“This way, fellows! Don’t let anybody see us come in!”

Thus cautioned Ikey as he led his “prospective victims,” as Dunk referred to himself and the others, through various back streets and alley ways.

“Why the caution?” Andy wanted to know, stumbling over an unseen obstruction, and nearly falling.

“Hush!” whispered the Jew. “I want you, my friends, to have the pick of the bargains first. After that the others may come in. If some of the seniors knew of these vawses there wouldn’t be one left.”

“Oh, well we mustn’t let that happen!” laughed Dunk. “I know I’m going to get stuck, but lead on, Horatio. I’m game.”

“Stuck, is it?” cried Ikey, and he seemed hurt at the suggestion. “Wait until you have seen, eh, Hashmi?”

“Of a surely, yes. They are beautiful!”

“And so cheap; are they not, Hashmi?”

“Of a surely, yes.”

“Where are you taking us, anyhow?” demanded Thad. “I thought we were going to Burke’s.”

“So we are, later,” said Dunk. “I want to see some of this junk, though. Our room does need a bit of decoration, eh, Andy?”

“Yes, it can stand a few more things.”

“But where are we going, anyhow?” Bob demanded. “This looks like a chop-suey joint.”

“Hush!” cautioned Ikey again. “Some of the fellows may be around. There is a Chinese restaurant upstairs.”

“And what’s downstairs?” asked Andy.

“Why, Hashmi had to hire a vacant room to put the packing box in when it came from Japan,” explained Ikey. “It was too big to take up to his joint. Besides, it’s filled with straw, you know, so the vawses couldn’t smash. He’s just got it in this vacant store temporarily. You fellows have the first whack at it.”

“Well, let’s get the whacking over with,” suggested Andy. “I had all I wanted at Yale Field this afternoon.”

They came to a low, dingy building, at the side of which ran a black alley.

“In here—mind your steps!” warned Ikey.

They stumbled on, and then came to a halt behind the college salesman. He shot out a gleam of radiance from a pocket electric flashlight and opened a door.

“Hurry up!” he whispered, and as the others slipped in he closed and locked the portal. “Are the shades down, Hashmi?” he asked.

“Of a surely, yes.”

“Then show the fellows what your ancestors sent you.”

There was the removal of boards from a big packing case that stood in the middle of a bare room. There was the rustle of straw, and then, in the gleam of the little electric flash the boys saw a confused jumble of Japanese vases and other articles in porcelain, packed in the box.

“There, how’s that?” demanded Ikey, triumphantly, as he picked one up. “Wouldn’t that look swell on your mantel, Dunk?”

“It might do to hold my tobacco.”

“Tobacco! You heathen! Why, that jar is to hold the ashes of your ancestors!”

“Haven’t any ancestors that had ashes as far as I know,” said Dunk, imperturbably. “I can smoke enough cigar ashes to fill it, though.”

“Hopeless—hopeless,” murmured Ikey. “But look—such a bargain, only seven dollars!”

“Holy mackerel!” cried Andy. “Seven dollars for a tobacco jar!”

“It isn’t a tobacco jar, I tell you!” cried Ikey. “It’s like the old Egyptian tear vawses, only different. Seven dollars—why it’s worth fifteen if it’s worth a cent. Ain’t it, Hashmi?”

“Of a surely, yes,” said the Jap, with an inscrutable smile.

“But he’ll let you have it for just a little more than the wholesale price in Japan, mind you—in Japan!” cried Ikey. “Seven dollars. Think of it!”

“What about your commission?” asked Thad, with a grin.

“A mere nothing—I must live, you know,” and Ikey shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want it, Dunk? Why don’t you fellows pick out something? You’ll wait until they’re gone and be kicking yourselves. They’re dirt cheap—bargains every one. Look at that vawse!” and he held up another to view in the pencil of light from the flash torch.

“It would do for crackers, I suppose,” said Andy, doubtfully.

“Crackers!” gasped Ikey. “Tell him what it is for, Hashmi. I haven’t the heart,” and he pretended to weep.

“This jar—he is for the holding of the petals of roses that were sent by your loved ones—the perfumes of Eros,” murmured the poetical Japanese.

“Oh, for the love of tripe! Hold me, I’m going to faint, Gertie!” cried Bob. “Rose petals from your loved ones! Oh, slush!”

“It is true,” and Hashmi did not seem to resent being laughed at. “But it would do for crackers as well.”

“How much?” asked Andy.

“Only five dollars—worth ten,” whispered Ikey.

“Well, it would look nice on my stand,” said Andy weakly. “I—I’ll take it.”

“And I guess you may as well wish me onto that dead ancestor jar,” added Dunk. “I’m always getting stuck anyhow. Seven plunks is getting off easy.”

“You will never regret it,” murmured Ikey. “Where is that paper, Hashmi? Now don’t you fellows let anyone else in on this game until I give the word. I’m taking care of my friends first, then the rest of the bunch. Friends first, say I.”

“Yes, if you’re going to stick anybody, stick your friends first,” laughed Dunk. “They’re the easiest. Go ahead, now you fellows bite,” and he looked at Bob, Thad and Ted.

