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.

On his part the young “swell” leered into Andy’s face, then glanced sidelong at the youths who accompanied him. Andy recognized them as the same who had been in the auto that night of the bonfire at Milton.

“That’s he!” exclaimed Mortimer; then to Andy: “I didn’t think I’d meet you quite so soon, Blair! So you’re here, eh?”

“Yes,” answered Andy.

“Put a ‘sir’ on that!” commanded one of the other lads.

“Yes—sir!”

Andy took his own time with the last word. He knew the rites and customs of Yale, at least by hearsay, and was willing to abide by the unwritten laws that make a first-year man demean himself to the upperclassmen. It would not last long.

“That’s better,” commented the third lad. “Never forget your manners—er—what’s your name?”

“Blair.”

“Sir!” snapped the one who had first reminded Andy of the lapse.

“Sir!”

“You know him,” put in Mortimer. “The fellow who put us out of the auto, eh?”

“Oh, sure, I remember now. Nervy little rat! It’s a wonder I remember anything that happened that night. We were pretty well pickled. Oh, land, yes!”

He seemed proud of it.

“Take off that hat!” commanded Mortimer. “Don’t forget you’re a freshman here.”

“And a fresh freshman, too,” added one of his chums. “Take it off!”

Andy was perfectly willing to abide by this unwritten law also, and doffed his derby. He made a mental note that as soon as he could he would get a cap, or soft hat, such as he saw other students wearing.

“The brute has some manners,” commented one of the trio.

“I’ll teach him some more before I get through with him!” muttered Mortimer. He, as well as his two companions, seemed to have been dining, “not wisely but too well.”

“Anything more?” asked Andy, good-naturedly. He knew that he must put up with insults, if need be, from Mortimer; for he realized that, in a way, class distinction at Yale is strong in its unwritten laws, and he wanted to do as the others did. It takes much nerve to vary from the customs and traditions of any country or place, more especially a big college. And Andy knew his turn would come.

He also knew that it was all done in good-natured fun, and really with the best intentions. For a first-year man is very likely to become what his name indicates—fresh—and there is need of toning down.

Besides, it is discipline that is good for the soul, and somewhat necessary. It makes for good in after life, in most cases, though of course there are some exceptions. Hazing, after all, is designed, primarily, to bring out a candidate’s character. A lad who will give way to his temper if made to take off his hat to one perhaps below him in social station, or if he sulks when tossed in a blanket—such a lad, in after life, is very apt to do the same thing when he has to knuckle under to a business rival, or to go into a passion when he receives the hard knocks of life. So, then, hazing, if not carried to extremes, has its uses in adversity, and Andy had sense enough to realize this. So he was ready for what might come.

He knew, also, that Mortimer might, and probably would, be actuated by a mean spirit, and a desire for what he might think was revenge. But he was only one of a large number of college youths. Andy was willing to take his chances.

Andy looked over toward Wright Hall, with its raised courtyard. Lights were gleaming in the windows, and he fancied he could see his own room aglow.

“I hope Dunk is there,” he thought.

“Shall we put him through the paces?” asked one of Mortimer’s companions suggestively, nodding at Andy.

“Not to-night. We’ve got something else on,” answered the society swell. “Trot along, Blair, and don’t forget what we’ve told you. I’ll see you again,” he added, significantly.

The trio had come to a stop some little distance from Andy, and had stood with arms linked. Now they were ready to proceed. On the various walks, that traversed the big campus in the quadrangle of Yale, other students were hurrying to and fro, some going to their rooms, others coming from them. Some were going towards their eating clubs or to the University dining hall. And Andy was feeling hungry.

“Well, come on,” urged Mortimer to his companions. “I guess we’ve started this freshman on the right road. Just see that you follow it, Blair. I’ll be watching you.”

“And I’ll be watching you!” thought Andy. And at that moment he was gazing intently at Gaffington. As he looked, Andy saw something fall from below the flap of the coat of one of the trio, and land softly on the pavement. It fell limp, making no noise.

One of Mortimer’s companions, who, Andy afterward learned, was Leonard, or “Len,” Scott, reached his hand into his pocket, and brought it out with a strange look on his face.

“Hello!” he exclaimed, blankly, “my wallet’s gone!”

“Gone!” exclaimed the other, Clarence Boyle by name. “Are you sure you had it?”

“I sure did!” said Len, feeling in various pockets. “Just cashed a check, too!”

“Come on back to your room and have a look for it,” suggested Mortimer pulling his chum half-way around. “If it’s gone I can lend you some. I’m flush to-night.”

“But I’m sure I had it,” went on Len. “I remember feeling it just as we came out of Lawrance. I had about fifty dollars in it!”

“Whew!” whistled Mortimer. “Some little millionaire, you are, Len. Never mind, I can let you have twenty-five if you need it.” Andy knew that Mortimer’s father was reputed to be several times a millionaire.

“But I don’t like to lose that,” went on Len. “I guess I will go back and have a look in my shack. If I can’t find it I’ll stick up a notice.”

“You might have dropped it when we met that other bunch of freshmen and had the little argument with them about their hats,” suggested Clarence.

“That’s right,” went on Mortimer, still pulling on Len’s arm, as though to get him away from the spot. “Maybe one of the freshmen frisked it off you,” he added, looking at Andy.

By this time the trio had turned half-way around, evidently to go back to Scott’s room and look for the missing pocketbook. Andy had a clear view of the object that had fallen from under the coat of one of them.

“There is something,” the freshman said, pointing to the object on the pavement. “I saw one of you drop it. Perhaps it is the pocketbook.”

Len wheeled and made a grab for it.

“That’s mine!” he cried. “It must have worked up out of my pocket and fallen. Thanks!” he added, warmly, to Andy.

With a quick motion Len opened his wallet. A strange look came over his face as he cried:

“It’s empty!”

“Empty!” gasped Mortimer. “Let’s see!”

He leaned forward, as did Clarence, all three staring into the opened pocketbook. Andy looked on curiously.

“It was one of those freshmen!” declared Mortimer, with conviction. “They must have slipped their hand up in your coat when we were frisking them, and taken out the money.”

“But how could they when I still had the pocketbook?” asked Len, much puzzled.

“They must have taken out the bills, and put the wallet back,” went on Mortimer, quickly. “They didn’t get it all the way in your pocket and it tumbled out when you were standing here. Lucky we noticed it or we wouldn’t have known what happened. Come on back. We’ll find those freshmen.”

And, without another look at Andy, they wheeled and hurried across the campus toward Vanderbilt Hall.

“Huh! That’s queer!” mused Andy, as he continued on his way toward Wright. “I’m glad I saw that wallet when I did.”