There were two occupants of the room. One, presently identified as Johnny Sanger, was seated in an easy chair, a book in his lap and his slippered feet on the edge of the study table. He was a rather large youth of sixteen years, with a somewhat flat face, prominent brown eyes, a large mouth, and hair of a coppery brown. At the other side of the table sat Shill, tall, narrow, dark-complexioned, and black-haired. Both boys looked surprised when they saw who their visitors were, and as Sanger dropped his feet to the floor and got out of his chair, his expression did not suggest overwhelming delight. Introductions were quickly effected, and the three visitors found seats.

The room, which was poorly lighted by a student’s lamp, was larger than appeared from outside, and although the ceiling sloped down on either side to within four feet of the floor, there was a good deal of room there. Two cot beds occupied one end of the room, a washstand was tucked under a dormer window, there was a study table, several chairs, two trunks and a bookcase, and although everything looked very cheap, there was an air of hominess about the place that the visitors found pleasant.

“I hear you fellows have got to move,” said Bert presently.

“Yes, hang it all!” answered Sanger. “Just when you find a nice place something goes and happens!”

“When do you go?” Harry inquired politely.

“Last of next week,” said Sanger. His roommate was not communicative, but contented himself with observing the callers through his glasses with evident curiosity.

“Found a place yet?” Bert asked.

“Haven’t looked. Haven’t had time. Mrs. Wagner—she’s the woman we rent this of—wants us to go with her. She’s taken some sort of a house across the railroad. But that would be too far to walk. Besides, she doesn’t half look after things. She’s away all day working in the laundry. Say, you’d throw a fit if you looked under the beds and saw the dust there. She makes me tired. Whenever we kick she says she hasn’t time, and begins a long song-and-dance about being a poor widow. Hang it, I like things clean, I do!”

“So do I,” said Harry cordially. “And look here, if you want a good room where things will be kept spick and span all the time, I can tell you where to look for it.”

“Where’s that?”

“Mrs. Freer’s; know where that is?”

“Yes, that’s where Phin Dorr lives. Evan here says she’s his mother. Is she?”

“Yes; she was married again after Phin’s father died. Well, she’s got a room on the first floor that’s a peach. Clean? Thunder! You can’t find a speck of dust anywhere. It would be just the place for you fellows if you’ve got to get out of here. And besides that, you’d be doing a real kindness to Phin. You know they haven’t any money except what they both make, and I guess it would mean a lot to them to rent this room of theirs.”

“Well, we haven’t looked around any yet,” said Sanger cautiously, with a glance toward his roommate. “We’ll have a look at the room, though, to-morrow, and see how we like it. What’s the rent, do you know?”

“Three dollars a week,” said Hansel.

Sanger shook his head gravely.

“Too much. Everyone’s putting their prices down now, you know. It’s pretty hard to rent after school begins. I can get all kinds of rooms for two and a half. Why, we only pay about two and a quarter for this!”

“Cheap enough,” said Bert. “But then it’s a dickens of a long way up here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you get used to it,” answered Sanger. “Besides, it’s handy for your meals. If we went to Mrs. Freer’s I suppose we’d have to walk about three blocks to get anything to eat.”

“I think she’d take you to board if you wanted her to,” said Hansel.

“How much?”

“I don’t know, but I guess she’d do it as cheap as anyone, and she’s a mighty good cook too. I know that because I’ve eaten there.”

“Maybe she’d rent for less now that it’s so late?” suggested Sanger.

“I don’t believe so,” replied Harry carelessly. “You see, there aren’t many rooms vacant around town now. And, anyhow, this room of hers is worth three.”

“Maybe, but we couldn’t pay that much, could we, Evan?”

“We wouldn’t care to,” said Shill cautiously.

“Maybe if you saw the room you would, though,” Hansel volunteered. “You wouldn’t want to drop around there this evening, I suppose, and look at it? We could go along with you and introduce you.”

“Say, how much are you fellows getting for renting it?” asked Sanger with a grin. Bert colored and looked insulted, but Harry interposed with a chuckle.

“I don’t blame you for asking that,” he answered. “It does look as though we were working on a commission, doesn’t it? The fact is, Johnny, we’re all fond of Phin, and you know he’s had a hard time this fall. So we thought that if we could help him to rent that room we’d do it. Dana heard that you fellows would have to move out in a few days, and it occurred to him that maybe he could help you and Phin at the same time. When he asked me I told him right away that I knew you’d be glad to stretch a point to help Phin.”

