"You seem at home," remarked Jones, who was somewhat remarkable for his thinness.

"I am--Slim!" exclaimed Ricky. "I say, you don't mind if I call you that; do you?" he asked. "That's what the other fellows do; isn't it?"

"Yes. How'd you guess it?" asked Jones, with a laugh.

"Easy. I'm Ricky--Richard by rights, but I don't like it. Call me Ricky."

"All right, I will," agreed Slim Jones.

"I'm Hank h.e.l.ler, if you're going in for names," came from the other youth, while Joe had to admit that his appellation was thus shortened from Joseph.

"Well, now we know each other let's work our jaws on something besides words," suggested Ricky. "Here, do we get waited on, Alphonse?" he called to a pa.s.sing waiter.

Joe thought he had never been in such a delightful place, nor in such fine company. It was altogether different from life at Excelsior Hall, and though there were scenes that were not always decorous from a strict standpoint, yet Joe realized that he was getting farther out on the sea of life, and must take things as they came. But he resolved to hold a proper rein on himself, and, though deep in his heart he had no real love for college life, he determined to do his best at it.

The meal was a delightful one. New students were constantly coming in, and the place was blue with smoke from many cigars, pipes and cigarettes. Ricky smoked, as did Hank h.e.l.ler, but Slim Jones confessed that it was a habit he had not yet acquired, in which he was like Joe.

"Say, we're going to have some fun at our joint," declared Ricky on their way back, at a somewhat late hour. "We'll organize an eating club, or join one, and we'll have some sport. We'll be able to stand off the Sophs. better, too, by hanging together. When the Red Shack gets full we'll do some organizing ourselves. No use letting the Sophs. have everything."

"That's right," agreed Joe.

As they pa.s.sed along the now somewhat quiet streets they were occasionally hailed by parties of hilarious Soph.o.m.ores with the command:

"Take off your hats, Freshies!"

They obeyed, perforce, for they did not want to get the name of insurgents thus early in the term.

"Come in and have a talk," invited Ricky, as they entered the rooming house. "It's early yet."

"Guess I'll turn in," confessed Hank. "I'm tired."

"I'll go you for awhile," agreed Slim.

"How about you, Joe?"

"No, I want to unpack a bit. See you in the morning."

"All right. We'll go to chapel together."

As Joe entered his new room, and turned on the light, he saw a figure in one of the beds. For a moment he was startled, having forgotten that he was to share the room with someone. The youth turned over and gazed at Joe.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with a rather pleasant laugh. "I meant to sit up until you came back, to explain, but I guess I fell asleep. Mrs. Hopkins said you had no objections to a partner, and this was the only place available."

"Not at all!" exclaimed Joe cordially. "Glad you came in. It's lonesome rooming alone."

"You're Matson; aren't you?" asked the youth in bed.

"Yes."

"My name is Poole--Burton Poole."

Then, for the first time Joe recognized the lad he had seen standing all alone on the depot platform--the one to whom he had been inclined to speak--but from which impulse he had held himself back.

CHAPTER VIII

AMBITIONS

"Shake hands!" exclaimed Joe, as he stepped over to the bed, on which the other raised himself, the clothes draping around him. Then Joe saw how well built his new room-mate was--the muscles of his arms and shoulders standing out, as his pajamas tightened across his chest.

"Glad to know you," greeted Poole. "You are sure you don't mind my b.u.t.ting in?"

"Not at all. Glad of your company. I hate to be alone. I wish you'd come in a bit earlier, and you could have gone down to Glory's with us."

"Wish I had. I've heard of the place, but as a general rule I like a quieter shack to eat."

"Same here," confessed Joe. "We're talking of starting a feeding joint of our own--the Freshmen here--or of joining one. Are you with us?"

"Sure thing. Do you know any of the fellows here?"

"Three--in our shack. I just met them to-night. They seem all to the good."

"Glad to hear it. I'll fill in anywhere I can."

"Well, I'm going to fill in bed--right now!" a.s.serted Joe with a yawn.

"I'm dead tired. It's quite a trip from my place, and we've got to go to chapel in the morning."

"That's so. Are you a sound sleeper?"

"Not so very. Why?"

"I am, and I forgot to bring an alarm clock. I always need one to get me up."

"I can fix you," replied Joe. "I've got one that would do in place of a gong in a fire-house. I'll set it going." And from his trunk, after rummaging about a bit, he pulled a large-sized clock, noiseless as to ticking, but with a resonant bell that created such a clamor, when Joe set it to tinkling, that Ricky Hanover came bursting in.

"What's the joke?" he demanded, half undressed. "Let me in on it."

"The alarm clock," explained Joe. "My new chum was afraid he'd be late to chapel. Ricky, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Poole."

"Glad to know you," spoke Ricky. "Got a handle?"

"A what?"

"Nickname. I always think it's easier to get acquainted with a fellow if he's got one. It isn't so stiff."