Below came a sudden rush of feet. Rogers, abandoning the gas-jet, draped himself nonchalantly on the couch that faced the door. "Well, here comes the shindy," thought Stover, with a joyful tensity in every muscle. The hubbub stormed up the hall, shot open the door, and choked the passage with the suddenly revealed fury of angry faces. "Hello," said Rogers' quiet voice. "Well, what do _you_ want?" [Illustration: "'HELLO,' SAID ROGERS' QUIET VOICE, 'WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT?'"--_Page 19._] No sooner had the barbaric front ranks beheld the languid, slightly annoyed junior than the fury of battle vanished like a flurry of wind across the water. From behind the more concealed began to murmur: "Oh, beans!" "A lemon!" "Rubber!" "Sold!" "Well, what is it?" said Rogers sharply, sending a terrific frown at the sheepish leaders. At this curt reminder there was a shifting movement in the rear, which rapidly communicated itself to the stammering, apologetic front ranks; the door was closed in ludicrous haste, and down the stairs resounded the stampede of the baffled host. "My, they are a fierce lot, these man-eating sophomores, aren't they?" said Rogers, giving way to his laughter. And then, a little apologetically, but with a certain twinkle of humor, he added: "Don't worry, boys; there was no one in that crowd who'll do you any harm. However, I might just as well chaperon you to your eating-joint." "Le Baron is going to take me out with him," said Stover, as they rose to go. "Hugh Le Baron?" said Rogers, with a new interest. "Yes, sir." "I didn't get your name." "Stover." "Oh! Captain down at Lawrenceville, weren't you?" "Yes, sir." "Well, wish you good luck," said Rogers, with a more appraising eye. "You've got an opening this year. Drop in and see me sometime, will you? I mean it." "See you later, Stover," said Hunter, resting his hand on his shoulder with a little friendly touch. "Bully you're with us," said Stone. "Come in and chin a little later," said Logan. Saunders gave him a duck of the head, with unconcealed admiration in his embarrassed manner. McCarthy went with them. Stover, left alone, measured the length of the room, smiling to himself. It was all quite amusing, especially when his was the fixed point of view. In a few moments Le Baron arrived. Together they went across the campus, now swarming like ant runs. At every step Le Baron was halted by a greeting. Recognition was in the air, turbulent, boyish, exaggerated, rising to the pitch of a scream or accomplished in a bear dance; and through it all was the same vibrant, minor note of the ceaseless activity. It was the air Stover loved. He waited respectfully, while Le Baron shook a score of hands, impatient for the moment to begin and the opportunity to have his name told from lip to lip. "I'm going to be captain at Yale," he said to himself, with a sudden fantastic, grandiloquent fury. "I will if it's in me."