Part 13 (1/2)
”All ready!” called Ned, and then, every one playing a different tune on his fife, they marched out on the campus.
The seniors, in accordance with an old custom, had gathered in a circle about an ancient elm tree and were singing. The song was ”Farewell to Thee, Dear Alma Mater,” and they were in the midst of the touching lines:
”We shall be here never more; Some go to a foreign sh.o.r.e,”
”Toot! Toot!” sounded shrilly on the fifes and then the band of masqueraders, followed by scores of other boys and girls, began circling the seniors.
The farewell song was drowned in a burst of weird noises, tootings, yells and shouts.
”Farewell to the seniors!” called Ned.
”Farewell!” echoed the crowd.
”Here we go 'round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bus.h.!.+” sang Bart. ”All join hands!”
Then began a mad, merry dance. The seniors looked on helplessly. Some of them were laughing, and some of the girls were crying just a little bit, at the thought of leaving all their happy comrades.
”Farewell, farewell, farewell!” the other pupils sang, as they ran around in a circle, hands joined to hands.
”Now give 'em 'How Can I Bear to Leave Thee,'” suggested Ned, and the pupils quieted down and sang the song with feeling.
Then the circle broke up, and the seniors, waving their diplomas, and trying to say good-bye to scores at once, broke away from the old oak tree and started home--high school pupils no longer. But there were plenty left.
CHAPTER XII
FRANK'S QUEER LETTER
”What are we going to do this vacation?” asked Ned of his three chums, as they a.s.sembled the next Monday morning at the boat dock where they had agreed to meet.
”We had such a strenuous time Friday I haven't been able to think of anything since,” said Frank. ”Say that was the best last day yet, thanks to you, Ned.”
”That cow was the limit,” spoke Bart. ”How did you happen to think of it?”
”Oh, it sort of came to me.”
”And the cow 'sort of' came up stairs,” cried Fenn. ”Say, it was as good as a circus.”
”How did you do it?” asked Bart.
”It was easy enough once I got the farmer to consent. I met him down in the yard and laid the salt trail after he left. The cow did the rest.”
”Let's go for a swim,” proposed Bart. ”It's getting hot, and the water ought to be fine. Come on up to the old hole.”
The idea pleased the others. They got their suits from the dock house where they kept them, and soon were in their boat rowing for the swimming hole, just below the Riffles.
”Wonder if we'll see the King of Paprica?” said Bart.
”They needn't worry; we'll not bother 'em.”