"Play ball!" called the umpire, and Andy took his place behind the rubber, while Dunk went to the mound. The two chums felt not a little nervous, for this was their first real college contest, and the result meant much for them.

"Here's where the Tiger eats the Bulldog!" cried a voice Andy recognized as that of Ben Snow. Ben had come on with the Princeton delegation the night before, and had renewed acquaintance with Andy. They had spent some time together, Ben and the players stopping at the Hotel Taft.

There was a laugh at Ben's remark, and the Princeton cheer broke forth as Dunk delivered his first ball. Then the game was on.

"Wow! That was a hot one!"

"And he fanned the air!"

"Feed 'em another one like that, Dunk, and you'll have 'em eating out of your hand and begging for more!"

Joyous shouts and cheers greeted Dunk's first ball, for the Princeton batter had missed it cleanly, though he swung at it with all his force.

"Good work!" Andy signaled to his chum, as he sent the ball back. Then, stooping and pawing in the dirt, Andy gave the sign for a high out. He thought he had detected indications that the batter would be more easily deceived by such a delivery.

Dunk, glancing about to see that all his supporting players were in position, shook his head in opposition to Andy's signal. Then he signed that he would shoot an in-curve.

Andy had his doubts as to the wisdom of this, but it was too late to change for Dunk was winding up for his delivery. A moment later he sent in the ball with vicious force. Andy had put out his hands to gather it into his big mitt, but it was not to be.

With a resounding thud the bat met the ball squarely and sent it over center field in a graceful ascending curve that bid fair to carry it far.

"Oh, what a pretty one!"

"Right on the nose!"

"Didn't he swat it! Go on, you beggar! Run! Run!"

"Make it a home run!"

The crowd of Princeton adherents had leaped to their feet, and were cheering like mad.

"Go on, old man!"

"Take another base. He can't get it!"

"Go to third!"

"Come on home!"

The centerfielder had been obliged to run back after the far-knocked ball. It was seen that he could not possibly get under it, but he might field it home in time to save a score.

The runner, going wildly, looked to get a signal from the coach. He received it, in a hasty gesture, telling him to stay at third. He stayed, panting from his speed, while the Princeton lads kept up their cheering.

"Now will you feed us some more of those hot cross buns?" cried a wag to Dunk.

"Make him eat out of the bean trough!"

"He's got a glass arm!"

"Swat it, Kelly! A home run and we'll score two!"

This was cried to the next man up. Dunk looked at Andy and shrugged his shoulders. His guessing had not been productive of much good to Yale, for the first man had gotten just the kind of a ball he wanted. Dunk made up his mind to be more wary.

"Play for the runner," Andy signaled to his chum, meaning to make an effort to kill off the run, and not try to get the batsman out in case of a hit.

"All right," Dunk signaled back.

"Ball one!" howled the umpire, after the first delivery.

"That's the way! Make him give you a nice one."

"Take your time! Wait for what you want!" This was the advice given the batter.

And evidently the man at the plate got the sort of ball he wanted, for he struck at and hit the next one—hit it cleanly and fairly, and it sailed out toward left field.

"Get it!" cried the Yale captain.

The fielder was right under it—certainly it looked as though he could not miss. The batsman was speeding for first, while the man on third was coming home, and the crowd was yelling wildly.

Andy had thrown off his mask, and was waiting at home for the ball, to kill off the player speeding in from third.

"Here's where we make a double play!" he exulted, for the man going to first had stumbled slightly, and was out of his stride. It looked as though it could be done. But alas for the hopes of Yale! The fielder got the ball fairly in his hands, but whether he was nervous, or whether the ball had such speed that it tore through, was not apparent. At any rate, he muffed the fly.

"Good-night!"

"That settles it!"

"Go on, Ranter! Go on, Cooney!"

Coaches, the captain, Princeton players and the crowd of Tiger sympathizers were wildly calling to the two runners. And indeed they were coming on.

Andy groaned. He could not help it. Dunk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. The fielder, with a gulp and a gone feeling at the pit of his stomach, picked up the muffed ball, and threw it to second. It was the only play left. And the batsman, who had started to make his two-bagger, went back to first. But the run had come in.

