“Look at that!”

“Why, it’s the same stuff!”

“There’s a rose jar like the one I bought for seven dollars marked two seventy-five!”

“Oh, the robber! Why, there’s a handkerchief box, bigger than the one he stuck me with, and it’s only a dollar!”

“Say, let’s rough-house Ikey and that Jap!”

Andy, Dunk, and their three friends were standing in front of a Japanese store, looking in the window, that held many articles associated with the Flowery Kingdom. Price tags were on them, and the lads discovered that they had paid dearly for the ornaments they had so surreptitiously viewed in the semi-darkness, under the guidance of Ikey Stein.

This was several days after they had purchased their bric-a-brac and meanwhile they had seen Ikey and Hashmi going about getting other students into their toils.

“Say, that was a plant, all right!” declared Dunk. “I’m going to make Ikey shell out.”

“And the Jap, too!” added Andy. “We sure were stuck!”

For the articles in the window were identical, in many cases, with those they had bought, but the prices were much less.

“I thought there was something fishy about it,” commented Thad. “Never again do I buy a pig in a poke!”

“I’ll poke Ikey when I catch him,” said Bob.

“Here he comes now,” spoke Ted, in a low voice. “Don’t seem to see him until he gets close, and then we’ll grab him and make him shell out!”

So the five remained looking steadfastly in the window until the unsuspecting Ikey came close. Then Andy and Dunk made a quick leap and caught him.

“What—what is it?” asked the surprised student.

“We merely want your advice on the purchase of some more art objects,” said Andy, grimly. “You’re such an expert, you know.”

“Some other time—some other time! I’m due at a lecture now!” pleaded Ikey, squirming to get away.

“The lecture can wait,” said Dunk. “Look at that vawse for the holding of the rose petals from your loved one. See it there—now would you advise me to buy it? It’s much cheaper than the one you and your beloved Hashmi stuck me with.”

Ikey looked at the faces of his captors. He saw only stern, unrelenting glares, and realized that his game had been discovered.

“I—er—I——” he stammered.

“Come, what’s your advice?” demanded Dunk. “Did I pay too much?”

“I—er—perhaps you did,” admitted Ikey, slowly.

“Then fork over the balance.”

“And what about my cracker jar—for the ashes of dead ancestors?” asked Andy. “Was I stuck, too?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Why, that is a very rare piece.”

“What about that one in the window?” demanded Andy. “That’s only rare to the tune of several dollars less than I paid.”

“Oh, but you are mistaken!” Ikey assured him. “It takes an expert to tell the difference. You can ask Hashmi——”

“Hashmi be hanged!” cried Dunk, giving the captured one a shake. A little crowd had gathered in the street to see the fun.

“I—I’ll give you whatever you think is right,” promised Ikey. “Only let me go. I shall be late.”

“The late Mr. Stein,” laughed Andy.

“What about the rare satsuma piece you wished onto me?” demanded Ted.

“And that cloisonne flower vawse that has a crack in it?” Thad wanted to know.

“That’s because it’s so old,” whined Ikey. “It is more valuable.”

“There’s one in the window without a crack for three dollars less,” was the retort.

“Oh, well, if you fellows are dissatisfied with your bargains——”

“Oh, we’re not going to back down,” said Andy, “but we’re not going to pay more than they’re worth, either. It was a plant, and you know it. Now you shell out all we paid above what the things are marked at in this window, and we’ll call it square—that is, if you don’t go around blabbing how you took us in.”

“All right! All right!” cried Ikey. “I’ll do it, only let me go!”

“No; pay first! Run him over to our rooms,” suggested Dunk. They were not far from the quadrangle, and catching hold of Ikey they ran him around into High Street and through the gateway beside Chittenden Hall to Wright. There, up in Andy’s and Dunk’s room, Ikey was made to disgorge his cash. But they were merciful to him and only took the difference in price.

“Now you tell us how it happened, and we’ll let you go,” promised Andy.

“It was all Hashmi’s fault,” declared Ikey. “I believed him when he said his brother in Japan had sent him a box of fine vawses. Hashmi said he didn’t need ’em all, and I said maybe we could sell ’em. So I did.”

“That was all right; but why did you stick up the price?” asked Andy.

“A fellow has to make money,” returned Ikey, innocently enough, and Dunk laughed.

“All right,” said Andy’s roommate. “Don’t do it again, that’s all. Who is Hashmi’s brother?”

“One of ’em keeps that Jap store where you were looking in the window,” said Ikey, edging out of the room, “and the other is in Japan. He sent the stuff over to be sold in the regular way, but that sly Hashmi fooled me. Never again!”

“And you passed it on to us,” said Andy with a laugh.

“Well, it’s all in the game.”

“Still, we’ve got the stuff,” said Ted.

They had, but had they known it all they would have learned that, even at the lowered price they were paying dearly enough for the ornaments, and at that Hashmi and Ikey divided a goodly sum between them.

The college days passed on. Andy and Dunk were settling down to the grind of study, making it as easy as they could for themselves, as did the other students.

Andy kept on with his football practice, and made progress. He was named as second substitute on the freshman team and did actually play through the fourth quarter in an important game, after it had been taken safely into the Yale camp. But he was proud even to do that, and made a field goal that merited him considerable applause.

Mortimer had dropped out of the varsity team. There was good reason, for he would not train, and, though he could play brilliantly at times, he could not be depended on.

“I don’t care!” he boasted to his sporting crowd. “I can have some fun, now.”

Several times he and his crowd had come around to ask Dunk to go out with them, but Dunk had refused, much to Mortimer’s chagrin.

“Oh, come on, be a good fellow!” he had urged.

“No, I’ve got to do some boning.”

“Oh, forget it!”

But Dunk would not, for which Andy was glad.

Then came a period when Dunk went to pieces in his recitations. He was warned by his professors and tried to make up for it by hard study. He was not naturally brilliant and certain lessons came hard to him.

He grew discouraged and talked of withdrawing. Andy did all he could for him, even to the neglect of his own standing, but it seemed to do no good.

“What’s the use of it all, anyhow?” demanded Dunk. “I’ll spend four mortal years here, and come out with a noddle full of musty old Latin and Greek, go to work in dad’s New York office and forget it all in six months. I might as well start forgetting it now.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” said Andy.

“Well, maybe I have. Hanged if I see how you do it!”

“I don’t do so well.”

“But you don’t get floored as I do! 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. “There’s a peach of a show at Poli’s. Let’s take it in and have supper at Burke’s afterward.”

Dunk got up.

“Hanged if I don’t!” he said, with a defiant look at Andy.

“That’s the stuff! Be a sport!” challenged Mortimer. “Coming along, Blair?”

“No.”

Mortimer laughed.

“Go down among the dead ones!” he cried. “Come on, Dunk, we’ll make a night of it!”

And they went out together, leaving Andy alone in the silent room.