THE RETURN.
"Boom! Boom!" thundered the big drum.
"Tootle-toot!" shrilled the fife.
"Tarum! Taroom!" growled the horns.
The Harwell band marched through the archway and defiled on to the
platform. The college marched after. Well, perhaps not all the college;
I have heard that a senior living in Lanter was too ill to be present.
But the incoming platform was thronged from wall to track, so it was
perhaps as well that he didn't come, because there positively wasn't
room for him.
"What is it?" asked a citizen in a silk hat of a gayly decorated youth
on the outskirts of the crowd. The latter stared for full a minute ere
the words came. Then he cried:
"Here's a fellow who wants to know what we're here for!" And a great
groan of derision went up to the arching roof, and the ignorant person
slunk away, yet not before his silk hat had been pushed gently but
firmly far down over his eyes. Punishment ever awaits the ignorant who
will not learn.
"Glory, glory for the Crimson,
Glory, glory for the Crimson,
Glory, glory for the Crimson,
For this is Harwell's day,"
sang the throng.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" thundered the big drum.
"Tootle-toot!" shrilled the fife.
"Now, fellows, three times three, three long Harwells, and three times
three!" shouted the master of ceremonies hoarsely.
"Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell! Harwell! Harwell!
Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Harwell!" shrieked the crowd.
"Louder! Louder!" commanded the remorseless youth on the baggage truck.
"Nine long Harwells! One, two, three!"
"Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well! Har-well!
Har-well! Har-well!" The sound crashed up against the vaulted station
roof and thundered back. And none heard the shriek of the incoming train
as it clattered over the switches at the entrance of the shed, and none
saw it until it was creeping in, the engineer leaning far out of the cab
window and waving a red bandanna handkerchief, a courtesy that won him a
cheer all to himself.
Then out tumbled the returning heroes, bags in hands, followed by the
head coach and all the rest of the attendant train. And then what a
pushing and shouting and struggling there was! There were forty men to
every player, and the result was that some of the latter were nearly
torn limb from limb ere they were safe out of reach on the shoulders of
lucky contestants for the honor of carrying them the first stage of the
journey to college.
There were some who tried to hide, some who tried to run, others who
enjoyed the whole thing hugely and thumped the heads of their bearers
heartily just to show good feeling.
Joel was one of the last to leave the car, and as he set foot on the
platform a hundred voices went up in cheers, and a hundred students
struggled for possession of him. But one there was who from his place of
vantage halfway up the steps repelled all oncomers, and assisted by a
second youth of large proportions seized upon Joel and setting him upon
their shoulders bore him off in triumph.
"Boom! Boom!" said the big drum. And the procession started. Down the
long platform it went, past the waiting room doors where a crowd of
onlookers waved hats and handkerchiefs, and so out into the city street.
Joel turned his head away from the observers, ashamed and happy. There
was no let-up to the cheering. One after another the names of the
players and substitutes, coaches and trainer, were cheered and
cheered again.
"Out of the way there!" cried Joel's bearers, and the marching throng
looked about, moved apart, and as Joel was borne through, cheered him to
the echo, reaching eager hands toward him, crying words of commendation
and praise into his buzzing ears.
"Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, Rah-rah-rah, March!"
"One!" shrieked a youth near where Joel soon found himself at the head
of the procession, and the slogan was taken up:
"Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! E-lev-en!"
"Now give me your hand, Joel!" cried the youth upon whose left shoulder
he was swaying. Joel obeyed, smiling affectionately down into the
upraised face. Then he uttered a cry of pain. One of the fingers of his
left hand was bandaged, and Outfield West dropped it gingerly.
"Not--not _broke_?" he asked wonderingly. Joel nodded.
"Aren't you _proud_ of it?" whispered his chum.
"Yes," answered Joel simply and earnestly.
"May I take it, too?" asked the other youth. Joel started and looked
down into the anxious and entreating face of Bartlett Cloud. He grasped
the hesitating hand that was held up.
"Yes," he answered smilingly.
And the big drum boomed, and the shrill fifes tootled, and the crimson
banners waved upon the breeze, and every one cheered himself hoarse, and
thus the conquering heroes came back to the college that loved them.
And Joel, a little tearful when no one was looking, and very happy
always, was borne on the shoulders of West and Cloud, friend and enemy,
at the very head of the procession, honored above all!