For several minutes Andy stood still. He looked about the room--a room suggestive in many ways of the presence and character of Dunk. There was even on the mantel a fragment of the Japanese vase he had broken that time. "I'll go to him," spoke Andy, softly. He went out on the campus, not heeding many calls from friends to join them. When they noted his manner they, wisely, did not press the matter. Perhaps they guessed. Andy walked out Whitney Avenue to East Rock Road and turned into the park. "I wonder where I'll find him?" he mused, as he gazed around. "Queer that Ikey should put up a game like this." Walking on a little way, Andy saw a solitary figure under a tree. He knew who it was. The other saw him coming, but did not stir. Presently they were within speaking distance. Andy paused a moment and then, holding out his hand, said softly: "Dunk!" The figure looked up, and a little smile crept over the moody face. "Andy!" cried Dunk, stepping forward. The next moment their hands had met in a clasp such as they never had felt before. They looked into each other's eyes, and there was much meaning in the glance. "Andy--Andy--can you--forgive me?" "Of course, Dunk; I understand." "All right, old man. That is the last time. Never again! Never again!" And Dunk meant it. CHAPTER XXIV LINK'S VISIT Busy days followed. After the football game, the quarrel of Dunk and Andy, and their reconciliation, brought about so effectively by Ikey Stein, little of moment happened except the varsity football games, which Andy followed with devoted interest, hoping that by the next term he would be chosen for a place on the team. The students settled down to hard work, with the closing of the outdoor sporting season, and there were days of hard study. Yale is no place for weak students, and Andy soon found that he must "toe the mark" in more senses than one. He had to give his days and some of his nights to "grinding." For some time Andy did not understand how Ikey had brought about the meeting of Dunk and himself--at least, he did not know how the peacemaker had induced Dunk to go to the park. But one day the latter explained. Following the dramatic scene in Burke's, Dunk had gone out. Not wishing to face Andy he had stayed at a hotel all night. In the morning, while he was remorseful and nearly ill, Ikey, the faithful, had sought him out, having in some way heard of the quarrel. Ikey was not given to frequenting Burke's, but he had his own way of ferreting out news. To Dunk he had gone, then, and had told much the same story he had related to Andy, giving it a different twist. And he had so worked on Dunk's feelings, picturing how terribly Andy must feel, that finally Dunk had consented to go to the park. "Well, I'm glad I did, old man!" said Dunk, clapping Andy on the back. "And so am I. I'm only wondering whether Ikey faked that 'sob story' or not." "What of it? It certainly did the business, all right." "It sure did."