y is fine," said Hugh proudly. "All we need is a barber pole
and a street sign."

"We'll have 'em before the week is out." This with great decision.

CHAPTER IV

Carl's adviser had been less efficient than Hugh's; therefore he knew
what his courses were, where the classes met and the hours, the names of
his instructors, and the requirements other than Latin for a B.S.
degree. Carl said that he was taking a B.S. because he had had a year of
Greek at Kane and was therefore perfectly competent to make full use of
the language; he could read the letters on the front doors of the
fraternity houses.

The boys found that their courses were the same but that they were in
different sections. Hugh was in a dilemma; he could make nothing out of
his card.

"Here," said Carl, "give the thing to me. My adviser was a good scout
and wised me up. This P.C. isn't paper cutting as you might suppose;
it's gym. You'll get out of that by signing up for track. P.C. means
physical culture. Think of that! You can sign up for track any time
to-morrow down at the gym. And E I, 7 means that you're in English I,
Section 7; and M is math. You re in Section 3. Lat means Latin, of
course--Section 6. My adviser--he tried pretty hard to be funny--said
that G.S. wasn't glorious salvation but general science. That meets in
the big lecture hall in Cranston. We all go to that. And H I, 4 means
that you are in Section 4 of History I. See? That's all there is to it.
Now this thing"--he held up a printed schedule--"tells you where the
classes meet."

With a great deal of labor, discussion, and profanity they finally got a
schedule made out that meant something to Hugh. He heaved a
Brobdingnagian sigh of relief when they finished.

"Well," he exclaimed, "that's that! At last I know where I'm going. You
certainly saved my life. I know where all the buildings are; so it ought
to be easy."

"Sure," said Carl encouragingly; "it's easy. Now there's nothing to do
till to-morrow until eight forty-five when we attend chapel to the glory
of the Lord. I think I'll pray to-morrow; I may need it. Christ! I hate
to study."

"Me, too," Hugh lied. He really loved books, but somehow he couldn't
admit the fact, which had suddenly become shameful, to Carl. "Let's go
to the movies," he suggested, changing the subject for safety.

"Right-o!" Carl put on his freshman cap and flung Hugh's to him. "Gloria
Nielsen is there, and she's a pash baby. Ought to be a goo