The Rover Boys in New York | Page 3

do, Tubbs, knock me down?"
"I beg your pardon, Powell, I didn't see you coming," answered the
other, as he picked up his hat and commenced to brush it off with care.
"You must be getting blind," growled John Powell, otherwise known as
Songbird. "Confound the luck-- you spoilt one of my best rhymes," he
added, as he stooped to pick up his writing pad.

"Sorry, upon my honor I am," returned William Philander. "Can I help
you out on it?"
"I don't think you can. Did you ever try to write poetry-- real poetry, I
mean?"
"No, my dear boy, no. I'm afraid I would not be equal to it."
"Then I don't see how you are going to help me," murmured Songbird,
and he passed on a few steps, coming to a halt presently to jot down
some words on his pad.
"Hello, Songbird!" called out Tom. "How is the Muse to-day, red-hot?"
For a moment John Powell did not answer, but kept on writing. Then
his face broke out into a sudden smile.
"There, that's it!" he cried. "I've got it at last! I knew I'd get it if I kept
at it long enough."
"Knew you'd get what, the measles?" asked the fun-loving Tom.
"'Measles' nothing!" snorted the would-be poet. "I have been writing a
poem on 'The Springtime of Love,' and I wished to show how----"
"'The Springtime of Love!'" interrupted Tom. "That must be a second
cousin to the ditty entitled ''Tis Well to Meet Her at the Well.' "
"I never heard of such a poem," answered Songbird, with a serious air.
"How does it go?"
"It doesn't go, Songbird; it stands still. But what have you got on the
pad?"
"Yes, let us hear the latest effusion," put in Sam.
"But not if it takes too long," was Dick's comment. "I've only got about
ten minutes before that lecture on 'The Cave Dwellers.'"

"I can give Songbird six minutes," said Stanley, as he consulted his
watch.
"This is-- er-- something of a private poem," stammered Songbird. "I
wrote it for a-- er-- for a personal friend of mine."
"Minnie Sanderson!" cried Sam, mentioning the name of a farmer's
daughter with whom all were well acquainted, and a young lady
Songbird called on occasionally.
"Read it, anyway, Songbird," said Dick.
"Well, if you care to hear it," responded the would-be poet, and he
began to read from the pad:
"In early Spring, when flowers bloom In garden and on fields afar, My
thoughts go out to thee, sweet love, And then I wonder where you are!
When pansies show their varied hues And birds are singing as they soar,
I listen and I look, and dream Of days when we shall meet once more!"
"Grand! fine! immense!" murmured Tom. "Byron couldn't hold a
candle to that, Songbird!"
"I listen to the tiny brook That winds its way o'er rock and sand And in
the running water see A face that-- that-- that----"
"Go ahead, Songbird!" cried Sam, as the would-be poet stumbled and
halted.
"I-- er-- I had the last line, but Tubbs knocked it out of me," grumbled
Songbird. "And say, he knocked something else out of me!" he
exclaimed suddenly. "I was going to tell you an important bit of news."
"You were?" cried Dick. "What?"
"The word just came in over the telephone, from the weekly newspaper
office. Doctor Wallington said you would want to know about it."
"But what is it?" demanded Sam, impatiently.

"Josiah Crabtree has escaped from jail."
"Escaped!" ejaculated Tom.
"Why, we were just talking about him!" put in Dick "When did this
happen?"
"Last night, so the newspaper man said. It seems there was a small fire
at the jail-- down in the kitchen. There was great excitement, for supper
was just being served. In the excitement three of the prisoners, who
were out of their cells, escaped. Josiah Crabtree was one of them."
"Too bad!" murmured Sam. "And we thought he was safe!"
"This spells Trouble for us," was Tom's comment, and Dick nodded his
head, to show that he was of the same opinion.
CHAPTER II
ABOUT THE PAST
"Did you get any more particulars?" asked Sam, of the college poet.
"No. The newspaper man was busy, so the Doctor said, and didn't have
time to go into details," answered Songbird.
"Did he say who the other prisoners were who got away?" asked Dick.
"Yes, a tramp who was up for robbing a man on the road and a bank
clerk who took some money from the bank."
"None of the crowd we are interested in," said Tom.
"I'm glad of it," returned his older brother. "It is bad enough for
Crabtree to get away. I hope they keep a strict guard over the others
after