Tony was busily figuring in his memorandum book, and did not answer.
“Tony, what are you at there?” asked Ray.
“Oh, the accounts, of course,” answered Tony. “I have been so busy with the scores and other matters lately that I have rather let them slide. They are all right now, though.”
“How do we stand?” I asked.
“Over $150 still in the treasury,” he answered. “Our trip has cost us less than $100, and our expenses for this season are almost at an end. Taking into account the profits we will derive from the deciding game at Belmont, we ought to have a large balance in our favor to carry over to next year.”
“Well, I hope the fellows don’t begrudge the money they have contributed to baseball this term,” said Ray.
“That doesn’t sound as if they did, does it?” questioned Tony significantly, as the distant sound of cheers greeted us—cheers that came not from the baggage room, where our companions were, but from the platform of Belmont depot, towards which we were rapidly approaching. As the train slackened speed, Percy Randall and the rest came tumbling back into the car; and we hurriedly gathered together our traps and crowded out upon the platform.
What college man who has ever played ball can forget the glad moment when, after a hard fought and successful tour, he returns to receive the enthusiastic congratulations of his fellow students; the pleasurable thrill with which he first hears the sound of their voices; the joyous, clamorous greeting as the old familiar depot is reached; the happy, noisy throng that receives him with open arms; the shouting, laughing, singing, cheering, and the thousand other delightful details that constitute his triumph!
All this was ours; and Belmont has still to look forward to a bigger bonfire than was piled up and consumed on the old back campus that night. To be sure, our joy was tempered by the consideration that the championship was still to be won, that the Crimson Banner was still to be wrested from the hands of the Park men by a deciding game; but, nevertheless, our prospects had so suddenly brightened, our tour had been so brilliantly successful, and our success augured so well for the future, that an anticipatory triumph was quite natural and justifiable.
“We might just as well have our bonfire now, for the tour alone is worthy of it,” said Clinton Edwards, when Ray suggested that perhaps the triumph was a little premature. “We can easily have another one when we win the championship. There is plenty of fuel lying loose around town. I would contribute all the furniture in my room if I thought it would be any help towards bringing the Crimson Banner back to Belmont.”