"Good-bye." "Good-bye." "Good luck to you." "Thank heaven we have all been at Harvard anyway." This last for the benefit of a knot of radiant men who pushed by, with violets in their button-holes, and who looked back and laughed good-naturedly.
So "the gang" separated, and so separate constantly, after this battle, not knowing when they will ever meet again, men who have lived together four years and have become the closest friends that live.
Half an hour later Holworthy and Rattleton in a buggy were on their way to Red Top. All sorts of rumors had already spread about No. 4 in the Harvard boat, and they were really relieved to find, on arriving at the quarters, that Rivers was nowhere near death's door, not even permanently injured. But the great, stalwart, glorious man was weak and limp as an invalid girl. As soon as possible they got him away from the gloomy group at the quarters, and took him aboard the cruiser of Rattleton's uncle for perfect rest and sparkling blue water.
There they kept him prisoner for two weeks, though before he had fairly got back his strength, he began chafing to get to work. When at last they let him go, he buckled down to his desk, as he had to his oar, and kept at it until, at the end of the summer, a short vacation was forced on him.
The following cablegram, received by "Herr Holz Holvordy," at St. Moritz, explains itself:
Newport, Sept. 5.
She is mine. Hurrah. Be my best man.
Rivers.
At the wedding every one remarked what a handsome couple they were, and how well suited to each other. Holworthy of course was best man. The ushers were Messrs. Bender, Burleigh, Gray, Hudson, Randolph, and Stoughton. Jack Rattleton happened to be abroad at the time.