"
"But I thought Mr. Remsen was not coming until Saturday?"
"That," replied West, confidentially, "was his intention, but he heard
of a youngster up here who is such an astonishingly fine punter that he
decided to come at once and see for himself; and so he telegraphed to
Blair this morning. And you and I, my lad, will March--see?--with the
procession, and sing--"
"'Hilltonians, Hilltonians, your crimson banner fling
Unto the breeze, and 'neath its folds your anthem loudly sing!
Hilltonians! Hilltonians! we stand to do or die,
Beneath the flag, the crimson flag, that waves for victory!'"
And, seizing Joel by the arm, West dragged him out of the corridor and
down the steps into the warm sunlight of a September noon, chanting the
school song at the top of his voice. A group of boys on the Green
shouted lustily back, and the occupant of a neighboring window threw a
cushion with unerring precision at West's head. Stopping to deposit this
safely amid the branches halfway up an elm tree, the two youths sped
across the yard toward Warren Hall and the dinner table.
"You sit at our table, March," announced West. "Digbee's away, and you
can have his seat. Come on." Joel followed, and found himself in the
coveted precincts of the Hampton House table, and was introduced to five
youths, who received him very graciously, and invited him to partake of
such luxuries as pickled walnuts and peach marmalade. Joel was fast
making the discovery that to be vouched for by Outfield West invariably
secured the highest consideration.
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