"It seems to me that there is one song which would be particularly appropriate for this season when all of us are soaking something in order to raise the wind."
"What is it?" shouted several voices.
"Solomon Levi."
In another moment the merry lads were shouting:
"My name is Solomon Levi, my store's on Salem Street;
That's where you buy your coats and vests and everything that's neat.
I've second-handed ulsterettes, and everything that's fine,
For all the boys they trade with me at a hundred and forty-nine.
Chorus: "Oh, Solomon Levi! tra, la, la, la!
Poor Sheeny Levi! tra, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
"And if a bummer comes along to my store on Salem Street
And tries to hang me up for coats and vests so very neat,
I kick that bummer right out of my store, and on him sets my pup,
For I won't sell clothing to any man who tries to hang me up."
Thus the rollicking lads spent the time as the train rolled along bearing them to witness the great ball game of the season with Harvard.
Again and again Frank Merriwell's friends expressed regret because his hand, on which there had been a felon, prevented him from taking part in the
game. They could not forget that he had pitched the deciding game between Yale and Harvard the previous year, and had won it.