“Stop that taxi!” was the slogan. “Look inside!” Opposed by a solid mass of humanity, there was nothing for the driver of the vehicle to do but stop. He did so, protesting forcibly and most impolitely. The freshmen swarmed about the dilapidated taxicab, breasting the sizzling radiator and showering questions on the fuming proprietor. Others peered in through the glass. Suspense and confusion reigned. On the corner a policeman twirled his club and looked on in good-natured amusement. On such occasions as this the Law was ever lenient with youth. The suspense was short-lived. A cry of joyous triumph arose and the doors of the cab were snatched open. “Here he is!” was the cry. “Trying to sneak past! Nothing doing, Staples! Try again, Soph!” “Pull him out!” advised a fellow well removed from the center of the crowd. “Turn around, cabby! No thoroughfare, old sport! Detour by Market street. Police orders.” Then of a sudden triumph came to an end. A disgusted voice arose above the joyous clamor. “It isn’t Staples! It’s only General Grant!” “_What!_” “_You’re crazy!_” “_Let’s see!_” “_Show us!_” “_Oh, shucks!_” Leonard was extremely dignified throughout what was, quite naturally, an annoying experience to a peaceful traveler of the city streets. “You fellows haven’t any right,” he said firmly, “to stop this taxi. I’ve paid the driver to take me to Kingman’s Restaurant, and--” “Sorry, Grant, but this street’s barred to traffic.” The snub-nosed freshman blocking the door on one side grinned exasperatingly. Behind him, his companions pushed and shoved in an effort to see into the dark interior of the cab. “Look on the floor, Higbee! Bet you Staples is in there!” some one shouted. Hands explored the corners and one boy produced a flash light and cast its rays about. Disappointment was writ large on the countenances of all. “Not here!” was proclaimed. “Where’d he go?” asked Higbee, who appeared to be one of the leading spirits. “Who?” asked Leonard densely. “Slim Staples. Where’d he get to?” “Oh, Slim?” Leonard leaned out of one door and looked up the block. In front of the well-lighted and for the moment unguarded entrance to the restaurant, a tall youth paused to wave a hand ere he disappeared. Leonard laughed softly. “Why,” he went on, “Slim’s just gone in to dinner.” “Yes, he has!” jeered Higbee. But others had seen the incident, although too late to interfere, and the dire news was being shouted up and down the block. “He got in! I saw him!” “Oh, your grandmother! How could he?” “Yes, he did! Arthur saw him, too! He stopped at the door and waved--” “What’s that? Staples made it? When? How could he? What? Walked right in the door! Say, where were you guys? You were supposed to--” “Come on! Let’s stop him! Where’d he go? Who saw him?” “They say he got in!” “Rot! He’s in the crowd somewhere! This cab was a stall! Come on, Freshmen!”