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

"Come up to my room and we'll see what's on hand," said Doc, entering
the Dickinson. "Too bad you're stuck down in the Green--no house
spirit there--you must get in with us next year."

"Doc's a great fellow," said the Tennessee Shad, as Macnooder went
quickly ahead, "a great business man. He's a sort of clearing house
for the whole school. Say, he's taken a regular fancy to you."

"What did he get his 'L' for?" said Stover, as the Tennessee Shad, to
gain time, showed him the lower floor.

"Quarter on the eleven last fall. Here's the Triumphant Egghead's
room. Isn't it a peach? They've got a good crowd here; you must be
with them or us next year. Here's Turkey Reiter's and Butcher Stevens'
quarters. They're crackerja