"Well, I do a little swimming now and then," said Frank. "How would Fish be?"
"Won't do. Can't have two members of the ichthyosaurus family in one room. Let's see. Eel—no, eel isn't good, he spends most of his time in the mud. Duck—no, the young ladies at the seminary'd be calling you ducky some day. I have it—web-foot, Web-foot Armstrong, how's that?"
"Sounds all right," said Frank, "kind of a paddler, eh?"
"An inspiration, my boy. Web-foot is your name from henceforth, to have and to hold until death do you part—Web-foot Armstrong, thus I christen thee."
A sound was heard on the stairs, and in another moment Jimmy and Lewis appeared at the open doorway. They were already acquainted with Gleason, and nodded to him.
"Welcome to our city," cried Gleason coming forward. "Are you acquainted with my young friend, Web-foot Armstrong? He is my steady for whom I've been waiting for three long weeks."
"It's a new name my room-mate has given me," explained Frank laughing. "He says Frank isn't homey enough."
"Web-foot suits him all right. He's a perfect water-dog, you know," said Jimmy. "One of the rising young swimmers of the generation and all that sort of thing; gave the champion a hard rub down in Florida."
"Ah, yes," said the Codfish, straddling. "I saw something about that; let's see, I have it somewhere—yes, here it is," as he began picking in a big envelope among a number of clippings—"here it is—'Champion Boy Swimmer of Milton hustles the Champion,' copied from the St. Augustine Record," and he began to read an exaggerated account of the affair in the Florida tank.