“Let me have your check,” said Walter harshly. Dan handed his roommate his baggage check and as he did so two boys noisily entered the room and greeted Walter with a shout. “Hello, old man!” exclaimed one of them as he seized Walter’s hand and shook it. The other followed his companion’s example, Dan meanwhile quietly observing the two boys and feeling drawn at once to the one who had first greeted his roommate. Even before he was introduced Dan became aware that the boy was known as “Priz,” though what the name implied he did not know. The boy was a sturdy fellow, manifestly possessed of great physical strength, and his actions were so quick that they were almost catlike. The other boy was tall and slender and much more refined in his bearing. His name, or at least his nickname, Dan learned was “Chesty,” though why such a slender delicate fellow should receive such a cognomen he could not at the time conjecture.
“This is my new roommate,” said Walter after a brief delay, as he presented Dan. “‘Priz’ is the name that Ned Davis goes by,” he explained with a laugh. “You want to keep on good terms with him.”
“I am sure I want to,” said Dan with a smile.
“He’s the best boxer in the Tait School,” Walter explained. “‘Priz’ is short for prize—prize-fighter, if you want the whole thing. We call him that for short. Priz,” he added, “I guess you’ll have more to do with Dan than any of the rest of us. Dan’s the fellow I wrote you about this summer—striking out fifteen men, you know.”
“Is that so? Well, I’m one of the catchers of the nine here and I guess you and I will come to see a good deal of each other. I hope so, anyway. I’m mighty glad you came here. It’s the best school in the country.”
Dan quietly acknowledged the cordial greeting and at once felt that he would like Ned Davis, for the boy was genuinely cordial and his interest in the possibility of a new “find” for the pitcher’s box was genuine.
“Chesty is short for Lord Chesterfield,” Walter continued as he laughingly turned to the other newcomer. “In the catalogue his name appears as Frank Harwood Hoblit, Jr., but that’s too much of a mouthful, so we cut it short to ‘Chesty.’ If you ever want to know what color your necktie ought to be to match your socks, or what the proper attitude is when you are addressing the President of the United States, why Chesty is the boy to give you points. He is up on all the fine points of etiquette. He is little Lord Chesterfield, just called ‘Chesty’ for short.”
“We’re not quite so bad as Walter makes us out,” laughed Ned. “I never was in a fight in my life——”
“All the same you want to be good to him,” broke in Walter. “He’s the kind of a chap you let have the whole sidewalk and never say a word to if you happen to meet him some dark night.”
“He’s never out at night,” said Frank. “You never saw such a fellow to sleep. He’s usually in bed before the warning bell rings. I’ve thought sometimes I might just as well be rooming with a mummy as with him.”