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Surely Dunk was a college brother. Andy had scarcely finished wrestling with his Homer when there came a series of loud and jolly hails: "Oh, you Dunk!" "Stick out your top, Blair!" "Here come the boys!" exclaimed Dunk. "Now for some fun!" The three friends trooped in. "Some little practice to-day, eh, Blair?" remarked Bob Hunter. "And some little tackle Gaffington gave you, too!" added Thad.
Andy was glad it had not been Gaffington, and he realized that it might be better to take this chance now of getting Dunk out, before the rich youth and his fast companions came along, as they might later in the evening. He knew that with Bob, Ted and Thad, there would be no long session at Burke's. "I haven't done my Greek," objected Dunk, hesitatingly.
Some one started a song and under cover of it Andy slipped out, Chet following. "Too bad, old man," consoled Andy's Harvard friend. "Is he often as bad as that?" "Not of late. It's getting in with that Gaffington crowd that starts him off. I guess he and I are done now." "I suppose so. But it's too bad." "Yes."
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.
"Oh, well, here's hoping," said Frank. "We all have our troubles." "But those fellows won't trouble us again to-night," declared Chet, laughing. "They'll be glad to go home and get in bed." "Did you know any of 'em, Andy, except Gaffington?" asked Tom. "No, the others were strangers to me." "How do you reckon they got here, all the way from New Haven?"
In the days that followed Andy watched Dunk closely. And, to our hero's delight, Gaffington seemed to be losing his influence. Several times Dunk refused to go out with him refused good-naturedly enough, but steadfastly. Andy tried to get Dunk interested in football, and did to a certain extent. Dunk went out to the practice, and Andy tried to get him to go into training.
They were just about to leave, quiet having been restored, when there came a knock. "Who is it?" asked Dunk, suspiciously. "Gaffington," was the unexpected answer. "Are you fellows coming to my blow-out." Dunk looked at Andy and paused. Following the affair in Burke's, where Gaffington had incited Dunk against Andy, the rich youth from Andy's town had had little to say to him.
I'm going to chuck it!" and he threw his Horace across the room, shattering the Japanese vase he had bought. "Look out!" cried Andy. "Too late! I don't give a hang!" Someone came along the hall. "What are you fellows up to?" asked a gay voice. "Trying to break up housekeeping?" "It's Gaffington!" murmured Andy. "Come on in!" invited Dunk. "You fellows come on out!" retorted the newcomer.
These cries greeted Andy as he rose to leave Burke's place. His eyes smarted from the smoke of many pipes, and his ears rang with the echoes of college songs. His heart ached too, as he saw Dunk in the midst of the gay and festive throng surrounding Gaffington and his wealthy chums. "I've got to turn in training, you know," explained Andy with a smile.
He was rushing about, waving his hands, stamping his feet a veritable little cyclone of a coach. "Signal!" he cried sharply. It came from the varsity quarter, and Andy noticed, with a thrill in his heart, that Gaffington was to take the ball. "Here's where I get him!" muttered Andy, fiercely. There was a rush a thud of bodies against bodies gaspings of breaths, the cracking of muscles and sinews.
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