So the procession formed again and marched down to the field where material for the fire had already been assembled. There were half a dozen nice kerosene barrels and plenty of wood gathered along the river. There were also some railroad ties, a portion of a foot bridge and a section of picket fence which, I fear, had not been so innocently procured. Willing hands massed the barrels and piled the miscellaneous material on top of the pyramid. Then Chambers applied the match and the flames leaped up.
“Ring! Ring!” was the cry. “Form a ring! Everyone join hands!”
In a minute some two hundred and forty rollicking youths were swinging around the fire in a huge circle, advancing, retreating, winding and twisting like a snake that had swallowed its tail, while to the starlit sky two hundred and forty voices arose in song.
“Oh, the wearin’ o’ the Green!
Oh, the wearin’ o’ the Green!
You can always tell a loser by the wearin’ o’ the Green!
’Twas the most distressful ruction that ever yet was seen
When we walloped poor old Broadwood for the wearin’ o’ the Green!”
They sang it over and over, keeping time to their steps. Then the ring began to move faster and faster until at last it was whirling around the fire like a mammoth pin wheel, the long shadows of the leaping figures waving and dancing grotesquely behind them. The ring broke and met again, fellows fell and were dragged along willy-nilly until they found their feet, and all the time the white stars were informed that:
“You can always tell a loser by the wearin’ o’ the Green!”
Finally, tired and breathless, the fellows ceased their dancing, the fire was replenished and speeches were demanded. Joe Chambers was elevated to the shoulders of three of his comrades, and when he had found his breath told them that the day would live forever in the annals of Yardley Hall School, and the names of the heroes who had won glory for the Blue on the trampled field of battle would be for all time emblazoned upon the tablets of memory. Joe let himself out to the full limit of his oratorical powers and the audience laughed and cheered and called for more whenever he threatened to slip from his precarious seat or ran out of breath. And just when he was showing signs of real exhaustion the cry went up that the team was coming, and Joe was deposited unceremoniously on the ground while a great shout of welcome went up as the group of players and coachers came out of the darkness into the circle of the fire light.
“Who’s captain?” cried a small prep. But he was promptly sat upon, for it is the retiring captain’s privilege to announce the result of the election.
“This way!” shouted Joe Chambers. “Everyone over to the grand stand!” So everyone scuttled across the field, the members of the football team being caught up in the stampede as they hustled along. The light from the fire illumined the faces of the players dimly as they climbed the stand and stood somewhat sheepishly awaiting proceedings. The cheering came first, with Joe leading:
“Now, fellows, a regular cheer for Captain Loring, and make it good!”