Andy's second term at Yale began early in the new year, and he arrived in New Haven during a driving snow storm. He went at once to his room, where he found a note from Dunk, who had come in shortly before.

"Come over to the eating joint," the missive read, and Andy, stowing away his bag, headed for the place.

"Over in here!"

"Shove in, plenty of room!"

"Oh, you, Andy Blair!"

"Happy New Year!"

Thus was he greeted and thus he greeted in turn. Then, amid laughter and talk, and the rattle of knives and forks, acquaintanceship and friendship were renewed. Andy was beginning to feel like a seasoned Yale man now.

The studies of the second term were of increasing difficulty, and Andy and Dunk found they had to buckle down to steady work. But they had counted on this.

Still they found time for fun and jollity and spent many a pleasant evening in company with their other friends. Once or twice Mortimer and his cronies tried to get Dunk to spend the night with them, but he refused; or, if he did go, he took Andy with him, and the two always came home early, and with clear heads.

"They're a pair of quitters!" said Len Scott, in disgust, after one occasion of this kind. "What do you want to bother with 'em for, Mort?"

"That's what I say," added Clarence Boyle.

"Oh, well, I may have my reasons," returned Mortimer, loftily. "Dunk would be a good sort if he wasn't tied fast to Andy. I can't get along with him, though."

"Me either," added Len. "He's too goody-goody." Which was somewhat unjust to Andy.

The winter slowly wore on. Now and then there would be another of the mysterious robberies, and on nearly every occasion the article taken was of considerable value--jewelry, sporting trophies or expensive books.

There was suspicion of many persons, but not enough to warrant an arrest.

One day Hal Pulter, who roomed in Wright Hall, near Dunk and Andy, reported that an expensive reference book had been taken from his room.

The usual experience followed, with no result.

Then, about a week later, as Andy was walking past the small building at High and Elm streets, where the University Press had its quarters, he came up behind Mortimer Gaffington, who seemed to be studying a book.

Andy wondered somewhat at Mortimer's application, particularly as it was snowing at the time. This enabled Andy to come close up behind Gaffington without the latter being aware of it, and, looking over the shoulder of the youth, Andy saw on the fly-leaf of the volume a peculiar ink blot.

At once a flash of recollection came to Andy. Well did he know that ink blot, for he had made it himself.

"Why, that's Pulter's book!" he exclaimed, speaking aloud involuntarily. "Where did you get it?"

Mortimer turned quickly and faced Andy.

"What's that?" he asked, sharply.

"I say that's Pulter's book," Andy went on.

"How do you know?" asked Mortimer.

"Why, by that big ink blot. I made it. Pulter was in our room with the book just before it was stolen, and my fountain pen leaked on it. That sure is Pulter's book. Where did you get it? That's the one he made such a fuss about!"

CHAPTER XXIX

THE ACCUSATION

"Pulter's book, eh?" murmured Mortimer, slowly, as he turned it about, looking on the front and back blank pages.

"It sure is," went on Andy, eagerly. "I'd know that ink blot anywhere.

Pulter let out a howl like an Indian when my pen leaked on his book. The blot looks like a Chinese laundryman turned upside down."

"That's right," agreed Mortimer. "Queer, isn't it?"

"Yes," went on Andy, his curiosity growing. "Where did you get it?"

"Found it," spoke the rich lad, quickly. "I went out to the new Yale Field to see how the stadium was coming on, and I saw this under a clump of bushes. I knew it was a valuable book, so I brought it back with me.

It hasn't got Pulter's name in it, though."

"No," went on Andy. "His name was on the other front leaf. That was worse blotted with the ink than this one, and he tore it out. But I'm sure that's Pulter's book."

"Very likely," admitted Mortimer, coolly. "I'll take it to him. I'm glad I found it. Going my way?"

"Yes," and Andy walked beside the lad from his home town, thinking of many things. Mortimer went into Wright Hall, but Pulter was not in.

"I'll leave the book for him," Mortimer said to Andy, "and you can call his attention to it. If it isn't his let me know, and I'll post a notice saying that I've found it."

"All right," agreed our hero. "But I know it's Pulter's."

He was telling Dunk about the incident, when his roommate came in a little later, and they were discussing the queer coincidence, when Pulter came bursting in.

"Oh, I say!" he cried. "I've got my book back! What do you know about that? It was on my table, and----"

He stopped and looked queerly at Andy and Dunk, who were smiling.

"What's the joke?" demanded Pulter. "Did you fellows----"

"Gaffington found it," said Andy. "Sit down and I'll explain," which he did.

"Well, that is a queer go!" exclaimed Pulter. "How in the world did my book get out to Yale Field? It isn't so queer that Gaffington would find it, for I understand he goes out there a lot, on walks. But how did my book get there?"

"Probably whoever took it found they couldn't get much by p.a.w.ning or selling it, and threw it away," suggested Dunk.

"Looks that way," agreed Andy. "But it sure is a queer game all around."

They discussed it from many standpoints. Pulter was very glad to get his book back, for he was not a wealthy lad, and the cost of a new volume meant more to him than it would to others.

"Well, Andy, how do you size it up?" asked Dunk, when Pulter had gone back to his apartment and Andy and his chum sat in their cozy room before a crackling fire.