He had been out on a rather important errand and, being anxious to get over to the dining hall on time, he did not dawdle, but strode along, gloved hands deep down in his pockets, growling under his breath maledictions on the weather which would effectually prevent any football practice on the field that afternoon. He was walking on the inside of the sidewalk, close to the shop windows, and had almost reached the corner of Temple Street when he collided violently with a man who came dashing out of a store without a glance to see where he was going. Both men staggered a little from the shock and the stranger’s black derby was knocked off. It was rolling toward the gutter when Dick caught it and turned to restore it to its owner. “Beg pardon,” he said regretfully. “I had no idea——” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening with astonishment. For a second he stared in bewilderment at the young man before him. “Well, I’ll be hanged!” he ejaculated. The other man looked scarcely less surprised. “Exactly!” he returned. “You took the very words out of my mouth.” His keen, dark eyes were surveying Merriwell in much the same way that the Yale man looked at him, and his handsome face wore on it just such a look of whimsical perplexity as distinguished Dick’s countenance. And smaller wonder. Had the two been twin brothers they could scarcely have been more alike. There was not a fraction of an inch variation in their heights. Both were well set-up, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, with the lithe grace of carriage which distinguishes the well-developed athlete. Both had dark hair and equally dark eyes, straight noses, and well-shaped, sensitive mouths. The fellow who had come out of the shop looked a trifle older than the Yale senior, and there were a number of minor points about his face and figure which would be quite apparent to a close observer when the two men were together; but, taken all in all, the resemblance was quite close enough to warrant the surprise which each one manifested at the sight of the other. Merriwell recovered his customary poise first. “It certainly does give a fellow a queer feeling to run up against his double in this casual sort of way,” he remarked lightly. “Doesn’t it?” replied the stranger. “You don’t happen to be some long-lost brother that I’ve never heard of, do you?” Dick smiled. “I doubt it,” he returned. “I never had but one, and he looks less like me than you do. Perhaps somewhere back in the dark ages our ancestors were the same. My name is Merriwell, by the bye.” The other gave a sudden start and a look of chagrin flashed over his face. “Merriwell!” he exclaimed. “Dick Merriwell, of Yale! Of course. If I wasn’t the thickest sort of a blockhead that ever walked, I’d have caught on before.” The Yale man looked puzzled. “It isn’t possible we’ve ever met before,” he said quickly. “You’re not the sort of man I’d be likely to forget in a hurry.” The stranger laughed.