Hoffland stood trembling and totally unable to reply to the questions addressed to him by the crowd. Suddenly he felt a hand upon his shoulder; and raising his eyes he saw Mowbray. He uttered a long sigh of relief; and drawing his hat over his eyes, apparently to conceal his paleness and agitation, took his friend's arm and dragged him away. "What in the world is all this about?" asked Mowbray. "Oh!" said Hoffland, trying to smile, but failing lamentably, "Mr. Denis is going to kill me!" And Mowbray felt that the hand upon his arm was trembling. CHAPTER XIII. HOFFLAND MAKES HIS WILL. When they had reached the open street, and the crowd of curious students were no longer visible, Hoffland, growing gradually calmer, and with faint smiles, related to his companion what had just occurred; that is to say, in general terms--rather in substance, it must be confessed, than in detail. Mr. Denis and himself, he said, had at first commenced conversing in a very friendly manner, the conversation had then grown animated, and Mr. Denis had become somewhat excited; then, at the conclusion of one of his (Hoffland's) observations, he had declared himself deeply offended, and farther, announced his intention of dispatching a mortal defiance to him on the ensuing morning. Mowbray in vain endeavored to arrive at the particulars of the affair. Hoffland obstinately evaded detailing the cause of the quarrel. "Well, Charles," said Mowbray, "you are certainly unlucky--to quarrel so quickly at college; but----" "Was it my fault?" replied the boy, in a reproachful tone. "I don't know; your relation is so general, you descend so little to particulars, that I have not been able to form an opinion of the amount of blame which attaches to each." "Blame!" said Hoffland. "Oh, Ernest! you are not a true friend." "Why, Charles?" "You do not espouse my part." Mowbray uttered a sigh of dissatisfaction. "Do you know," he said, "that my place is rather yonder, as the friend and adviser of Denis?" "Well, sir," said Hoffland, in a hurt tone, "as you please." Mowbray said calmly: "No, I will not embrace your advice; I will not leave you, a mere youth, alone, to go and range myself on the side of Denis, though we have been intimate friends for years. He has numbers of acquaintances and friends; you could count yours upon the fingers of one hand." "On the little finger of one hand, say," Hoffland replied, regaining his good humor. "Well," Mowbray said calmly, "then there is all the more reason for my espousing your cause--since you hint that I am the little finger." "No, I will promote you," Hoffland answered, smiling; "you shall have this finger, one rank above the little finger, you see." And he held up his left hand, touching the third finger. Then the boy turned away and laughed as merrily and carelessly as before the disagreeable events of the evening. Mowbray looked at him with a faint smile.