Kirk grinned boyishly.  “I didn’t have much to do with it; these are the fellows.”

“Don’t believe him,” interrupted Ringold.

“Sure! he’s too modest,” Higgins chimed in.  “Fine fellow an’ all that, understand, but he’s got two faults—­he’s modest and he’s lazy.  He’s caused a lot of uneasiness to his father and me.  Father’s a fine man, too.”  He nodded his long, narrow head solemnly.

“We know who did the trick for us,” added Anderson, the straw-haired half-back.

“Glad you dropped in,” Mr. Padden assured them.  “Anything you boys want and can’t get, let me know.”

When he had gone Higgins averred:  “There’s a fine man—­peaceful, refined—­got a lovely character, too.  Let’s be gentlemen while we’re in his place.”

Ringold rose.  “I’m going to dance, fellows,” he announced, and his companions followed him, with the exception of the cadaverous Higgins, who maintained that dancing was a pastime for the frivolous and weak.

When they returned to their table they found a stranger was seated with him, who rose as Higgins made him known.

“Boys, meet my old friend, Mr. Jefferson Locke, of St. Louis.  He’s all right.”

The college men treated this new recruit with a hilarious cordiality, to which he responded with the air of one quite accustomed to such reunions.

“I was at the game this afternoon,” he explained, when the greetings were over, “and recognized you chaps when you came in.  I’m a football fan myself.”

“You look as if you might have played,” said Anthony, sizing up the broad frame of the Missourian with the critical eye of a coach.

“Yes.  I used to play.”

“Where?”

Mr. Locke avoided answer by calling loudly for a waiter, but when the orders had been taken Kirk repeated: 

“Where did you play, Mr. Locke?”

“Left tackle.”

“What university?”

“Oh one of the Southern colleges.  It was a freshwater school—­you wouldn’t know the name.”  He changed the subject quickly by adding: 

“I just got into town this morning and I’m sailing to-morrow.  I couldn’t catch a boat to-day, so I’m having a little blow-out on my own account.  When I recognized you all, I just butted in.  New York is a lonesome place for a stranger.  Hope you don’t mind my joining you.”

“Not at all!” he was assured.

When he came to pay the waiter he displayed a roll of yellow-backed bills that caused Anthony to caution him: 

“If I were you I’d put that in my shoe.  I know this place.”

Locke only laughed.  “There’s more where this came from.  However, that’s one reason I’d like to stick around with you fellows.  I have an idea I’ve been followed, and I don’t care to be tapped on the head.  If you will let me trail along I’ll foot the bills.  That’s a fair proposition.”

“It certainly sounds engaging,” cried Higgins, joyously.  “The sight of that money awakens a feeling of loyalty in our breasts.  I speak for all when I say we will guard you like a lily as long as your money lasts, Mr. Locke.”