That was a cheer! They might almost have heard it at Broadwood! “Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Vinton!” And after the cheer every fellow shouted his applause in the way that best pleased him and the demonstration threatened to last all night. But some one began to demand “Speech! Speech! Vinton! Vinton!” and poor Dan was thrust into the speaker’s place and the tumult died abruptly.

“Fellows,” began Dan in a low voice.

“Louder!” called those at the edge of the throng. Dan cleared his throat, smiled nervously and started again.

“Fellows, I thank you very much. I never made a speech and so I don’t know how. I——”

“You’re doing fine!” called some one reassuringly, and in the laughter that ensued Dan gained courage.

“When they were good enough to elect me awhile ago the only thing that—that made me[147] hesitate about accepting the honor was the thought that if I did I might have to make a speech! I asked Alf—Captain Loring—and he said that maybe I could get out of it. I—the only thing I have to say is that I’m mighty proud to be captain and I’ll do the best I can. And—and thank you all. Now let’s have a cheer for Loring!”

And Dan, with a sigh of relief, stepped back as Chambers led the cheering. After that Payson said a few words, and then the procession formed again, marched once around the bonfire, singing “The Wearin’ o’ the Green,” and went back up the slope to Oxford, where, massed in front of the steps, the fellows, with bare heads, sang “The Years Roll On.”
“The years roll on. Too soon we find Our boyhood days are o’er. The scenes we’ve known, the friends we’ve loved Are gone to come no more. But in the shrine of Memory We’ll hold and cherish still The recollection fond of those Dear days on Yardley Hill.
“The years roll on. To man’s estate From youthful mold we pass, And life’s stern duties bind us round, And doubts and cares harass.[148] But God will guard through storms and give The strength to do his will And treasure e’er the lessons learned Of old on Yardley Hill.”

After that, although many of the fellows still lingered about the front of Oxford, the celebration was over with. It was late and most everyone was tired after what had been a busy and exciting day. Also, November nights are chilly in the neighborhood of Wissining and there was an icy little breeze blowing in from the sound. So it wasn’t long before the last fellow had sought the warmth and light of his room, leaving the white stars alone to look down on the flickering remains of the fire.

Dan was silent as he climbed the stairs of Clarke and sought No. 28. To be sure, he went up alone, after saying good night to Alf and Tom and Joe Chambers and several others at the corner of the building, and that might explain it if it were not for the fact that Dan usually either sang or whistled as he ran upstairs. To-night he didn’t even run. He was much too tired and sore. He had played a hard game for all there was in it and he had received his full share of knocks and bruises. There were no scars visible, but he knew where he could put his hand on a[149] dandy lump! The fact that he limped a little with his right leg indicated in a general way the location of the lump. Besides that, there were plenty of bruised places, and he had an idea that by to-morrow he would be an interesting study in black and blue. When he opened the door of the room he found Gerald there before him, Gerald sitting on the edge of his bed partly undressed and looking very forlorn and a trifle red about the eyes.

“Hello, Gerald,” exclaimed Dan. “What’s the trouble?”

“Nothing,” answered Gerald, diligently hunting on the floor for a stocking which was draped gracefully over his knee. Dan went over and seated himself beside him on the bed.

“Something’s up, chum,” he said kindly, putting an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders. “Let’s hear about it.”

“It—it isn’t anything,” replied Gerald with the suspicion of a sniff. “I guess I’m just sort of tired.”

“I should think you might be,” said Dan heartily, “after the work you did this morning! You made a great hit with the school, Gerald. If it hadn’t been for you we’d have lost that race as sure as shooting!”

[150]

“That’s just it,” said Gerald, after a moment, aggrievedly.

“What’s just it? You aren’t downhearted because you ran a bully race and won the meet, are you?”

“No, but—but other fellows when they win points for the school get—get recognition!”

“Recognition? Great Scott, chum, the fellows cheered you until they were hoarse! Didn’t you know that?”

“I—I didn’t hear much of it, but Arthur said they did.”

“They certainly did! Why, I’ve heard lots and lots of fellows say how plucky you were and how glad they were that you beat Jake Hiltz.”

“But I don’t get my Y,” said Gerald. “When other fellows do anything they get their Y or they get their numerals or—or something.”

“But none of the Cross-Country Team get a Y,” exclaimed Dan.

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t, though,” Gerald mourned. “Do you?”

“N-no, I don’t,” Dan acknowledged. “I guess next year they’ll change that. You see, chum, it’s a new sport here and it isn’t exactly recognized yet.”

“It’s just as hard work as playing basket[151] ball,” said Gerald, “and if you play basket ball you get your two B’s.”

“Why don’t you mention it to Maury? He’s your captain, isn’t he?” Gerald nodded. “He might see Bendix about it. I think myself that you fellows ought to get something in the way of letters. As you say, it’s just as important as basket ball.”

“I thought perhaps I’d get my Y,” said Gerald.

“And you were disappointed, eh? Is that it? Well, cheer up. You’ll get your Y soon enough. You want to remember that as it is now you can only get it in football, baseball, track or hockey.”

“Could I get it in hockey?” asked Gerald eagerly.

“Yes, if you made the team and played against Broadwood,” replied Dan with a smile. “But you’re rather young yet to talk about getting your Y, Gerald.”

“I’m fifteen. Stevenson is not much older and he has his. He got it on the track team.”

“He’s the fellow that jumps, isn’t he?”

“He hurdles.”

“Well, Stevenson is at least a year older than you are, chum. I tell you what, though; you ought to be able to get your C this winter if you make the dormitory hockey team.”

[152]

“I don’t want a dormitory letter,” said Gerald. “I want to get something worth while. I’m going to ask Alf if he will let me on the hockey team.”

“He will let you on without being asked if you sho............