Fifteen minutes later a window at the upper end of the college yard was slammed open, and a voice bawled into the frosty night:
“Heads out! All heads out!”
Then up and down the quadrangle, casements were raised and broad beams of light glowed out into the gloom, while dozens of other voices passed on the slogan:
“Heads out, fellows! Heads out!”
“What’s up?” cried a thin voice from an upper window of Thayer.
“Bonfire in front of University!” was the answer.
“Bonfire in the yard! All heads out!” sped the cry.
“Everybody get wood!” shouted a voice from Weld.
“Everybody get wood!” shouted half a hundred other voices.
Then windows were shut and eager youths clattered down-stairs and into the yard, and suddenly the quiet night had become a pandemonium. In front of University Hall a lone figure fed, with shingles and odd bits of wood, a small bonfire, which cast its wan glow against the white front of the sober pile, as if dismayed at its own temerity. For bonfires in the yard are strictly forbidden, and it was many years before that the last one had sent its sparks up in front of University. Barclay knew this, and welcomed the danger of probation or dismissal as adding an appropriate touch of the grand and heroic to his celebration.