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"Going to find a home," replied James, as he joined them. "Not located yet?"

"No. I just came in this morning."

"Well, say, George and I are in a nice, modest place down on Chapel Street. The old lady seems to have more room than she wants. Why not come along and see what she's got?" "All right," assented James. "I just want temporary quarters while the exes are on. If I weather them, I'll look around for something permanent."

"Same here. Last year I was in a chewing club, and as soon as things get going, George and I are going to organize or join another."

"What's the plan?"

"A dozen fellows, more or less, get together, hire a few rooms or so and a chief cook and bottle washer, and take their meals together. It's all right if the fellows are all right. They all share the expenses-co-operative, you know."

"How much does it stand you?"

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"Oh, anywhere from ten to fifteen dollars per month. Depends on the food and style. I try to strike a mean.' "What do room and washing come to?"

"Well, you can bunk one, two or three deep, and from the cellar to the garret. Two's company, unless you're sure of the third. Call it two per month each. Then, if you want the rest, figure in a dollar for washing and three for books, class assessments and extras. I wouldn't want to live for less than eighteen plunks per."

"I'll have to," asserted James. "I'm going to try it working my way through."

"Don't let me discourage you," hastened Percy. "It can be done, and lots do it. But it's hard graft, and a fel

low has to give up everything but work, Sundays and all-just dig, dig. But during vacation, you'll be able to put enough by to last you well through next year. George and I did. We're pooling ours. We met on a harvester down in the San Joaquin Valley this vacation. That's hard graft, too. Look at those hands."

"Here we are. Have to ring, as we have no key yet." The door opened, disclosing, to Rawson's surprise, the prim old lady of the morning. She smiled severely.

"Well, young man, did you find the right recorder ?" "Yes, thanks to you. I did not have the chance this morning, so I want to thank you now."

"Oh, that's all right. Beware of sophomores and don't go outside the mile limit that's my best advice to new freshmen.”

soon

James made known his necessities and was up-stairs, "under the roof," in a prim little bedroom. As the boarders had not yet begun to come, James and his two friends, with Mrs. Saunders, the little landlady, made up the company at the table. It was not a very lively gathering, for, try as they would to be jolly, the cloud of the pending exes hung over at least two heads. Good-night was soon said. James sought his room and spent an indecisive moment hovering between his books and his bed. Bed won, and, as he was dozing off, he was conscious of a continued buzz in the next room. Then came a protesting, sleepy, "Hang it, George, read that to yourself. I don't want to know it." A book was slammed viciously, and in the succeeding quiet, James fell asleep, to dream of questions for which no answers had ever been made.

CHAPTER II

The Raw Article

Next morning the campus sprang into life. Towards nine, students began coming from all directions, most of them converging at North Hall, where the first examinations were to be held. They were not only freshmen, but some sophomores who had entrance or freshman conditions to work off.

James and his two friends were early on the ground and proceeded up to the room of torture. Here James met his first surprise. The chairs were arranged like checkers on a checker-board, an arm's length in every direction separating each from its neighbors. "What's that for?" he asked.

"To prevent cheating, I suppose," answered Percy. "There are plenty who are still kids when they come here, and the best have to be treated like the worst, I guess, for safety." Nevertheless this came as a shock to Rawson, who had formed some ideals about university life, based upon the supposition that all who were there came with the same intentions that he came with.

But there was little time for this train of thought. Soon he found himself plunged into the middle of things. After he had overcome his first nervousness he felt himself sailing on in a surprisingly smooth way. He looked neither to right nor left, intent upon his work, until presently he felt a slight touch on his right foot. He glanced up and

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saw that his neighbor on that side was a sprucely dressed youth with a high collar and evenly parted hair. In a minute the kick was repeated, and, looking up annoyed, Rawson saw that the other had a scrap of paper in his hand which he now reached out to him. Just at this moment the instructor glanced their way. Quickly leaving his seat, he advanced down the aisle calling, "No communication, please." He stood before them. 'Kindly pass me that slip of paper," he said to the youth, who still held it, his arm half extended. It read: “Who wrote that passage in the third question?" "Whose is this?" came the sharp question.

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"I picked it up to pass back to him; I supposed it was his," replied the other, quickly.

"Did you write or pass this?" to Rawson.

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"No, sir; never saw it before; he must be mistaken.' "It was right there, near the leg of his chair," spoke up the youth, eagerly.

Seeing that the others were being disturbed, the instructor commanded, "Both you gentlemen come up to my desk with your papers."

Rawson was pale with fear that his career was about to be shut off through the other's rascality. He felt that it was only his word against the other's. The instructor examined Rawson's paper. Question three was completely and satisfactorily answered. He had been working on

question four. The instructor took up the other one. The question was repeated, then the words, "The author of the foregoing passage is"-and the rest of the sheet was blank. He looked up. "You may return and continue, Mr. Rawson," handing back James' paper. "Mr. Holland,

you are excused from further participation in this examination. I will hold these papers."

The youth, his face flaming back to his ears, sprang for his hat and hurriedly left the room muttering, "We will see about this."

As Rawson passed Percy, the latter whispered, "Holy smoke, Captain Holland's freshman brother."

The rest of the examination passed off without incident. Rawson felt that he had done well, and this gave him confidence for the succeeding tests. These three days were busy ones. He got so used to walking into rooms, taking paper and pencil, and writing answers to questions, that by the end of the third day he was quite hardened to the process. He felt pretty easy about everything but Latin, in which he had been rather at sea. Sure enough, a few days after the examination, Rawson, passing through North Hall, stopped at the bulletin-board where a lot of official letters to the students were on the rack. He glanced idly along the rows until he came to "R," when his heart gave a jump at the name "James Rawson" on a white envelope, with the heading "Recorder of the Faculties." Inside was a printed card informing James Rawson that he was conditioned in Latin 6 and 7.

Turning to leave, he heard a genial voice call, "Hello, freshman!'' and smiling Charlie Boyce reached up and slapped him on the back. "Cinch notice, hey? Get any more? No? Well, then tomorrow you sign the roll."

you're through all right, for

Rawson felt relieved, even joyous, and smiled agreeably on Boyce. He did not feel a particle of ill-will against the fair-haired, laughing sophomore for his trick. In fact, he

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