“Pretty nearly time for them, Mr. Upton,” said Westby. “Feeling nervous, sir?”
There was more good nature in his smile than he had displayed towards Irving since the day of the track games.
“A little,” Irving admitted, and at that moment some one shouted, “Here they come!”
Over the crest of the hill galloped four horses, drawing a long red barge crowded with boys. Collingwood climbed up on the gate-post.
“Now, fellows,” he said, “when they get here, give three times three for the Freshmen.”
The boys waited in silence. Irving strained his eyes, trying to distinguish the figures huddled together in the barge. The horses came down at a run, with a rattle of hoofs and harness; the driver flourished his whip over them spectacularly.
“Now then, fellows!” cried Collingwood. “Three times three for the Freshmen!”
And amidst the waving of caps as the cheers were given, Irving could see no one in the barge. Then when that cheer had subsided, one of the visitors stood up and took off his hat and shouted,—
“Three times three for St. Timothy’s! One—two—three!” The fellows in the barge sent up a vigorous, snappy cheer, and then overflowed at back and sides. In the confusion and the crowd, Irving was still straining his short-sighted eyes in a vain attempt to discover Lawrence.
Suddenly he heard a shout,—“Hello, Irv!”—and there, a little way off, was Lawrence, laughing at him and struggling towards him through the throng. The boys understood and drew apart and let the two brothers meet.