I--I
told--"
"Sorry?" quoth T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., "Class Kid," of Yale, '96, with a
Cheshire cat grin, "
sorry? I should say
not--I wanted it to be known to
Butch, and Coach Corridan, but I got all shivery when I tried to confess,
and I--couldn't! Nay, Theophilus, you faithful friend, I'm so
glad, old
man, that beside yours truly, the celebrated Pollyanna resembles Niobe,
weeping for her lost children."
CHAPTER XIII
HICKS--CLASS KID--YALE '96
"Brekka-kek-kek--Co-Ax--Co-Ax!
Brekka-kek-kek--Co-Ax--Co-Ax!
Whoop-up! Parabaloo! Yale! Yale! Yale!
Hicks! Hicks! Hicks!"
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., swathed in a cumbersome Gold and Green football
blanket, and crouching on the side-line, like some historic Indian, felt a
thrill shake his splinter-structure, as the yell of "old Eli" rolled from
the stand, across Bannister Field. In the midst of the Gold and Green flags
and pennants, fluttering in the section assigned the Bannister cohorts, he
gazed at a big banner of Blue, with white lettering:
YALE UNIVERSITY--CLASS OF 1896
"Oh, Butch," gasped Hicks, torn between fear and hope, "just listen to
that. Think of all those Yale men in the stand with my Dad! Oh, suppose I
do get sent in to try for a drop-kick!"
It was almost time far the biggest game to start, the contest with Ballard,
the supreme test of the Gold and Green, the final struggle for The State
Intercollegiate Football Championship! In a few minutes the referee's
shrill whistle blast would sound, the vast crowd in the stands, on the
side-lines, and in the parked automobiles, would suddenly still their
clamor and breathlessly await the kick-off--then, seventy minutes of grim
battling on the turf, and victory, or defeat, would perch on the banners of
old Bannister.
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