Harold Case mounted the stairs of his boarding house to the little hall room that he had called home for the last five months. It had been his first time away from home and he was lonesome and maybe just a little homesick, for he had come all the way from California to attend school at Lowell. Though he was a poor boy, he had never had to look out for himself before.

Perhaps his room—there was only one small one—helped to make him lonesome. It was comfortably furnished and the meals which Mrs. Malcolm served her student boarder were good, but this was Harold’s first white winter. He had lived all of his eighteen years in the balmy climate of the Golden State, and he missed the warm sun and the bright green of the orange leaves and the yellow fruit which he had been used to back home, and he hadn’t become accustomed to wearing overcoat and rubbers yet as they did every day here in the East.

He had just come in from class. His feet were wet and he was cold and the register which was supposed to heat his room was cold; for the weather was beginning to get mild for Eastern folks, and they had let the furnace fire get low. But it was still too cold and chilly for this boy from the far West, and he was wishing he were back among the fruit groves near his home.

He was lonesome, too, because he missed the chums back home. He had not been fortunate in making friends during his few months at college. Boys are apt to make friends through the games they play together and Harold was not familiar with the boys’ sports that are indulged in during the cold New England winters.

He had never had a pair of skates on in his life and didn’t know what it was to skim over the smooth ice with a pair of sharp steel blades fastened to his shoes. He had never enjoyed the sensation of coasting or hitching on to bob-sleds, nor had he ever seen snow before coming to Lowell.

Think of living eighteen years, and going to school two-thirds that long, and never being mixed up in a snowball fight!

So you see the fact that it was winter and only winter sports were indulged in put Harold out of it for the time being, and because he wasn’t used to the climate, and didn’t know what fun winter sports would provide, he rather felt that he didn’t care for them, and the other fellows paid little attention to him, and he had not made any friends.

This was hard luck of course, and if the other boys had thought about it at all, they would no doubt have encouraged him to join them, but they were not particularly interested at the moment in anyone who didn’t like the things they liked.

As a matter of fact, Harold, as they called him back home, was a really good fellow. He was very boyish looking for his eighteen years. He was a well built fellow, but modest and somewhat backward about pushing himself forward. His hair was brown and his features were good although no one would call him handsome. His eyes were light blue and clear, his mouth was firm, and if the other fellows only knew it, he was as quick as a flash in any game he was familiar with, and he was as graceful as a deer in motion. He could run almost as fast as a deer, too.

His parents were not in easy circumstances and it was harder than Harold knew for Mr. Case to spare the money which he did to send him to Lowell. Harold would perhaps have been just as well pleased to attend a college in California (just now when he thought of the cold Eastern winter he wished to goodness that he had), but his father had been a Lowell man, having been graduated with the class of 18—, and while it was a little hard on him financially to do so, he had always wanted Harold to be a Lowell man, and he was willing to work a little more out there in California to do what he wanted for his son. He felt sure Harold would make his mark in the world and he also had an idea that his boy would add something to the fame of Lowell one way or the other.

At the same time the understanding was that after he got out of school and began to earn money, Harold was to pay back this college money, and so while there was enough to be fairly comfortable for his first year, the young fellow always kept in mind the fact that he was in a way living on borrowed money, and that the less he spent the smaller the amount would be to be paid back.

For this reason, he had secured a room in a somewhat cheaper and quieter part of town, some distance away from the campus, instead of taking up his quarters in one of the Students’ Halls, and this fact also, and because he was in a house with no other students, served to keep him from making friends as easily as he might. If he had been living where there were a lot of other fellows he would not have been so lonesome, and the boys at Lowell would have known sooner what a grand fellow he was.

Harold looked at his watch to see how long it would be to dinner time, for he had a good appetite even if he was cold, and just then the dinner gong sounded. He went down to the dining room where he found Mrs. Malcolm and her young son, a lad of twelve, already seated at table. The dinner was good, and Harold noticed a more cheerful air in Mrs. Malcolm’s conversation. This was rather a surprise as there had been a noticeable lack of laughter in the house lately, at least so he had been thinking.

Mrs. Malcolm was a widow and had come to the college town, thinking she could add something to the small income left her by her husband by establishing herself in the boarding-house business. She had three other rooms to rent, but up to this time Harold had been the only boarder she was lucky enough to get, and lately she had been a little bit discouraged. With a larger house than she needed for herself and son and only one boarder, the increased expense was more than Harold was paying her, so she was losing money on her idea.

