LINK AGAIN
There was a rush of the celebrating seniors toward the place where the
disturbance arose. Then others left the big bonfire to see the fun.
An automobile horn tooted discordantly--defiantly, Andy thought.
"Who has had the nerve to come in here, of all nights--on the one when
we have our fire?" he thought. "It can't be any of the freshmen; they
wouldn't dare."
"What are you going to do?" asked Ben in Andy's ear, as he trotted
beside his chum.
"We'll upset his apple cart--that's the least we'll do, for one thing."
"I should say yes!" chimed in Chet. "Surely!"
They had now reached the spot where, from all appearances, was located
the center of disturbance. A crowd of the freshmen, whose labors in
gathering wood for the fire had now ceased, were gathered around a large
touring car that, in defiance of all rules and customs, had been run to
the very center of the school campus.
"Come down out of that!"
"Get away from here!"
"You fellows have nerve!"
"Puncture their tires!"
These are only a few of the cries and threats hurled at those in the
auto--four young fellows who seemed anxious to make trouble not only for
themselves, but for the school boys, whose celebration they had
interrupted.
The campus was a sort of sacred place. It stood in the midst of the
school buildings and dormitories, and, though visitors were always
welcome, there was a rule against vehicles crossing it, for the turf was
the pride not only of the students, but the faculty as well. So it is no
wonder that the sight of a heavy auto rolling over the lawn aroused the
ire of all.
"Get out of the way there, you fellows, if you don't want to be run
over!" snapped the youth at the steering wheel of the auto. "I'll smash
through you in another minute!"
"Oh, you will, eh?"
"Isn't he the sassy little boy!"
"Yank him out of there!"
The freshmen surrounding the auto thus reviled those in the car.
The auto had come to a stop, but the engine was still running, free
from the gears. Now and then, as he saw an opening, the lad at the wheel
would slip in his clutch and the car would advance a few feet. Then more
of the school boys would swarm about it, and progress would be impeded.
"Smash through 'em, old man!" advised one on the rear seat. "We don't
want to stay here all night!"
"That's right; run 'em down," advised his companion. "We're--we're--what
are we, anyhow?" he asked, and it did not need a look at him to tell the
cause of his condition. In fact, all in the auto were in a rather
hilarious state, and the running of the car over the campus had been the
result of a suggestion made after a too-long lingering in a certain
road-house, where stronger stuff than ginger ale was dispensed.
"We're all right--noshin matter us," declaimed one. "Run 'em down, ole
man!"
"Look out! I'm going through you!" cried the lad at the wheel. The
freshmen in front of the car parted instinctively, but before the young
chauffeur could put his threat into execution, Andy and his chums had
reached the machine.
"Get out of here!" cried Andy, and, reaching up, he fairly pulled the
steersman from his seat. The chap came down in a rush, nearly upsetting
Andy, who, however, managed to yank the lad to his feet.
"Pull 'em all out!" came the cry from Tom, and a moment later he, with
the aid of Ben, Chet and Frank, had pulled from the car the other young
men, who seemed too dazed to resist.
"Hop in that car, Peterson," ordered Andy, to a freshman who could
operate an auto. "Run it out to the street and leave it. Then we'll rush
these chaps out to it and chuck 'em in. We'll show 'em what it means to
run over our campus."
All this time Andy had kept hold of the collar of the youth whom he had
pulled from the car. Then the latter turned about, and raised his fist.
He had been taken so by surprise that he at first had seemed incapable
of action.
At this moment the big bonfire flared up brightly, and by its glare Andy
had a look at the face of the lad with whom he had clashed. The sight
caused him suddenly to drop his hold and exclaim:
"Mortimer Gaffington!"
"Huh! So it's you, is it, Andy Blair? What do you mean by acting this
way?" demanded Mortimer, the shock of whose rough handling had seemed to
sober temporarily. "What do you mean? I demand an apology! That's what I
do. Ain't I 'titled to 'pology, fellers?" and he appealed to his chums.
