“Come, Leon, step out and show yourself.”
As he spoke, a boy two or three years younger than himself stepped down from the stage and joined the group, a little shyly, it must be confessed. But Harry laid a protecting hand on his shoulder, as he said by way of introduction,—
“See here, you fellows, this kid is my brother, Leon Arnold. He’s a good fellow, plucky enough to make up for his small size, and I know you’ll like him. Now come on, one at a time, and I’ll tell Leon who you all are, so you can start fair and square. This is Louis Keith,” he went on, turning to a slender lad of fifteen whose dark olive skin and blue-black hair were suggestive of Japan or China, rather than American birth; “we call him Ling Wing, or Wing for short. He’s the dude of Flemming Hall, and immensely proud of himself when he gets on his dress uniform. This next one,” he added, pointing to a yellow-haired, roly-poly youth of about the same age; “is Max Eliot. Look out for him; he’ll get you into all sorts of mischief.”
“Don’t you worry, young Arnold; I’ll get you out again, and that’s more than Hal does for his friends. Ask him about the night Max and Louis went after the pies,” interrupted the tallest of the group, a sixteen-year-old giant who was already past his six feet and was still stretching upward, while his small sandy head and blue eyes looked ridiculously boyish at the top of his manly figure.
“This, Leon,” his brother explained, without paying the slightest heed to the interruption; “is Jack Howard, popularly known as Baby. He’s a good fellow, but an awful drain on the family purse, for the tailor always charges him double for his uniforms.”
During the laugh that greeted this sally, a young man drew near the group, a well-built, athletic-looking young man dressed in army blue, whose brown eyes brightened behind their spectacles as he put out his hand, saying cordially,—
“Harry, I am glad to see you at last. We had almost given you up.”
Regardless of Leon and of his introductions, Harry whirled around quickly and grasped the outstretched hand.
“Lieutenant Wilde! Are you really back here? How jolly!”
“Back again, as well as ever and delighted to be with my boys once more, after six months of rest. They were all here but you, and the doctor and I were beginning to be afraid you were not coming, after all. Is this the brother you wrote about?”