Andy at Yale Part 48

"That's the way to talk!" cried Andy. "You didn't hear where the hundred dollars came from, did you?"

"No, and I can see that my explanation of how I got it isn't going to be believed in court. But it's true, just the same."

"Then the truth will come out--some time," said Andy, firmly. "In the meanwhile, if I can do anything, let me know."

"Thank you."

The months pa.s.sed. Spring was faintly heralded in milder weather, by the return of the birds, and the presence of little buds on the leafless trees.

Somewhat to the disappointment of Andy there were no more quadrangle robberies. That is, Andy was disappointed to a certain extent. For if the thefts had still kept up after the discharge of Link, it would at least show that someone besides the young farmer was guilty. As it was, it made his case appear all the worse.

"But I'm not going to believe it!" exclaimed Andy. "Link is not guilty!"

"Go to it, old man!" cried Dunk. "I'm with you to the end."

Indoor baseball practice was held in the cage on Elm street, back of the gymnasium, and Andy was picked to catch for the freshman nine. Dunk, to his delight, was first choice for pitcher. Then came intense longings to get out on the real diamond.

The chance came sooner than was expected, for there was an early Spring.

The ground was still a little soft and damp, but it could be played on, and soon crowds of students began pouring out to Yale Field to watch the practice and the games between the cla.s.s nines, or the varsity and the scrubs.

"Come on now, Dunk, sting 'em in!"

"Fool him, boy, fool him!"

"Make him give you a nice one!"

"Watch his gla.s.s arm break!"

These cries greeted Dunk, who was pitching for the freshmen against a scrub nine one afternoon. It was a few days before the game with the Princeton freshmen--the first game of the season, and the Yale freshman coaches were anxious to get their nine into good shape.

"Ah! There he goes!" came a yell, as the scrub batter hit the ball Dunk pitched in to Andy. But the ball went straight back into the hands of Dunk, who stopped it, hot liner though it was, and the batter was out--retiring the side.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

VICTORY

Mortimer Gaffington stayed on at Yale. How he did it Andy and Dunk, who alone seemed to know of his father's failure, could not tell. Andy's mother confirmed her first news about Mr. Gaffington's losses. Yet Mortimer stayed at college.

Afterward it developed that he was in dire straits, and only by much ingenuity did he manage to raise enough to keep up appearances. He borrowed right and left, taking from one to satisfy the demands of another--an endless chain sort of arrangement that was bound to break sooner or later.

But Mortimer had managed to make a number of new friends in the "fast"

set and these were not careful to remind him of the loans he solicited.

Then, also, these youths had plenty of money. On them Mortimer preyed.

He gave a number of suppers which were the talk of the college, but he was wise enough to keep them within certain bounds so that he was not called to account. But he was walking over thin ice, and none knew it better than himself. But there was a fatal fascination in it.

Several times he came to Dunk to invite him to attend some of the midnight affairs, but Dunk declined, and Andy was very glad. Dunk said Mortimer had several times asked for loans, but had met with refusals.

"I'm not going to give him any more," said Dunk. "He's had enough of my cash now."

"Hasn't he paid any back?" asked Andy.

"Some, yes, and the next time he wants more than at first. I'm done."

"I should think so," remarked Andy. "He's played you long enough."

"Oh, Mortimer isn't such a bad sort when you get to know him," went on Dunk, easily. "I rather like him, but I can see that it isn't doing anyone any good to be in his crowd. That's why I cut it out. I came here to make something of myself--I owe it to dad, who's putting up the cash, and I'm not going to disappoint him. Then, too, you old scout, I suppose you wouldn't let me go sporting around the way I used to."

"Not much!" laughed Andy, but there was an undernote of seriousness in his words.

There was nothing new in Link's case. It was still hanging fire in the courts. And there were no more robberies. It was somewhat of a puzzle to Andy that they should cease with the arrest of Link, whom he could not believe guilty.

Dunk's watch had not been recovered, nor had any more of the valuable books, one of which was found by the detective in Link's room, been discovered. How it got in the closet of the young farmer, unless he put it there, the lawyer whom Andy and Dunk had hired said he could not understand.

"I've had my man interview the boarding mistress at the house in Crown street," the lawyer told the boys, "and she says no one went to Link's room, but himself, the day the book was found. But I haven't given up yet."

It was the night before the Yale-Princeton freshman baseball game, which was to take place at Yale Field. Andy and Dunk were in their room, talking over the possibilities, and perfecting their code of signals.

"It looks as though it would be good weather," observed Andy, getting up and going to the window. "Nice and clear outside."

"If it only keeps so," returned Dunk. "Hope we have a good crowd."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come!" called Andy and Dunk together. The two chums looked at each other curiously.

Ikey Stein entered, his face all smiles.

"Such bargains!" he began.

"Socks or neckties?" asked Andy, looking for a book to throw at the intruder.

"Socks--silk ones, and such colors! Look!" and from various pockets he pulled pairs of half hose. They fell about the room, giving it a decidedly rainbow effect.

"Oh, for the love of tomatoes!" cried Dunk. "Have you been raiding a paint store?"

"These are all the latest shades--the fashion just over from Paris!"

exclaimed Ikey, indignantly. "I bought a fellow's stock out and I can let you have these for a quarter a pair. They're worth fifty in any store."

"Take 'em away!" begged Andy. "They hurt my eyes. I won't be able to play ball to-morrow."

"You ought to buy some--look, I have some dark blue ones," urged Ikey, holding them up. "These are very--chaste!"

"Those aren't so bad," conceded Dunk, tolerantly.