Cop stared hard at his companion.  “Thunderation!” he blurted, “but you’re the lucky kid!”

“Yes?” questioned Shag.  “Never mind the luck, but tell me who that chap is; he’s very nice; I like him.”

“Like him!” almost yelled Cop; “I should think you would like him!  Why, he’s the ‘Pop!’”

“‘Pop?’ What’s that?” said Shag, with a puzzled air.

“Popular, the most popular boy in college—­head in everything—­clubs, classes, sports.  Everybody is dippy over him from the Head right down to ‘Infant’ Innis, that little geezer in shorts across the table, who is only eleven last birthday.  Even Dirty Dick, the gardener, is batty about him; and here he’s put himself out to shake your fin, and ask you up to his room—­thing he’s only done twice since he entered college.  You are lucky, kid!”

“Does he think a lot of himself?” asked Shag with some suspicion.

“He?  Not much!  Just the bulliest old pal in the world.  Why, he wouldn’t be the ‘pop’ if he threw on side,” asserted Cop loyally.

“You haven’t told me who he is yet,” said Shag.

“Oh, I forgot,” apologized Cop.  “It seems so funny that everybody shouldn’t know.  Why, he’s Harry Bennington.  You must have heard of Sir George Bennington, big railroad man.  Queen Victoria knighted him for some big scoop he made for Canada or the Colonies or something.  Well, Hal’s his son; but do you suppose that his dad’s title makes any difference to Hal?  Not much!  But Hal’s handshake will make a big difference to you in this college, I’ll tell you that, Shag.  You’re made, that’s what you are—­just made; even Lord Mortimer back of you couldn’t give you the place among the crowd here that Hal Bennington’s grip did to-day.”

Shag did not reply; he was looking across the room at Sir George Bennington’s son.  He knew the name of the wealthy man whom Queen Victoria had honored, knew it well.  His father, Trapper Larocque, had met Sir George in the old pioneer days of the railroad in the North-West.  There was a little story about Sir George, well-known in the Red River Valley; Trapper Larocque knew it, the Hudson’s Bay Company knew it, Shag knew it, and was asking himself if Hal knew it.  Then the boy from Manitoba took the story and locked it within his heart, sealed his lips above it, and said to his soul, “Hal Bennington won’t know it from me, nor will anyone else.  He’s made my first day at this school an easy day; the fight won’t be half what I thought it would.  I owe much to him, and above all I owe him my silence.”

“Coming up, fellows?” asked Hal genially, as Cop Billings stretched his big frame after grind in the evening at recreation hour before going to bed.  The word “fellows” embraced him with a look that included Shag.