"I don't think--I have," he observed vaguely.

The small eyes of the full moon disappeared altogether this time.

"Well, you've got to matriculate, you know," he said. "You'd better
do that sometime. But don't speak of it to your professors, or to
anybody connected with the college. It must be kept secret."

"Will I be too late for the first recitations?"

The eager question was on the lad's lips but never uttered. The
trio had wheeled carelessly away.

There passed them, coming toward David, a tall, gaunt, rough-
whiskered man, wearing a paper collar without a cravat, and a
shiny, long-tailed, black cloth coat. He held a Bible opened at
Genesis.

"Good morning, brother," he said frankly, speaking in the simple
kindness which comes from being a husband and father. "You are
going to enter the Bible College, I see."

"Yes, sir," replied the lad. "Are you one of the professors?"

The middle-aged man laughed painfully.

"I am one of the students."

David felt that he had inflicted a wound. "How many students are
here?" he asked quickly.