CHAPTER VII
A NEW CHUM
For a moment Joe stood there, his heart pounding away under his ribs,uncertain what to do--wondering if the Sophomore had recognized him.Then, as the other gave no sign, but continued on his way, whistlinggaily, Joe breathed easier.
"The cad!" he whispered. "I'd like to--to----" He paused. He rememberedthat he was at Yale--that he was a Freshman and that he was supposed totake the insults of those above him--of the youth who had a year'sadvantage over him in point of time.
"Yes, I'm a Freshman," mused Joe, half bitterly. "I'm supposed to takeit all--to grin and bear it--for the good of my soul and conscience, andso that I won't get a swelled head. Well," he concluded with a whimsicalsmile, "I guess there's no danger."
He looked after the retreating figure of the Sophomore, now almost lostin the dusk that enshrouded the campus, and then he laughed softly.
"After all!" he exclaimed, "it's no more than I've done to the lads atExcelsior Hall. I thought it was right and proper then, and I supposethese fellows do here. Only, somehow, it hurts. I--I guess I'm gettingolder. I can't appreciate these things as I used to. After all, what isthere to it? There's too much class feeling and exaggerated notion aboutone's importance. It isn't a man's game--though it may lead to it. I'drather be out--standing on my own feet.
"Yes, out playing the game with men--the real game--I want to get moreaction than this," and he looked across at the college buildings, nowalmost deserted save for a professor or two, or small groups of studentswho were wandering about almost as disconsolately as was Joe himself.
"Oh, well!" he concluded. "I'm here, and I've got to stay at least formother's sake, and I'll do the best I can. I'll grin and bear it. Itwon't be long until Spring, and then I'll see if I can't make good. I'mglad Weston didn't recognize me. It might have made it worse. But he'sbound to know, sooner or later, that I'm the fellow he saw pitch thatday, and, if he's like the rest of 'em I suppose he'll have the storyall over college. Well, I can't help it." And with this philosophicalreflection Joe turned and made his way toward his rooming house.
It was a little farther than he had thought, and he was a bit sorry hehad not selected one nearer the college. There were too many studentsto permit all of them to dwell in the dormitories proper, and manysought residences in boarding places and in rooming houses, and dined atstudents' clubs.
"I suppose I'll have to hunt up some sort of an eating joint," musedJoe, as he plodded along. "I'd be glad to get in with some freshmen wholike the baseball game. It'll be more sociable. I'll have to be on thelookout."
As he rang the bell of the house corresponding in number to the one hehad selected as his rooming place, the door was cautiously opened atrifle, the rattling of a chain showing that it was secure againstfurther swinging. A rather husky voice asked:
"Well?"
Joe looked, and saw himself being regarded by a pair of not veryfriendly eyes, while a tousled head of hair was visible in the lightfrom a hall lamp that streamed from behind it.
"I--er--I believe I'm to room here," went on Joe. "Matson is my name.I'm a Freshman----"
"Oh, that's all right. Come in!" and the tone was friendly at once. "Ithought it was some of those sneaking Sophs., so I had the chain on.Come in!" and the portal was thrown wide, while Joe's hand was caught ina firm grip.
"Are you--er--do you run this place?" asked Joe.
"Not yet, but I'm going to do my best at it as soon as I get wise to theropes. You can help--you look the right stuff."
"Aren't you the--er--the proprietor?" asked our hero, rather puzzled forthe right word.
"Not exactly," was the reply, "but I'm going to be one of 'em soon.Hanover is my name--Ricky Hanover they used to call me at Tampa. I'llallow you the privilege. I'm a Fresh. like yourself. I'm going to roomhere. Arrived yesterday. I've got a room on the first floor, near thedoor, and it's going to be so fruity for those Sophs. to rout me outthat I got a chain and put it on. The old man said he didn't care."
"The old man?" queried Joe.
"Yes, Hopkins, Hoppy for short--the fellow that owns this place--he andhis wife."
"Oh, yes, the people from whom I engaged my room," spoke Joeunderstandingly. "I think I'm on the second floor," he went on.
"Wrong guess--come again," said Ricky Hanover with a grin, as hecarefully replaced the chain. "There's been a wing shift, so Mrs. Hoppytold me. She's expecting you, but she's put you downstairs, in a bigdouble room next to mine. Hope you won't mind. Your trunk is there, andyour valise just came--at least I think it's yours--J. M. on it."
"Yes, that's mine."
"I had it put in for you."
"Thanks."
"Come on, and I'll show you the ropes. If those Sophs. come----"
"Are they likely to?" asked Joe, scenting the joy of a battle thus earlyin his career.
"They might. Someone tried to rush the door just before you came,but the chain held and I gave 'em the merry ha-ha! But they'll beback--we'll get ours and we'll have to take it."
"I suppose so. Well, I don't mind. I've been through it before."
"That so? Where are you from?"
"Excelsior Hall."
"Never heard of it. That's nothing. I don't s'pose you could throw astone and hit Tampa School?"
"Probably not," laughed Joe, forming an instinctive liking for this newchap.
