girl whom Professor Burgess adored. That was one reason why he
had brought her up. He wanted to tease the Professor then. He hated
Burgess now, and the white teeth clinched at the thought of him.

A sudden shouting and beating of tom-toms down in the Corral, and the
call in crude rhyme to straggling couples to close in, announced supper.
High above other whooping the voice of Trench, the big right guard,
reached the top of the bluff:

Victor Burleigh and Elinor Wream,
Better wake from Love's Young Dream,
Before the ants get into the cream.

The beating of a dishpan drowned the chorus. Then down by the river
Dennie's soprano streamed out,

The sun is sot,
The coffee's hot,
The supper's got.
What?
Yes! Got!

Answering this call from the north end of the Corral, a heavy base
growled,

Dennie is sad,
The eggs are bad;
The Professor's mad
At a College lad.
Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!
Come home! Come home! Come home!

"The Kickapoos are on the warpath. Let's go down and get into the
running."

Vic lifted Elinor to her feet with a sort of reverence in his touch. But
she did not note that it was otherwise than the good-natured grip of the
comrade who had helped her up the steep places half an hour ago.

Descent was more difficult, and it was growing dark rapidly. Vic held
her arm to keep her from falling, and once on a sliding rock, he had to
catch both of her hands, and half-lift her to solid footing. Her shining
eyes, starbright in the gloom, the dainty rose hue of her cheeks, the
touch of her soft white hands, and her need for his strength, made the
shadowy path delicious for her companion.

The call of the wild was in that evening camp in the autumn woodland,
in the charm of the deepening twilight warmed with the red glow of the
fires, in the appetizing odor of coffee, the unconventional freedom,
the carelessness of youth, the jolly good-fellowship of comrades. To
Professor Burgess it had the added charm of newness. All the pleasures
of popularity were his this evening, for he was young himself, he
dressed well, and he had the grace of a gentleman. The enjoyment of the
day gave him a thrill of surprise. He was already dropping the viewpoint
of Dr. Joshua Wream for Dean Fenneben's angle of vision. And in these
picturesque surroundings he forgot about the weather and the prudence of
getting home early.

"Throw that log on the fire, Vic. It begins to look spooky back
here. I'v