Winning His W | Page 3

freshman class in Winthrop College.
When his determination had been accepted by his mates, some of them
had made use of their opportunities to enlarge upon the perils that lay
before him--perils for the most part from the terrible sophomores who
were supposed to be going about seeking their prey with all the
fierceness of a roaring lion. Peter John had listened to the marvelous
tales that were poured into his ears, but so far as his expression of face

was concerned, apparently they had been without effect. Nevertheless,
deep in his heart Peter John had stored them all and his fear of the class
above him had increased until at last just before he departed from home
he had written to his friend Will Phelps informing him of his fears and
begging that he and Foster would meet him at the station and protect
him from the fierce onslaughts, which, he confessed, he expected
would await him upon his arrival. This letter Will Phelps had found at
the little post office when he made inquiries for his mail, and upon his
return to his room it had provided the basis for the conversation already
recorded.
"We'd better go right down to the station, then, Will," Foster had said.
"All right. Peter John will be in mortal terror if he shouldn't find us
there. He probably believes the sophs will have a brass band and knives
and guns and will be drawn up on the platform ready to grab him just
the minute he steps off the car."
"Not quite so bad as that," laughed Foster. "But we'll have to help the
poor chap out."
"Sure. Come on, then," called Will as he seized his cap and started
toward the hallway.
"Hold on a minute. Wait till I lock the door."
"'Lock the door?' Not much! You mustn't do that."
"Why not?"
"It isn't polite."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Foster.
"Just what I'm telling you. Freshmen mustn't lock their doors, that's not
the thing. The janitor told me not to, because the sophs will take it as a
challenge to break it in. He said the college had to put sixty new locks
this summer on the doors here in Perry."

"Looks as if something had happened for a fact," said Foster slowly, as
he glanced at some huge cracks that were plainly visible in the panels.
"Sure 't'll be safe?"
"It'll be all right. The janitor says so. Come on! Come on, or we'll be
too late!"
The two boys ran swiftly down the stairway (their room was on the
third floor of the dormitory) and soon were on the street which was
directly in front of the building. As they walked rapidly in the direction
of the station, which was a half-mile or more distant from the college
buildings, the sight which greeted their eyes was one that stirred the
very depths of their hearts. The very buildings themselves were
impressive, some old and antiquated, dating back a century or more and
venerable with age, and others new and beautiful, the recent gifts of
some loyal alumni. From the huge clock in the tower of the chapel rang
out the chimes which announced that the hour of two was come and
gone. The beautifully kept grounds, the stately buildings, the very
leaves on the huge elms that grew about the grounds were all
impressive at the time to the boys to whom the entire picture was new.
In the wide street that led directly through the midst of the college
buildings, were passing young men of their own age, some of whom
would suddenly stop and grasp with fervor the hands of some students
just returned from the long summer vacation. From the windows of the
dormitories could be seen the faces of students who were leaning far
out and shouting their words of greeting to friends on the street below.
The September sun was warm and mellow, and as it found its way
through the thick foliage it also cast fantastic shadows upon the grass
that seemed to dance and leap in the very contagion of the young life
that abounded on every side. The very air was almost electric and the
high hills in the distance that shut in the valley and provided a
framework for the handiwork of nature, lent an additional charm to
which Will Phelps was unconsciously responding.
"I tell you, Foster, this is great! I'm glad I'm here!" he exclaimed.
"Are you?" replied Foster in his more subdued manner. "Well, I'm glad

too."
The scene upon the platform of the station was as animated and
inspiring as that about the college grounds. Groups of students were
here awaiting the coming of friends, and yet their impatience was
hidden by the enthusiasm of the