"Right. Tampa hardly knows it's on the map, but it isn't a half badplace. Ah, here's Mamma Hoppy now. You don't mind if I call you that; doyou?" asked Ricky, as a motherly-looking woman advanced down the halltoward the two lads.
"Oh, I guess I've been at this long enough not to mind a little thinglike that," she laughed. "You college men can't bother me as long as youdon't do anything worse than that. Let me see, this is----"
"Matson, ma'am," spoke our hero. "Joe Matson. I wrote to you----"
"Oh, yes, I remember. I have quite a number of new boys coming in. I'msorry, but the room I thought I could let you have isn't available. Theceiling fell to-day, so I have transferred you downstairs. It's a doubleroom, and I may have to put someone in with you. If you think----"
"Oh, that's all right," interrupted Joe good-naturedly, "I don't mind.I'll be glad to have a room-mate."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Hopkins, in relieved tones. "I can't say just nowwho it will be."
"Never mind!" broke in Ricky. "Have you grubbed?"
"No," replied the newcomer. "I was thinking of going to a restaurant."
"Come along then. I'm with you. I haven't fed my face yet. We'll go downto Glory's place and see the bunch."
Joe recognized the name as that of a famous New Haven resort, muchfrequented by the college lads, and, while I have not used the realdesignation, and while I shall use fictitious names for other placesconnected with the college, those who know their Yale will have nodifficulty in recognizing them.
"Come on to Glory's," went on Ricky. "It's a great joint."
"Wait until I slip on a clean collar," suggested Joe, and a little laterhe and Ricky were tramping along the streets, now agleam with electriclights, on their way to the famous resort.
It was filled with students, from lordly Seniors, who scarcely noticedthose outside of their class, to the timid Freshmen. Joe looked on inundisguised delight. After all, Yale might be more to him than he hadanticipated.
"Like to go a rabbit?" suggested Ricky.
"A rabbit?" asked Joe. "I didn't know they were in season?"
"The Welsh variety," laughed Ricky. "They're great with a mug of ale,they say, only I cut out the ale."
"Same here," admitted Joe. "Yes, I'll go one. It's made of cheese, isn'tit?"
"And other stuff. Great for making you dream. Come on, this is theFreshmen table over here. I was in this morning."
"Do they have tables for each class."
"They don't--I mean the management doesn't, but I guess it would be asmuch as your hair was worth to try to buck in where you didn't belong.Know anybody here?"
"Not a soul--
wish I did."
"I didn't when I came this morning, but there are some nice fellows atthe Red Shack."
"Red Shack?" Joe looked puzzled.
"Yes, that's our hang-out. It's painted red."
"Oh, I see."
"There are a couple of 'em now," went on Ricky, who seemed perfectlyat ease in his comparatively new surroundings. He was a lad who madefriends easily, Joe decided. "Hi, Heller, plow over here!" Ricky calledto a tall lad who was working his way through the throng. "Bring Jonesalong with you. They're both at our shack," he went on in a low voice toJoe. "Shake hands with Matson--he's one of us chickens," he continued,and he presented the newcomers as though he had known them all theirlives.
"You seem at home," remarked Jones, who was somewhat remarkable for histhinness.
"I am--Slim!" exclaimed Ricky. "I say, you don't mind if I call youthat; 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 meRicky."
"All right, I will," agreed Slim Jones.
"I'm Hank Heller, if you're going in for names," came from the otheryouth, while Joe had to admit that his appellation was thus shortenedfrom Joseph.
"Well, now we know each other let's work our jaws on something besideswords," suggested Ricky. "Here, do we get waited on, Alphonse?" hecalled to a passing waiter.
Joe thought he had never been in such a delightful place, nor in suchfine company. It was altogether different from life at Excelsior Hall,and though there were scenes that were not always decorous from a strictstandpoint, yet Joe realized that he was getting farther out on the seaof life, and must take things as they came. But he resolved to hold aproper rein on himself, and, though deep in his heart he had no reallove for college life, he determined to do his best at it.
The meal was a delightful one. New students were constantly comingin, and the place was blue with smoke from many cigars, pipes andcigarettes. Ricky smoked, as did Hank Heller, but Slim Jones confessedthat 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 ontheir 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 theSophs. better, too, by hanging together. When the Red Shack gets fullwe'll do some organizing ourselves. No use letting the Sophs. haveeverything."
"That's right," agreed Joe.
As they passed along the now somewhat quiet streets they wereoccasionally hailed by parties of hilarious Sophomores with the command:
"Take off your hats, Freshies!"
They obeyed, perforce, for they did not want to get the name ofinsurgents thus early in the term.
"Come in and have a talk," invited Ricky, as they entered the roominghouse. "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 inone of the beds. For a moment he was startled, having forgotten that hewas to share the room with someone. The youth turned over and gazed atJoe.
"Oh!" he exclaimed with a rather pleasant laugh. "I meant to sit upuntil you came back, to explain, but I guess I fell asleep. Mrs. Hopkinssaid you had no objections to a partner, and this was the only placeavailable."
"Not at all!" exclaimed Joe cordially. "Glad you came in. It's lonesomerooming 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 allalone on the depot platform--the one to whom he had been inclined tospeak--but from which impulse he had held himself back.