"We're all friends of his!" insisted Benz, "Here, let me introduce us.
Reading, left to right, is Potts, Curns, Pole, Neil … Hold on, Judd!
Where you going?"
Evidencing no interest in meeting the bunch, the new arrival had been anxiously searching the station platform for signs of anyone who might be looking for him. He now moved toward the small waiting room which served as an excuse for a depot as this junction stop was not often used by the railroad.
"Listen, Judd!" Benz blocked the way. "You're not going to pull that high hat stuff around here. We've come to meet you out of respect for Bob and we…"
"You let me through!" demanded the new arrival, prodding Benz with his suitcases.
"And what if I don't?" Benz wanted to know, "You haven't been around much, have you? 'Bout time you were learning a few things!"
"You gonna let me through or not?"
There was fire in the new arrival's eye. He wasn't in the mood to be kidded. This stepping off the train into a college atmosphere and being met by a bunch of hoodlums who wanted to slap him on the back and take his grips away from him and rush him off with a lot of "hurrahs" didn't set well. Judd Billings was homesick for one thing; he'd been warned to have nothing to do with strangers, for another; and his natural backwardness in meeting people only added to his quite unaccountable attitude of reserve and resistance. Jack Frey was the one person Judd was prepared to meet. If later Jack should vouch for these fellows, all well and good. Until then he intended to keep them at arm's length.
"See here, Judd!" spoke up Potts, "You're acting like a rube!"
"I'll say he is!" seconded Benz, "Try to befriend him and…"
Giving Benz his shoulder, the new arrival, with a sudden, unexpected shove sent Bartlett's veteran football man sprawling.