"Ball-game?" asked Carpenter.
"Foot-ball," said I. "Western City played Union Tech today. Wonder
what the score was."
The cheer leader seemed to take the words out of my mouth. Again the
hundred voices roared:
"What was the score?
Seventeen to four!
Who got it in the neck?
Union Tech!
Who took the kitty?
Western City!"
Then more waving of flags, and yells for our prize captain and our
agile quarter-back: "Rah, rah, rah, Jerry Wilson! Rah, rah, rah,
Harriman! Western City, Western City, Western City!
W-E-S-T-E-R-N-C-I-T-Y! Western City!"
You have heard college yells, no doubt, and can imagine the tempo of
these cries, the cumulative rush of the spelled out letters, the
booming roar at the end. The voice of Bertie beat back from the
wind-shield with devastating effect upon our ears; and then our car
rolled on, and the clamor died away, and I answered the questions of
Carpenter. "They are College boys. They have won a game with another
college, and are celebrating the victory.
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