"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.