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But the ball went straight back into the hands of Dunk, who stopped it, hot liner though it was, and the batter was out retiring the side. Mortimer Gaffington stayed on at Yale. How he did it Andy and Dunk, who alone seemed to know of his father's failure, could not tell. Andy's mother confirmed her first news about Mr. Gaffington's losses. Yet Mortimer stayed at college.

They hardly breathed, and, peering out they beheld Mortimer Gaffington stealing into Wright Hall. It was only what they had expected to see, but, nevertheless, it gave them both a shock. Mortimer moved on. They could see now why he could walk so silently. He had on rubbers over his shoes. The same trick used by the thief who had entered Frank's room. Mortimer looked all around.

"Don't you go, Dunk!" Mortimer Gaffington, fixing an insolent and supercilious stare on Andy, said: "Don't mind him, Dunk. You're not tied to him, remember. The little-brother-come-in-out-of-the-wet game doesn't go at Yale. Every man stands on his own feet. Eh, Dunk?" "That's right." "You're not going to leave your loving friends and go home so early; are you, Dunk?" "Course not.

And Gaffington, in spite of his faults, was a good player. There was a thud as Andy and Mortimer struck the earth a thud that told of breaths being driven from their bodies. Then Andy saw the ball jarred from his opponent's arms, and, in a flash he had let go and had rolled over on it. An instant later there was an animated pile of players on both lads, smothering their winded "Downs!"

If Dunk wanted to break off their friendship that was his affair, but he might have done it more quietly. Probably all in the room, save perhaps Mortimer Gaffington, realized this. As for that youth, he smiled insultingly at Andy and murmured to Dunk, who was now passing to another table: "That's the way to act. Be a sport!"

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.

Before he had a chance to speak someone shouted at him: "There he is now! The freshest of the fresh! Take off that hat!" It was Mortimer Gaffington. For a moment Andy stood there, not knowing what to do or say. It was so unexpected, and yet he knew he must meet Mortimer at Yale meet and perhaps clash with the lad who was now a sophomore the lad who had such good cause now to dislike Andy.

You'd better come with me, Gaffington. I'll take charge of this case." "Thank heaven!" said Andy, with a sigh of relief. "It was getting too much for me." With bowed head Mortimer Gaffington followed the medical student from the room. What transpired at the interview with the Dean neither Dunk nor Andy ever learned. Nor did they ask. It was better not to know too much.

"What's up?" demanded Dunk, as Andy fairly burst into the room. "Lots! Look here!" "Frank Carr's silver cup! Where'd you get it?" "In the closet where Mortimer Gaffington hid it!" "Mortimer Gaffington?" gasped Dunk. "You mean " "I mean that I'm sure now of what I've suspected for some time that Mortimer is the quadrangle thief!" "You don't say so! How do you figure it out?"

"That'll do! Get up!" snapped the coach. "What's the matter with you, Gaffington, to let a freshman get you that way and put you out of the game? Porter!" he shouted and a lad came running from the bench, pulling off his sweater as he ran, and tossing it to a companion. He had been called on to take Gaffington's place, and the latter, angry and shamed-faced, walked to the side lines.