"That's the way we do it!"

"Come on, fellows, the 'Orange and Black' song!"

"No, the new one! 'Watch the Tiger Claw the Bulldog!'"

The cheer leaders were trying to decide on something with which to celebrate the drawing of "first blood."

The grandstands were a riot of waving yellow and black, while, on the other side, the blue banners dropped most disconsolately. But it was not for long.

"Come on, boys!" cried the plucky Yale captain. "That's only one run. We only need three out and we'll show 'em what we can do! Every man on the job! Lively! Play ball!"

Dunk received the horsehide from the second baseman, and began to wind up for his next delivery. He narrowly watched the man on first, and once nearly caught him napping. Several times Dunk threw to the initial sack, in order to get the nerve of the runner. Then he suddenly stung in one to the man at the plate.

"Strike—one!" yelled the umpire. The batter gave a sign of protest, but he thought better of any verbal comment.

"That's the way!" cried the Yale captain. "Two more like that, and he's down!"

Dunk did it, though the man struck one foul which Andy muffed, much to his chagrin.

"Give 'em the Boola song!" called a Yale cheer leader, and it was rousingly sung. This seemed to make the Yale players have more confidence, and they were on their mettle. But, though they did their best, Princeton scored two more runs, and, with this lead against her, Yale came to the bat.

"Steady all!" counseled the captain. "We're going to win, boys."

But it did not seem so, when the first inning ended with no score for Yale. Princeton's pitcher was proving his power, and he was well supported. Man after man—some of them Yale's best hitters—went down before his arm.

The situation looked desperate. In spite of the frantic cheering of the Yale freshmen, it seemed as if her players could not take the necessary brace.

"Fellows, come here!" yelled the captain, when it came time for Andy and his chums to take the field after a vain attempt to score. "We've got to do something. Dunk, I want you to strike out a couple of men for a change!"

"I—I'll do it!" cried the pitcher.

Then Dunk pulled himself together, and the Tiger's lead was cut down. Once the game was a tie Yale's chances seemed to brighten, and when she got a lead of one run in the eighth her cohorts went wild, the stand blossoming forth into a waving mass of blue.

This good feeling was further added to when Princeton was shut out without a run in the beginning of the ninth, and as Andy, Dunk and the other Yale players came in, having won the game, they received an ovation for their victory.

Ikey Stein, sitting in the grandstand near an elderly gentleman, yelled, shouted and stamped his feet at the Yale victory.

"You seem wonderfully exercised about it, my young friend," remarked the elderly gentleman. "Did you have a large wager up on this game?"

"No, sir, but now I can sell two dollars worth of socks," replied Ikey, hurrying off to get Dunk and Andy to redeem their promises.

"Hum, very strange college customs these days—very strange," murmured the elderly gentleman, shaking his head.



CHAPTER XXXIII

THE TRAP

Joyous was the crowd of Yale players as they trooped off the field. The freshmen had opened their season well by defeating Princeton, and the wearers of the orange and black gave their victors a hearty cheer, which was repaid in kind.

"It's good to be on the winning side," exulted Andy, as he walked along with Dunk.

"It sure is, old man."

Someone touched Andy on the shoulder. He looked around to see Ikey holding out a package. One in the other hand was offered to Dunk.

"The socks," spoke the student salesman, simply.

"Say, give us time to get into our clothes!" demanded Andy. "Do you think we carry cash in our uniforms?"

"I didn't want you to forget," said Ikey, with a grin. "There is another fellow taking up my business now, and I've got to hustle if I want the trade. Going to your room?"

"Sure."

"I'll go on ahead and wait for you," said Ikey. "I need the money."

"Say, you're the limit! You're as bad as a sheriff with an attachment," complained Dunk. But he could not help laughing at the other's persistence.

Andy and Dunk were a little late getting back to Wright Hill, and when they entered their room they found a note on the table. It was from Ikey, and read:

"I found your door open, and waited a while, but I just heard of a bargain lot of suspenders I can buy, so I went off to see about them. I will be back with the socks in a little while."

