CHAPTER V.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 thoughsome 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 coloredflame, 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 beenset 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 asthat 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 beendoing 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 reverencedas 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 cannoncrackers, 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.”