“Hm!” grunted Sanger dubiously. “That’s all well enough, Harry, but if Mrs. What’s-her-name wants to rent that room of hers she ought to put the rent down to two and a half at most. If we don’t take it, it isn’t likely that she’ll rent it all the year.”

“Oh, you can’t tell,” answered Harry. “People come and go here. She’s not worrying about that. Supposing, though, we all walk down there together, and we’ll ask what her best price is.”

“Oh, I guess we don’t care to go to-night,” said Sanger. “It’s late and I’ve got my slippers on. Evan and I’ll look at the place in the morning on the way up to school. Of course I’d be glad to do anything I could to help Phin, but three dollars is a whole lot to pay for a room at this time of the year, and I don’t believe I could afford it.”

“Well, we thought we’d mention it to you,” said Harry, arising. “No harm done, eh? We wanted you to have a chance at it, but if you think it’s too high, all right. You might ask Mrs. Freer if she’ll take less, you know; maybe she will. But I know very well that I wouldn’t if I were she. She’s got one of the best rooms in town, and ought to get a fair price. Hope you fellows will find what you want; but there aren’t many rooms for rent now, they say, so you needn’t be disappointed if you don’t find anything right away. I guess we’ll be going on.”

Once more on the street Hansel turned to Harry.

“What do you think?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh, he’d take the room in a minute if she’d offer it to him for two and a half. He will go around there in the morning and try to beat her down. And I’m afraid he will do it, too.”

“Well, maybe she’d be glad to get it off her hands for two and a half,” said Bert.

“Maybe she would,” Harry answered. “But Sanger can pay three and I’m going to see that he does it.”

“How?” asked Hansel.

“I’m going to stop there now, see Phin and tell him to make his mother promise not to come down on her price.”

“What are you going to tell Phin?”

“No more than I have to. I’ll tell him that Sanger and Shill are looking for a room, that they can pay three, and will do it if they have to. Then to-morrow you and I, Hansel, will hike around and get a refusal on every decent room there is left.”

“That’s great!” said Bert. “I’d go around with you and help, only I’m afraid I’d get sort of mixed up and hire the rooms by mistake. Landladies can do anything they want with me. The first year I was here I couldn’t get on the campus, and I went to look at a room at Mrs. Stevens’s place. It was a beast of a room, but she took me up three flights of stairs and went to a lot of trouble to show it and so—well, first thing I knew I had taken it for the year!”

“You’d better keep out of it, I guess,” laughed Hansel. “And supposing Bert and I go on to the corner and wait for you, Harry? If we all go in Phin may suspect something. You know he’d forbid us to do what we’re doing if he found out about it.”

“Don’t see why,” Bert objected.

“He would, though,” said Hansel stoutly. “We’ll wait for you at the corner. Don’t stay long; it’s getting frosty.”

Harry was back in ten minutes or so, reporting that Phin had agreed to keep the price up, and the three conspirators walked briskly back to school.

The next morning Hansel and Harry were extremely busy, so busy that each was obliged to absent himself from one recitation, a thing much easier to do than to explain subsequently. By dinner time they had canvassed the town of Bevan Hills very thoroughly, and had between them discovered just five rooms which might possibly answer the requirements of Messrs. Sanger and Shill. And in each case they had secured the refusal of the apartment. The landladies had given up hope of renting the empty rooms that year, and when Hansel or Harry professed to be unable to reach a decision, and asked that they be given an option for a few days, their request was readily granted, especially as they in no case expressed dissatisfaction with the price quoted.

“I guess now,” said Harry, “it’s up to Sanger to either go across the railroad with his Dutch lady or take Phin’s room.”

Had Sanger been suspiciously inclined the solicitude displayed by Harry and Hansel and Bert during the next few days might have suggested more to him than it did.

“Found a room yet?” they asked him regularly every morning and afternoon, and Sanger would shake his head and acknowledge that he hadn’t. At first he was rather superior about it, seeking to convey the idea that he had a good many apartments in view, and was only undecided which was more worthy of the honor of sheltering him, but on the third day there was a worried, perplexed tone in his voice.

“No,” he said, “I haven’t found a room yet, and I don’t believe I’m going to. The landladies are crazy, I guess; asking me three and even three and a half at this time of year! And there are only three or four decent rooms in town, anyway.”

“Well, you only want one,” said Bert cheerfully.

“Yes, but I can’t get the promise of even one! Everywhere I go they tell me that some one has the refusal of the room just now, but if I’ll leave my name they’ll let me know in a few days. Why, we’ve got to get out of our present quarters by Friday!”

