“Don’t go home yet; there’ll be more doing before long.”
“What do you mean?” repeated Wolcott, eagerly.
He questioned, not from prudence, but from eager curiosity. The noise, the blaze of lights, the fervor of enthusiasm, the dazzle of hero-worship, the hilarity, the freedom and comradeship of the merrymaking, had piled their impressions on his excited brain till his personal patriotism flamed and roared; his chief desire for the time being was to lose nothing of this night of exultation. If he recognized Marchmont among the group, no suspicion of evil occurred to him. He felt only that it was a great day for Seaton, that all Seatonians were brothers, and that at this time of universal joy all differences should be forgotten.
“We’re going to show John Drown how to celebrate,” replied Whitely. “Come on and see the fun.”
The troop started, and Wolcott, who was out to see, started with the troop down Hale Street and toward the stables whence the barge had gone forth early in the evening. As they passed the stable entrance they met a big, square-shouldered fellow whom Wolcott recognized in the semi-darkness as Laughlin, and who by the same token recognized Wolcott overtopping by half a head his nearest neighbors.
“Lindsay!” called Laughlin, sharply, halting and turning round.
“Well, Dave,” called back Wolcott, jovially, “fall in if you want some fun.”
“Come here a minute, won’t you, please?” continued Laughlin.
The exclamations which this interruption called forth in Whitely’s company, Wolcott did not notice.
“What are you up to with those fellows?” demanded Laughlin, earnestly.