"Sure you are. Make the little beggar 'pologize!" leered one. "If he
was at Yale, now, we'd haze him good and proper."
"Yale!" cried Tom Hatfield. "Yale fires out such fellows as you!"
"Mortimer Gaffington!" gasped Andy. "I rather wish this hadn't happened.
Or, rather I wish it had been anyone but he. I can see where this may
lead."
"You goin' 'pologize?" asked Mortimer, trying to fix a stern gaze on
Andy.
"Apologize! Certainly not!" cried Andy, indignantly. "It is you fellows
who ought to apologize. What would you do if some one ran an auto over
Yale Campus?"
"Ho! Ho! That's good. That's rich, that is!" laughed one who had been
yanked out of his seat by Tom Hatfield. "That's a good joke, that is! An
auto on Yale campus! Why we bulldogs would eat it up, that's what we'd
do!"
"Well, that's what we'll do here!" cried Chet, angered by the
supercilious tone of the lad. "Come on, boys; run 'em off Spanish
fashion!"
It needed but this suggestion to further rouse the feelings of the
Milton lads, and in an instant several of them had grabbed each of the
trespassers. Andy stepped back from Mortimer. Because of the already
strained relations between himself and this society "swell," he did not
wish to take a part in the proceedings.
"Come on! Run 'em off!" was the rallying cry.
The auto had already been steered out on a road that circled the campus,
and was soon in the street. Then, heading their victims toward the old
gateway that formed the chief entrance to the school the Milton lads
began running out the intruders.
"You wait! I--I'll fix you for this,--Andy Blair!" threatened Mortimer
as he was rapidly propelled over the campus.
"Forget it!" advised Chet. "Rush 'em, fellows!"
And rushed off Mortimer and his companions were. They were fairly tossed
into their auto, and then, with jeers and shouted advice not to repeat
the trick, the school boys turned back to their fire.
Andy had lingered near the spot where he had hauled Mortimer out of the
auto. He was thinking of many things. He did not forget what had
happened to the intruders. Indeed it was nothing short of what they
deserved, for they had deliberately tried to harass the school boys, and
make a mockery of one of the oldest traditions of Milton--one that held
inviolate the beautiful campus.
"Only I wish it had been someone else than I who got hold of Mort,"
mused Andy. "He'll be sure to remember it when I get to Yale, and he'll
have it in for me. He can make a lot of trouble, too, I reckon. Well, it
can't be helped. They only got what was coming to 'em."
With this thought Andy consoled himself, but he had an uneasy feeling
for all that. The students came trooping back, after having disposed of
Mortimer and his crowd.
"You missed the best part of the fun," said Chet to Andy. "Those fellows
thought a cyclone struck them when we tossed 'em into the car. They
don't know yet whether they're going or coming back," and he laughed,
his mates joining in.
"Yes?" asked Andy, non-committally.
"What's up?" asked Tom, curiously. "You don't act as though it had any
flavor for you. What's the matter?"
"Oh, well--nothing," said Andy. "Come on, let's get back to the fire,
and have a last song. Then I'm going to pack. I want to leave on that
early train in the morning."
"Same here. Come on, boys. Whoop her up once more for Old Milton, and
then we'll say good-bye."
"I know what ails Andy," spoke Tom in a low tone to Frank, walking along
arm in arm with him.
"What?"
"It's about that fellow Gaffington. Andy's sorry he had a run-in with
him, and I don't blame Andy. He had trouble before, and this will only
add to it. And that Gaffington is just mean enough, and small-spirited
enough, to make trouble for Andy down there at Yale. He's a sport--but
one of the tin-horn brand. I don't blame Andy for wishing it had been
someone else."
"Oh, well, here's hoping," said Frank. "We all have our troubles."
"But those fellows won't trouble us again to-night," declared Chet,
laughing. "They'll be glad to go home and get in bed."
"Did you know any of 'em, Andy, except Gaffington?" asked Tom.
"No, the others were strangers to me."
"How do you reckon they got here, all the way from New Haven?"