“Too bad you couldn’t have taken that room at Mrs. Freer’s,” said Hansel. “That would have been a pretty good place for you fellows.”

“Well, we may take it yet,” answered Sanger, “if the old lady’ll come down a bit on her price.”

“Oh, then it isn’t rented?” asked Hansel in simulated surprise.

“It wasn’t yesterday,” answered Sanger. “Did you hear that it was taken?”

“N-no, only I know that there was some one looking at that room two nights ago, and I heard that they liked it first rate. But maybe they haven’t actually taken it yet. Too bad, though, for that was certainly a dandy room. Well, I hope you find something, Sanger.”

“Maybe you’ll decide to go with your present landlady,” suggested Bert. “It isn’t bad across the railroad, they say. I never knew any fellow that lived there, but I’ve heard that if you didn’t mind kids it wasn’t so bad. Of course, it’ll be a pretty fierce walk in winter!”

“Oh, I’m not going there,” muttered Sanger. “That’s out of the question. I’ll find a place to-day or to-morrow, all right. If you see Phin Dorr, Dana, I wish you’d find out about that room for me. And if it isn’t rented you might tell him that I’m thinking about it, and will pay two dollars and seventy-five cents. It’s worth that, don’t you think, Bert?”

“Sure! It’s worth what they ask, I think.”

“Not at this time of year,” said Sanger doggedly.

“I don’t see that the time of year has got much to do with it,” said Hansel a trifle impatiently. “You say yourself that there are only three or four rooms vacant that you’d have and that you can’t get even those. Seems to me the supply and demand are only about equal. Considering the scarcity of good rooms I don’t see why the landladies don’t put their prices up instead of reducing them!”

“But who do you suppose are after rooms now?” asked Sanger. “Awfully funny, I call it. I’ll bet the women just tell me that to make me pay their prices. I don’t believe they’ve given refusals to folks!”

“But even if they haven’t,” said Hansel, “their prices are too high, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” growled Sanger. “They’re all trying to hold me up, because they know I’ve got to have a room right away. I’ve got a good mind to fool them and——”

“Live across the railroad?” asked Bert.

“No,” answered the other defiantly, “take that room at Phin’s place!”

“Well, I wouldn’t decide right away,” said Hansel soothingly. “Besides, I dare say you’re too late for Phin’s room.”

“I wish I knew,” said Sanger troubledly.

“What does Shill think about it?” Bert asked.

“Oh, he likes that room the best, but he will go wherever I say,” said Sanger carelessly. “I guess—I guess I’ll see if I can find Phin. Mrs. Freer said she’d board us for three and a half apiece, and if she’d only knock off a quarter on her room, I’d take it in a minute. And I think she would if it wasn’t for Phin. He’s making her hold out on me. I should think that he’d be glad to rent at a decent price if he’s so hard up.”

“Maybe he’s had a better offer,” Bert suggested.

Sanger moved away, looking anxious.

“We’ve got him hooked all right enough,” said Bert. “But, say, what was that yarn you were telling about some one looking at the room and liking it?”

“Oh, that was Harry, the night before last. He told me that he got Phin to show him the room, and that he thought it was cheap at three dollars.”

“Oh!” laughed Bert. “Well, you certainly got Johnny worried! I’ll bet he engages that room before night.”

But he didn’t. Having learned from Phin that it was still for rent, he stuck out for the twenty-five cent reduction. Phin would gladly have rented at that price, if only to be rid of Sanger’s importunities, but he had solemnly promised Harry that he’d hold out for the full price of three dollars a week, and meant to keep that promise. It was hard work, though, for Phin wanted very much to rent the room, and every time Sanger left him he feared that he wouldn’t come back. He sought Harry that evening and laid the matter before him.

“Of course,” said Phin, “I’d be glad to get that extra quarter, but I’d hate to lose the chance of renting the room, Harry. And I’m afraid now that Sanger will go somewhere else. Don’t you think I’d better tell him he can have it for two seventy-five?”

Harry hesitated, wondering whether a compromise wasn’t advisable. Finally:

“I tell you, Phin,” he said. “I’m going to hold you to your agreement until three o’clock to-morrow. After that you can let him have it for any price you like. How does that suit you?”

“Well, I suppose I’ve got to be satisfied,” said Phin with a smile. “Whose room is this, anyway, Harry?”

“It’s yours, old son, but you’re not able to rent it to the best advantage. That’s where I come in. I’m legal counsel, don’t you see? Hold on until three to-morrow, Phin, and I’ll guarantee that he will come around to your figure. Remember that it isn’t the twenty-five cents we’re fighting for, but the principle of the thing!”

