So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off the banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one rendered nearly as hard as a cannon-ball by eleven years of constant bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting to find him half-dead. The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised “Hullo!”
“Hullo!” returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking that form of reply both brief and easy.
“Are you a new boy?” asked the recumbent youth, without stirring.
“Don’t know yet.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nat Blake.”
“Mine’s Tommy Bangs; come up and have a go, will you?” and Tommy got upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.
“Guess I won’t, till I see whether I’m going to stay or not,” returned Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.
“I say, Demi, here’s a new one. Come and see to him;” and the lively Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.