From the first day at camp, little more than a week ago, he had been attracted by the handsome, accomplished fellow and in his shy, awkward manner had even “made up” to him a little. To his surprise Cavanaugh responded to a certain extent, and the two became friends as well as tent-mates. Steve could not understand what there was about himself to interest a chap so brilliant and so generally a favorite. It never occurred to him that his own sturdy, steadfast strength might have been the magnet which, consciously or unconsciously, attracted Cavvy’s more mercurial personality. He would have laughed incredulously had anyone suggested such a thing. As it was he speedily gave up trying to make head or tail of it and accepted gratefully the thing which at first had seemed incredible. There was always, to be sure, just the faintest touch of tolerance in Cavanaugh’s manner toward the big, black-browed, quiet fellow whose admiration he could not help but notice. It was the sort of attitude which said, almost as plainly as words, “Of course, I know he’s dull and heavy and not thrillingly interesting, but he’s a good hearted chap, and I like him.”