam, in alarm.