"He found our door open!" exclaimed Dunk. "Didn't we lock it?"

"We sure did!" declared Andy. "I wonder——" He paused, and looked at his chum wonderingly. Then they both began a hasty search among their possessions. The same thought had come to each.

"Did you have my amethyst cuff buttons?" asked Andy of Dunk, who was rummaging among his effects.

"I did not. Why?"

"They're gone!"

"Another robbery! Say, we've got to report this right away, and let Link's lawyer know!" Dunk cried. "This may clear him!"

They paused, trying to map out a line of procedure, when a messenger came in to say that either Dunk or Andy was wanted on the telephone in a hurry.

"You go," suggested Andy. "As long as either of us will answer I'll stay here and take another look for my buttons. But I'm sure I left them in my collar box, and they aren't there now."

Dunk hurried off, while Andy conducted a careful but ineffectual search.

"It was Link's lawyer," Dunk reported when he came back. "His case comes up to-morrow, and he wants to know if we have any evidence that will help to prove Link innocent."

"Not an awful lot," said Andy, ruefully, "unless this latest robbery is. We'd better go see that lawyer. Did he say anything about the mysterious hundred dollars Link got by mail?"

"He mentioned it. There's no explanation of it yet, and he says it will look queer if it comes out, and if that's the only explanation Link can give."

"Why need it come out?"

"Oh, it seems that Link showed the bills to several helpers around college, and some of them have been subpoenaed to testify. The detective will be sure to bring it out. Then there's that story about the book found in Link's room."

"Hello!—" exclaimed Andy, looking around the apartment in order to collect his thoughts. "There's another note someone left for us. It must have been knocked off the table." He picked it up off the floor. It was addressed to him, and proved to be from Charley Taylor. It read:

"DEAR ANDY. I watched you play to-day. You did well. I've got a peach of a mushroom bat that I don't want, for I'm going in for rowing instead of baseball this season. I left the bat in the storeroom on your corridor when I moved out of Wright Hall. You can have it if you like. I gave it to Mortimer Gaffington once, but he said he never could find it. I don't believe he cared much about it, anyhow. Take it and good luck."

"By jinks!" cried Andy, as he read the missive and passed it to Dunk. "Do you remember that time Mortimer was hunting for Charley's bat in the closet?"

"I should say I did! That was the time we were looking for the thief who took Frank Carr's silver cup and his book."

"Sure. Well, I'm just going to have a look for that bat now. Maybe I'll have better luck than Mortimer did."

"Go ahead. I'll stay here in case Ikey comes in with the socks. No use having him bother us. Might as well pay him so he'll quit running in."

"Sure. Well, I'm going to rummage for the bat," and Andy, thinking of many things, went down the corridor to the large closet that was used as a store room by the students.

It was more filled than before with many things, and Andy had some difficulty in locating the bat. Finally he found it away down in a corner, under an old football suit, and drew it out. As he did so something fell to the closet floor with a clang of metal.

"I wonder what that was?" mused Andy. "It sounded like——" He did not finish the thought, but made his way to the far end of the closet. It was dark there, but, groping around, his fingers touched something hard, round, smooth and cold. With trembling hand Andy drew it out, and when the single electric light in the center of the storeroom fell upon it Andy uttered a cry of surprise.

"Frank's silver cup!" he cried. "The thief hid it in there! I wonder if the book's here, too?"

He made a hasty but unsuccessful search and then, with the bat and cup, he hurried to the room where Dunk awaited him.

"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?"

"Just think and you'll see it for yourself," went on Andy. "When we had the chase after the thief down this corridor that time, the trail seemed to lead right to this closet, didn't it?"

"Sure," agreed Dunk.

"And who did we find in there?"

"Why, Mort, of course. But he said he was looking for Charley Taylor's bat."

"Well, he may have been, but that was only an excuse. Mortimer didn't want that bat, but he was almost caught and he did want a place to hide the stuff. The book he could slip in his pocket, but he couldn't do that with the cup. So he threw it back in a corner, and it's been there ever since. Probably he was afraid to come for it."