"Oh, they didn't come from Yale," declared Andy. "The university closed
last week, you know. Probably Mort had some of his chums out to visit
him in Dunmore. That was his car. And he wanted to show 'em the sights,
and let 'em see he could run all over little Milton, so he brought 'em
out here. It isn't such a run from Dunmore, you know."
"I reckon that's it," agreed Tom. "Well, they got more than they were
looking for, that's one consolation. Now boys, whoop her up for the
last time."
Again they gathered about the blazing fire, and sang their farewell
song.
The annual celebration was drawing to a close. Another group of lads
would leave Milton to go out into the world, mounting upward yet another
step. From then on the ways of many who had been jolly good comrades
together would diverge. Some might cross again; others be as wide apart
as the poles.
The fire died down. The big piano box commandeered by "Swipes" was but a
heap of ashes. The fun was over.
There were cheers for the departing senior lads, who, in turn, cheered
the others who would take their places. Then came tributes to the
industrious freshmen.
"Good night! Good night! Good night!" was shouted on all sides.
Less and less brilliant grew the fire. Now it was but a heap of glowing
coals that would soon be gray, dead and cold ashes, typical in a way, of
the passing of the senior boys. And yet, phoenix-like, from these same
ashes would spring up a new fire--a fire in the hearts that would never
die out. Such are school friendships.
Of course there were forbidden little feasts in the various rooms to
mark the close of the term--spreads to which monitors, janitors and
professors discreetly closed their eyes.
Andy and his friends gathered in his apartment for a last chat. They
were to journey to their home town on the morrow and then would soon
separate for the long summer vacation.
"Well, it was a rare old celebration!" sighed Tom, as he flopped on the
bed.
"It sure was!" agreed Chet, with conviction. "I hope I have as much fun
as this if I go to Harvard."
"Same here, only I think I'll make mine Princeton," added Ben. "Oh, but
it's sort of hard to leave Milton!"
"Right you are," came from Andy, who was opening ginger ale and soda
water.
And, after a time, quiet settled down over the school, and Dr. Morrison
and his colleagues breathed freely again. Milton had stood steadfast
through another assault of "bonfire night."
The next morning there were confused goodbyes, multiplied promises to
write, or to call, vows never to forget, and protestations of eternal
friendship. There were arrangements made for camping, boating, tramping
and other forms of vacation fun. There were dates made for assembling
next year. There was a confused rushing to and fro, a looking up of the
time of trains, hurried searches for missing baggage.
And, after much excitement, Andy and his chums found themselves in the
same car bound for Dunmore. They settled back in their seats with sighs
of relief.
"Hear anything more of Mort and his crowd?" asked Tom of Andy.
"Not a thing."
"I did," spoke Chet. "They were nearly arrested for making a row in town
after we got through with 'em."
"Hum!" mused Andy. "I s'pose Mort will blame me for that, too. Well, no
use worrying until I have to."
At Churchtown, where the train stopped to give the boys at least a last
remembrance of Kelly's place, several passengers got on. Among them was
a young man who seemed familiar to Andy and his chums. A second look
confirmed it.
"Why, that's the Bardon chap we took away from that farmer!" exclaimed
Frank.
"That's right!" cried Andy. "Hello, Link!" he called genially. "What you
doing here?"
"Oh, how are you?" asked the farm lad. "Glad to see you all again," and
he nodded to each one in turn. He did not at all presume on his
acquaintance with them, and was about to pass on, when Andy said:
"Sit down. How's your arm?"
"Oh much better, thank you. I've been working steadily since you helped
me."
"That's good. Where are you bound for now?" went on Andy.
"Why, I'm going to look up an uncle of mine I haven't seen in years. I
hear he has a big farm, and I thought I'd like to work for him."
"Where is it?" asked Andy.
"In a place called Wickford, Connecticut."
"Wickford!" exclaimed Andy. "Why that's near New Haven, and Yale--where
I'm going this fall. Maybe I'll see you there, Link."
"Maybe," assented the young farmer, and then, declining Andy's
invitation to sit with the school lads, he passed on down the car
aisle.