This evening, however, she was more cheerful, and she soon gave the reason. She had secured two other students as boarders that day. One was to come that evening, and had taken the room next to Harold’s on the same floor, and the other had taken the little room over his on the third floor, but this fellow only rented the room with the privilege of taking his meals where he pleased.

“The young man who is coming to-night is a freshman like yourself,” said Mrs. Malcolm. “His home is in Texas; I think you will like him and it will be real nice for you to have some one else in the house. His name is Hagner.”

When dinner was over Harold went up to his room to do some studying.

“I feel as though I could be chums with a Mexican greaser to-night,” thought Harold, “and I certainly will be glad to meet him.”

Shortly afterward the door bell rang and Harold heard an expressman bringing a trunk up the stairs, followed by the footsteps of a young man and also a lighter step, no doubt that of Mrs. Malcolm. After a few moments there was a knock at his door, and when he opened it Mrs. Malcolm asked him if she might introduce him to the new boarder, Mr. Hagner.

Harold found a big, raw-boned, awkward-looking German, a young fellow about six feet tall, weighing fully 175 pounds. He was heavy set, bow-legged, and had massive shoulders and long arms, but when he moved around there was a wonderful ease and grace apparent in his movements, which was a surprise.

Mrs. Malcolm soon went out and left the two together in Hagner’s room. Harold started to leave, too, saying that he would come in after Hagner had unpacked.

“Don’t need to go for that reason,” said Hagner, as he opened his trunk, ready to unpack.

“All right, if you don’t mind,” said Harold. “I’m kind of lonesome to-night, anyhow.”

“What’s the matter?” asked the other, “anything gone wrong?”

“No,” said Harold, “but you see I’m from California and I don’t like this blamed snow and cold. I’d rather be back where it’s warm every day like I’m used to.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Hagner. “This must be your first year, too?”

“It is. I’ve been here five months and it’s been mighty cold for three months of that time. When did you come?”

“I just got in yesterday,” said Hagner, starting to unpack. “Never saw snow before in my life. I am from Texas myself and we don’t have it down there either. It’s wet, ain’t it? Don’t like it much myself. Guess I’ll have to stand it, though. Don’t expect to see Texas again for a couple of years, anyhow.”

Harold began to feel more cheerful. Here was a fellow to whom he could tell about college. Compared with Hagner, Harold was an old timer, and he began to feel good. Hagner kept on taking things out of his trunk. He was having a hard time, getting something out that seemed to be laid in crosswise between the clothes. Harold looked, and just then out it came, and there stood Hagner with an old baseball bat in his hand. He reached in with his left and pulled out an old fielder’s mitt, which had a big hole right through the middle.

Harold’s eyes bulged. “Do you play ball?” he asked.

“A little,” said the other; “used to play around the back lots down home. Had to play hookey from Sunday school to get a chance. Had to work week days after school. You play?”

“Some,” said Harold.

“What position?”

“Pitcher,” said Harold, falling into the other’s way of talking. “What’s your place?”

“Short,” said Hagner.

“Going to try for the team?” asked Harold.

“Will if they want me. You?”

“I’m going to make them want me. The best pitcher they had last year is gone and they need some one.”

“Better try for something else. Everybody thinks he can pitch. Only a few know how.”

“Well, I’m a Southpaw pitcher, and I was pretty good on the High School team out home. Southpaws are scarce.”

“Left handed, eh! You look quick, too. Think you might make a first baseman.”

“I’d rather pitch,” said Harold.

“All right, sir,” said Hagner. “You can pitch if you want to and if they want you, but if they give me a chance any place, I think I can stop them all right, and if I miss one occasionally, I think I can hold the job with my bat. What’s your first name? Mine’s John, but you can call me Hagner.”

“My first name is Harold, but you had better call me by my last name, too.”

And so they talked baseball until long after midnight, and their enthusiasm for the great American game made them friends at once, and Harold went to bed feeling that the world was bright and warm and that spring would be coming pretty soon, and he made up his mind right there not to get homesick any more, but to dig more into his studies so that his marks wouldn’t interfere with the amount of time he wanted to give to baseball when practice started.