"Andy, I believe you're right!" cried Dunk. "But one thing more—did you find a pair of rubber shoes? You know Frank said the fellow that went out of his room in such a hurry wore rubber shoes."

"I forgot about that. I'll have another look."

"I'll go with you. Ikey was here and I paid him for your socks and mine. So we can lock up."

"And be sure you do lock," warned Andy. "I don't want to lose any more stuff. Say, Mortimer must have my sleeve links, all right."

"All wrong, you mean. And my watch, too! I wonder if we're on the verge of a discovery?"

"It looks so," said Andy, grimly.

Quickly and silently they went to the storeroom. They were not disturbed, for there were several class dinners on that night, and most of the occupants of Wright Hall were out. Andy and Dunk intended going later.

They rummaged in the closet and, when about to give up, not having found what they sought, Andy unearthed a pair of rubbers.

"These might be what the fellow wore," said Dunk, as he looked at them. "He could easily have slipped them off. See if there are any marks inside."

Andy looked and uttered a startled cry. For there, on the inner canvas of the rubber, printed in ink, were the initials "M. G."

"They're his, all right!" spoke Andy, in a low tone.

"Then he's the quadrangle thief," went on Dunk. "Come on back to our room, and we'll talk this over. Something's has got to be done."

"That's right," agreed Andy. "But what?"

"We must set a trap," suggested Dunk.

"A trap?"

"Yes, do something to catch this mean thief—Mortimer or whoever he is—in the act."

"Hadn't we better tell the Dean—or someone."

"No," said Dunk, after thinking over the matter. "Let's see if we can't do this on our own hook. Then if we make a mistake we won't be laughed at."

"But when can we do it?" Andy asked.

"This very night. It couldn't happen better. Nearly all the fellows will be out of Wright Hall in a little while. We're booked to go, and Mortimer knows it, for I was making arrangements with Bert Foley about our seats, and Mortimer was standing near me. He came to borrow ten dollars, but I didn't let him have it. So he will be sure to figure that we'll be out to-night."

"But how do you know he'll come to our room?"

"I don't know it. I've got to take a chance there. But we can hide down in the lower corridor, and watch to see if he comes in this dormitory. If he does, knowing that 'most all the fellows are out, it will look suspicious. We can watch for him to go out and then tackle him. If he has the goods on him the jig is up."

"Well, I guess that is a good plan," agreed Andy. "I hate to have to do it, but we owe it to ourselves, to the college and to poor Link to discover this thief. I only hope it doesn't prove to be Mortimer, but it looks very bad for him."

"We can go farther than that," went on Dunk. "We can leave some marked money on our table, leave our door open and see what happens."

"It sounds sort of mean," spoke Andy, doubtfully; "but I suppose if we have to have a trap that would be the best way to do it."

"Then let's get busy," suggested Dunk. "He may not come to-night after all. We may have to watch for several nights. Meanwhile we'd better telephone the lawyer that we're on a new lead."

This was done, and the man in charge of Link's case agreed to see Andy and Dunk early the next day to learn what success they had.

Then the trap was laid. The two who were doing this, not so much to prove Mortimer guilty as to free Link and others upon whom suspicion had fallen, went about their work.

As Dunk had surmised, Wright Hall was almost deserted. They found a hiding place in the lower corridor where they could see whoever came in. Their own door they left ajar, with a light burning. On the table where they had been put, as if dropped by accident, were a couple of marked bills.

"If he takes those, we'll have him with the goods," said Dunk, grimly.

Then he and Andy began their vigil.



CHAPTER XXXIV

CAUGHT

The silence got on the nerves of Andy and Dunk. It was very quiet in Wright Hall, but outside they could hear the calls of students, one to the other. Occasionally someone would come up on the raised courtyard of the dormitory and shout loudly for some chum. But there were no answers. Nearly all the freshmen were at an annual affair. The hall was all but deserted.

"Who do you think it will be?" asked Dunk in a whisper, after a long quiet period.

