It has been long, lo-ong, lo-on-ng,
On the way.”
As they roared forth this chorus, the men clapped their hands, stamped their feet and threw back their heads. A cloud of dust filled the room, the lanterns swayed and burned dimly, and the rough rafters seemed to bulge outward with the volume of sound.
Then Merriwell, Diamond, Browning and Hodge, forming a quartet, sang the college songs so familiar to them, but most of them absolutely new to the ears of the river drivers. They were heartily applauded.
Then Merriwell told of Hans’ attempt to become a river driver, making the story so humorous that the men roared with laughter.
“Vot vos I laughin’ ad?” demanded the Dutch boy, his face flushing. “I don’d like dot. Some odder dime mebbe I vos aple to drife a log der rifer down.”
“No man ever gits to be a regular river driver till he has been properly initiated,” grinned one of the men. “Arter that he’s all right, an’ he can ride a log with ther best of ’em.”
“Vot vos dot kernishiated?” asked Hans, eagerly. “How you done dot?”
“Oh, it’s easy enough. It’s called ‘Ketchin’ the Wild Hoss.’”