Then Sleep Forsyth, his face purple with excitement, stood up on the highest bench and managed to make himself heard above the din.
"Now, boys," he shouted, "here's to the old Grind, and let everybody sing!"
At this command the crowd joined hoarsely in, led by the thoroughly waked up Sleeper.
"Oh, Tommy, Tommy Atkins,"
they sang with cracked and gasping voices—
"You're a great and noble one;
You're a credit to the classics,
For you made a brilliant run.
May your drop-kick never fail you,
May your aim be ever true.
Three cheers for old Grind Atkins,
Here's St. James's love to you."
"I think," said Dr. Langford, smiling as he congratulated the happy Captain, "that the equilibrium of the school has at length been satisfactorily adjusted since Atkins has become a football hero."
Big Buff Miller beamed from ear to ear. "It's a finest kind of a grind on us," he said, "and we're proud to acknowledge it, though Doggy says it's too bad a pun."