“What am I? A musical note?”
“No, a flat!”
“I suppose you think you’re sharp!”
Chub Eaton groaned loudly as he slammed the lid of his trunk down. He was seventeen years of age, and looked older; was a trifle thick-set, had brown hair that was almost brick-red, alert brown eyes, a good-looking, expressive, good-humored face, and an ease of manner and a self-assurance which his enemies called conceit and which his friends loved him for. He was in his last year at Ferry Hill and consequently in the First Senior Class. The preceding spring he had succeeded himself as captain of the base-ball team. While well-liked by almost every fellow in school, he had not attained to the popularity which his companion commanded.
Roy Porter lacked his chum’s air of self-sufficiency and in looks and manner unconsciously invited friendship. He was the school leader, and reigned supreme with none to dispute his title. Besides that, until the election following Ferry Hill’s defeat of Hammond on the latter’s gridiron, a few weeks ago, he had been captain of the foot-ball team, an honor alone sufficient to turn his head had that appendage not been very stiffly attached. Unlike his predecessor in the office of school leader, one Horace Burlen, who had left school the previous spring and was now playing the precarious rôle of freshman in a near-by college, Roy ruled with a gentle hand and maintained his sway by honest, manly service in behalf of the school and his fellows. The younger boys worshiped him, secretly resolved to be Roy Porters when they grew up, and meanwhile copied his ties and stockings and cocked their hats as he wore his.
Roy also was a First Senior and would graduate in June; and like Chub—whose real name, by the way, was Thomas—was seventeen years old. He was tall, well-built, athletic, with wavy light-brown hair, a frank good-looking face and a pair of attractive gray-blue eyes.
“Say, Chub,” he exclaimed suddenly; “I almost forgot to tell you. What do you suppose Harry’s been up to now?”
“Ask me something easier,” begged Chub.
“Swiping students from Hammond!”
“What!”