“Honest, you make me sick!” The door shut with some force, leaving Bert smiling at it. He rather enjoyed ragging Chick, and Chick, while he sometimes became exasperated, never lost his temper. Not with Bert, that is. For one thing, they had known each other ever since they had begun to walk; or, at least, since Bert had, for Chick, who was a full year older, had probably found the use of his legs first. They had grown up together in Watertown, adventured together, gone to school together, had been practically inseparable for some fifteen years. Chick had a temper, although it was pretty well governed, but save in the very earliest years of their acquaintance he had never been really angry with Bert. Perhaps his year of seniority had something to do with it, for, although Bert could be trying at times, Chick considered that the other’s youth excused him. Each of the boys made a good deal of that thirteen months of difference in their respective ages. Chick had always assumed an elder brother attitude, Bert had always accepted the position of junior unquestioningly, crediting Chick with superior wisdom and all the advantages popularly supposed to accrue to those of great age and experience. Always, that is, until very recently. Within the last year, it seemed, the matter of age had become less important. Possibly, as sometimes happens, Bert had matured more in that time than Chick had. Whereas a year back the older boy had held the rôle of mentor, now it was Bert who sought to guide Chick’s steps. Sometimes a slightly puzzled look would come into Chick’s countenance, indicating that he was sensible of a difference in their relations and hadn’t yet fathomed it. In general appearance the friends were not unalike. Both were fairly tall, well-proportioned youths, Bert slimmer and lighter than Chick but not destined to remain so much longer. Both were dark of complexion, Chick with gray eyes and Bert with brown. On the score of good looks the older boy held an advantage, for his features were regular, while Bert’s, with the single exception of a straight nose, were decidedly haphazard. Still, expression counts more than features, as a general thing, and both scored there, although in different fashions. Chick’s face told of high spirits and vivacity and thirst for adventure, and a ready, careless smile won friendship easily. On occasion that smile could be a bit supercilious. Bert’s countenance was normally rather grave, although if one looked closely there was generally a glint of laughter lurking in the brown eyes. It was a friendly countenance, but not an ardent one. Bert’s smile was slow to appear, but it was very genuine and was usually followed by a rather infectious laugh.