Part 3 (1/2)
”'Discharge entire eleven,'” quoth Butch Brewster, having somewhat subdued his frenzy. ”'Got whole team in one--knock out part.i.tions betweenrooms--make s.p.a.ce for Thor, the Prodigious Prodigy!' Now, what in the world has that lunatical Hicks done? Who can Thor be?”
Tug Cardiff, Buster Brown, Bunch Bingham, Scoop Sawyer, little Skeet Wigglesworth, Don Carterson, and Cherub Challoner, not having given their brawn to the subduing of Butch, now kindly donated their brain, in all manner of weird suggestions. According to their various surmises, T.
Haviland Hicks, Jr., had lured the Strong Man away from Barnum and Bailey's Circus, had in some way reincarnated the mythical Norse G.o.d, Thor, had hired some Greco-Roman wrestler, or by other devices too numerous and ridiculous to mention, had produced a full-back according to Coach Corridan's blue-prints and specifications.
Big Beef McNaughton, seized with an inspiration that supplied locomotive-power to his huge frame, lumbered into the Gym., and soon appeared with monster megaphones, used in ”rooting” for Gold and Green teams, which he handed out to his comrades. Then the riotous squad, at his suggestion, sprinted for the Quad., that inner quadrangle or court around which the four cla.s.s dormitories, forming the sides of a square, were built; anyone desiring an audience could be sure of it here, since the collegians in all four dorms. could rush to the Quadrangle side and look down from the windows. In the Quadrangle, under the brilliant arc-lights, the exuberant youths paused,
”One--two--three--let 'er go!” boomed Beef, and the football squad, in , aided by the Phillyloo Bird's uncertain tenor, and Theophilus' quavery treble, roared in a tremendous vocal explosion that shook the dormitories:
”Hicks is coming! Hicks is coming! Everybody out on the campus! Get ready to welcome our T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.! Hicks is bringing Bannister's full-back--a Prodigious Prodigy!”
Windows rattled up, heads were thrust out, a fusillade of questions bombarded the squad in the Quadrangle below; from the three upper-cla.s.s dormitories erupted hordes of howling, shouting youths, and soon the Quad.
was filled with a singing, yelling, madly happy crowd. The Bannister Band, that famous campus musical organization, following a time-honored habit of playing on every possible occasion, gladsomely tuned up and soon the noise was deafening, while study-hour, as prescribed by the Faculty, was forgotten.
”Everybody on the campus, at once!” Butch Brewster, Master-of-Ceremonies, boomed through his megaphone, having aroused excitement to the highest pitch by reading Hicks' telegram. ”Old Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus will soon heave into sight. Let the Band blare, make a . Let's show Hicks how glad we are to have him back to old Bannister.”
It is historically certain that Mr. Napoleon Bonaparte returning from Jena and Austerlitz, Mr. Julius Caesar, home at Rome from his Conquests, or Mr.
Alexander the Great (Conqueror, not National League pitcher) never received such a welcome as did T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., from his Bannister comrades that night. To the excited students, ma.s.sed on the campus before the Gym.
awaiting his arrival, every second seemed a century; everybody talked at once until the hubbub rivaled that of a Woman's Suffrage Convention. Thomas Haviland Hicks, Jr., was actually returning to old Bannister; and he was bringing ”The Prodigious Prodigy,” whatever that was, with him. Knowing the cheery Senior's intense love of doing the dramatic and his great ambition to startle his Alma Mater with some sensational stunt, they could hardly wait for old Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus to roll up the driveway,
”Here he comes!” shrieked, little Skeet Wigglesworth, an excitable Senior, who had climbed a tree to keep watch. ”Here comes our Hicks!”
”Honk--Honk!” To the incessant blaring of a raucous horn, old Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus moved up the driveway. The genial Irish Jehu, who for over twenty years had transported Bannister collegians and alumni to and from College Hill in a ramshackle hack drawn by Lord Nelson, an antiquated, somnambulistic horse, had yielded to modern invention at last. Lord Nelson having become defunct during vacation, Old Dan, with a collection taken up by several alumni at Commencement, had bought a battered Ford, and constructed therewith a jitney-bus. This conveyance was fully as rattle-trap in appearance as the traditional hack had been, but the returning collegians hailed it with glee.
”All hail Hicks!” howled Butch Brewster, beside himself with joy, ”Altogether--the Bannister yell for--Hicks!”
With half the collegians giving the yell, a number shouting indiscriminately, the Bannister Band blaring furiously, ”Behold, The Conquering Hero Comes,” with the youths a yelling, howling, shrieking, dancing ma.s.s, old Dan Flannagan, adding his quota of noises with the Claxon, brought his bus to a stop. This was a hilarious spectacle in itself, for on its sides the Bannister students had painted:
HENRY FORD'S ”PIECE-OF-A-s.h.i.+P,” THE DOVE! ALL RIDING IN THIS JIT DO SO AT THEIR OWN RISK! TEN CENTS FOR A JOY-RIDE TO COLLEGE HILL! YES, IT'S A FORD! WHAT DO YOU CARE? GET ABOARD!
On the roof of ”The Dove,” or ”The Crab,” as the collegians called it when it skidded sideways, perched precariously that well-known, beloved youth, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr. He clutched his pestersome banjo and was vigorously strumming the strings and apparently howling a ballad, lost in the unearthly turmoil. As the jitney-bus stopped, the grinning Hicks arose, and from his lofty, position made a profound bow.
”Speech! Speech! Speech!” A mighty shout arose, and Hicks raised his hand for silence, which was immediately delivered to him.
”Fellows, one and all,” he shouted, a mist before his eyes, for his impulsive soul was touched by the ovation, ”I--I amto be back!
Say--I--I--well, I'm glad to be back--that's all!”
At this masterly oration, which, despite its brevity, contained volumes of feeling, the Bannister students went wild--for a longer period than any political convention ever cheered a nominated candidate, they cheered T.
Haviland Hicks, Jr. ”Roar--roar--roar--!” in deafening sound-waves, the noise swept across the campus; never had football idol, baseball hero, or any athletic demiG.o.d, in all Bannister's history, been accorded such a tremendous ovation.
”Fellows,” called T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., climbing down from his precarious perch, ”stand back; I have brought to Bannister the 'Prodigious Prodigy.'
I have rounded up a full-back who will beat Ballard all by himself. Behold the new Gold and Green football eleven, 'Thor'!”
From the grinning Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus, like a Russian bear charging from its den, lumbered a being whose enormous bulk fairly astounded the speechless youths; Butch Brewster, Beef McNaughton, Tug Cardiff, Bunch Bingham, Buster Brown, and Pudge Langdon were popularly regarded as the last word in behemoths, but this ”Thor” dwarfed them, towered above them like a Colossus over Lilliputians. He was a youth, and yet a veritable Hercules. Over six feet he stood, with a ma.s.sive head, covered with tousled white hair, a powerful neck, broad shoulders, a vast chest. To a judge of athletes, he would tip the scales at a hundred and ninety pounds, all solid muscle, for that superb physique held not an ounce of superfluous flesh.
”Hicks,” said Head Coach Patrick Henry Corridan, gazing at the mountain of muscle, ”ifmeans anything, you have brought old Bannister an entire football squad! What splendid material to train for the Big Games, why--he will be irresistible!”