"That old, stone, block-house affair?"
"You win."
"Why, it's not on the campus."
"No, it ain't," said Jimmy, flicking the flies off the near horse; "but they've got a warm bunch of Indians all the same." Then, remembering the Wild-Western methods of driving, he added: "Don't forget about the ginger. Sock it to them. Fare, please."
"I'll sock it," said Stover with a knowing air. "I may be tender, but I'm not green."
He slapped a coin into the outstretched hand and reached back for the battle-scarred valise, to perceive the keen eye of Mr. Hopkins set on him with amusement.
"Well, Sport, ta-ta, and good luck," said Stover, who had mentally ticketed him as a commercial traveler. "Hope you sell out."
"Thanks," said Mr. Hopkins, with a twitch to his lip. "Now just one word to the wise."
"What's that?"
"Don't get discouraged."