“Oh,” said Phin, “is that it? And—er—what is the principle?”

“The principle?” Harry threw one knee over the other, joined the tips of his fingers, and looked over the tops of a pair of imaginary spectacles. “The principle involved in this case, Mr. Dorr, is—ah—er—well, in short, Phin, Johnny Sanger has as much money as any fellow in school, and it isn’t right for him to be so close with it. The habit will grow on him and he’ll become a miser. It behooves his friends to combat this tendency and—and—there you are, Phin! Simple, isn’t it?”

After Phin had gone, Harry went over to see Hansel and Bert, and the three held a council of war. It was agreed that it would be advisable for Harry and Hansel to make a trip into town in the morning and strengthen their defenses. And this was done. The landladies were not so compliant to-day, for Sanger had been around looking at their rooms. But in each case either Hansel or Harry managed to secure a promise that the room would not be rented until the following afternoon. And as the following day was Friday, they thought that the promise was liberal enough. They hurried back to school for a ten o’clock recitation, and awaited events. At two o’clock the battle was won. Sanger informed Hansel of the fact, only he didn’t put it exactly that way.

“I’ve taken that room at Mrs. Freer’s,” he said, “and we’re going to move in to-morrow afternoon.”

“That’s good,” answered Hansel, concealing his satisfaction. “How much are you going to pay? I suppose she knocked off that quarter?”

Sanger’s face darkened.

“No, she didn’t,” he said. “But I thought there wasn’t any use in making a fuss about twenty-five cents. I hate anything small.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got it,” answered Hansel, trying his best not to smile. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Thanks. Come and see us some time.”

Hansel nodded and waved as Sanger hurried on.

That afternoon Hansel and Harry got together and wrote notes regretfully informing the landladies that their rooms would not be required. And the next afternoon, Sanger, surrounded by his goods and chattels, sat in the first-floor room at Mrs. Freer’s, and perplexedly perused four notes, which in each case informed him that he could now engage the room he had looked at, since the party who had the refusal had decided not to rent.

“Well, that’s a funny thing!” exclaimed Sanger.

But he never learned the truth of the matter. Nor, for that matter, did Phin. The conspirators relieved their consciences by declaring that the deception had been practiced in a good cause, but they weren’t particular about having the facts known.

Life in 22 Prince was much pleasanter those days. Bert’s gratitude to Hansel, awkwardly displayed though it was, seemed to the younger boy almost pathetic. There were long talks in the evening on the football situation, and Hansel’s opinions were solicited and deferred to in a way that was almost embarrassing. The subject of Cameron’s standing was not discussed; Hansel realized the futility of trying to make Bert look at the question from his point of view; and at length he even found himself sympathizing with the other’s attitude; the consuming passion of Bert’s life at that time was to bring his captaincy to a successful termination with a victory over Fairview, and if he was willing to stretch fairness a little to do it, he was not without the support of precedent. During those two weeks preceding the final combat of the football campaign Bert and Hansel got to know and understand each other, and a mutual liking, which all the autumn had been only awaiting an opportunity, sprang up and ripened ultimately into a firm friendship.

On Wednesday, after practice was over, Hansel heard his name called as he was trotting across the green toward the terrace and Weeks Hall. He turned and found Billy Cameron overtaking him. Not without some embarrassment he waited for the other to catch up.

“Hello, Cameron,” he said.

“Hello,” responded the other as he ranged himself alongside. “Say, Dana, I wish you’d tell me something.”

“All right, I will if I can.”

“Well, it’s this: have you got anything against me?”

“Not a thing—personally,” answered Hansel.

“Well, why can’t you and those other beggars let me alone?” asked Cameron. “I’ve never interfered with you chaps.”

“I don’t think there’s one of us who doesn’t like you, Cameron,” answered Hansel after a moment. “And if we’re down on you it isn’t for what you are, but for what you represent.”

“Represent?” repeated Billy with a puzzled laugh. “Gee! I didn’t know I represented anything. What is it?”

“What I mean is this: we haven’t any right to play a fellow on our football team or our baseball team who is here just for football or baseball, who is having his way through school paid by the fellows. If we once countenance that sort of thing, Cameron, it’s going to lead us a long way off the right track. If it’s fair in your case, why not in other cases? What’s to keep us from hiring a whole team of good football players?”

“Couldn’t afford it,” answered Billy practically.

“Not this year, but there’s no telling what might be done in that way. For my part, I’m sorry I’ve had to—to worry you, but unfortunately, Cameron, you’ve placed yourself in a wrong position.”