"Why, Mortimer, of course," answered Andy. "Do you have suspicions of anybody else?"

"Well, I don't know," was the hesitating answer.

"Everything points to him," went on Andy. "He's in need of money, and has been for some time, though we didn't know it. As soon as I heard that news about his father losing all his fortune, and the possibility that Mortimer might have to leave Yale, I said to myself that he was the most likely one to have been doing this quadrangle thieving.

"But I really hated to think it, for it seems an awful thing to have a Yale man guilty of anything like that."

"It sure is," agreed Dunk. "What are we going to do if we catch him?"

"Time enough to think of that after we get him," said Andy, grimly.

"No, there isn't," insisted Dunk. "Look here, old man, this is a serious matter. It means a whole lot, not only to Mortimer, but to us. We don't want to make a mistake."

"We won't," said Andy. "We'll get him right, whether it's Mortimer, or someone else. But I can't see how it could be anybody else. Everything points to him. It's very plain to me."

"You don't quite get me," went on Dunk, trying to get into a more comfortable position in their small hiding place. "I'll admit that we may get the thief, and I'm willing to admit, for the sake of argument, that it may be Mortimer—in fact, I'm pretty sure, now, that it is he. But look what it's going to mean to Yale. This thing will have to come out—it will probably get into the papers, and how will it look to have a Yale man held up as a thief. It doesn't make any difference to say that he isn't a representative Yale man—it's the name of the university that's going to suffer as much as is Mortimer."

"That's so—I didn't think of that," admitted Andy, rather ruefully. "Shall we call it off?"

"No, it's too late to do that now. But we must consider what we ought to do once we capture the thief."

"What do you suggest?" asked Andy, after a pause.

"I hardly know. Let's puzzle over it a bit." Again there fell a silence between them—a silence fraught with much meaning. They could hear revelry in other college rooms, and the call of lads on the campus. From farther off came the roar and hum of the city. It reminded Andy of the night he had first come to New Haven. How many things had happened in that time. He would soon be a sophomore now—no more a callow freshman.

"Do you know," spoke Dunk, in a low voice, as he again changed his position, seeking ease. "I had an idea that Ikey might turn out to be the guilty one."

"So did I," admitted Andy. "That was after your watch was missing, and I found he had been in the room while I was out. But, for that matter, Link was in there, too. It was a sort of toss-up between the two. Poor Link, it's been mighty unpleasant for him, to be accused wrongly. I wonder how that valuable book got in his room?"

"The quadrangle thief put it there, of course."

"And there's that case of Pulter's book—found out near Yale Field," went on Andy. "I suppose Mortimer had that, too."

"Very likely, though it seems queer that he'd stoop so low as to take books."

"He could pawn 'em, I suppose, same as he did the other things he took," Andy continued.

"The way he used to borrow money from me and some of the other fellows was a caution!" exclaimed Dunk. "Seems as though he'd have enough to worry along on without stealing."

"He spent a lot, though," said Andy. "He was used to high living and I suppose when he found the money wasn't coming from his father any more he had to get it the best way he could."

"Or the worst," commented Dunk, grimly. "I know he never paid me back all he got, and the same way with a lot of the fellows. But if he's coming I wish he'd show up. I don't wish him any bad luck, and I'd give a whole lot, even now, if it would prove to be someone else besides Mortimer. But I'm getting tired of waiting here."

"So am I," said Andy, with a yawn.

Again there was a silence, while they kept their strange vigil. Then, far down the lower corridor, there sounded footsteps.

"He—he's coming!" whispered Andy in a tense voice.

"Yes," assented Dunk.

But it was a false alarm. As the footsteps came nearer the waiting lads saw one of the janitors on his rounds. He did not see them, and passed on.

Andy was doing some hard thinking. The suggestion made by Dunk that the capture of the thief would be more of a black spot for Yale than the fact of the robberies taking place was bearing fruit.

"But what can we do?" Andy asked himself. "We've got to stop these thefts if we can, and the only way is to catch the fellow who's doing it."

