“Sure I will,” grinned the other. “And try to keep the boys out for a little while, will you, Lanky?” “If it’s possible, but you know as long as any fellow has a nickel in his jeans, and the spirit moves, he can’t be kept away from Mother Louden’s grub corner with a derrick. But I’ve just thought of a funny story I’ll tell ’em after Lef has gone to the block.” Lanky hurried away, while Frank passed through into the other room. Two minutes later Lef hurried into the place and looked around. He seemed disappointed, and frowned. Possibly the conceited fellow may even have imagined from the air of mystery that Lanky assumed when telling him some one wanted to see him, that one of the girls, even Minnie herself, was there with a message. Frank beckoned to him, earnestly. He saw Lef’s face turn red at once, but since no one could ever accuse the fellow of a lack of nerve, it was not strange that he started toward the corner where Frank was standing hiding something behind him. When Lef reached the other he was sneering as he said: “Was it _you_ sent for me? If I’d known it, I wouldn’t have taken the trouble to come, and you understand that, or you wouldn’t have had Lanky make me believe it might be Minnie.” Frank flushed a trifle at the mention of that name, for he and Lef had long been competitors for the favor of the prettiest girl in Columbia. “That would have been too bad, for you, Lef,” he said, quietly. “Oh! say you so. Perhaps you’ll take the trouble to tell me why?” observed the other, apparently as bold as ever, though Frank could detect a little uneasiness about his manner that told of newly awakened fears. “Because if you hadn’t come I’d have taken the matter up with Professor Parke,” and Frank looked him straight in the eye as he spoke. “Matter--what matter?” demanded Lef, shivering at the same time. Frank stepped aside, and in so doing exposed upon the table one of the little trays used by Mr. Oswald when instructing his pupils in the art of the mapmaker. “That’s your tray, Lef; it has your own signature on the tag to make certain.” “Oh! I don’t deny it. But what under the sun are you driving at, Frank Allen? I’m beginning to believe that all the praise that’s been showered on the mighty factor in saving that punk game last Saturday has gone to his head, and that you’re getting ratty.” “Wait and see. There’s the imprint of your left hand as plain as day. You heard me say that no two fingers in the world would make the same impression, or thumbs either for that matter. Well I’m going to show you that the _same thumb_ can and always will make a similar impression; and many a rascal has gone to jail just because of it.” With a quick motion Frank flirted a paper before the astonished eyes of the boy who stood there. Lef turned as white as a ghost, and had to grit his teeth to keep from having them chatter with his sudden fright.