At this moment, Scoop Sawyer, so-called because he was ambitious to be a
newspaper reporter, after graduation, and for his humorous articles in the
Bannister Weekly, had his intense wrath soothed by that which has
"power to soothe the savage breast"; T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., displaying a
wonderful originality by composing, then chanting, his parody, concluded
the chorus roaring lustily, to a rollicking banjo accompaniment:
"If street car companies gave seats to all patrons
The strap-hangers in jitneys would not ride.
There'd be no jits. today
If Ford owners would say,
I didn't raise my Ford to be a—jitney!"
"That is too much!" raged Captain Butch Brewster, facing his excited
colleagues. "Come on, fellows, we'll invade Hicks' room, read him Scoop's
letter to Jack Merritt, and make him solve the Mystery! We're done with
diplomacy; now, we'll deliver the ultimatum; when the squad returns from
scrimmage, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., will tell us all about Thor, or be
tossed in a blanket! Are you with me?"
"We are ahead of you!" howled Roddy Perkins, leading a wild charge for
the entrance to Bannister Hall. Following him up the two flights of stairs
with thunderous tread came Butch, Beef, Monty, Biff, Hefty, Pudge, Tug,
Ichabod, Bunch, Buster, Bus Norton, and several second-team players,
Cherub, Chub Chalmers, Don, Skeet, and Scoop Sawyer with his letter. With
a terrific, blood-chilling clatter, and hideous howls, the Hicks-quelling
Expedition roared down the third corridor of Bannister, and surged into the
room of that tantalizing T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.!
"Safety first!" shrieked that cheery collegian, stowing his banjo in the
closet and making a strenuous but futile effort to dive head-first beneath
the bed, being forcibly restrained by Beef, who clung to his left ankle.
"Say, to what am I indebted for the honor of this call? Why, when I got
back to Bannister, you fellows gushed, 'Oh, we're so glad you're back,
Hicks, old top; we missed even your saengerfests,' and when I start one—"
"Hicks," pronounced Butch Brewster grimly, holding the genial offender
by the scruff of the neck, "you tantalizing, aggravating, irritating,
lunatical, conscienceless degenerate! You assassin of Father Time, you
disturber of the peace, heed! Scoop Sawyer is writing to Jack Merritt, to
tell about the football team, and Bannister's chances of the Championship;
he wants to tell Jack all about this Thor! Now, you have acted like
Herman-Kellar-Thurston long enough, and hear our final word. Read Scoop's
letter, and if when you finish its perusal you fail to give us full
information, and answer all questions about Thor—"
"The football team will toss you in a blanket until you do!" finished Monty
Merriweather, "We intended to wait until after the scrimmage, but Butch
evidently believes we should end your bothersome mystery as once, and—"
"'Curiosity killed the cat!'" grinned T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.; then seeing
the avenues and boulevards of escape were closed, but fighting for time,
"let me peruse said missive indited by our literarily overbalanced Scoop. I
am reluctant to dispel the clouds of mystery, but—"
Scoop Sawyer thrust the typewritten pages of the letter—composed on
the battered old typewriter in the editorial sanctum of the Bannister
Weekly—into Hicks' grasp and with a grin, that blithesome youth read:
Bannister College, Sept, 27.