"I believe you're right," agreed Andy. "We can put up fifty dollars for a retainer to the lawyer."

"I'll telegraph for more from home to-night," said Dunk. "Andy, we'll see this thing through."

"It's mighty good of you, Dunk."

"Nonsense! Why shouldn't I help out your friend?"

"Do you think he's guilty?"

"I wouldn't want to say. Certainly I hope he isn't; but I'd like to get my watch back."

"Well, let's go get a lawyer," suggested Andy.

A sporty senior, whom Dunk knew, and who had more than once been in little troubles that required the services of a legal man, gave them the address of a good one. They were fortunate in finding him in his office, though it was rather late, and he agreed to take the case, and said he thought bail could be had.

Andy and Dunk made a hasty supper and then, letting their studies go, hurried to the police court, where, occasionally, night sessions were held.

Link was brought out before the judge, having first had a conference with the lawyer Dunk and Andy had engaged. The charge was formally made.

"We plead not guilty," answered the lawyer, "and I ask that my client be admitted to bail."

"Hum!" mused the judge. "The specific charge only mentions one book, of the value of two hundred dollars, but I understand there are other charges to follow. I will fix bail at one thousand dollars, the prisoner to stand committed until a bond is signed."

Andy and Dunk gasped at the mention of a thousand dollars, but the lawyer only smiled quietly.

"I have a bondsman here, your Honor," he said.

A man, looking like an Italian, came forward, but he proved to have the necessary property, and signed the bond. Then Link was allowed to go, being held, however, to answer to a higher court for the charge against him.

"Now if you'll come to my office," suggested the lawyer, "we'll plan out this case."

"Oh, I can't thank you two enough!" gasped Link, when he was free of the police station. "It was awful back there in the cell."

"Forget it," advised Dunk, with a laugh. "You'll never go back there again."

The consultation with the lawyer took some time, and when it was over Link started for his room. He was cheered by the prospect that the case against him was very slight.

"Unless they get other evidence," specified the lawyer.

"They can't!" cried Link, proudly.

Andy and Dunk went back to their room, to do some necessary studying. On their way they stopped in the Yale branch postoffice. There was a letter from home for Andy, and when he had read it he uttered such an exclamation that Dunk asked:

"Any bad news?"

"Yes, but not for me," replied Andy. "This is from my mother. She writes that Mr. Gaffington--that's Mortimer's father--has failed in business and lost all his money. This occurred some time ago, but the family has been keeping it quiet. The Gaffingtons aren't rich at all, and Mortimer will probably have to leave Yale."

"Too bad," said Dunk, and then he started off, leaving Andy to read the letter again.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

ON THE DIAMOND

Andy Blair stood in the middle of his room, carefully examining a bat he had taken from a closet containing, among other possessions, his sporting things. The bat was a favorite he had used while at Milton, and he was considering having it sand-papered and oiled. Or, rather, he was considering doing the work himself, for he would not trust his choicest stick to the hands of another.

"Yes, she'll look a little better for a bit of attention, I think," said Andy, half aloud. "Though I don't know as I can bat any better with it."

He gave two or three preliminary swings in the air, when the door suddenly opened, a head was thrust in and Andy gave it a glancing blow.

"Wow! What's that for?" the newcomer gasped. "A nice way to receive company, Andy! Where'd you learn that?"

"I beg your pardon, Bob, old man!" exclaimed Andy, as he recognized Hunter, Dunk's friend. "I was just getting out my bat to see how it felt and----"

"I can tell you how it felt," interrupted Bob, with emphasis. "It felt hard! Better put up a sign outside your door--'Beware of the bat.'"

"And have the fellows think this is a zoological museum," laughed Andy.

"I will not. But, Bob, I'm very sorry you got in the way of my stick.

Does it hurt? Want any witch hazel or anything like that?"

"Oh, no, it isn't so worse. Good thing I wear my hair long or I might have a headache. But say--where's Dunk?"

"He was with me a little while ago. We stopped in the postoffice, and I thought he came on here. But he didn't. Have you seen him?"

"No, but I want to. Gaffington and his crowd are going to have another blow-out to-night, and I wanted to make sure Dunk wouldn't fall by the wayside."

"That's so. Glad you told me. I'll do all I can. But say, he and I have had a strenuous time to-day."

"What's up?" asked Bob. "I've been so blamed busy getting primed for a quiz that I haven't had time to eat."

"It's about the robberies--the quadrangle thefts," explained Andy. "They arrested Link Bardon."

"What! Your farmer friend?"

"Yes. Dunk and I bailed him out."

"Good for you! Now I suppose the thefts will stop."

"Not necessarily," returned Andy, quickly. "Link wasn't the thief."

"He wasn't? Then why did they pinch him? Of course I don't know anything about it, and if he's your friend, why, of course, you have a right to stick up for him."

"Oh, it isn't that so much," explained Andy. "I don't know him very well; but I'm sure he isn't guilty of the thefts. There are some queer circ.u.mstances about them, but I'm sure they can all be explained."

"Well, it's your funeral--not mine," said Bob, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I wonder where Dunk is. I think I'll go hunt him up."