“What’s this—a handkerchief box?” asked Ted, picking up one covered with black and gold lacquer.

“Handkerchief box! Shades of Koami!” cried Ikey. “That, you dunce, is a box made to——Oh, you tell him, Hashmi, I haven’t the heart.”

“No, he wants to figure out how much he’s made on us,” added Andy.

“That box—he is for the retaining of the messages from the departed,” explained the Japanese.

“You mean it’s a spiritualist cabinet?” demanded Thad. “I say now, will it do the rapping trick?”

“You misapprehend me,” murmured Hashmi. “I mean that you conserve in that the letters your ancestors may have written you. But of a courseness you might put in it your nose beautifiers if you wish, and perfume them.”

“Nose beautifiers—he means handkerchiefs,” explained Ikey. “It’s a bargain—only three dollars.”

“I’ll take it,” spoke Thad. “I know a girl I can give it to. No objection to putting a powder puff in it; is there, Hashmi?”

“Of a surely, no.”

More of the wares from the big box were displayed and the two other lads took something. Then Dunk insisted on having another look, and bought several “vawses,” as Ikey insisted on calling them.

“They’ll look swell in the room, eh, Andy? he asked.

“They sure will. I only hope there’s no more rough house or you’ll be out several dollars.”

“If those rusty sophs smash any of this stuff I’ll go to the dean about it!” threatened Dunk, well knowing, however, that he would not.

“Such bargains! Such bargains!” whispered Ikey, as he let them out of the side door, first glancing up and down the dark alley to make sure that no other college lads were lying in wait to demand their share of the precious stuff. The coast was clear and Andy and his chums slipped out, carrying their purchases.

“Are you coming?” Dunk asked of Ikey.

“No, I’ll stay and help Hashmi pack up the things. If you want any more let me know.”

“Huh! You mean you’ll stay and count up how much you’ve stuck us!” said Dunk. “Oh, well, it looks like nice stuff. But I’ve got enough for the present. I’ve overdrawn my allowance as it is.”

“Well, we’ll leave this junk in your room, Andy, and then go out and have some fun,” suggested Thad.

They piled their purchases on the beds in Andy’s and Dunk’s room in Wright Hall and then proceeded on to Burke’s place, an eating and drinking resort for many students.

There was a crowd there when Andy and his chums entered and they were noisily greeted.

“Oh, you Dunk!”

“Over here! Lots of room!”

“Waiter, five more cold steins!”

“None for me!” said Andy with a smile.

“That’s all right—he’s trying for the team,” someone said, in a low tone.

“Oh!”

Through the haze of the smoke of many pipes Andy saw some of the football crowd. They were all taking “soft stuff,” which he himself ordered.

Then began an evening of jollity and clean fun. It was rather rough, and of the nature of horseplay, of course, and perhaps some of the lads did forget themselves a little, but it was far from being an orgy.

“I’m going to pull out soon,” spoke Andy to Dunk, when an hour or so had passed.

“Oh, don’t be in a rush. I’ll be with you in a little while.”

“All right, I’ll wait.”

Again to Andy had come the idea that he might, after all, prove a sort of “brother’s keeper” to his chum.

The fun grew faster and more furious, but there was a certain line that was never overstepped, and for this Andy was glad.

The door opened to admit another throng, and Andy saw Mortimer and several of his companions of the fast set. How Gaffington kept up the pace and still managed to retain his place on the football team was a mystery to many. He had wonderful recuperative powers, though, and was well liked by a certain element.

“Hello, Dunk!” he greeted Andy’s roommate. “You’re looking pretty fit.”

“Same to you—though you look as though you’d been having one.”

“So I have—rather strenuous practice to-day. Oh, there’s the fellow who did me up!” and he looked at Andy and, to our hero’s surprise, laughed.

“It’s all right, old man—no hard feelings,” went on Mortimer. “Will you shake?”

“Sure!” exclaimed Andy, eagerly. He was only too anxious not to have any enmity.

“Put her there! Shake!” exclaimed the other. “You shook me and I shook you. No hard feelings, eh?”

“Of course not!”

“That’s all right then. Fellows, I’ll give you one—Andy Blair—a good tackier!” and Mortimer raised his glass on high.

“Andy Blair! Oh, you Andy! Your eye on us!”

And thus was Andy pledged by his enemy. What did it mean?

Faster grew the fun. The room was choking blue with tobacco smoke, and Andy wanted to get away.

“Come on, Dunk,” he said. “Let’s pull out. We’ve got some stiff recitations to-morrow.”

“All right, I’m willing.”

Mortimer saw them start to leave, and coming over put his arm affectionately around Dunk.

“Oh, you’re not going!” he expostulated. “Why, it’s early yet and the fun’s just starting. Don’t be a quitter!”

Dunk flushed. He was not used to being called that.

“Yes, stay and finish out,” urged others.

Andy felt that it was a crisis. Yet he could say nothing. Dunk seemed undecided for a moment, and Mortimer renewed his pleadings.

“Be a sport!” he cried. “Have a good time while you’re living—you’re a long time dead!”

There was a moment’s hush. Then Dunk gently removed Mortimer’s arm and said:

“No, I’m going back with Blair. Come on, Andy.”

And they went out together.