He breathed more easily and carried himself with a new respect as he descended the stairs. He was a full Freshman, with fewer conditions to make up than he expected. His self-confidence returned, and he emerged upon the campus again, walking lightly.
He was an excellent type of athletic youth as he strolled slowly through the throngs, keeping a sharp lookout for some familiar face. In spite of his appearance of youth and his slenderness he possessed a magnificent pair of shoulders, and his blue eyes looked fearlessly into the eyes of those to whom he spoke. He carried himself jauntily, because of his lightness of foot, and his sandy, rebellious hair that bordered upon red, called attention to the well-formed head well set upon the wide shoulders.
Larry Kirkland was the ward of Major James Lawrence, owner of Shasta View, one of the wealthiest men on the Pacific coast. He and Larry’s father had been chums for years, and when the boy was left an orphan, the Major had taken him, to make him his heir. Larry had organized the boys of the ranch into a baseball team which, under his guidance and by the advice of Bill Krag, a major league pitcher, had triumphed over all opponents. His experience as manager of the Shasta View team, and his athletic ability and experience in handling the boys who played with him, had made it easy for Larry to become the leading athlete of the preparatory school, near Portland. During his two years there he had been captain of the baseball and track teams and had played on the football team, and he had entered college with the expectation of being greeted as a valuable acquisition. The fact that no one among all the throng of students paid the slightest attention to him, caused him to feel resentful. His buoyant spirit asserted itself.
The scant respect with which the upper classmen showed to new men and to the Freshmen irritated him. He was accustomed to being looked up to for advice, to being a leader, and to dictating the course of action to his associates, and to find himself treated as a small boy was humiliating. He was standing upon a terrace, unnoticed save when some passing Sophomore gave him a careless glance. He was angry with himself for permitting the feeling of resentment to upset him when a shout caused him to turn.
“Larry Kirkland!”
Larry whirled to see a small, lithe, brown boy leaping toward him on the terrace, hands outstretched in greeting and a glad smile on his face.
“Katty!” he exclaimed in surprise. “You here? Where did you come from?”
He seized the hands of the Nipponese boy and shook them heartily.
“I was just wishing I could see some one I knew,” said Larry. “But this is beyond what I hoped for. How are you? Are you in college?”
“I am in the college,” replied Katsura proudly. “My uncle is in merchandising. When I left Shasta View I came to live with him. He sends me to the college that some day I may return to Nippon and serve our Emperor.”