old vegetable barrel that grocers unwittingly left outdoors nights, as
well as a few tar barrels in addition, all of which would help make
the heavens turn red under the glare, and add to the joyous occasion.

Jack tried to back out, but his mates would accept no excuses.

"You're no more tired than the rest of the bunch, Jack," Toby told
him; "and say, what is a victorious procession going to be like,
anyway, with the noblest Roman of them all absent? You are the captain
of the football squad, and everybody'll expect you to be in the front
rank. Just forget all your modesty for once, Jack, and make up your
mind to have a grand blowout."

"We certainly deserve it," snapped Joel Jack-man, "after putting up
such a royal fight against desperate odds. Why, when it drew near the
end I warrant you even the most loyal among our rooters began to turn
cold with fear that Chester would be left out in the count. But didn't
Packy McGraw and his crowd sing loud, though? That's what a cheer
captain can do for his side. Every time I heard them give that Chester
yell it seemed to put fresh heart in me."

"'Course you've just got to come out, Jack," protested Steve. "Why,
we'll gather around your shack and keep on yelling bloody murder if
you refuse, until your folks will show you the door. We want you, and
we've got to have you."

So, to "keep peace in the family," as Jack laughingly explained, he
consented, although with a shade of doubt.

"Keep things within reason, fellows," he urged them. "Don't let's be