years together around that Yard. Rivers, part owner of the room, who had been playing foot-ball, came in after the rest and announced joyfully that he had been definitely assigned to the position of guard on the team.

"Sorry to hear it," growled Billy Bender, who was captain of the University crew. "You are sure to get a bad knee or something, and be spoiled for the boat. I lost two good men by foot-ball last year. If I had my way I wouldn't let any of the rowing men play the confounded game."

"If you had your way, you old crank," said Holworthy, "you'd strap every man in college fast to an oar. Then you would stand over them and crack a whip and have a bully time. You would have made a first-rate galley master."

"I am tired to death of talking and hearing nothing but the game," declared Hudson. "I move to lay it on the table. There is nothing new to guess about it. I don't see how we can lose, and you don't see how we can lose, and no one sees how we can lose."

"That is apt to be the case at just this time," remarked Holworthy. "Two days from now our vision may be woefully cleared up."

"Shut up, you old croaker," cried Burleigh, throwing a sofa cushion at his host. The cushion knocked the book from Holworthy's hand and out of the window.

"You go down and get that now, you pretty, playful child," said Holworthy, indignantly. "Oh, thank you, yes, throw it up, please," he continued to someone outside. "Much obliged. No, Rattleton isn't here. I believe he went out for a ride."

"Who's that?" asked Randolph, as Holworthy drew in his head, having caught the book.

"Varnum, the coxswain."

"What the deuce does he want with Jack Rattleton?" queried Burleigh.

"I am sure I don't know," answered Holworthy, "but he and Jack are great pals, you know."

"What!" exclaimed Bender, who was not one of Rattleton's intimate friends, "Varnum and Rattleton? That is the funniest combination I ever heard of. The quietest, hardest worker in college, and the worst loafer."

"You are wrong there," said Holworthy. "If you knew Jack as well as the rest of us do, you'd know he was the best loafer in college."

"I believe that good-for-nothing chap would get up in the middle of the night to be hanged for any one of us," added Rivers.

"I am not sure about the middle of the night," said Hudson, doubtfully. "At any rate if he was to be hanged for it himself, he wouldn't get up before nine in the morning."

"How did he happen to get thick with Varnum?" inquired Bender.

"First they sat next to each other in some course," explained Holworthy. "One day Jack was out in his dog-cart, I believe, and met Varnum walking and picked him up. Jack was a Sophomore then, but a pretty good sort of a Soph., and I think he was rather surprised and interested at discovering that there were men in this University outside of his own little set, and of a new kind."

"That fellow Varnum is a rattler," said Rivers. "Hardly anyone knows him except the crew men, and, I suppose, some of his Y. M. C. A. pals. He has been making an awfully sandy fight of it, I can tell you, working his way all through college. Why, do you know, that chap came up with just two dollars and forty cents in his pocket!"

"There are lots of men doing just that sort of thing," declared Ernest Gray, a sympathetic, enthusiastic little man. "Some day we'll be proud of having been in the same class with some of those fellows. It's a shame that we don't know all about all of 'em."

"Oh, well," said Burleigh, consolingly, "we can always let people think we were hand in glove with the great men. 'Know him? Why he was a classmate of mine'—all that sort of thing, you know."

"Yes," said Dick Stoughton, "it's a comfort to reflect that we can always blow about them without taking the trouble to hunt them up now."

"Awful nuisance to chase up incipient and impecunious merit," added Hudson.

"I suppose that's why you helped Jack Rattleton take care of Varnum when he was sick. Why do you affected fools always want to cover up the precious little good you have got in you?" demanded Gray, in a mixture of sorrow and anger.

"One reason why they do it," said Holworthy, "is to make you flare up, you little powder keg. Haven't you got used to it yet, after three years?"

"Varnum is a first-rate coxswain, anyway," said Captain Bender, coming down to his regular estimate of worth. "I ran across him last year when I was looking for a light man to steer. It's lucky I did, too; for there was a great dearth of rudder-men. This little firebrand Gray would have wrecked the 'Varsity crew to a certainty. I watched him in the class races last year—he came near grabbing stroke's oar and trying to pull himself. He nearly killed his men yelling at them in the first mile."

"I should think he did," ejaculated Randolph, who had rowed in his class crew.

"Well, we won, anyway," said Gray in defence.

"You bet we did," said Randolph, "and we tossed Gray in a blanket during the celebration just to show there was no hard feeling, and give him all the honors due to any coxswain."

"I hope Varnum won't be too busy to steer this year," said Bender. "He has a lot to do always."

While this conversation was going on in Holworthy's room, the subject of it, the man who "had a lot to do," continued on his way through the Yard. Varnum's financial struggles had not been exaggerated by Rivers. He had come up to college with almost nothing, except the clothes that he wore and a strong heart under them. He had received help at starting from the loan fund; by means of one of the numerous scholarships, tutoring, and careful economy he had succeeded in clearing his debt by his senior year. In the summer vacations he had supported himself and laid up a little money, by all sorts of employments, from that of a clerk in a country store to that of foremast hand on a yacht. Though he worked at his studies hard enough to keep the necessary scholarship, he was not a very high stand man. He was interested in some of the mission work in Boston, and gave a great deal of time to "slumming."

During the last year, too, he had made a little spare time for steering the University crew; for he found this to be a good relaxation from his work, and, besides, it brought him in contact with men whom he would not otherwise have met, many of them well worth knowing. He was not the sort of man to make friends easily, in fact he had no really intimate companion; but the man to whom he had been most attracted was one of entirely opposite character, training, and associates. His friendship with Jack Rattleton, which had been the subject of the conversation in Holworthy's room, was not an uncommon case of the attraction of extremes. Rattleton's weak nature was easily drawn to a strong one, and on the other hand "Lazy Jack Rat" was a source of amusement and interest to Varnum.

The latter once in telling Rattleton about himself had said laughingly, "My father was very much opposed to my trying to work through Harvard. He had terrible ideas about the old place; said it was a rich man's college, and if I got through it at all I should learn nothing but extravagance and evil. I have rather changed his notions now, I think; but, Rattleton, I should be afraid to show you to him, as my nearest approach to a friend."

"Why," the ingenuous Rattleton had replied, opening his mild eyes as though a little hurt as well as wondering; "I dare say I am an ass, but I don't do you any harm, do I?"

"Not a bit," answered Varnum, smiling; "on the contrary, you do me lots of good. Horrible example, you know; but if my old father ever comes to see me, don't offer to take him out in that dog-cart of yours."

"Why, it is perfectly safe," Jack had declared; "and I should be very glad to give him a drive."

As Varnum left the Yard and turned into the Square, he saw a tall thin figure approaching, astride of a diminutive polo pony, and followed by a brindled bull-terrier. Why do the men with the longest legs