“Got to go easy, though!” cautioned Dunk.
“Oh, fudge on you and being easy!” laughed Mortimer. “This thing has to be done good and proper. Come on, let’s go out. We’ll smear this old town with a mixture of red and blue.”
“That makes purple,” laughed Dunk.
“No matter!” cried Mortimer. “Come on.”
Andy could not very well refuse and a little later he found himself with some of the other football players, at a table in Burke’s place.
The air was blue with smoke—veritable Yale air. There was laughter, talk, and the clatter of glasses on every side. The evening wore on, with the singing of songs, the telling of stories and the playing of the game all over again. It was such a night as occurs but seldom.
Andy noticed that Dunk was slipping back into his old habits. And, as the celebration went on this became more and more noticeable.
Finally, after a rollicking song, Dunk arose from his place near Andy and cried:
“Fellows—your eyes on me. I’m going to propose a toast to the best one among us.”
“Name your man!”