Ned was a steady, sensible lad, with very rigid ideas of right and wrong. Not that there was anything "priggish" about him. On the contrary, he was always the foremost in any undertaking that provided a little sport.
He was intensely fond of outdoor life, and was an acknowledged authority on everything relating to fishing, hunting, canoeing, and boating. But he did not allow recreation to interfere with his studies.
He and Randy were pupils at the academy, and both stood high in their classes.
Ned was a year older than Randy and half a head taller. He had brown hair, grayish brown eyes, and a deeply bronzed complexion, the result of living much in the open air and under the burning glow of the summer sun.
His face wore an expression of habitual good humor, and he had a rare command of his temper.
His grave displeasure was more dreaded than a passionate outburst would have been.
And now that two of the characters have been introduced to the reader, we must resume the thread of the story.
Randy's stipulated ten minutes had gone by, and five additional ones, when a shrill whistle was heard in the rear of the boathouse.
Both doors were open, and when the boys turned in their chairs and looked through they saw their tardy companion descending the steps that led from the top of the bank.
"It's Clay at last," exclaimed Randy.