"Ah—I should say football—the mantle of victory will fall upon the shoulders of our—ah—representatives. I thank you."
McTurkle bowed with gentle dignity.
"What's his name?" cried a chap below.
"McTurkle," answered Bud.
"Wha-a-at?"
"McTurkle!"
"Cheer for McTurkey!" demanded the questioner.
"A-a-aye!" cried the throng.
Bud leaped to the top step.
"Regular cheer, fellows, for McTurkle!" he cried. And it came.