"Way down there, eh? What you doing up here, then?" Willie Trigger again looked up into the gaunt creature's long, thin face, then down at the ground into which he proceeded to bore with the stubbed toe of one small shoe. "Come to see you run," he mumbled, and grinned sheepishly. Bunny laughed drily. "Well, I'll"--he began and stopped. Then he said:--"You wait here, little chap; I'll just get into some clothes and we'll go home together; it's nearly noon. I live down your way----" The gentleness of his voice gave Willie Trigger a new courage. "I know it," he exclaimed proudly; "I live 'cross the street." The runner plunged into the box-like compartment of the disused judges' stand from which he issued in an incredibly short space of time more properly and far more becomingly clad. "How did you know I was going to practice out here?" he inquired with a show of interest. He made no effort to look down--for it would have meant an effort. "I follered yeh," was the now prompt reply. And into Bunny's man-heart that instant there welled a certain pride, but it was nowise to be compared to that which swelled the boy-heart of Willie Trigger, hero-worshipper. And so, down Washtenaw Avenue they walked together, through College Street and on into the campus and across; Willie Trigger the while attempting vainly to keep step with his ill-matched companion. At a corner they separated. "You're going out to Field Day on Saturday, aren't you?" Bunny asked. Willie Trigger grinned, and nodded. "Don't buy a ticket," the giant said, "I'll give you one; you remind me; will you?" The small but agile heart of Willie Trigger leaped into his throat. All he could say was "Whoop!" And saying that he ran, in the very excess, the richness and the wealth, of the joy that was his. A ticket! A ticket whereby he might enter through the gate with the crowd--a part of it--a proud part of it! And all this to be granted him by Bunny himself--Bunny who was to run in the hundred yards for the Western Intercollegiate championship; he, William Watts Trigger whose father was a mere night watchman, and who for a week had been examining the fair ground fence for vulnerable points! Willie Trigger found himself, of a sudden, voiceless, too full, by far, for utterance. Surely, one day--some day--there would come an opportunity of repaying in kind the beneficence of Bunny, Willie Trigger considered. But the beneficence was very great. Little did he realize that soon, and by the very beneficence itself was he to be put in the way of paying back his benefactor by casting light upon an unforeseen occurrence of great import, that but for him, must forever remain obscure. As it was, Bunny had made a friend, a champion, though he knew it not. II