"Just come, Stover?" said Macnooder at last. "Yes, sir." "On the noon stage?" "Yes, sir." "What form?" "Second, sir." "Why, shake, then, brother," said the Tennessee Shad, offering his hand. "Shake hands with Doc Macnooder." Doc Macnooder grasped his hand with extra cordiality, saying: "What house?" "Green House, sir," said Stover, awed by the sight of a 'varsity jersey. "I'm rooming with--with Mr. White." "What'll you have?" "I beg pardon." "What'll you have?" "Why," said Stover, quite taken back by the offer, "I think it's up to me, sir." "Rats!" said Macnooder. "If you've been in tow of Butsey, I'll bet you've been paying out all day. Butsey White's a low-down, white-livered cuss, who'd take advantage of a freshman. Step up." "I'll have another one of these," said Stover gratefully, feeling his heart warm toward the unexpected friends. "Bet Butsey's stuck you pretty hard," said the Tennessee Shad, nodding wisely. "He's just loaded with the spondulix, too." "Well, he did sort of impose on me," said Stover, thinking of the frankfurters at Laloo's. "It's a shame," said Macnooder indignantly. "You're pretty slick?" "As slick as they make 'em." "Say, bub," said Al, with his dreamy drawl, "is this the line of talk you've been putting out to that bunch of Indians down in the Green?" "Oh, I'll put it out." "Say, you're going to have a wonderful time here!" "Watch me," said Dink, cocking his head; but with less confidence than when he had announced his intentions on the stage-coach. "Young fellow," said Al, leaning back and looking at him from under his eyelids, "you're in wrong. You don't know what you've come to. Why, there's a bunch of young stock jobbers around here that would make a Wall Street bunco-steerer take to raising chickens! Slick? Why, some of 'em are so slick that when they come in I lock the cash drawer and stuff cotton in my ears." "Bring 'em on," said Dink disdainfully. At this moment there was a loud flop by the window in the rear, and the Tennessee Shad rose slowly from the floor. At the same moment Doc Macnooder, ambling innocently by on the farther sidewalk, turned, dashed across the street, bounded into the shop and, returning to the door, carefully surveyed the approaches. "Glad to do it," said Macnooder, without enthusiasm. "Finish up and we'll fit you out in a jiffy." When the three went shuffling down the street Al did an unusual, an unprecedented thing. He actually made the turn of the counter and stationed himself at the door, watching the group depart--Macnooder with his arm on Stover's shoulder, the Tennessee Shad guarding the other side. When they disappeared beyond Bill Orum's, the cobbler's, in the direction of the Dickinson, he said slowly, in profound admiration: "Well, I'll be jiggered! If those body-snatchers don't get electrocuted, they'll own Fifth Avenue!" V