Harold hesitated. The taxi might be expensive. He ought to walk to save money. But he simply couldn't. He felt incapable of traveling a block. He laboriously pulled himself into the tonneau of the machine and said, "Fifteen Clark Street."
Immediately the taxi man seemed called upon to give a demonstration to prove that his taxicab wasn't as dead as it looked. He bounced down University Street at an amazing speed. At the corner of Clark he turned so sharply that Harold was flung off the seat and, every hurt spot on his body screaming for mercy, down to the floor of the machine. The Freshman made a half-hearted attempt or two to rise from his undignified position during the last hundred yards of his journey. But it was no use. When the driver, having stopped the car with sickening suddenness, leaped from the seat and opened the rear door, he discovered his passenger huddled helplessly on the floor. The chauffeur sniffed. For an instant he suspected something anti-Volsteadian. Then he concluded otherwise.
Harold finally pulled himself together and, assisted by the chauffeur, reached the sidewalk. He reached into his sweater for his wallet and paid off the taxi man, who drove away.
As the Freshman stood for a moment gird-
