"Oh, we'll make a hole in your winnings!" laughed Pierson. "I am so dry this minute that my neck squeaks."
"So are we all!" shouted the others.
Harris could not repress a groan. He wondered if they were fooling with him, but they seemed so much in earnest that he could not tell. Perhaps they really thought he had won a big roll on Yale. He couldn't tell them he had bet on Harvard. What could he do?
He was forced to pretend that he was delighted, but over and over he promised himself that he would give them the slip, even if he had to leap from the train while it was running at full speed. Pay for fizz! Why, he didn't have enough left to pay for a glass of plain beer!
CHAPTER XL.
REJOICING AT YALE.
Harris found his opportunity to slip away when the train drew into the station at New Haven.
A band of music was on hand to meet the returning conquerors. A wild mob of screaming, cheering, horn-tooting students was there.
It was evening, and the Yale lads had come down to the station with torches, prepared to give the eleven such a reception as no other football team had ever met.