They had been in their hiding place nearly an hour, and were getting exceedingly weary. Dunk shifted about, as did Andy, and it was on the tip of the latter's tongue to suggest that they give up their plan for the night when they heard a distant door opened cautiously.

"Listen!" whispered Andy.

"All right," assented his chum. "I hope it amounts to something."

With strained ears they listened. Now they heard steps coming along the corridor. Curious, shuffling steps they were, not hard, honest heel-and-toe steps—rather those of someone treading softly, as on soles of rubber.

"It's him all right this time!" whispered Andy in Dunk's ear.

"I guess so—yes. Shall we follow him?"

"Yes. Take off your shoes."

Silently they removed them, and waited. The steps were nearer now, and a long shadow was thrown athwart the place where Andy and Dunk were hiding. They could not recognize it, however.

The shadow came nearer, flickering curiously as the swaying of an electric lamp threw it in black relief on the corridor floor.

Then a figure came past the recess where the two lads were concealed. 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. He stood in a listening attitude for a moment, and then, as if satisfied that the coast was clear, started up the stairs toward the corridor from which opened the room of Andy and Dunk.

The two waited until he was out of sight, and then followed, making no more noise than the thief himself. They timed their movements by his. When he advanced they went forward, and when he stopped to listen, they stopped also. It was like some game—a very grim sort of game, though.

There was only a dim light in the upper corridor, and, coming to a halt where the shadows were deepest, Andy and Dunk watched. They saw Mortimer stop before a student's door, try it and then came the faint tinkle of a bunch of keys.

"Skeletons," whispered Dunk.

Andy nodded in assent.

The manipulation of the lock by means of a false key seemed to come easy to Mortimer. In a moment he was inside the room. What he did there Andy and Dunk could not see, but he remained but a few minutes, and came out, softly closing the door after him.

"I wonder what he got?" whispered Dunk.

"We'll soon know," was Andy's answer.

Mortimer went softly down the corridor. He did not try every door, but only went in certain rooms, and these, the two watchers noticed, were those where well-to-do students lived.

Mortimer made four or five visits, and then moved towards the apartment of Andy and Dunk.

"It's our turn now," whispered the latter.

Silently they turned a corner, just in time to see Mortimer enter their room.

"Now we've got him!" exulted Andy.

"Not yet; we've got to nab him," whispered Dunk. "Oh, Andy, this is fierce! To think that we're spying on a Yale man! To think that a Yale man should turn out to be a common thief! It makes me sick!"

"Same here," sighed Andy. "But the only way to stop suspicion from falling on others is to get Mortimer with the goods. We've got to save Link, too."

"That's right," assented Dunk. "He isn't a Yale man, but he's a heap better than the kind in there." He nodded his head in the direction of their room, where Mortimer now was.

They had left a light burning, and could see, as its beams were cut off now and then, that the intruder was moving about in their apartment.

"Come on, let's get him—and have it over with," suggested Dunk.

"No, we've got to get the goods on him," said Andy.

"Well, hasn't he got plenty of stolen goods—those from the other fellows' rooms?"

"I know. But if we went in on him now he'd bluff it off—say he came in to borrow a book—or money maybe."

"But we could search him."

"You can't search a fellow for coming to borrow something," declared Andy. "Come on, let's go where we can look in."

Silently they stole forward until they were opposite their door. From it they had a good view of Mortimer.

Just at that moment they saw him reach for the bills on the table and, with a quick motion, pocket them. Then the thief started toward a bureau.

"Come on!" whispered Andy, hoarsely. "We've got to get him now, Dunk!"

With beating hearts the two sped silently but swiftly into the room. They fairly leaped for Mortimer, who turned like a flash, glaring at them. Fear was in his startled eyes—fear and shame. Then in an instant he determined to face it out.

"We—we've got you!" cried Dunk, exultantly.

"Got me? I don't know what you mean?" said Mortimer, trying to speak easily. But his voice broke—his tones were hoarse, and Andy noticed that his hands were trembling. Mortimer edged over toward the door.

