“Hey, fellows! What do you know? Bob’s not coming back!”

It was Jack Frey talking and his announcement brought exclamations of surprise and concern from the group of Bartlett men crossing the campus.

“What?”

“You’re kidding!”

“If he’s not coming back good-bye football team!”

“Say, can’t you guys tell when Cateye’s joking?” reprimanded Benz Hoffmaster, last year member of Bartlett’s backfield. “Of course Bob’s coming back. He’s captain-elect!”

Cateye shook his head soberly, taking a letter from his inner pocket.

“I wish I was only kidding,” he said, as fellow students gathered around, “But this is straight dope. The man running the Billings farm is sick and Bob’s decided to stay home a year to help his mother take care of things...”

An involuntary groan went up. Bob had been Cateye’s room-mate. The two of them were also veteran members of the team, Cateye at left guard and Bob at fullback. Beyond having been the most popular fellow in school, Bob had been acknowledged the greatest player in Bartlett history. His absence would be felt off the field and on.

“But we can’t let Bob stick out there on the farm!” protested Benz, “We need him too much here. Read the letter, Cateye. Let’s get the details.”

Cateye unfolded the letter obligingly.

“‘Dear Pal,’” he read, “’I’ve put off writing this as long as I could, hoping that somehow things would work out so I wouldn’t have to write at all. But, Jack, there’s no use trying to kid myself, as much as I’d like to be back with you this year, I’m just not going to be able to make it. You see Mr. Duncan’s been mighty sick for the past couple months and the doctor says he’ll have to take it easy for at least half a year and that means only one thing I’ve got to stick here and help mother run the place.’”

“Gee, that’s tough!” muttered Curns, veteran right end.

“‘But I’m sending someone in my place,’” continued Cateye, still reading, “’My kid brother, Judd who, I think, is a natural born football player. He’s worked on our farm the past four years when he hasn’t been going to school and, since Bartlett doesn’t bar Freshmen from her varsity, I’m hoping he shows up well enough to make the team. He’s big and strong but awkward and somewhat backward. You can do a lot for him, Cateye, if you will. He’s never been any further than the little old home town, except the summer he visited me in the city, and the trip to Bartlett seems like a coast to coast journey to him. But he’ll get this taken out of him the first few days there and you’ll really find him a corking, dependable fellow when you get to know him. I’ve tried to teach him a few things about football as it’s played in college but he still has lots to learn. He starred, though, in the big game with Trumbull High last season. And, Cateye, if you’d like to do me a favor ... I almost hesitate to suggest this ... but if you could see your way clear to taking Judd in as your room-mate ... well, I’d never get over appreciating it. Tell the gang how sorry I am not to be coming back. Looks like, even without me, this year’s prospects for a winning team, are very bright. Go to it! And don’t stop till you’ve cleaned up on Pennington. Your old sidekick Bob...’”

Fellow students consulted one another with glum glances. No doubt now about Bob’s not returning. Suppose they’d have to make the best of it. But what do you suppose the kid brother whom he was sending was like?

“So Bob wants you to room with a farm hand!” joshed Benz, “Well, that’s what I’d call a test of true friendship. Just what are you going to do about it?”

Cateye nodded. “Why not? Bob was a farm hand at that rate when he first came on here. His brother, Judd, can’t be so bad and if there’s a chance of his developing into good football material...”

“You said it!”

“Bob ought to know good football material when he sees it.”

Cateye grinned. “There’s a postscript I didn’t read you,” he added, “About Judd’s arriving at two-five this afternoon ...”

“Hey, that’s only half an hour from now!”

“I know it, and I’ve an errand I’ve got to do first,” said Cateye, “But let me give you the rest of this postscript before I beat it. Bob goes on to give his brother a boost by saying: ’Judd’s in great physical trim already. You should see him tackle three hundred pound hogs out here on the farm and throw ’em...’”

A howl at this.

“Better keep out of his way, Benz!” warned Curns, “You don’t weigh that much but how you eat...!”

Benz made a move in Curns’ direction, Curns retreating.

“Let me finish!” pleaded Cateye, “I’m in a big hurry, guys.”

“Shoot!”

“Sure! Go ahead!”

“’... and, with Coach Phillips to instruct him on kicking, just watch Judd boot that old pigskin’.” concluded Cateye. “How’s that for a real send-off?”

