There was a buzz of excitement as the students filed out.

"What does it mean?"

"Who lost anything?"

"I have," said one. "My new sapphire cuff b.u.t.tons were swiped."

"I lost a ring," added another.

"And a diamond scarf pin I left on my dresser walked off--or someone walked off with it," spoke a third.

There were several other mysterious losses mentioned.

"How did it happen?" asked Andy of a fellow student who had said a few dollars had been taken from his dresser.

"Hanged if I know," was the answer. "I left the money in my room, and when I came back it was gone."

"Was the room locked?"

"It sure was."

"Did any of the monitors or janitors see anyone go in?"

"Not that I know of; but of course it could happen. There are a lot of new men working around here, anyhow."

Andy thought of Link, and hoped that the farmer lad would not be suspected on account of being a stranger.

But as the days went on the number of mysterious thefts grew. Every dormitory in the quadrangle had been visited, but the buildings outside the hollow square seemed immune.

CHAPTER XXI

A GRIDIRON BATTLE

Harvard was about to meet Yale in the annual football game between the freshman teams. The streets were filled with pretty girls, and more pretty girls, with "sporty" chaps in mackinaws, in raglans--with all sorts of hats atop of their heads, and some without hats at all.

There had been the last secret final practice on Yale Field the day before. That night the Harvard team and its followers had arrived, putting up at Hotel Taft.

Andy, in common with other candidates for the team, was sitting quietly in his room, for Holwell, the coach, had forbidden any liveliness the night before the game. And Andy had a chance to play.

True, it was but a bare chance, but it was worth saving. He had played brilliantly on the scrub team for some time, and had been named as a possible subst.i.tute. If several backs ahead of him were knocked out, or slumped at the last moment, Andy would go in. And, without in the least wishing misfortune to a fellow student, how Andy did wish he could play!

There came a knock at the door--a timid, hesitating sort of knock.

"Oh, hang it! If that's Ikey, trying to sell me a blue sweater, I'll throw him down stairs!" growled Andy. He was nervous.

"Come in!" called Dunk, laughing.

"Is Andy Blair----Oh, h.e.l.lo, there you are, old man!" cried a voice and Chet Anderson thrust his head into the room.

"Well, you old rosebud!" yelled Andy, leaping out of the easy chair with such energy that the bit of furniture slid almost into the big fireplace. "Where'd you blow in from?"

"I came with the Harvard bunch. I told you I'd see you here."

"I know, but I didn't expect to see you until the game. You're not going to play?"

"No--worse luck! Wish I was. Hear you may be picked."

"There's a chance, that's all."

"Oh, well, we'll lick you anyhow!"

"Yes, you will, you old tomcat!" and the two clasped hands warmly, and looked deep into each other's eyes.

"Oh!" exclaimed Andy. "I forgot. Chet, this is my chum, Duncan Chamber--Dunk for short. Dunk--Chet Anderson. I went to Milton with him."

The two shook hands, and Chet sat down, he and Andy at once exchanging a fund of talk, with Dunk now and then getting in a word.

"Did you come on with the team?" asked Andy.

"Yes, and it's some little team, too, let me tell you!"

"Glad to hear it!" laughed Andy. "Yale doesn't like to punch a bag of mush!"

"Oh, you won't find any mush in Harvard. Say, have you heard from Ben?"

"Yes, saw him at the Princeton game."

"How was he?"

"Fine and dandy."

"That's good. Then he likes it down there?"

"Yes. He's going in for baseball. Hopes to pitch on the freshman team, but I don't know."

"You didn't play against the Tiger?"

"No, there wasn't any need of me. Yale had it all her own way."

"She won't to-morrow."

"Wait and see."

Thus they talked until Chet, knowing that Andy must want to get rest, in preparation for the gridiron battle, took his leave, promising to see his friend again.