"Will you follow me or shall I follow you?" each seemed to say in the first contact, which was a challenge.
"How are you?" said Stover, shaking hands with some one else; and the tone was the tone of Hunter.
There were three others in the room: Hunter's room-mate, Stone, a smiling, tall, good-looking fellow who shook his hand an extra period; Saunders, silent, retired behind his spectacles; and Logan, who roomed with McNab, who sunk his shoulders as he shook hands and looked into Stover's eyes intensely as he said, "Awful glad; awful glad to know you."
"Have a pipe—cigarette—anything?" said Hunter over his shoulder, from the trunk to which he had returned.
"No, thanks."
"Started training?"
"Sort of."
"Take a chair and make yourself at home," said Hunter warmly, but without turning.
The talk was immediately of what each was going to do. Stone was out for the glee club, already planning to take singing lessons in the contest for the leadership, three years off. Saunders was to start for the News. Logan had made drawings during the summer and was out for the Record. Hunter was trying for his class team and the crew. Only McNab was defiant.
"None of that for me," he said, on his back, legs in the air, blowing rings against the ceiling. "I'm for a good time, the best in life. It may be a short one, but it'll be a lulu!"