The Rover Boys In the Mountains | Page 3

And isn't he mad! Gee
whizz!"
The doggerel, gotten up on the spur of the moment, struck the fancy of
fully a score of boys, big and little, and in an instant all were singing it
over and over again, at the top of their lungs, and at this those who did
not sing began to laugh uproariously.

"I say, what's it all about?" demanded Tom, as he slid from the
turning-bar.
"Songbird Powell has composed a comic opera in Tubby's honor,"
answered Larry Colby, one of the Rover boys' chums. "I guess he's
going to have it put on the stage after the holidays, with Tubby as
leading man."
"See here, I won't have this!" roared the rich youth, waving his hand
wildly first at one boy and then another. "I don't want you to make up
any songs about me."
"Songbird won't charge you anything," put in Fred Garrison, another of
the students. "He's a true poet, and writes for nothing. You ought to feel
highly honored."
"Make a speech of thanks, that's a good fellow," put in George
Granbury, another student.
"It's an outrage!" shouted Tubbs, his face growing redder each instant.
"I won't stand it."
"All right, we won't charge you for sitting on it," came from the back of
the crowd.
"My right name is----"
"Barrel, but they call me Tubbs for short," finished another student.
"Hurrah, Tubby is discovered at last."
"Don't blush, Washtub! you don't look half as pretty as when you're
pale."
"If you feel warm, Buttertub, go out and sit on the thin ice. It will soon
cool you off," came from Fred Garrison.
"I'll cool you off, Garry!" burst out the rich youth, and made a wild
dash at his tormentor. But somebody put out a foot and the tormented
boy stumbled headlong, at which the crowd set up another shout, and

then sang louder than ever,
"Rub-a-dub-dub! One man in a tub!"
"I say, who tripped me up!" gasped Tubbs, as soon as he could
scramble up. "Tell me who did it, and I'll soon settle with him."
"Who rolled over the buttertub?" asked Tom solemnly. "One peanut
reward for the first correct answer to this absorbing puzzle. Please don't
all raise your hands at once."
"I believe you did it, Tom Rover!" bellowed the rich youth.
"I? Never, Tubby, my dear boy. I never rolled over a buttertub in my
life. You've got the wrong number. Kindly ring the bell next door."
"Then it was Sam, and I'll fix him for it, see if I don't!"
"No, it wasn't Sam. He never touched a washtub in his life."
"I say it was Sam," cried Tubbs, who was almost beside himself with
rage. "And I'm going to teach him a lesson. There, Sam Rover, how do
you like that?"
As the rich youth finished, he caught the youngest Rover by the
shoulder with his left hand and with his right gave Sam a slanting blow
on the cheek.
"Stop! I didn't trip you!" exclaimed Sam; and then as Tubbs aimed
another blow at him he ducked and broke loose and hit out in return.
His blow was harder and more truly aimed than he had anticipated, and
it took Tubbs directly on the nose. A spurt of blood followed,
accompanied by a yell of pain, and the rich youth fell back.
"Oh! oh! My nose!"
"You brought it on yourself," retorted Sam. "I didn't----"
"Stop! stop! Boys, what does this mean?" came in a sudden stern voice,

and in a moment more the two combatants found themselves
confronted by Jasper Grinder, a new teacher. "Fighting, eh? How often,
must you be told that such disgraceful conduct is not allowed here?
You come with me, and I'll make an example of both of you."
And in a moment more the two lads found themselves prisoners in
Jasper Grinder's strong grasp and being marched out of the gymnasium
toward the school building proper.
CHAPTER II.
A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST.
As old readers of this series of books know, the Rover boys were three
in number, Dick being the oldest, fun-loving Tom next, and small but
sturdy Sam bringing up the rear of a trio of as bright and up-to-date a
set of American lads as could be found anywhere.
The home of the lads was with their father, Anderson Rover, and their
Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha, on a beautiful farm at Valley Brook,
in the heart of New York State. From this farm they had been sent to
Putnam Hall, a semi-military institute of learning situated near
Cedarville, on Cayuga Lake. This was while their father had
mysteriously disappeared while on an exploring tour into the heart of
Africa.
At Putnam Hall the Rover boys made a number of friends, some of