"It was all Hashmi's fault," declared Ikey. "I believed him when he said his brother in j.a.pan had sent him a box of fine vawses. Hashmi said he didn't need 'em all, and I said maybe we could sell 'em. So I did."

"That was all right; but why did you stick up the price?" asked Andy.

"A fellow has to make money," returned Ikey, innocently enough, and Dunk laughed.

"All right," said Andy's roommate. "Don't do it again, that's all. Who is Hashmi's brother?"

"One of 'em keeps that j.a.p store where you were looking in the window,"

said Ikey, edging out of the room, "and the other is in j.a.pan. He sent the stuff over to be sold in the regular way, but that sly Hashmi fooled me. Never again!"

"And you pa.s.sed it on to us," said Andy with a laugh.

"Well, it's all in the game."

"Still, we've got the stuff," said Ted.

They had, but had they known it all they would have learned that, even at the lowered price they were paying dearly enough for the ornaments, and at that Hashmi and Ikey divided a goodly sum between them.

The college days pa.s.sed on. Andy and Dunk were settling down to the grind of study, making it as easy as they could for themselves, as did the other students.

Andy kept on with his football practice, and made progress. He was named as second subst.i.tute on the freshman team and did actually play through the fourth quarter in an important game, after it had been taken safely into the Yale camp. But he was proud even to do that, and made a field goal that merited him considerable applause.

Mortimer had dropped out of the varsity team. There was good reason, for he would not train, and, though he could play brilliantly at times, he could not be depended on.

"I don't care!" he boasted to his sporting crowd. "I can have some fun, now."

Several times he and his crowd had come around to ask Dunk to go out with them, but Dunk had refused, much to Mortimer's chagrin.

"Oh, come on, be a good fellow!" he had urged.

"No, I've got to do some boning."

"Oh, forget it!"

But Dunk would not, for which Andy was glad.

Then came a period when Dunk went to pieces in his recitations. He was warned by his professors and tried to make up for it by hard study. He was not naturally brilliant and certain lessons came hard to him.

He grew discouraged and talked of withdrawing. Andy did all he could for him, even to the neglect of his own standing, but it seemed to do no good.

"What's the use of it all, anyhow?" demanded Dunk. "I'll spend four mortal years here, and come out with a noddle full of musty old Latin and Greek, go to work in dad's New York office and forget it all in six months. I might as well start forgetting it now."

"You've got the wrong idea," said Andy.

"Well, maybe I have. Hanged if I see how you do it!"

"I don't do so well."

"But you don't get floored as I do! I'm going to chuck it!" and he threw his Horace across the room, shattering the j.a.panese vase he had bought.

"Look out!" cried Andy.

"Too late! I don't give a hang!"

Someone came along the hall.

"What are you fellows up to?" asked a gay voice. "Trying to break up housekeeping?"

"It's Gaffington!" murmured Andy.

"Come on in!" invited Dunk.

"You fellows come on out!" retorted the newcomer. "There's a peach of a show at Poli's. Let's take it in and have supper at Burke's afterward."

Dunk got up.

"Hanged if I don't!" he said, with a defiant look at Andy.

"That's the stuff! Be a sport!" challenged Mortimer. "Coming along, Blair?"

"No."

Mortimer laughed.

"Go down among the dead ones!" he cried. "Come on, Dunk, we'll make a night of it!"

And they went out together, leaving Andy alone in the silent room.

CHAPTER XVI

IN BAD

The clock was ticking. To Andy it sounded as loud as a timepiece in a tower. The rhythmic cadence seemed to fill the room. Somewhere off in the distance a bell boomed out--a church bell.

Andy sat in a brown study, looking into the fireplace. A little blaze was going on the hearth, and the young student, gazing at the embers saw many pictures there.

For some time Andy sat without stirring. He had listened to the retreating footsteps of Dunk and Mortimer as the boys pa.s.sed down the corridor, laughing.

Through Wright Hall there echoed other footsteps--coming and going--there was the sound of voices in talk and in gay repartee.

Students called one to the other, or in groups hurried here and there, intent on pleasure. Andy sat there alone--thinking--thinking.

A log in the fireplace broke with a suddenness that startled him. A shower of sparks flew up the chimney, and a little puff of smoke shot out into the room. Andy roused himself.

"Oh, hang it all!" he exclaimed aloud. "Why should I care? Let him go with that crowd--with Mort and his bunch if he likes. What difference does it make to me?"