"Bunk?" repeated Cateye, "Oh, sure! You're going to be my room-mate."

"Heaven forbid!" said someone.

"Take him away," urged Benz, "We don't want anything more to do with him."

And without another word being spoken Cateye set off with Judd, the new arrival stalking along, carrying the two bulging suitcases easily, scorning Cateye's offer of aid.

"That guy's cooked his goose at Bartlett!" declared Benz, feelingly, "And from now on, guys, he's just a plain rube to me!"

"Rube's the right word!" agreed Pole.

"That's what we'll call him after this!" decided Curns, "Rube!"

And so, one Judd Billings, sent to Bartlett by his highly esteemed brother Bob, stepped off into a new world, for him, on the wrong foot.

CHAPTER VII

THE FIRST NIGHT

"But, Judd," argued Cateye, weakly, "I never sleep with my window wide open like that. Especially this time of year. Why there is frost on the ground in the morning and the room will be cold as ice when we wake up!"

"Well, I can't see any harm in good ventilation. I slept in the barn most all this summer an' I don't look sick, do I?" said Judd, for the third time.

Cateye looked him over. No, to be sure, Judd didn't look very sick.

In fact he seemed exceedingly robust. One hundred and ninety-six pounds, most of it worked into well formed and almost abnormal muscles.

"I can't say that you do look sick," admitted Cateye, "That's just why you can stand it. But I,--I'm not used to such outdoor measures. Do you want to turn this room into a park?"

"Not eggs-actly a park, but I believe in lots of fresh air an', ..."

"Have it your own way then!" growled Cateye, savagely, seeing the uselessness of further argument.

He ventured no more remarks but watched Judd's every action curiously, musing: "I can't see Bob's idea in wishing this bird on me--even if he is his own brother--but I've taken him in now and I'll stick it out to the end."

Meanwhile Judd had removed a wallet from his pocket and was in the act of secreting it between mattress and springs.

"I say, Judd, what's the idea of hiding your wad? n.o.body will steal it. There aren't any thieves about here!"

Cateye, already in bed, raised himself upon his elbow and eyed his new room-mate interestedly.

"You never can tell, Mister Frey. I had my dinner swiped this noon an'

I'm not takin' any chances!"

"For heaven's sake, Judd, call me Cateye. Everybody else does."

"Well, I reckon I can," replied Judd, slowly, having completed the action of hiding his wallet to his evident satisfaction.

"Those feet and those hands," sighed Cateye to himself, "would make Babe Ruth turn green with envy!"

Judd struggled awkwardly into a home-made nightshirt.

Cateye buried his head in a pillow and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright. "Ye G.o.ds! And is this only the beginning?" he asked himself.

The question was almost immediately answered.

"Gee mackerel!" howled Judd, as he rolled into bed and sunk down amidst the folds of a soft feather mattress. "This may be the ticket for babes but it's no place for me! I can't sleep on anything soft. It's bad for the spine. Me for the floor!"

"You're not going to sleep on the floor!"

"You bet I am!" mumbled Judd, emphatically, dragging the bed sheets off and arranging them on the floor. "I lay out straight when I go to sleep. I don't tie myself up in any fancy bow knots!"

Cateye rolled over with a groan, "What next?"

Judd, at last satisfied, switched out the lights and deposited his minus two hundred pounds upon the floor. "This is the life!" he breathed fondly a few minutes later. Then the sandman bagged Cateye for three solid hours of sleep.

It must have been one o'clock or after when Cateye awoke. At any rate it was late,--very late, and Cateye was so sleepy,--but what was that peculiar sound?

Cateye came to his senses like a flash and sat bolt upright in bed.

The moon was casting a pale, white shadow into the room and the air was noticeably chilly.

"I thought I heard someone shout," Cateye sputtered, his teeth inclined to chatter, "but I guess it was only a bad dream." He listened intently for a few moments. All that he could hear was the labored breathing of Judd who seemed to be enjoying his slumber immensely.

Cateye laid down and tried to sleep once more but found sleep impossible. He fell to thinking of Judd and Bob and then of Judd again.

Suddenly a voice, unmistakeable this time, spoke out of the darkness.

"Yes, I'll be home in time for dinner, mother. I've only got three acres left to plow."

The hair on Cateye's head began to re-arrange itself. "What on earth can it be?" Cateye gasped through shut teeth to keep from crying aloud.

"There,--that voice again!"

"Get up, Nancy! Whoa, Nell! Gee--haw! Tarnation, but this land is rocky! Don't see why Dunk wants this land plowed anyhow!"

"Why, oh, why did I take that guy in for a room-mate?" moaned Cateye.

"He even gives himself away in his sleep!"

The talking recommenced. "No, I didn't fix the harness. I thought I'd wait till after supper.... the young whip-snap! He stole my dinner!

If I ever lay hands on him I'll,--I'll--"

At this juncture, Judd, making a strenuous effort, rolled over upon the floor and opening his mouth wide broke into loud sonorous snores.

"Thank heaven he's at least stopped talking!" grunted Cateye, much relieved and wiping the cold perspiration from his brow. "I hope he doesn't walk in his sleep too!"

The snoring increased into a steady rumble.

"Shall I waken him?" Cateye asked himself. "I can't sleep through an artillery engagement." But, on second thought, he decided to lay low and accept the bombardment. After all, he was only doing this as a favor to Bob, but the favor was getting to be a pretty big one.

How long Cateye held the fort he did not know but the cannonading ceased as the campus clock was striking three and relieved from duty he fell asleep at his post.