house for the fall, for it was early in September.

Good-byes were said, Tom’s chums came in numbers to see him off, and with rather a tearful farewell of his father and mother our hero started for school, or rather, college, since Elmwood ranked with upper institutions of learning in conferring degrees.

“Be sure and write,” begged Tom’s mother.

“I will,” he said. “And you write, too.”

“Of course,” his mother assured him.

The train pulled in, Tom got aboard, and at last he felt that he was really off. He waved his last good-byes, and could not help feeling a little lonesome even though so many pleasures lay before him.

As he took his seat, while his chums cheered and shouted “Rah, Rah, Elmwood!” after him, Tom was aware that a lad across the aisle was regarding him curiously.

This lad was of athletic build. He had red hair, and a pleasant, smiling face.

“Are you going to Elmwood Hall?” he asked Tom.

“Yes,” was the answer. “Do you go there?” and then Tom saw that he need not have asked, since he saw the pin of the college on the other’s coat.

“I do, Burke’s my name—Reddy Burke they all call me. I’m beginning my third year there. Come over and sit with me, and we’ll have a talk. Elmwood boys ought to be friendly.”

CHAPTER IV
TOM MAKES AN ENEMY

Tom crossed the aisle of the lurching car, and was soon sitting beside the red-haired youth who had made such friendly advances.

“How did you know I was going to Elmwood?” asked our hero, as a sort of opening.

“Easy enough. You’ve got the air of a fellow going to college for the first time sticking out all over you. Oh, no offense!” exclaimed Reddy Burke as he saw Tom’s start. “It’s an honor to start at Elmwood Hall. Lots of fellows would like to, but can’t. I spotted you for a Freshman right off the bat.”

“I suppose I do look a bit green,” admitted Tom, with a smile.

“Oh, no more so than usual. Then, too, I heard your friends giving an imitation of the Elmwood yell, and that told me all I wanted to know. I’m glad to meet you. I hope I see more of you when we strike the school. Term opens to-morrow and next day you know, and there’ll be no end of fellows there. Opening day generally lasts a week. I thought I’d go down a day early, and get settled in my room.”

“That was my idea,” confessed Tom.

“Where are you going to put up?”

“I’ve got a room in Opus Manor. That seemed a nice place, and I picked it out when I came down for the entrance exams.,” replied Tom.

“It is nice,” admitted Reddy Burke. “It’s where all the Freshmen like to get, but usually it’s so crowded that you have to go on the waiting list. You’re in luck, Fairfield.”

“Glad you think so. Where do you room?”

“Oh, I put up with the rest of our crowd at the Ball and Bat. That’s our fraternity house you know.”

“Yes, I noticed it when I was down before. It’s a beaut place, all right.”

“Pretty fair. We have some good times there. You must come to some of the blowouts. I’ll send you a card when we get settled, and you know the ropes.”

“Thanks,” replied Tom gratefully. “And now tell me all about Elmwood Hall.”

“Oh land! It would take a week!” exclaimed the red-haired athlete. “There’s lots to tell about it, but I guess you know the history of it as well as I do, if you’ve seen a catalog.”

“Yes, but I mean tell me something about the fellows, and the professors.”

“Well, the professors are no better nor worse than at other colleges, I suppose,” spoke Reddy, with something like a sigh. “They all seem to have exaggerated notions about the value of Greek, Latin and mathematics, though I’ll be hanged if I like ’em. Baseball and football for mine, though I suppose if I’m ever to become a lawyer, which dad seems to think I’m cut out for, I’ll have to buckle down sooner or later, and assimilate some of that dry stuff. It’s time I begin, I reckon.”

“I should think so—if you’re in your Junior year,” spoke Tom with a laugh.

“That’s right. Oh, I have done some boning, and I haven’t cut lectures any more than the rest of the team did. You simply have to cut some if you play all the games, and I didn’t miss any contests, you can make up your mind to that. Most all of us at the Ball and Bat play either on the diamond, or gridiron, or row on the crew. I say though, maybe you’re that way yourself?” and Reddy looked questioningly at our hero.

“Well,” admitted Tom, modestly, “I can row a bit, and I like baseball. I’ve never played football much. I wasn’t quite heavy enough for the team at our Academy.”

“You look husky enough,” spoke Reddy, casting a critical pair of blue eyes over his seatmate. “You ought to try for the eleven down at Elmwood.”

“Maybe I will. Think I’d have a chance?”

“It’s too early to say, but have a try, anyhow.”

“Are any of the professors very savage?” asked Tom.

“Only so-so. Doctor Pliny Meredith is head master, I suppose you know.”

“Yes. How is he?”

“As full of learning as a crab is of meat in the middle of August, but he’s not very jolly. Rather stand-offish, and distant, though sometimes he warms up. We call him ‘Merry’ because he’s usually so glum. But he’s fair, and he thinks Elmwood Hall the greatest institution ever. To him a fellow’s word is as good as his bond. It all goes on the honor system there. No profs. at the exams., you know, and all that. You have to be a gentleman at Elmwood.”

“Do the fellows live up to it?” asked Tom.

“Pretty much. There are one or two a little off color, of course. But any fellow who would lie to Merry wouldn’t stay long at Elmwood if the fellows got on to it.

“Then, the rest of the profs. are about like the average, except that I don’t mind admitting that Burton Skeel is a regular grinder, and as mean as they make ’em. He’s the Latin taskmaster and maybe that’s why I hate it so.”

“Aren’t there any jolly professors?” asked Tom, beginning to think that perhaps, after all, he wasn’t going to like it at Elmwood as much as he had hoped.

“Oh, bless you, yes!” exclaimed Reddy. “I was almost forgetting Live Wire. That would never do.”

“Live Wire? Who’s he?”

“Professor Livingston Hammond. He’s fat and jolly and he almost makes you like trigonometry, which is saying a lot, and, as for solid geometry, and conic sections, well, if anybody can make them look like the comic sheet of a Sunday newspaper it’s the Live Wire. You’ll like him; all the fellows do. But he won’t stand for any nonsense. You’ve got to come ‘prepared,’ or he’ll turn you back to make it up after class.”

“I like maths.,” admitted Tom.

“Then you and the Live Wire will be friends and brothers, I guess,” predicted Reddy.

“Tell me something about the fellows,” suggested Tom. “I know one Senior, slightly.”

“You do? How’d you make his acquaintance?”

“He’s Bruce Bennington,” replied our hero, as he told of the manner of their first meeting.

“That’s odd,” commented Reddy. “Bruce is one of the nicest chaps in college. ‘Easy Money Bennington’ we call him, ‘Easy’ for short, though. He’s a good spender, and his own worst enemy.”