CELEBRATION OF THE OLD GRADS.
The celebration was in progress. Frank Merriwell, with Inza Burrage
at his side, was watching the fun from Vanderbilt. Frank’s heart was
troubled because of the loss of the message, but his face was smiling.
The class of ’Umpty-six was celebrating its silver-wedding. Twenty-five
years had passed since these hilarious old grads received their
sheepskins. They were back in force, and they had set out to make
things lively.
The great dinner at Heibs’ was over. But, unless one eats the dinner,
what profit to describe it. So the class of ’Umpty-six made merry
on this occasion of hilarious good cheer. After twenty-five years
the class had returned to dear old Yale, dined in the shadow of her
buildings, and drunk often and lovingly to the memory of bygone days.
A band awaited those sons of ’Umpty-six outside the door. The toasts
were over, so that now they were ready to start upon their night of
fun. What though their hair is streaked with gray! What though some
are bewhiskered to the eyes! Have they not left dignity, business
cares, and such minor matters at home?
The band struck up, “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” The ’Umpty-sixers
came out of Heibs’, arm in arm. They caught up the song, and, in full
blare, the band moved toward Chapel Street, the grads following. They
turn into Chapel Street, which, even at this hour, is brilliantly
lighted, for no one thinks of sleep to-night. And thus they move toward
Osborne Hall.
On that corner, where is now the sober recitation hall, for half a
century stood the old Yale fence, the focus of college life, the scene
of storied struggles, the theater of evening glees, the symbol of happy
days at Yale.
But now the old fence is gone. However, nothing will do for these old
grads but that a substitute, propped up by iron supports, must be set
in front of Osborn, and thither the jolly old ’Umpty-sixers direct
their course.
“To the fence! Clear the road! Let off the red fire! Turn loose the
sky-rockets and Roman candles, and cram the night full of blooming
noise!”
Up Chapel Street they come in a flare of colored fire, with the rockets
hissing skyward, the Roman candles popping aloft their gleaming balls
of colored flame, while torpedoes and giant crackers add to the racket.
The windows of the New Haven House are filled with women and pretty
girls who had been watching the hilarious crowd of grads across the
street all the evening. This is a new and wild scene to them, and now,
when they behold the ’Umpty-sixers come singing and dancing up to the
fence, not a few are more than ever impressed by the fact that it is
a dangerous thing to turn a Yale graduate loose on old New Haven town
upon the occasion of one of his class reunions.
“’Umpty-sixers, take the fence!” goes up the cry.
There follows a rush of the old fellows, all eager to gain a place on
the fence.
Then the band plays all the old college songs, and for several hours to
come these hilarious old gray-beards will bawl and howl to the strains
of the band.
But ’Umpty-six is not the only class mixed up in this general blow-out.
Other and younger classes are there, back for occasions of lesser
significance than the silver-wedding. Nearly a thousand Yale men are
surging about Osborn corner, which is kept brilliantly lighted by the
glare of Egyptian red lights. Judging by the deafening noise, it would
seem that the entire stock of fireworks in the city must have been set
off already. But they will keep coming in wagon-loads.
And in the midst of all this tumultuous rejoicing the man who has won
for Yale the baseball championship of the season is not forgotten.
“Long cheer for Merriwell!” shrieks an ’Umpty-sixer.
Then the whole vast crowd of Yale men pause to roar out the cheer for a
Yale man who to-night is more famous than all others.
No wonder that Merriwell himself felt a thrill. No wonder some of his
friends laughed while their eyes were dimmed with tears.
And on his arm was the pressure of a hand--the hand of the girl he
loved. And at his side was a radiantly beautiful girl, who felt that on
this day of his glory her joy must be even greater than his.
Hans Dunnerwurst was sobbing.
“Whut in thunder is the matter with yeou?” blurted Ephraim Gallup,
giving the Dutch youth a punch.
“I don’d knew vot id vos,” answered Hans, “but I veel like I vos peing
tickled a fedder by till I couldn’t stood him no longer alretty.”
“Begorra! Oi fale loike Oi’d nivver get over it!” said Barney Mulloy.
“Oi’ll drame av this fer a year.”
Elsie is there. She is saying nothing, but the joy in her blue eyes
speaks. She looks at Frank as that mighty cheer for him rolls up
to the rocket-riven sky. She sees Inza’s hand on Frank’s arm, and
then--then she turns to Hodge.
