But his exclamation was drowned by the mighty cheer which greeted the appearance of the Yale standard-bearer.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
TO VICTORY—CONCLUSION.
"Merriwell! Merriwell! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"
It was a mighty roar of voices. Then came the well-known Yale yell, which was repeated again and again. The entire Yale crowd was standing, wildly waving hands, hats, flags, handkerchiefs, anything and everything that could be found to wave. It was an ovation that might have gladdened the heart of an emperor.
It was not strange that the sound nerved the Yale man to vow within himself to die in the effort to win for dear "Old Eli," if he could not win otherwise.
But up in one of the boxes not far from the starting point were three young men who were utterly overcome with amazement and consternation. One of them had a face that was drawn and pale, as if he had received a mortal wound.
"What's it mean, Flem?" asked Andy Emery, in