“Oh, you, Dunk!”

“Stick out your noodle, Chamber!”

“Where are you?”

These were the cries that greeted Andy as he entered the passage leading to his room in Wright Hall—the room he was to share with Duncan Chamber. Down the hall he saw a group of lads who had evidently come to rouse Andy’s prospective chum. Somehow, our hero felt a little hurt that he had to share his friend with others. But it was only momentarily.

“Open up there, Dunk! Open up!”

Thus came the appeal, and fists banged on the door. It was opened a crack, and the rattle of a chain was heard.

“Get on to the beggar!”

“He must think we’re a bunch of sophs!”

“Don’t be afraid, Dunky, we’re only your sweethearts!”

Thus the three callers gibed him.

“Oh, it’s you fellows, is it?” asked Chamber, flinging wide the door, and letting out a flood of light. “I thought I was in for a hazing, so I was keeping things on the safe side. Come on in. I’m just straightening up.”

The three tumbled into the room. Andy followed, and at the sound of his footsteps coming to a pause outside the portal Dunk peered out.

“Oh, hello, Blair!” he greeted, cordially! “I thought you were never coming! Put her there, old man! How are you?”

He caught Andy’s hand in a firm pressure with a mighty slap, and hauled him inside.

“Fellows, here’s my roommate!” went on Dunk. “Andy Blair. I hope you’ll like him as well as I do. Blair, these are some luckless freshmen like ourselves. Take ’em in the order of their beauty—Bob Hunter—never hit the bull’s eye in his life; Ted Wilson—just Ted, mostly; Thad Warburton—no end of a swell, and money to burn! Shake!”

They shook in turn, looking into each other’s eyes with that quick appraising glance that means so much. Andy liked all three. He hoped they would like him.

“So this is your hangout, eh, Dunk?” asked Ted, when the little formality of introduction was over.

“Yes, Andy had this picked out and kindly agreed to share it with me.”

“I sure was glad to!” said Andy, heartily.

“Some swell little joint,” commented Thad Warburton, looking around.

“Wait until we get her fixed up,” advised Dunk. “Then we’ll have something to show you! I haven’t decided on a bed yet,” he added to Dick. “Pick out the one you want.”

“I’m not particular. They all look alike to me.”

“Yes, they’re just the same. Fed your face yet?”

“No, but I’m hungry. Thought I’d wait for you.”

“Say, where is your eating joint?” asked Thad.

“I haven’t picked out one yet,” answered Andy. “I was thinking of going to the Hall——”

“Oh, that’s no fun!” cried Bob. “Come with us. We have a swell place. Run by one of our Andover crowd. Good grub and a nice bunch of fellows.”

“I’m willing,” agreed Andy.

“We could try it for a while,” assented Dunk, “and if we didn’t like it we could switch to the University Hall. What do you say, Andy?”

“I’m with you. The sooner the quicker. I’m starved.”

“All right, then, we’ll let the room go until after grub. I was going to stick up a few of my things, but they can wait. Get your trunk, Andy?”

“Did it come? I gave a man the check.”

“Not yet. Sounds like it now.”

There was a bumping and thumping out in the corridor, and an expressman came in with Andy’s baggage. It was stowed away in a corner and then the five lads prepared to set out for the “eating joint.”

“It’s around on York street, not far from Morey’s,” volunteered Thad.

“Oh, yes, Morey’s!” exclaimed Andy. “I’ve heard lots about that joint. I wish we could get in there.”

“No freshman need apply,” quoted Dunk, with a laugh. “That’s for our betters. We’ll get there some day.”

“Oh, I say——” began Ted, as they were about to go out. He looked at Andy rather queerly.

“What is it?” asked our hero, with a frank laugh. “Am I togged up wrong?”

“Your—er—derby,” said Bob, obviously not liking to mention it.

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” chimed in Dunk. “Hope you don’t mind, Andy, but a cap or a crusher would be in better form.”

Andy noticed that the others had on soft hats.

“Sure,” he said. “I was going to get one. I had a soft hat at Milton, but it’s all initialed, and covered with dates from down there. I don’t suppose that would go here.”

“Hardly,” agreed Dunk. “I’ve got an odd one, though. Stick it on until you get yours,” and he hauled a soft hat from under a pile of things on his dresser.

Andy hung up his offending derby and clapped the other on the back of his head. Then the five sallied forth, locking the door behind them.

