"Hurrah for Putnam Hall!"

"Let her go, Peleg, lively now, and mind you don't upset us, or
we'll use you worse than we did the football."

"All right, young gents. All in? Hold fast, everybody, or I won't
be responsible, nohow, if you drop off. Git along, Jack; up with
ye, Sally!"

And with a crack of the whip, a tooting of tin horns, and it mad
yelling and cheering from the students, the long Putnam Hall stage
left the football enclosure attached to the Pornell Academy grounds
and started along the lake road for Putnam Hall.

The stage was packed, inside and out, with as merry and
light-hearted a crowd of boys as could be found anywhere; and why
should they not be merry and light-hearted, seeing as they had just
won a great football match by a score of 16 to 8? Tom Rover, who
was on the top of the stage, actually danced a jig for joy.

"That's the third time we have done them up, fellows!" he cried.
"My, but won't there be gloom around Pornell Academy to-night! It
will be thick enough to cut with a knife."

"They were never in it from the start," piped up Sam Rover. "And
they were all heavier than our team, too," he added, proudly.

"It was science, not weight, that won the match," said Frank
Harrington.