Glowing with health and vigor, and yet lame and sore from the hard tackle, Andy went to his room, to find Dunk Chamber impatiently waiting for him. "Oh, there you are, you old mud lark!" was the greeting. "I've been waiting for you. Come on around to Burke's and have some ale and a rarebit." "No thanks. I'm in training, you know." "That's so. Been out on the field?" "Yes. I wonder you don't go in for that." "Too much like work. I might try for the crew or the nine. I'm afraid of spoiling my manly beauty by getting somebody's boot heel in the eye. By the way, you don't look particularly handsome. What has somebody been doing to you?" "Nothing more than usual. It's all in the game." "Then excuse me! Are you coming to Burke's? You can take sarsaparilla, you know. Thad and his bunch are coming." "Sure, I don't mind trailing along. Got to get at a little of that infernal Greek, though." "All right, I'll wait. The fellows will be along soon." And as Andy did a little of necessary studying he could not help wondering where Dunk would end. A fine young fellow, with plenty of money, and few responsibilities. Yale--indeed any college--offered numberless temptations for such as he. "Well, I can't help it," thought Andy. "He's got to look out for himself." And again there seemed to come to him that whisper: "Am I my brother's keeper?" Surely Dunk was a college brother. Andy had scarcely finished wrestling with his Homer when there came a series of loud and jolly hails: "Oh, you Dunk!" "Stick out your top, Blair!" "Here come the boys!" exclaimed Dunk. "Now for some fun!" The three friends trooped in. "Some little practice to-day, eh, Blair?" remarked Bob Hunter. "And some little tackle Gaffington gave you, too!" added Thad. "Yes, but Andy got back at him good and proper, and put him out of the game," remarked Ted. "It was a beaut!" "Did you and Mortimer have a run-in?" asked Dunk quickly. "Oh, no more than is usual in practice," replied Andy, lightly. "He shook me up and I came back at him." "If that's football, give me a good old-fashioned fight!" laughed Dunk. "Well, if we're going to have some fun, come on." As they were leaving the room they were confronted by two other students. Andy recognized one as Isaac Stein, more popularly known as Ikey, a sophomore, and Hashmi Yatta, a Japanese student of more than usual brilliancy. "Oh boys, such a business!" exclaimed Ikey. He was a Jew, and not ashamed of it, often making himself the butt of the many expressions used against his race. On this account he was more than tolerated--he had many friends out of his own faith. "Such a business!" he went on, using his hands, without which he used to say he could not talk. "Well, what is it now?" asked Dunk with good-humored patience. "Neckties or silk shirts?" for Ikey was working his way through college partly by acting as agent for various tradesmen, getting a commission on his sales. Dunk was one of his best customers.