had to yell in each other's
ears. They had to force what they ate. No one was hungry. When Worry
rose from the table they all flocked after him.

It was growing dark outside, and a red glow, brightening upon
the windows, showed the students had lighted bonfires.

"They're goin' to make a night of it," yelled Worry.

"How'll my boys be able to sleep?" shouted Murray. Both coach
and trainer were as excited as any of the boys.

"The street's packed solid. Listen!"

The tramp, tramp, tramp of thousands of feet keeping time was like the
heavy tread of a marching multitude. Then the tramp died away in a
piercing cheer, "_Wayne!_" nine times, clear and sustained--a long,
beautiful college cheer. In the breathing spell that followed, the
steady tramp of feet went on. One by one, at intervals, the university
yells were given, the broken rattling rally, the floating melodious
crew cheer, and the hoarse, smashing boom of football. Then again
the inspiriting "_Wayne!_" nine times. After that came shrill calls
for the varsity, for Homans, Reddy Ray, Raymond, and Peggie Ward.

"Come up-stairs to the windows, boys!" shouted Worry. "We've got
to show ourselves."

Worry threw up the windows in Weir's room, and the boys gingerly poked
their heads out. A roar greeted their appearance. The heads all popped
in as if they had been struck.

"Homans, you'll have to make a speech," cried the coach.

"I will not!"

"You've got to say somethin'. We can't have this crazy gang out here
all night."

Then Worry and Murray coaxed and led Homans to the window. The captain
leaned out and said something that was unintelligible in the hubbub
without. The crowd cheered him and called for Reddy, Ward, and Raymond.
Worry grasped the second-baseman and shoved him half over the sill.
Raymond would have fallen out but for the coach's strong hold.

"Come on, Peg!" yelled Worry.

"Not on your life!" cried Ken, in affright. He ran away from the
coach, and dived under the bed. But Reddy Ray dragged him out and
to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. Then he
lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd.

"Fellows, here he is--Worry's demon, Wayne's pitcher!" called Reddy,
in ringing, far-reaching voice. "Listen! Peggie didn't lose his nerve
when he faced Herne to-day, but he's lost it now. He's lost his voice,
too. But he says for you to go away and save your cheers for this day
two weeks, when we meet Place. Then, he says, you'll