“Boys, it was glorious,” croaked Clinton, in a hoarse voice scarcely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The Crimson Banner will soon be ours;” and off he went again into a wild fit of ecstasy, clasping the man who happened to be nearest to him.
Among those pressing around to congratulate Ray I was interested in seeing Len Howard. I had not noticed him in any of the omnibuses, but he seemed to be one of the most enthusiastic. The fellows were eager to carry us off with them, but Ray objected.
“No,” he said. “We have our omnibus, and we must return to the hotel, for I have to see Beard by agreement after the game.”
“Do you intend driving back to Belmont?” I asked Clinton.
“Certainly,” he answered.
“Then, if you expect to get there before we do, you will have to start soon, for we go by train.”
“You don’t return till after dinner?”
“No,” I answered.
“Then we will have time. We want to get back before you, so as to prepare the boys. We must have a bonfire to-night.”
As soon as some measure of order could be restored Clinton got his crowd together into the omnibuses; and after a farewell round of cheers, they took their leave, while we drove back to the hotel. The rest of the spectators had dispersed in angry silence.