Bart, once called selfish, feels that he is far happier than he would
be were those men cheering for him. A good, true friend Bart had been,
and in this hour there is nothing of envy in his heart.
Why should there be? Elsie was beside him, and, somehow, he felt that
for all of Frank’s great glory, for all of bewildering, dark-eyed Inza,
he--Bart--had won the prize of prizes.
“Speech!” shouted an ’Umpty-sixer, as the cheering subsided.
“Speech! Speech!” roared the others.
“Speech by Billy Bilton, the only and original windmill of ’Umpty-six!”
cried an old grad. “Put him up--put him in the wagon with the
fireworks! Shoot off your face, Billy! Billy Bilton!”
“Billy Bilton! ’Umpty-six!” roared the crowd.
Billy Bilton was the Honorable William P. Bilton, representative in
Congress for the great and glorious Commonwealth of Maine. Billy
smiled, and that smile was something worth beholding! He removed the
cigar from his mouth and held it between his fingers.
“My contemporaries,” he began, pointing with the cigar toward the
fireworks in the wagon, “have been doing such good work that I feel
handicapped. But I want to say that the greatest thing in this great
university on this great night, next to the great class of ’Umpty-six,
is the great Frank Merriwell!”
Then they cheered again.
“Now,” said Billy, when he could again be heard, “I want to tell
you what Frank Merriwell has done for Yale. He has made for her the
proudest athletic record of any college in the country. Since the day
that he was placed in command not one important game has been taken
from us. It was he who arose in time to lift Yale from the slough of
despond into which she had fallen, and it was he who has led her to the
dazzling heights of glory where she now stands. That’s not all. While
he has uplifted Yale he has risen himself, until to-day he is known
from the broad Atlantic to the blue Pacific. Yea, wherever the flag of
our country floats, the glorious Stars and Stripes, there has spread
the name and fame and glory of Merriwell, of Yale.”
It was impossible for him to continue until they had cheered again.
“Even to foreign lands his glory has spread,” the speaker went on.
“Wherever the English language is spoken the name of Merriwell may be
heard. From the Klondike to Patagonia, from the Philippines to South
Africa, he is known and admired and reverenced as the model American
youth. Old men commend him to the young, the young try to model
after him, and even the child at its mother’s knee lisps the name of
Merriwell.”
“Oh, say!” muttered Frank; “he’s putting it on too thick! I can’t stand
this!”
But Billy was ready to switch now, although he had no thought of
stopping. He waved his hand, and sparks flew from his glowing cigar.
“Now,” he shouted, “I want to tell you what ’Umpty-six has done for
Yale. ’Umpty-six is the greatest class that ever graduated from Yale!”
he declared, with another wild gesture that caused him to drop his
cigar. “’Umpty-six is----”
Bang--barked a cannon cracker in the wagon.
“’Umpty-six----”
Bang! bang! bang!
A series of terrible explosions set William to dancing in a lively
manner, for his fallen cigar had ignited the fireworks in the wagon.
The horse attached to the wagon was frightened and broke away, despite
all efforts to hold him.
Immediately the Honorable William lost his footing and fell upon his
knees in the wagon, while away pranced the horse at a mad gallop. The
orator was kneeling in the midst of a pyrotechnic display of hissing
Roman candles, flaming red lights, bursting cannon crackers, and
screaming rockets. Jack Ready afterward declared that it was a grand
and awe-inspiring spectacle.
“There goes Windy Billy!” shouted the crowd, and every man, to the last
one, started after the blazing wagon and the most startling piece of
set fireworks ever seen in New Haven, which was long remembered by the
name of “The American Representative in All His Glory.”
As the wagon disappeared Frank Merriwell, who was laughing at the
astonishing climax, felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw
Oliver Packard.
“I have found you at last,” said Packard. “I’ve been hunting for you
more than two hours.”
“I have been right here all along,” said Frank. “What do you want,
Oliver?”
“I have brought it,” was the triumphant answer, as Packard put his hand
into his pocket and drew out the sealed oilskin envelope. “Here it is,
Merriwell.”
“Good!” exclaimed Merry, in great satisfaction, as he immediately
thrust it into his pocket. “I’ll take care it is not snatched from me
again. I’ll ask you no questions, Oliver, and I’ll not forget what you
have done.”