"He's all right! Hicks! Hicks! Hicks!"
For ten minutes pandemonium reigned. Then, regardless of the fact that, in
order to surprise Mr. Hicks and his son, other athletes, eligible under the
new rule, had yet to be presented with their B, the howling youths swarmed
on the stage, hoisted the grinning T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., and his happy
Dad to their shoulders, and started a wild parade around the campus and the
Quadrangle, singing:
"Here's to our own Hicks—drink it down! Drink it down! Here's to our own
Hicks—drink it down! Drink it down! Here's to our own Hicks—When he
starts a thing, he sticks—Drink it down—drink it down—down! Down!
Down!"
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., aloft on the shoulders of his behemoth class-mate,
Butch Brewster, was deliriously happy. The surprise party of his campus
comrades was a wonderful one, and he could scarcely realize that he had
actually, by the Athletic Association ruling, won his three B's! How glad
his beloved Dad, was, too. He had not expected this bewildering happiness.
He had been so joyous, when his sort earned the track letter, but to
have him leave old Bannister, with a B for three sports—it was almost
unbelievable! And, as Dad had said—there had been no thought of Hicks when
the Advisory Board made the rule, so Hicks had no reason to suppose it was
done just to award him his letter.
Then, Hicks remembered that rash vow, made at the end of his Freshman year,
a vow uttered with absolutely no other thought than a desire to torment
Butch Brewster, "Before I graduate from old Bannister, I shall have won
my B in three branches of sport!" Never, not even for a moment, had the
happy-go-lucky youth believed that his wild prophecy would be fulfilled,
though he had pretended to be confident to tease his loyal comrades; but
now, at the very end of his campus days, just before he graduated, his
prediction had come true! So the sunny Senior, who four years before had
made his rash vow, saw its realization, and suddenly thrilled with the
knowledge that he had a golden opportunity to make Butch indignant.
"Oh, I say, Butch," he drawled, nonchalantly, leaning down to talk in
Butch's ear, "do you recall that day, at the close of our Freshman year,
when I vowed to win my B in three branches of sport, ere I bade farewell to
old Bannister?"
"No, you don't get away with that!" exploded Butch Brewster, indignantly,
lowering his tantalizing classmate to terra firma. "Here, Beef, Pudge,
catch this wretch; he intends to swagger and say—"
But he was too late, for T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., dodging from his grasp,
imitated the celebrated Charley Chaplin strut, and satiated his fun-loving
soul. After waiting for three years, the irrepressible youth realized an
ambition he had never imagined would be fulfilled.
"Oh, just leave it to Hicks!" quoth he, gladsomely. "I told you I'd win
my three B's, Butch, old top, and—ow!—unhand me, you villain, you
hurt!"