As for Randall itself, it was a fairly large institution. There was the main building, at the head of a large campus. Off to the left was the athletic field, and somewhat to the rear was Booker Memorial chapel, the stained glass windows of which were worth going miles to see.
To the right of the college proper was Biology Hall, the endowment gift of an old graduate, and not far from that was the residence for the faculty. Directly in the rear of the main building were the dormitories, the east one for the freshmen and sophomores, and that on the west for the juniors and seniors.
As for the lads who attended Randall, you will meet more or less of them as this story progresses. Sufficient to say that Tom Parsons, Phil Clinton and Sid Henderson roomed together, being called the “inseparables.” Among their friends they numbered many, Dan Woodhouse, Billy or “Dutch” Housenlager, “Bricktop” Molloy, Jerry and Joe Jackson, dubbed the “Jersey Twins,” because they came from some town in the Garden State. Then there was “Snail” Looper, so called because of his propensity to prowl about in the dark; Pete Backus, nicknamed “Grasshopper,” because he aspired to be a jumper; “Bean” Perkins, who could always be depended on to make a noise at a game, and many more.
There were some students not so friendly to our heroes, notably Fred Langridge, who, because of a serious scrape, had withdrawn from Randall and was now at Boxer Hall. Garvey Gerhart, his crony, who appeared in previous books, had also left, and Ford Fenton, whose uncle always formed a subject of boasting with him, because of the latter’s former ability as a coach at Randall, was among the missing. For Ford played a mean trick on his classmates, and there was such a row raised over it that his relatives advised him to quit.
And now, I believe, you have met all, or nearly all the lads of whom I propose to tell you more. Of course there were the girls, Miss Tyler, and Ruth Clinton—Phil’s sister,—and Miss Mabel Harrison, who attended Fairview. I will introduce them more particularly in due season.
“Say, how can you fellows stand that?” asked Dan, after a pause, during which they had all done much thinking.
“Stand what?” asked Tom, starting out of a day dream, in which thoughts over the loss of the chair and the loss of Kerr on the football team were mingled.
“That clock. It gives me the fidgets,” and Kindlings grabbing a book, made as if to throw it at the timepiece.
With a quick motion, Phil stopped him, and the volume fell harmlessly to the floor.