"Over this way, Henderson! Where's Phil and Frank?" cried Tom.
"I don't know. I just got in. Have you been up to the room?"
"No, I just landed, too. Have you fed your face?"
"Not since I got here. Let's grub and then we'll open up the place. Hi, there, Snail! How's the night work?"
"Oh, so-so," replied Sam Looper, re-christened "Snail," because of his slowness, and his propensity for night prowling.
"Here come the Jersey twins!"
"That's right. I hope Jerry makes a good coxswain in the varsity eight," went on Tom. "We need him."
"Hear you did some practicing this Summer," remarked Dutch, as he playfully dug his elbow into Tom's ribs.
"We did. I'm anxious to get hold of an oar again. Have the new shells come?"
"I haven't heard. We'll inquire. I saw Mr. Lighten a bit ago."
It was the opening of Randall College for the Fall term, and our friends, as well as their chums, had returned not only to lessons but to sports as well—cross-country running, football—ever glorious football—and now and chiefly, rowing, for
