Newton Billings had a brannagan on. He slapped sophomores and juniors on the back and told them they were the “right kind of stuff.” He applauded Danny’s story and Charlie’s speech.
“’Ray!” he cried. “Whazzer matter wi’ us! We’re all ri’! What comes nex’? ’Sit Merriwell? ’Ray fer Merriwell!”
“This is getting pretty swift,” thought Frank. “I’ll sing, and then I’ll watch for an opportunity to skip in a hurry. Some of these fellows will have to be taken home on shutters.”
Browning seemed happy. There was a calm, sweet smile on his weary face as he ladled out more punch. At last the deadly stuff was getting in its work.
Frank sang “Those Evening Bells,” an old-time college song. He rendered it beautifully, assisted by several voices on the chorus, and a dozen fellows were extravagant with their praise.
“’S great!” declared Billings, getting beside Frank, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. “’S beautiful! You can shing, Merriwell! ’S w’at! Give us ’nozzer.”
Others urged Frank to sing again, and he saw they would not be satisfied if he refused. He struck into “Stars of the Summer Night.”
“Stars of the summer night,
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light,