My name’s Cantankerous Charlie, and I come from over the mesa.
I never gets bust, I’ve plenty o’ dust, and I always pay my way, sir.
I’ve rocked the cradle and shoveled the dirt from morn till dewy night,
And now I’m down in this old town with a heart that’s gay and light
Yip, yip! Yip, yay! I’m free to say I’m here to see the sights!
After that the concert was no longer a one-man affair. One singer after another was pushed forward, held a brief conference with Monty and launched into song. After the first verse was sung Monty was right with him. When in doubt he “faked,” but he never went far wrong. They sang all the popular songs of the moment, and many old favorites. Once, Mr. Rumford appeared unnoticed at the door—his rooms were at the end of the corridor—and looked and listened doubtfully. But the hour was still early, and save that the noise was possibly a bit excessive, the performance was violating no rule, and the assistant principal went softly away again.
At last, Monty pleaded weariness, and a senior named Forbes took his place at the keyboard, and they began on the school songs: “Here We Go,” “The Scarlet and Gray,” “The Days to Memory Dear,” and many others. Monty sifted his way through the crowd. He had had enough, and was ready for bed. He tried to find Leon, but that youth was swallowed up in the throng. Fellows near by were observing him curiously, but approvingly, as he loitered across to the fireplace. At the piano Forbes was making the strings hum under the strains of “Here We Go!” and half a hundred throats—more, perhaps, since youths returning from the village or other dormitories had joined the throng—were chanting the chorus. Monty yawned. After all, singing had not altogether quieted his craving for exciting deeds, but nothing more promised. Unobtrusively, he left the room by the nearer door, and climbed the stairs to Number 14 to recover his hat. As he went, the swelling refrain followed him:
“Grafton! Grafton! Here we go,
Arm in arm, with banners flying!