Sid was rather an odd character, somewhat quiet, much given to study, and to delving after the odd and unusual. One of his fads was biology, and another, allied to it, nature study. He would tramp all day for a sight of some comparatively rare bird, nesting; or walk many miles to get a picture of a fox, or a ground-hog, just as it darted into its burrow. In consequence Sid's taste did not run to gay flags and banners of the college colors, worked by the fair hands of pretty girls, nor did he care to collect the pictures of the aforesaid girls, and stick them up on his wall. He had one print which he prized, a representation of a football scrimmage, and this occupied the place of honor. As for Tom and Phil, the more adornments they had the better they liked it, though I must do them the credit to say that they only had one place of honor for one girl's photograph at a time. But they sometimes changed girls. Then, on their side, were more or less fancy pictures--scenes, mottoes, and what not. Much of the ornamentation had been given them by young lady friends. Of course the old chair and an older sofa, together with the alarm clock, which had been handed down from student to student until the mind of Randallites ran not to the contrary, were the chief other things in the apartment, aside from the occupants thereof. Each lad had a desk, and a bureau or chiffonier, or "Chauffeur" as Holly Cross used to dub them. These articles of furniture were more or less in confusion. Neckties, handkerchiefs, collars and cuffs were piled in a seemingly inextricable, if not artistic, confusion. Nor could much else be expected in a room where three chums made a habit of indiscriminately borrowing each other's articles of wearing apparel, provided they came any where near fitting. On the floor was a much worn rug, which Phil had bought at auction at an almost prohibitive price, under the delusion that it was a rare Oriental. Learning to the contrary he and his chums had decided to keep it, since, old and dirty as it was, they argued that it saved them the worriment of cleaning their feet when they came in. Then there were three neat, white, iron beds--neat because they were made up fresh every day, and there was a dormitory rule against having them in disorder. Otherwise they would have suffered the fate of the walls, the rug or the couch and easy chair. Altogether it was a fairly typical student apartment, and it was occupied, as I hope my readers will believe, by three of the finest chaps it has been my lot to write about; and it is in this room that my story opens, with the three lads busily engaged in one way or another. "Oh, I say! Hang it all!" burst out Sid finally. "How in the mischief do you shove a needle through this leather, Tom? It won't seem to go, for me." "You should use a thimble," observed Tom. "Nothing like 'em, son."