Mortimer put his arm around Dunk and whispered in his ear.

"You don't want to go," he insisted.

"Yes, he does," said Andy, firmly.

For a moment he and the other youth faced each other. It was a struggle of wills for the mastery of a character, and Andy won--at least the first "round."

"I'm going with my friend," said Dunk firmly, and despite further protests he went out with his arm over Andy's shoulder. There were cries and appeals to remain, but Dunk heeded them not.

"I'm going to quit," he announced. "Had enough fun for to-night."

Out in the clear, cool air Andy breathed free again.

"Shall I get a cab?" he asked. "There must be one somewhere around."

"Certainly not," answered Dunk. "I--I can walk, I guess."

They reached Wright Hall, neither speaking much on the way. Andy was glad--and sorry. Sorry that Dunk had allowed his resolution to be broken, but glad that he had been able to stop his friend in time.

"Thanks, old man," said Dunk, briefly, as they reached their room.

"You've done more than you know."

"That's all right," replied Andy, in a low voice.

Dunk went to chapel with Andy the next morning, but he was rather silent during the day, and he flunked miserably in several recitations on the days following. Truth to tell he was in no condition to put his mind seriously on lessons, but he tried hard.

Andy, coming in from football practice one afternoon, found Dunk standing in the middle of the apartment staring curiously at a yellow-backed ten-dollar bill he was holding in both of his hands.

"What's the matter?" asked Andy. "A windfall?"

"No, Gaffington just sent it in to me. Said it was one he took the other night when I flashed it at Burke's."

"Oh, yes, I remember," spoke Andy. "You were getting too generous."

"I know that part of it--Gaffington meant all right. But I don't understand this."

"What?" asked Andy.

"Why, this is a ten-spot, and I'm sure I had a twenty that night.

However, I may be mistaken--I guess I couldn't see straight. But I was sure it was a twenty. Don't say anything about it, though--probably I was wrong. It was decent of Gaffington not to let me lose it all."

And Dunk thrust the ten dollar bill into his pocket.

It was several days after this when Andy, crossing the quadrangle, saw a familiar figure raking up the leaves on the campus.

"What in the world is he doing here--if that's him?" he asked himself.

"And yet it does look like him."

He came closer. The young fellow raking up the leaves turned, and Andy exclaimed:

"Link Bardon! What in the world are you doing here?"

"Oh, I've come to college!" replied the young farm hand, smiling. "How do you do, Mr. Blair?"

"Come to college, eh?" laughed Andy. "What course are you taking?"

"I expect to get the degree B. W.--bachelor of work," was the rejoinder.

"I'm sort of a.s.sistant janitor here now."

"Is that so! How did it happen?"

"Well, you know the last time I saw you I was on my way to see if I could locate an uncle of mine, just outside of New Haven. I didn't, for he'd moved away. Then I got some odd bits of work to do, and finally, coming to town with a young fellow, who, like myself was out of work, I heard of this place, applied for it and got it. I like it."

"Well, I'm glad you are here," said Andy. "If I can help you in any way let me know."

"I will, Mr. Blair. You did help a lot before," and he went on raking leaves, while Andy, musing on the strange turns of luck and chance, hurried on to his lecture.

CHAPTER XX

QUEER DISAPPEARANCES

"Come in!" cried Andy as a knock sounded.

"I'm not going out, I don't care who it is!" exclaimed Dunk, fidgeting in his chair. "I've just _got_ to get this confounded Greek."

"Same here," said Andy.

The door was pushed open and a shock of dark, curly hair was thrust in.

"Like to look at some swell neckties!" a voice asked.

"Oh, come in, you blooming old haberdasher!" cried Andy with a laugh, and Ikey Stein, with a bundle under his arm, slid in.

"Fine business!" he exclaimed. "Give me a chance to make a little money, gentlemen; I need it!"

"No more of that j.a.panese 'vawse' business!" warned Dunk. "I won't stand for it."

"No, these are genuine bargains," declared the student who was working his way through college. "I'll show you. I got 'em from a friend of mine, who's selling out. I can make a little something on them, and you'll get swell scarfs at less than you'd pay for them in a store."

"Let's see," suggested Andy, rather glad of the diversion and of the chance to stop studying, for he had been "boning" hard. "But I don't want any satsuma pattern, nor yet a cloisonne," he added.

"Say, forget that," begged Ikey. "That j.a.p took me in, as well as he did you fellows."

"Well, if anybody can take _you_ in, Ikey, he's a good one!" laughed Dunk.