So the professor took his departure, and Frank was left to begin life at college.
His roommate was a rollicking, headstrong, thoughtless young fellow from Ohio. Harry Rattleton was his name, and it seemed to fit him perfectly. He had a way of speaking rapidly and heedlessly and turning his expressions end for end.
Frank had been able to assist Harry at examination. Harry and Frank were seated close to each other, and when it was all over and the two boys knew they had passed all right, Harry came to Frank, held out his hand, and said:
"I believe your name is Merriwell. Mine is Rattleton and I am from Ohio. Merriwell, you are a brick, and I am much obliged to you. Let's room together. What do you say?"
"I am agreeable," smiled Frank.
That was the way Frank found his roommate.
Harry was interested in sports and athletics, and he confided to Frank that he was bound to make a try for both the baseball and football teams. He had brought a set of boxing gloves, foils, and a number of sporting pictures. The foils were crossed above the mantel and the pictures were hung about the walls, but he insisted on putting on the gloves with Frank before hanging them up where they would be ornamental.
"I've taken twenty lessons, old man," he said, "and I want to point you a few shows—I mean show you a few points. We'll practice every day, and I'll bet in less than ten weeks I'll have you so you'll be able to hold your own with any fellow of your age and weight. Ever had the gloves on?"
"A few times," answered Frank, with a quiet smile.
"That's all the better. I won't have to show you how to start in. Here, here—that hand goes on the other glove—I mean that glove goes on the other hand. That's the way. Now we're off. Left forward foot—er, left foot forward. Hold your guard this way. Now hit me if you can."