"Tom Rover! Where are you bound?"
"To a boarding school called Putnam Hall."
"You don't say! Why, I am going there myself," and now Fred
Garrison nearly wrung off Tom's hand.
"If this isn't the most glorious news yet!" burst in Dick. "Why,
Larry Colby is going too!"
"I know it. But he won't come until tomorrow."
"And Frank Harrington is going too."
"He is there, already --he wrote about it day before yesterday.
That makes six of us New York, boys."
"The metropolitan sextet," chirped in Sam.
"Boys, we ought to form a league to stand by each other through
thick or thin."
"I'm with you on that," answered Fred. "As we are all newcomers,
it's likely the old scholars will want to haze us, or, something
like that."
"Just let them try it on!" cried Tom. "Yes, we must stick
together by all means." And the compact, so far as it concerned
the Rover boys and Fred Garrison, was made on the spot. Later on
Larry Colby and Frank Harrington joined them gladly.
It was not long before the Golden Star, a stanch little side-
wheeler, steamed up to the dock, and the waiting crowd rushed on
board and secured favorable places on deck. The baggage followed,
and soon they were off, with a whistle which awoke the echoes of
Cayuga Lake for miles around.
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