"I came in to get a book," he faltered, "but I——"

"Grab him, Dunk!" commanded Andy, and the two threw themselves upon the intruder.



CHAPTER XXXV

FOR THE HONOR OF YALE

"What does this mean? You fellows sure have your nerve with you! Let me go, or I'll——"

Mortimer stormed and raved, struggling to get loose from the grip of Andy and Dunk.

"I'll make you fellows sweat for this!" he cried "I'll fix you! I—I'll——"

"You'd better keep quiet, if you know what's best for you," panted Andy. "We hate this business as much as you ever can, Gaffington! Don't let the whole college know about it. Keep quiet, for the honor of Yale whose name you've disgraced. Keep quiet, for we've got the goods on you and the jig is up!"

It was a tense moment, and Andy might well be pardoned for speaking a bit theatrically. Truth to tell he hardly knew what he was saying.

"Yes, take it easy, Gaffington," advised Dunk. "We don't want to make a holiday of this affair; but you're at the end of your rope and the sooner you know it the better. We've caught you. Take it easy and we'll be as easy as we can."

"Caught me! What do you mean?" asked the unfortunate lad excitedly. "Can't I come to your room to borrow a book without being jumped on as if I——"

"Exactly! As though you were the thief that you are!" said Andy, bitterly. "What does this mean?"

With a quick motion, letting go of one of Mortimer's wrists, Andy reached into the other's pocket and pulled out the bills. "They're marked with our initials," he said, and his voice was sad, rather than triumphant. "We left them there to see if you'd take them."

The production of the bills took all the fight out of Mortimer Gaffington. He ceased his struggling and sank limply into a chair which Dunk pushed forward for him.

There followed a moment of silence—a silence that neither Andy or Dunk ever forgot. The quadrangle thief moistened his dry lips once or twice and then said hoarsely:

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"That's the question," spoke Andy, wearily. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Are you going to deny it?" asked Dunk. "Before you answer, think what it means. An innocent man is under charges for these thefts."

Mortimer did not answer for a moment. When he did speak it was to say:

"No, I'm going to deny nothing. You have caught me. I own up. What are you going to do about it?"

"That's just it," said Dunk. "We don't know what to do about it."

Silently Mortimer began taking from his pockets several pieces of jewelry, evidently the things he had stolen from the rooms of other students.

"That's all I have," he said, bitterly.

Andy and Dunk looked at him a moment without speaking and then Andy asked:

"Why did you do it, Mortimer?"

"Why? I guess you know as well as I do. Everything is gone—dad's whole fortune wiped out. We haven't a dollar, and I had to leave Yale. We kept it quiet as long as we could. I didn't want to leave. I couldn't bear to!

"Oh, call it what you like—foolish pride perhaps, but I wanted to stay here and finish as I'd begun—with the best of the spenders. That's what I've been—a spender. I couldn't be otherwise—I was brought up that way. So, when I found I couldn't get any money any other way I began stealing. I'm not looking for sympathy—I'm telling the plain truth. I took your watch, Dunk. I took those books. I smuggled one into Link Bardon's room, hoping he'd be suspected. There's no use in saying I'm sorry. You wouldn't believe me. It's all up. You've got me right!"

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Andy and Dunk felt the lumps rising in their throats. They had to fight back the tears from their eyes. Never before had they taken part in such a grim tragedy—never again did they want to.

"You—you admit all the quadrangle thefts?" faltered Andy.

"Every one," was the low answer. "I took Carr's book and silver cup—I hid them in the closet that day you fellows caught me. I took Pulter's book, too. I was desperate—I'd take anything. I just had to have the money. I took the money Len thought he lost that night in the campus. Well, this is the end."

"Yes, it's the end," said Dunk, softly, "but not for us. We've got to think of Yale."

There was a footstep outside the door. The three started up in some alarm. They were not ready yet for disclosures.

"Beg pardon," said a calm voice, "but I could not help hearing what was said. Perhaps I can help you."

Andy swung open the door wider, and saw, standing in the hall, a man he recognized as one taking a post-graduate course in the Medical School. He was Nathan Conklin, and had taken a room in the freshman dormitory because no other was available just at that time.

