They had grown up together, one the son of a rich steel-mill owner, the other the son of a poor farmer.

The one had entered college to the sounding of golden cymbals, the other had marched in with nothing but courage in his pocket.

It is impossible to describe how these great friendships come about; generally they begin with some insignificant trifle, soon forgotten.
Warrington had licked Bennington in the boyhood days; why, I doubt that the Recording Angel himself remembers.

So the friendship began with secret admiration on one side and good-natured toleration on the other.

One day Warrington broke a colt for Bennington, and later Bennington found a passably good market for Warrington's vegetables.
Friendship, like constancy, finds strange niches.