The speakers were lying on the turf back of the north goal on the campus at Hillton Academy. The elder and larger of the two was a rather coarse-looking youth of seventeen. His name was Bartlett Cloud, shortened by his acquaintances to *Bart* for the sake of that brevity beloved of the schoolboy. His companion, Wallace Clausen, was a handsome though rather frail-looking boy, a year his junior. The two were roommates and friends.

*He’d better rake his hair,* responded the latter youth jeeringly. *I’ll bet there’s lots of hayseed in it!*

The subject of their derisive remarks, although standing but a scant distance away, apparently heard none of them.

*Hi, West!* shouted Bartlett Cloud as a youth, attired in a finely fitting golf costume, and swinging a brassie, approached. The newcomer hesitated, then joined the two friends.

*Hello! you fellows. What’s up? Thought it was golf, from the crowd over here.* He stretched himself beside them on the grass.

*Golf!* answered Bartlett Cloud contemptuously. *I don’t believe you ever think of anything except golf, Out! Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night trying to drive the pillow out of the window with a bed-slat?*