Thus the little event there at the station-platform had wrought a vast amount of good in that handsome Virginia town. Thus it was that the influence of Frank Merriwell spread and broadened so that in after-years it must astound Frank himself.
“Well, well, well!” cried Jack Cunningham. “I judge it ain’t often a kid like you gets cheered in that way.”
Jack Ready, with apple cheeks aglow, pranced forward and posed before Jimmy.
“Ah-ha!” cried the queer fellow, “I salute you, James the First of Charlottesville. May your power never wane, and may your subjects be as numerous as your freckles. James, you have a level head on your youthful shoulders, and I will give you the great and exceeding honor of gently touching my lily-white hand.”
Then he grasped Jimmy’s hand and shook it vigorously.
Other Yale men followed Jack’s example, so that Jimmy received a grand greeting as he sat there upon the shoulder of the young American he admired more than any other living human being. As they pressed forward to shake Jimmy’s hand the Yale men made jolly remarks and the crowd in the background began to cheer.
Why, these Yale chaps were all right! Nothing rowdyish about them! Were they fair samples of what physical training made young men? Then great was physical training. They had life and spirit; their eyes were bright and their cheeks glowed. There could be no mistaking that clear eye and healthy cheek; alcoholic drink had nothing whatever to do with that. The color of the cheek was not the congested flesh of false stimulation; it was the true tint of health which every youth should have.
“See Jimmy!” gasped the former followers of Watson.
“They’re shakin’ hands with him!”
“My goodness, fellers, don’t you wish you was him!”