There was something quietly compelling in the voice, and Roy, ceasing to struggle, looked about panting into the round, good-humored face of a boy of about his own age. "Come on," said the boy softly. And Roy went. Together they rescued the scattered books and papers, while on the steps discussion broke out stormily; Otto was being "called down" by the older boys and volubly defended by the youngsters. When the books were once more under his arms Roy thanked his new friend and, without a glance toward the group on the steps, turned toward the dormitory. When he had gone a few steps he became aware of the fact that the round-faced boy was beside him and looked about in surprise. "I'm going your way," said the other smilingly. "Going to get my sweater on and go out in the canoe awhile. Do you paddle?" "No, I never tried it," answered Roy, rubbing the blood from his knuckles where they had been scraped on the gravel and shooting a puzzled glance at the other. "Well, never too late to learn," responded his companion cheerfully. "Come along down and take a lesson. It's a dandy day for a paddle." "Thanks, but I've got to study a bit." "Oh, leave that until to-night. No practice, is there?" "No, most of the fellows went to Maitland with the first eleven." "Maitland will beat us, probably. We always lose the first two or three games. Why didn't they take you along?" "Didn't need me, I guess. Bacon is the regular quarter, you know." "Yes, but I don't see why they need to play him all through the first game. Well, here we are. Get a sweater or something on and meet me down here." They had paused on the landing outside the Junior Dormitory and Roy hesitated. Then, "You live here, do you?" he asked. "Yes, I have a corner bed by the window, and last year, when they wanted to put me upstairs, I kicked. So they let me stay; told me I could be useful keeping an eye on the kids. You'll come, eh?" "Well, I--I guess so. It's good of you to ask me." "Not a bit. I hate to go alone; that's all." He turned smilingly into the dormitory and Roy went on upstairs, got rid of his books and scrambled into his red sweater. It wasn't necessary to pass School Hall on the way down to the river, and Roy was glad of it. He felt that in losing his temper and slanging the older fellows on the steps he had also lost ground. Instead of making friends he had possibly made one or two new enemies. Then the realization that the boy beside him was showing himself more of a friend than any other fellow in school, with the possible exception of Jack Rogers, brought comfort, and, in a sudden flush of gratitude, he turned and blurted: "It was mighty nice of you to take my part and I'm awfully much obliged." "Shucks, that wasn't anything! I'm always for the under dog, anyhow--if you don't mind being called a dog." "No," answered Roy. Then he added a trifle bitterly, "I guess some of them call me worse than that."