Their feet echoed on the stone flagging of the open courtyard as they headed out on the campus. Past Dwight Hall, the home of the Young Men’s Christian Association, they went, out into High street and through Library to York. The thoroughfares were thronged with many students now, for it was the hour for supper.

Calls, cries, hails, gibes, comments and appeals were bandied back and forth. For it was the beginning of the term, and many of the new lads had not yet found themselves or their places. It was all pleasurable excitement and anticipation.

Huddled close together, talking rapidly of many things they had seen, or hoped to see—of the things they had done or expected to do, Andy, Dunk, and their chums walked on to the eating place. Dunk informed Andy, in a whisper, that his three friends had been at Phillips Academy, in Andover, with him.

“Over here!”

“This way!”

“Lots of room!”

“Shove in, Hunter!”

“There’s Wilson!”

“Dunk Chamber, too! Oh, you, Dunk!”

“Oh! Thad Warburton, give us your eye!”

It was a call to health, and several lads arose holding aloft foaming mugs of beer. For a moment Andy’s heart failed him. He did not drink, and he did not intend to, yet he realized that to refuse might be very embarrassing. Yet he resolved on this course.

There were more good-natured cries, and healths proposed, and then Andy and his companions found room at the table. Dunk introduced Andy to several lads.

“Oh, you, Dunk, your eyes on us!”

Several lads called to him, holding aloft their steins. Dunk hesitated a moment and then, with a quick glance at Andy, let his glass be filled. Rising, he gave the pledge and drank.

Andy felt a tug at his heart strings. He was not a crank, nor a stickler for forms or reforms, yet he had made up his mind never to touch intoxicants. And it gave him a shock to find his roommate taking the stuff.

“Well, he’s his own master,” thought Andy. “It’s up to him!”

And then, amid that gay scene—not at all riotous—there came to Andy the memory of a half-forgotten lesson.

“Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Andy wanted to close his mind to it, but that one question seemed to repeat itself over and over again to him.

“Have some beer?”

The voice of a waiter was whispering to him.

“No—not to-night,” said Andy, softly. And what a relief he felt. No one seemed to notice him, nor was his refusal looked upon as strange. Then he noticed with a light heart that only a few of the lads, and the older ones at that, were taking the beverage. Andy noticed, too, with more relief, that Dunk only took one glass.

The meal went on merrily, and then Andy and Dunk, refusing many invitations to come to the rooms of friends, or downtown to a show, went to their own room.

“Let’s get it in shape,” proposed Dunk.

“Sure,” agreed Andy, and they set to work.

Each one had brought from home certain trophies—mementoes of school life—and these soon adorned the walls. Then there were banners and pennants, sofa cushions—the gift of certain girls—and photographs galore.

“Well, I call this some nifty little joint!” exclaimed Dunk, stepping back to admire the effect of the photograph of a pretty girl he had fastened on the wall.

“It sure is,” agreed Andy, who was himself putting up a picture.

“I say, who’s that?” asked Dunk, indicating it. “She’s some little looker, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“My sister.”

“Congrats! I’d like to meet her.”

“Maybe—some day.”

“Who’s this—surely not your sister?” asked Dunk, indicating another picture. “I seem to know her.”

“She’s a vaudeville actress, Miss Fuller.”

“Oh, ho! So that’s the way the wind blows, is it? Say, you are going some, Andy.”

“Nothing doing! I happened to save her from a fire——”

“Save her from a fire! Worse and more of it. I must tell this to the boys!”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything,” and Andy explained. “She sent me a mackinaw in place of my burned coat, and her picture was in the pocket. I kept it.”

“I should think you would. She’s a peach, and clever, too, I understand. She’s billed at Poli’s.”

“Yes, I’m going to see her.”

“Take me around, will you?”

“Sure, if you like.”

“I like all right. Hark, someone’s coming!” and Dunk slipped to the door and put on the chain.

“What’s the matter?” asked Andy.

“Oh, the sophs are around and may come in and make a rough house any minute.”

But the approaching footsteps did not prove to be those of vengeful sophomores. They were the three friends, Bob, Thad, and Ted, who were soon admitted.

As they were sitting about and talking there was a commotion out in the hall. The door, which Dunk had neglected to chain after the admission of his friends, was suddenly burst open, and in came, with a rush, Mortimer Gaffington and several other sophomores.

“Rough house!” was their rallying cry.

“Rough house for the freshies!”

“Rough house!”