"I think you ought to know, you great big awkward old farmer, that you saved the day for us." Drake looked as delighted as if he had done it himself.
"I've seen a good many sprees," said another voice near his head, which Hill had never heard before, "but that was the finest thing I ever saw; and I'm blame glad you did him, though I am a senior and lost twenty-five bats on it." Hill moved his head and saw the important-looking senior with glasses.
The farmer now laughed his hideous laugh. That showed he was all right.
One of the sophomore coachers approached the bed, and after looking up and down Hill's bulk a moment, said: "The trouble with you, you big freshman, is that you don't know when you're beaten. My man had that cane twice, but you wouldn't let go."
"Well, that's Princeton spirit, isn't it?" remarked the 'Varsity Captain, who had something to say to Hill later on.
Ramsay, the light weight, came running up the entry three steps at a time. He had been leading cheers for Hill out-doors and now he began hugging him. "Oh, farmer, you're a dandy. Give me your hand."
But when the farmer raised his hand he found the cane was still in it. "Here, little one, you can have this. I've had my fun out of it." This showed how green he was.
"No," said Ramsay; "you're to keep that forever. What did you win it for, anyway?"
As a matter of fact winning the spree meant much more to the big placid farmer than a hickory cane to hang with ribbons over his mantelpiece, and more than a bit of fame in another kind of athletics, too. Much more. As we all know now.