The game was over, and our boys had won the
victory.
In a twinkle the gridiron was covered with swarming students, and
Sam and his fellow players were hoisted up on willing shoulders,
to be trotted around the oval. "Hurrah for Pornell!" they
shouted. "Hurrah for Putnam!" came back the cry. It had been a
bitter but friendly contest, and victors and vanquished shook
hands over and over again.
Of course many students of Pornell were bitterly disappointed, but
no one felt so sour over the whole afternoon's doing as did Dan
Baxter. In all he had lost over fifty dollars, and now neither
his fellow students nor the boys of Pornell Academy wanted
anything to do with him. "I haven't any use for a chap who bets
against his own crowd," was the comment of one academy student,
and he voiced the sentiment of all. Only Mumps stuck to his chum,
and the two, soon left the grounds together.
By four o'clock the cadets were on their way back to Putnam Hall,
the carriages moving behind the two companies of young soldiers,
who sang and shouted themselves hoarse as they moved along. Even
Captain Putnam entered into the spirit of the affair. "Brings me
back to the days when I was a cadet myself," he said to George
Strong.
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