“Now, look here,” said the other mildly. “You say I’m here just to play football. That isn’t so, Dana. I may not be very smart at lessons, and my folks haven’t any money, but I’m not a mucker. I got fired out of the other school because I couldn’t keep up, but why couldn’t I? Because the fellows I knew didn’t study, and because the faculty was down on me from the start. Then some fellows here wrote and asked me to come here; said I wouldn’t have to worry about expenses. Well, I came. I wanted to get ready for college somehow, and this seemed a good chance. They gave me a place in dining hall that supplied my meals, and they paid my tuition. What’s the difference whether they paid it or some one else? I know two or three fellows here who are having their tuition paid by friends, and not by their own folks. But they don’t play football, and so there’s no kick. Last year, if I didn’t get honors, I was pretty well up in my class, and this year I’m trying for a scholarship. If I get it, and Farrel says I’ll stand a good show, the fellows can keep their old money; I’d a heap rather pay my own way, you bet!”

“But—but some one’s coaching you, aren’t they?”

“Who, me? No, sir, I haven’t had an hour’s coaching since I came here. Mr. Farrel’s been mighty good to me, and he’s helped me a lot with Latin, but I haven’t had any coaching.”

“Oh, I understood you had,” answered Hansel.

“Well, I haven’t. It’s been mighty tough work sometimes, but now it isn’t so hard. I’ve learned more here last year and this than I did all the four years I was at Bursley. As for football, I like to play it, but if the fellows are going to make a fuss about it, I guess I can get along without it.”

“If you could only get along without the money from the football fund,” said Hansel eagerly, “you could play all you wanted to and no one would say a word.”

“Well, if I can get a hundred-dollar scholarship I’ll pay for myself, you bet! Of course, if I don’t get it, and the fellows don’t want to pay the rest of my tuition, I’ll just have to leave. But I don’t want to, Dana; I like this old school; the fellows are decent to me, and so are the instructors; they don’t make me feel that I’m no good because I haven’t any money, like they did at Bursley. Mind, I don’t hold it against you fellows for what you’re doing. Maybe you’ve got the right end of it. I don’t pretend to understand it; at Bursley we got fellows wherever we could find ’em, and we paid them to play for us. Maybe it ain’t right; I don’t know. But I don’t want any fellow to say I haven’t earned what they’ve given me here; I may not be so—so particular as you chaps, but I never cheated anyone out of a cent or took a cent I hadn’t earned.”

“I’m sorry,” answered Hansel. “I suppose I started the row, and I think the way we look at the matter is the right one, but it seems hard on you, Cameron. All I hope is, you’ll get your scholarship, pay your own way and stay here to play for us another year.”

“That’s fair talk,” said the other heartily. “I was afraid you had it in for me—er—personally, as you say. And I didn’t like that because—well, you play a fine game of football and—and seem white; I like white fellows like you and Bert and Harry and Larry Royle. This where you live? Well, I’m glad I had a talk with you. Whenever you hear any fellow say that Billy Cameron isn’t playing fair you tell me about it, will you?”

“Yes,” answered Hansel gravely. “Good night. Come up and see us some time.”

“All right, I’ll try to. But I’m pretty busy just now; that Ovid chap has me lashed to the mast. Do you have him?”

“I had him last year.”

“Tough, ain’t he? Good night.”

“Good night,” echoed Hansel with a smile.

He thought of Billy Cameron a good deal that evening, and when, next day, a shell from the enemy’s lines at Fairview fell unexpectedly into camp and plunged the Beechcroft hosts into confusion and consternation, he remembered him again and, in spite of a natural feeling of exultation at the successful outcome of his efforts, was genuinely sorry for him.

The shell hurled by the enemy was a protest against the playing of William Cameron, who, the Fairview authorities declared, was not eligible, if their information was correct, to play on the Beechcroft team. By noon the news was all over school, and had become the all-absorbing subject of discussion and conjecture. Bert was for playing Cameron whether Fairview liked it or not, but Mr. Ames vetoed that plan.

“The matter will be placed before Dr. Lambert,” he stated to Bert and Harry, who had sought him for consultation. “He will have to decide. If he says Cameron may play, it will be all right; Fairview will have to put up with him. If he doesn’t, you’ll have to get along without him.”

“He’ll say no,” answered Bert bitterly.

“Maybe. I’ll see him this evening.”

“What I’d like to know,” exclaimed Harry with annoyance, “is how they found it out! Some one must have told them.”

Mr. Ames was gravely silent.