“I’ll bet he failed,” said Kindlings solemnly. Certainly in Sid’s approach there was not the air of a conqueror.
All at once he stopped, bent down to the ground and appeared to be tearing something to pieces.
“What’s he doing?” asked Tom.
“Let’s go see,” proposed Kerr.
They advanced and beheld a curious sight. Sid was tearing up a book and making a little heap of the leaves. A moment later he touched a match to the pile, and the paper began to burn.
“What in the world are you doing?” called Tom.
“Did you pass?” fairly roared Kindlings.
“Sure,” replied Sid as calmly as if he had always expected to. “I passed with honors, and now I’m destroying the evidence. I’m applying the torch to Cæsar’s Commentaries and I’ll never open a book like it again in my life. Come on, fellows, join the festive throng. Tra la la! Merrily do we sing.”
He began prancing about and the others, with yells of joy, joined in. Sid would cover first base for them in the big game.
With a tooting of auto horns, the waving of many flags, shouts, cheers, yells of encouragement, laughter from many pretty girls, the waving of handkerchiefs, renditions of the college yell the ball nine and its supporters started the next day in a long cavalcade for Fairview.