"Do you want some advice?" asked Conklin. He was a pleasant chap, considerably older than Andy or Dunk. And he seemed to know life.

"I guess that's just what we do want," said Andy. "We are up against it. We have caught—er——"

"You needn't explain," said Conklin. "The less said on such occasions the better. I happened to be passing and I could not help hearing. What I didn't hear I guessed. Now I'm going to say a few words.

"Boys, Yale is bigger than any of us—better than any of us. We've got to consider the honor of Yale above everything else."

Andy and Dunk nodded. Mortimer sat with his face buried in his hands.

"Now then," went on Conklin, "for the honor of Yale, and not to save the reputation of anybody, we must hush up this scandal. It must go no farther than this room. Gaffington, are you willing to leave Yale?"

"I suppose I'll have to," Mortimer answered, without looking up.

"Yes, you would have to go if this came out, and it's better that you should go without it becoming known. Now then, are you willing to make restitution?"

"I can't. I haven't a dollar in the world."

"Let that go," said Dunk, quickly. "We fellows will see to that. I guess those that have missed things won't insist on getting them back; they'll do that much for the honor of Yale."

"About this other man who is under charges, are you willing to give testimony—in private to the judge—that will result in freeing him?" asked Conklin.

"Yes," whispered Mortimer.

"Then that's all that's necessary," went on the medical student. "I'll go see the Dean. 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.

But Mortimer left Yale, and the honor of the college was untarnished, at least by anything that became known of his actions. He slipped away quietly, it being given out that his family was going abroad. And the Gaffingtons did leave Dunmore, going no one knew whither.

A certain secret meeting was held, when without a name being mentioned, it was explained by Andy, Dunk and Conklin that the quadrangle thief had been discovered. It was stated that those who had suffered losses would be reimbursed by private subscription, but the idea was rejected unanimously.

How Mortimer worked, and how he accomplished the various robberies, without being detected, remained a mystery. No one cared to go into it, for it was too delicate a subject.

The charge against Link was dismissed after a certain interview the Dean had with the county prosecutor, and Link was given his old place back.

"But if it had come to a trial," he said to Andy, when he was told that the thief (no name being mentioned) had confessed, "if I had been tried I could have told where that mysterious hundred dollars came from."

"Where?" asked Andy interestedly.

"From that farmer you saved me from. He got religion lately, and felt remorse for my injured arm. So he sent me the hundred dollars for my doctor's bill and other expenses."

"And never said a word about it?" asked Dunk.

"Not a word. But he died the other day, and the truth came out. A fellow I know in the town wrote me about it. So I could have proved that I didn't get the money by stealing."

"It wasn't necessary," said Andy. "So everything is explained now."

Andy's first year at Yale was nearing its close. The season was to wind up with a series of affairs and with several ball games, including one for the freshman team. Of course Dunk and Andy played. I wish I could say that Yale won, but truth compels me to state that Princeton "trimmed" her.

"And we'll do it again!" exulted Ben Snow, as he greeted Andy after the contest.

"I don't know about that!" was the answer. Then Andy hurried off to where a certain pretty girl waited for him. No, I'm not going to mention her name. You wouldn't know her, anyhow.

"Well," remarked Andy, as he and Dunk were packing up to go home for the summer holidays, "college is a great place."

"Especially Yale."

"Oh, I don't know. Of course I think there's no place like Yale, but there are others."

And so Andy and Dunk packed up and prepared to start for home, agreeing to room together again during their sophomore year, and until they had completed their college course.

They had locked their trunks, and their valises where ready. When came a knock on their door, and a voice said:

"Such bargains! Never before have I had such neckties and silk socks! Fellows, let me show you——"

"Get out, you Shylock!" laughed Andy, locking the portal. "We've only got money enough for our railroad fare!"

And Ikey Stein departed, looking for other bargain victims.

"Come on," suggested Dunk, "let's take a walk over the campus and say good-bye to the fellows."

"I'm with you," agreed Andy.

And arm in arm they departed.

THE END