Andy at Yale Part 39

"Who's he?"

"That farmer lad I was telling you about--the one we fellows saved from a beating."

"Oh, yes. I remember."

"He's working here now. He came in to borrow some money. I found him here when I came back--our door was open."

"By Jove! That lock! I meant to get it fixed. Well, I can see what happened. The quadrangle mystery deepens, and I'm elected. The beggar got my watch!" Dunk started out.

"Where are you going?" asked Andy.

"To telephone for a locksmith. I'm going to have our door fixed. Don't laugh--the old saying--'lock the stable after the horse is stolen.' I know it."

"Wait a minute," suggested Andy. "While you're at it hadn't you better give notice of the robbery?"

"I suppose so. But what good will it do? None of the fellows have gotten back anything that's been taken. But I sure am sorry to lose that watch."

"So am I," spoke Andy. "Look here, Dunk, there are two persons who might have taken it--no, three."

"How three?"

"Counting me."

"Oh, piffle. But I suppose if I made a row it would look bad for Ikey and your friend Link."

"It sure would. I think maybe you'd better not make a row."

"You mean sit down and let 'em walk off with my watch without saying a word?"

"Oh, no. Report the loss, of course. But don't mention any names."

"Well, I wouldn't like to mention Ikey--for the honor of Yale, and all that, you know."

"I agree with you. And, for certain reasons, I wouldn't like you to mention Link. I don't know about him, but I believe he's as honest as can be. Of course he was in need of money, and if your watch lay in plain sight there'd be a big temptation. But I'd hate to think it."

"So would I, after what you've told me about him. I won't think it, until, at least, we get more information. It was my fault for leaving it around that way. It's too bad! Dad will sure be sorry to hear it's gone. I'm going to keep mum about it--maybe it will turn up."

"I hope so," returned Andy. "I hardly believe Link would take it, yet you never can tell."

"Anyhow, we'll get a new lock put on, and I'll report my watch," said Dunk. "Then we'll forget all about it and have some fun. Come on, I'm hungry. It isn't so much the money value of the thing, as the a.s.sociations. Hang it all--what a queer world this is. Oh, but you should see the girls, Andy!"

"I'm counting on it!"

When they came back, after a hasty session at the "eating joint," there was a note for each of them tucked under the door, which they had managed to lock pending the attaching of the new mechanism.

"From Gaffington," announced Dunk, ripping his open. "He's giving a blow-out to-night. Wants me to come."

"Same here," announced Andy, reading his, and then glancing anxiously at his roommate.

"I'm not going," said Dunk, wadding up the missive and tossing it into the waste-paper basket.

"Neither am I," said Andy, doing the same.

They began to "doll up," which, being interpreted, means to attire oneself in one's best raiment, including the newest tie, the stiffest collar and the most uncomfortable shirt, to say nothing of patent leather shoes a size too small.

"Whew!" panted Andy, as he adjusted his scarf for the fourth or fifth time, "these bargains of Ikey's aren't what they're cracked up to be."

"I should say not. I don't believe they're real silk."

"Maybe not. They say the j.a.ps can make something that looks like it, but which isn't any more silk than a shoestring."

"I believe you. Maybe Ikey has been dabbling in some more of Hashmi's stuff."

"I wouldn't wonder. Say, it's a queer way for a fellow to get through college, isn't it?"

"It sure is. Yet he's a decent sort of chap. Only for that affair of the vases."

"Oh, he made rest.i.tution in that case."

They went on dressing, with hurried glances at the clock now and then to make sure they would not be late. From out in the raised court came a hail:

"Oh, you, Dunk!"

"Stick out your noddle, Blair!"

"Come on down!"

"That's Thad and his crowd," announced Andy.

"Let 'em holler," advised Dunk. "I'm not going with them."

"Oh, you Dunk!"

"Go on away!" called Dunk, shouting out of the window.

"Oh, for the love of mush!"

"Look at him!"

"Girls, all right!"

"Come on up and rough-house 'em!"

These cries greeted the appearance out of the window of the upper part of Dunk's body, attired in a gaudy waistcoat.

"Is that door locked, Andy?" gasped Dunk, hurriedly pulling in his head.

"Yes."