Benz whistled, “Looks to me,” he laughed, “Like Bob’s trying to insure his brother getting a great reception by doing a rave about him. He’s got my curiosity aroused at that. I’d like to look the boy over. What do you say, fellows, we all meet Judd at the train?”

The suggestion was made impulsively and received just as impulsive a seconding.

“Good idea!”

“Give Judd a grand welcoming for Bob!”

“Make him feel at home!”

“All right,” agreed Cateye, “Meet you at the train then.” And he was off about his business.

The afternoon train, packed with merry students returning to Bartlett after a long summer’s vacation, puffed slowly and with apparent weariness up the slight grade and came to a stop not more than a block from the college. Although Bartlett was some three miles from anything which resembled a town it happened to be located near a railroad and the company, on special occasions, had conferred a favor upon the students by stopping at the college, thus saving numerous transportation bills.

As the train pulled in, some fifteen or twenty students, led by Benz Hoffmaster, pushed to the front of the platform and peered eagerly through the passing windows, hoping to catch sight of the youth pictured in Bob’s letter. Cateye, as yet, had not put in an appearance. He would have been of no help as to identification, however, for none in Bartlett had ever seen this expected new arrival. But it was likely that Judd, in some manner, would betray his identity.

Returning students, piling from the coaches, were swallowed up by awaiting friends and roommates who swarmed about them, amid much backslapping and handshaking. Everyone was glad to see everyone else back. The confusion was such that the group on the look-out for a strange face and a someone to whom the surroundings were obviously new, about reached the conclusion that one Judd Billings had escaped their notice.

“Or maybe he got so homesick he jumped off the train and’s walking back to the farm,” suggested Benz.

At this instant attention was drawn to the last occupant of the last coach who stumbled awkwardly off the car platform and looked dazedly about.

“There he is!” went up the shout.

Big-boned, apparently well-muscled, and of solid build, the new arrival presented a picture of strength but handled himself so clumsily as to provoke the curious interest of any passerby. In each hand he gripped a bulging suitcase.

“Hey, Judd!” called Benz, and started in his direction, followed by the group.

Startled at the sound of his name, the new arrival looked toward the charging reception committee. He drew back uncertainly as Benz dashed up, holding out his hand.

“You’re Judd Billings, aren’t you?”

The new arrival nodded, eyeing the fellows surrounding him with growing suspicion and uneasiness.

“Welcome to our college!” called Curns.

This brought a blaze of greetings.

“How’s Bob?”

“Let’s take your grips!”

“Cateye’ll be here in a minute!”

“Tackled any hogs lately?”

“Here! Here! You fellahs lay off! I can handle these bags myself!” The new arrival jerked at his suitcases to pull them free from hands which reached for them. “Let go or I’ll ...!”

“But, Judd ...!” protested Benz, surprised, “We only mean to ...!”

“None of your tricks now!” warned the fellow Bob had sent, “I’ve heard of you college guys. You’re not going to haze me. I’m looking for Mr. Jack Frey ...”

“We’re all friends of his!” insisted Benz, “Here, let me introduce us. Reading, left to right, is Potts, Curns, Pole, Neil ... Hold on, Judd! Where you going?”

Evidencing no interest in meeting the bunch, the new arrival had been anxiously searching the station platform for signs of anyone who might be looking for him. He now moved toward the small waiting room which served as an excuse for a depot as this junction stop was not often used by the railroad.

“Listen, Judd!” Benz blocked the way. “You’re not going to pull that high hat stuff around here. We’ve come to meet you out of respect for Bob and we...”

“You let me through!” demanded the new arrival, prodding Benz with his suitcases.

“And what if I don’t?” Benz wanted to know, “You haven’t been around much, have you? ’Bout time you were learning a few things!”

“You gonna let me through or not?”

There was fire in the new arrival’s eye. He wasn’t in the mood to be kidded. This stepping off the train into a college atmosphere and being met by a bunch of hoodlums who wanted to slap him on the back and take his grips away from him and rush him off with a lot of “hurrahs” didn’t set well. Judd Billings was homesick for one thing; he’d been warned to have nothing to do with strangers, for another; and his natural backwardness in meeting people only added to his quite unaccountable attitude of reserve and resistance. Jack Frey was the one person Judd was prepared to meet. If later Jack should vouch for these fellows, all well and good. Until then he intended to keep them at arm’s length.

