Being strangers from afar, the two Freshmen did not expect to be met at the station, and they were not. But Dick knew what to do and where to go. “A ‘Sheddon’ street-car is what we want, and there’s one coming, right now,” he said; then: “Hoo-e-e-e! Look at the green caps on it. I thought we’d be the only early birds, but it seems we’re not.” They didn’t get seats in the small trolley car, because the seats were all packed and jammed, and so was the aisle; but they crowded in, some way. While they were stowing their grips, a thick-bodied fellow, with a wide mouth and a voice like that of a megaphoning yell leader, asked Dick where they were from. “Brewster,” said Dick, as if the name of the small home city were enough to identify it anywhere. “And where in the cat’s name is Brewster?” boomed the big voice. “I’ll tell you――strictly in confidence,” Dick replied, wrinkling his nose. “It’s in Timanyoni Park.” Right then and there the nickname was born. “Ho, fellows!” roared the megaphonic chap, commanding the instant attention of the packed carful, “we’ve got ’em, right here; the only original stem-winding, stem-setting doodle-bugs from the wild and woozy――the Timanyoni Twins!” Dick laughed with the rest of the carful, and Larry felt himself blushing a dark, dark red under his masking coat of sunburn――which is as good a way as any of telling how this sudden thrust into the limelight affected each. Beyond the christening, Dick fell easily into talk with the megaphonist――Wally Dixon, by name, and hailing from somewhere in Missouri. But Larry was soberly uncomfortable until they left the car to lug their grips down a cross street which skirted the Sheddon campus. The “Man-o’-War” was the house they were looking for, and they found it――a respectable two-storied dwelling, as little like a ship as might be――on a corner facing the Mechanical Engineering Laboratory. Dick’s father had written ahead to engage their room, and it was good, motherly Mrs. Grant herself who opened the door for them. Mrs. Grant proved to be as hospitable as she looked. There were to be six fellows in the house, she explained; two Juniors who had been there the year before, and four Freshmen. One of the Juniors had arrived, but the other and the two additional Freshmen were yet to come. Dick and Larry were to make themselves at home, and the arrived Junior, a husky-looking chap named Merkle, would show them their room. Merkle did the showing――to a large, plainly furnished room on the second floor――and took an upperclassman’s privilege of casting himself into the one easy-chair while the newcomers unpacked their grips. “Where are you fellows from?” he asked. This time Dick did not try to be funny. “Brewster――western Colorado,” he replied. “Some little jump, I’ll say,” Merkle commented. “Ever here before?” “Nope.” “Then you’ll want to know some of the Sheddon traditions; every college has ’em. If you know ’em beforehand, it’s easier.”