"Wow! Wow! Wow! Hamilton! Hamilton! Hamilton! Whoop!" yelled the frenzied players. Above their shouts could be heard the shrill cries of many girls.
From the stands burst forth mighty cheers. A crowd of the cadet players surrounded Dick and would have carried him on their shoulders had he allowed them. They patted him on the back, and even punched him in their uncontrollable joy.
"Hamilton, you're entitled to the thanks of the entire school!" cried Coach Hale, rushing up, and wringing Dick's hand.
"We never could have won but for you!" admitted the captain. "Wow! but it was a fierce game!" and he sat down on the grass to recover his wind, after his lusty cheers.
They escorted Dick back to the dressing room in a sort of triumphal procession, scores of cadets pouring from the stands to join it. Never did a hero takes his honors more modestly. It was enough for Dick that he had helped win the victory, and he saw coming to him now what he had waited nearly a year for—fellowship.
Through the throng came Dutton and Glen.
"I say, Hamilton," called Glen, "your uncle's waiting for you."
"I know it," answered Dick. "But I couldn't talk to him until after the game."
"He's got news for you—bad news," went on Glen, with the relish some persons seem to take in telling of calamities.
"What is it?" inquired Dick, alarmed by the cadet's words and manner.