r 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. B