“See here, Judd!” spoke up Potts, “You’re acting like a rube!”

“I’ll say he is!” seconded Benz, “Try to befriend him and...”

Giving Benz his shoulder, the new arrival, with a sudden, unexpected shove sent Bartlett’s veteran football man sprawling.

“Oh ho!” cried Pole, “So the party’s getting rough!”

Regaining his feet, Benz approached Judd angrily.

“Put down those suitcases!” he demanded, “I want to take a crack at you.”

The new arrival attempted to edge out of the group surrounding him.

“Leave me be,” he said, “I don’t want to be hurting anybody!”

This brought a chorus of defiant laughter.

“I dare you to put those suitcases down!” challenged Benz.

Judd hesitated, looking about him warily. The train had gone on and most of the passengers had departed with their friends. In the distance a figure was advancing on the run.

“I tell you fellahs, I ...”

“So you’re afraid, eh?”

The new arrival stiffened at this, his fingers twitched, and he fastened upon Benz a coldly penetrating look. Judd’s fear of physical contact was no more. The suitcases dropped to the cinder platform and hands went to hips.

“I reckon I can’t stop you, if you’re hankering for a fight,” came the words with a drawl.

Somehow this clumsy broad-shouldered figure took on an appearance of power as he seemed to forget himself, which bred respect.

“Go easy, Benz!” warned Neil, sizing Judd up, “No use starting trouble.”

“I’m not starting it,” retorted Benz, “I’m finishing it.”

With that the ringleader of the ill-treated reception committee swung a vicious right hook to the new arrival’s jaw. Judd’s left arm flashed up to block the blow. At the same moment Judd took a quick step forward and brought his right fist into play. It caught Benz almost on the point of the chin and spun him about in a circle.

“Say, the rube can fight!” exclaimed Potts, surprised. “Boy, he’s sure different from his brother!”

“Here, fellows! What’s the big idea?”

The figure of Cateye hurled itself between as Benz, reeling, staggered back toward Judd, bent on retaliating.

“Let me at him!” pleaded Benz, furiously, “I’ll show him he can’t get away with this stuff. So Bob sent him, eh? What a lemon!”

Cateye sized up the situation quickly.

“My name’s Frey,” he explained to Judd who was standing by quietly, hands again on hips, “Bob asked me to meet you, I’m sorry to be late. What seems to be the matter?”

“These fellahs wouldn’t let me alone, that’s all,” said Judd, simply.

“We come to meet him and he gives us the cold shoulder,” declared Curns, “Afraid we’re going to make off with his precious suitcases or smash his straw hat or throw dust in his eyes!”

“We college guys are bad eggs and no mistake!” put in Neil, sarcastically.

“My mother told me not to have anything to do with strange people,” added Pole.

“Will you please tell Mr. Billings, for his own enlightenment, that he’s among civilized people?” requested Potts, icily.

“These fellows are all right,” Cateye assured, as Judd gazed about him doubtfully, “They didn’t mean anything. They’re all good friends of Bob’s. They just wanted to show you a good time. You probably took them too seriously. Come on, Judd, we’ll take your things to my room.”

Relieved, the new arrival stooped and picked up his suitcases. His face wore a sheepish look but he offered no apology for his conduct. Rather he seemed anxious to get away from the bunch.

“A am I goin’ to bunk with you?” he asked of Cateye.

“Bunk?” repeated Cateye, “Oh, sure! You’re going to be my room-mate.”

“Heaven forbid!” said someone.

“Take him away,” urged Benz, “We don’t want anything more to do with him.”

And without another word being spoken Cateye set off with Judd, the new arrival stalking along, carrying the two bulging suitcases easily, scorning Cateye’s offer of aid.

“That guy’s cooked his goose at Bartlett!” declared Benz, feelingly, “And from now on, guys, he’s just a plain rube to me!”

“Rube’s the right word!” agreed Pole.

“That’s what we’ll call him after this!” decided Curns, “Rube!”

And so, one Judd Billings, sent to Bartlett by his highly esteemed brother Bob, stepped off into a new world, for him, on the wrong foot.