him upon the back too. Deciding instantly that the tall, elderly, distinguished-looking man nearest him was the one who had made the advance, Harold, with a joyous exclamation, slapped that individual smartly on the back in return. Having caused his victim to turn quickly around, Harold executed deftly the jig step of Lester Laurel, thrust out an eager hand and said brightly, "My name's Harold Lamb. What's yours?"
He was chagrined to see the elderly stranger freeze up at once. Never before had this dignified gaffer been thus informally greeted. He frowned at Harold. He stared. Then he gave the explanation for his conduct with pompous pride.
"I am the Dean of this University," said the stranger crisply.
Harold's face fell and he moved away as quickly as possible. He had been in Tate but five minutes and already he had annoyed Dean Amos Pennypacker by slapping him upon the back! Tate was such a strange, confusing environment. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. If only he had Harlow Gaines or "Dusty" Rhoades or Dave Keay to show him around. He did not even know what to do next.
At that moment two young men with tanned faces and mischievous eyes seemed to solve
