Yes, Princeton had won; for though Yale batted hard, the tigers fielded the swift balls with a coolness born of confidence, and as the last man went out on a foul fly, the crowd rushed on the diamond in a frenzy of enthusiasm, and the faint "Brek-ek-ek-ex! Ko-ax, ko-ax!" came to an abrupt end.
Bingo did not even stop to see the boys, but hurried out of the grounds and tore uptown waving his score-card with the 8 to 6 telegram written on it.
"I want to send this to Redwood," he panted, elbowing his way into the office.
"Sorry," was the short answer, "can't do it; the storm has broken all the wires down in that part of the State."
Bingo's face fell. What should he do? Tom was waiting for the news, and would not be able to sleep until he heard. There was only one way of getting it to him, and that was—to ride home. The road would be bad, very bad;—he might be half the night getting there, but he had promised to let Tom know, and he would keep his promise at all costs. Having made up his mind, he was not going to let anything deter him. He would have loved to linger and talk over the great game, but with that rough long lonely ride before him it would not do to waste time. So he went for his wheel, only stopping on the campus long enough to ask Billy Appleton to tell Porter he had gone.
"Why, you're crazy!" exclaimed Appleton, "Stark, staring mad. The roads will be in a fearful condition. Come, don't be an idiot, Brad. Tom can wait till to-morrow morning."
But Braddy's brother shook his head. "You don't know how Tom feels, and I promised to let him hear to-night. If I break my wheel or puncture my tire I can walk; but I'll get there somehow, or bust."
"Well, you have sand, if you do lack sense," laughed Appleton, "and I hope you'll make it. I'll tell Port. Give my love to old Tom. We missed him to-day, of course; but didn't Blake play a magnificent game?"
Bingo nodded, and started off. For ten miles the road was comparatively good, and as long as the light lasted he managed to avoid the man-holes, and to steer clear of fallen trees and loose stones; but by eight o'clock it was dark. His lantern kept going out, the hills seemed like the Matterhorn, and the valleys were choked with the débris of the storm.
"I must have smashed my wheel that time!" exclaimed poor Bingo, as he got up from his second header, badly bruised. "I've a great mind to go back; the roads get worse and worse."