Football enthusiasm had been rampant for over a week and already two mass-meetings had been held. The third came off that Friday evening and everyone piled into the assembly hall and cheered and sang and whooped things up generally. The Mandolin and Banjo Club occupied the stage and supplied music for the songs. Hugh secretly thought the enthusiasm a bit “made-to-order” as he expressed it. But Hugh had not yet accustomed himself to the idea of organized cheering, which he still considered a trifle ridiculous. But he liked the singing and got into the songs with a will. Captain Trafford predicted victory for the Scarlet-and-Gray; Coach Bonner warned them against overconfidence, and Mr. Smiley quoted much Latin and made them laugh frequently. As a demonstration of loyalty and faith in the team the meeting was a great big success, but it didn’t affect the result of next week’s game the least particle, and so, in Hugh’s mind, was rather a waste of energy. Even Wallace Cathcart attended, and Hugh, to his surprise, caught him with his mouth very wide open and his face very red, cheering like mad. The first and second team players sat together in front and Hugh found himself beside Tom Hanrihan. Hanrihan had displayed a kindly interest in Hugh’s career from the first, and tonight, in a lull between a cheer for Coach Bonner and a song, he said confidentially:
“You’re doing fine, Hobo. Just you keep it up, son, and you’ll have your letter. If you do you’ll be one of the youngest fellows to get it. Bonner can’t keep you out of that game if he wants to, by gum! I sized you up right the first day I saw you; remember? Yes, sir, I liked your style right then, and I told Bonner so, too. I sort of discovered you, Hobo, and if you don’t play a regular star game next week I’ll beat you up!”
Then the mandolins and guitars and banjos struck up “Here We Go!” and Hanrihan and Hugh, the latter referring to the printed slip in his hand, joined in the rollicking refrain:
“Grafton! Grafton! Here we go,
Arm in arm with banners flying!
Pity, pity any foe
When it hears us loudly crying:
‘Grafton! Grafton! Rah, rah, rah!’
All together! Now the chorus: