That letter was due to reach the Congressman five days later. Seven days after Bunny had posted it, a well-dressed and affable gentleman called at the Ross home in Angel City, stating that he was the owner of an oil concession in Siberia and wanted to interest Mr. Ross in it. Dad was up at Paradise, so Bunny talked with the gentleman, and finding him humane and catholic in his interests, told him all about Paul, and showed him Jeff Korbitty’s letter. They discussed the situation in Siberia, and the gentleman said there had been no declaration of war against the Russians, so what right did we have fighting them? Bunny said it seemed the same way to him; and then the gentleman went away, and no more was heard about the oil concession, but a couple of weeks later Bunny received a second letter from the ex-cowboy soldier, bitterly reproaching him for having’ “throwed me down,” as he must have done, because Jeff hadn’t wrote to nobody else, but the army had got onto him, and they had throwed him into the can just like he had said, and he was smuggling out this letter to tell Bunny that he could go to hell and stay there. Which was one stage more in the education of a little idealist! Bunny simply had to talk to somebody about this episode. Next day, as he was driving away from the university in his sporty new car, he noticed a young man walking with a slight limp, and it struck him as impolite for a student of the university to drive in a sporty new car, while an instructor of the university had to walk with a slight limp. Bunny slowed up, and inquired, “Will you ride with me, Mr. Irving?” “If you’re going my way,” said the other. “Whatever way you wish,” was Bunny’s reply. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk with you, and it would be a favor to me.” The young man got in, and stated the address to which he wished to go; then he said, “What is on your mind?” “I want to ask you why you think it is that we are keeping an army in Siberia.” Mr. Daniel Webster Irving was a peculiar-looking person; his head came up a long way out of his collar, and with its quick alert movements it made you think of a quail sitting in a tree and looking out for you and your gun. He had a brown moustache, rather bristly and rebellious, and grey eyes which he fixed upon you sharply when you said something stupid in class. He fixed them now upon Bunny, demanding, “What makes you interested in that?” “I have a friend with the troops there, nearly a year, and I’ve had some news that worries me. I don’t understand what’s going on.” Said Mr. Irving: “Are you asking me as a student, or as a friend?” “Why,” replied Bunny, a little puzzled, “I’d be glad to be a friend, if I might. What is the difference?” “The difference,” said the other, “might be the loss of my position in the university.” Bunny flushed, embarrassed. “I hadn’t thought of anything like that, Mr. Irving.”