It seemed that every person in the car joined in singing this song. The enthusiasm was running higher and higher. In every heart the Yale spirit grew deeper and stronger during that ride from New London to New Haven. The students who were there never forgot that scene—never forgot how they thrilled with love for Old Yale. The hardships and struggles of college days were forgotten; the triumphs and joys alone were remembered.
But with it all it is certain that the result of the race had disappointed no Harvard man more than it did Fred Flemming.
At the last moment he had been overjoyed to learn that Merriwell had a bad felon on one of his hands, which, it seemed, must debar him from rowing in the great race.
Flemming had kept himself in condition as far as
possible, and he lost no time to let Collingwood know that he could be called on in case of emergency.
That he would be called on seemed almost certain, for he was notified to be on hand at Yale's quarters before the time set for the race to begin.
He had been on hand, ready to strip off in a moment, and had seen Collingwood talking earnestly with Merriwell. Then, to his inexpressible astonishment, he had been told that Merriwell would row after all.
From that moment Flemming hoped and prayed that Yale would lose the race. He would have given almost anything in his power to give had Frank Merriwell been unable to row to the finish.
But Merriwell had finished the race, and Yale had won. Flemming's friends, who had bet that he would row in the race, had lost money, and they were sore also.
It was bitter gall for Flemming and Tom Thornton to pretend to rejoice over Yale's victory, but they dared not do otherwise. It happened that they waited till the special train left for New Haven, and they were on that train and in the car which carried the victorious crew.