All day long on the fourteenth of September the trains disgorged batches of young studiosi upon the platform of the Seaton station. The older boys, veterans of at least a year, hallooed jubilantly over the heads of the crowd to their returning friends, and in joyous groups which rapidly formed and dissolved, clinched grips and thrashed each other’s arms about in gestures quite contrary to the latest rules of etiquette. The newcomers, awed and diffident, threaded their way ungreeted through this waste of welcomes. Some came with mammas, who viewed the boisterous crowd with disapproval and skirted it in haste; some with papas, who looked and smiled and wished their own lads among the merrymakers; some with older brothers, who knew the station agents and the townspeople, but not the boys; and some like Dick Melvin of old and Laughlin of two years before, alone, unknown, with little money in the purse, but in their hearts a valiant purpose to accept the opportunity the school offered and climb the hard path others had climbed before them. “Where’s Dave Laughlin?” was Wolcott’s first cry as he jumped from the car steps and was seized on one side by Durand and Ware, and on the other by the twins. “Over there smashing baggage,” said Ware, pointing down the platform. “He’s delivering trunks round town.” “I’ll take him your order,” said a Peck. “I’ll take it myself, thank you,” answered Wolcott, scanning the two sunburned faces. “You’ve grown different during the summer. I can tell you apart now.” “Well, which is which?” demanded Durand. “That’s Donald. He’s the one that has the mole on his back,” Wolcott replied promptly, pointing to the twin who had spoken. The Pecks chuckled. Durand hooted: “Wrong! And they’ve both grown moles by this time, I’ll bet my hat!” “How’d the exams go?” asked Ware, coming to Wolcott’s aid. “Fine. I got eighteen points, a lot better than I expected. How were yours?” “Fair,” replied Ware. “Four honors, that means,” put in Durand. “Butler here, and Pope and Jackson?” “Yes, all back, and every old football man except the three who graduated last June. Buist’s failed and is coming back for another year, so the old back field will be here. If we have any kind of luck, we ought to have a great team this year.” Ware’s words were meant to bear a message of good news, but they brought instead a quiver of disappointment to Wolcott’s heart. If the ranks were so full, the chances for new men were certainly small. He was ashamed of the feeling as soon as he recognized it, and he threw it off with a sudden jerk of the head, as a swimmer shakes the water from his hair. “That’s bully,” he said. “The best is none too good for us. I’m going to find Dave.” Laughlin was standing beside the pile of baggage, in cap and overalls, receiving checks and addresses and making out receipts. Two big wagons were backed up to the platform, and two assistants were clumsily lifting in the heavy trunks.