"Only I wish it had been someone else than I who got hold of Mort,"

mused Andy. "He'll be sure to remember it when I get to Yale, and he'll have it in for me. He can make a lot of trouble, too, I reckon. Well, it can't be helped. They only got what was coming to 'em."

With this thought Andy consoled himself, but he had an uneasy feeling for all that. The students came trooping back, after having disposed of Mortimer and his crowd.

"You missed the best part of the fun," said Chet to Andy. "Those fellows thought a cyclone struck them when we tossed 'em into the car. They don't know yet whether they're going or coming back," and he laughed, his mates joining in.

"Yes?" asked Andy, non-committally.

"What's up?" asked Tom, curiously. "You don't act as though it had any flavor for you. What's the matter?"

"Oh, well--nothing," said Andy. "Come on, let's get back to the fire, and have a last song. Then I'm going to pack. I want to leave on that early train in the morning."

"Same here. Come on, boys. Whoop her up once more for Old Milton, and then we'll say good-bye."

"I know what ails Andy," spoke Tom in a low tone to Frank, walking along arm in arm with him.

"What?"

"It's about that fellow Gaffington. Andy's sorry he had a run-in with him, and I don't blame Andy. He had trouble before, and this will only add to it. And that Gaffington is just mean enough, and small-spirited enough, to make trouble for Andy down there at Yale. He's a sport--but one of the tin-horn brand. I don't blame Andy for wishing it had been someone else."

"Oh, well, here's hoping," said Frank. "We all have our troubles."

"But those fellows won't trouble us again to-night," declared Chet, laughing. "They'll be glad to go home and get in bed."

"Did you know any of 'em, Andy, except Gaffington?" asked Tom.

"No, the others were strangers to me."

"How do you reckon they got here, all the way from New Haven?"

"Oh, they didn't come from Yale," declared Andy. "The university closed last week, you know. Probably Mort had some of his chums out to visit him in Dunmore. That was his car. And he wanted to show 'em the sights, and let 'em see he could run all over little Milton, so he brought 'em out here. It isn't such a run from Dunmore, you know."

"I reckon that's it," agreed Tom. "Well, they got more than they were looking for, that's one consolation. Now boys, whoop her up for the last time."

Again they gathered about the blazing fire, and sang their farewell song.

The annual celebration was drawing to a close. Another group of lads would leave Milton to go out into the world, mounting upward yet another step. From then on the ways of many who had been jolly good comrades together would diverge. Some might cross again; others be as wide apart as the poles.

The fire died down. The big piano box commandeered by "Swipes" was but a heap of ashes. The fun was over.

There were cheers for the departing senior lads, who, in turn, cheered the others who would take their places. Then came tributes to the industrious freshmen.

"Good night! Good night! Good night!" was shouted on all sides.

Less and less brilliant grew the fire. Now it was but a heap of glowing coals that would soon be gray, dead and cold ashes, typical in a way, of the pa.s.sing of the senior boys. And yet, phoenix-like, from these same ashes would spring up a new fire--a fire in the hearts that would never die out. Such are school friendships.

Of course there were forbidden little feasts in the various rooms to mark the close of the term--spreads to which monitors, janitors and professors discreetly closed their eyes.

Andy and his friends gathered in his apartment for a last chat. They were to journey to their home town on the morrow and then would soon separate for the long summer vacation.

"Well, it was a rare old celebration!" sighed Tom, as he flopped on the bed.

"It sure was!" agreed Chet, with conviction. "I hope I have as much fun as this if I go to Harvard."

"Same here, only I think I'll make mine Princeton," added Ben. "Oh, but it's sort of hard to leave Milton!"

"Right you are," came from Andy, who was opening ginger ale and soda water.

And, after a time, quiet settled down over the school, and Dr. Morrison and his colleagues breathed freely again. Milton had stood steadfast through another a.s.sault of "bonfire night."

The next morning there were confused goodbyes, multiplied promises to write, or to call, vows never to forget, and protestations of eternal friendship. There were arrangements made for camping, boating, tramping and other forms of vacation fun. There were dates made for a.s.sembling next year. There was a confused rushing to and fro, a looking up of the time of trains, hurried searches for missing baggage.

And, after much excitement, Andy and his chums found themselves in the same car bound for Dunmore. They settled back in their seats with sighs of relief.

"Hear anything more of Mort and his crowd?" asked Tom of Andy.

"Not a thing."

"I did," spoke Chet. "They were nearly arrested for making a row in town after we got through with 'em."

"Hum!" mused Andy. "I s'pose Mort will blame me for that, too. Well, no use worrying until I have to."

At Churchtown, where the train stopped to give the boys at least a last remembrance of Kelly's place, several pa.s.sengers got on. Among them was a young man who seemed familiar to Andy and his chums. A second look confirmed it.

"Why, that's the Bardon chap we took away from that farmer!" exclaimed Frank.

"That's right!" cried Andy. "h.e.l.lo, Link!" he called genially. "What you doing here?"

"Oh, how are you?" asked the farm lad. "Glad to see you all again," and he nodded to each one in turn. He did not at all presume on his acquaintance with them, and was about to pa.s.s on, when Andy said:

"Sit down. How's your arm?"

"Oh much better, thank you. I've been working steadily since you helped me."

"That's good. Where are you bound for now?" went on Andy.

"Why, I'm going to look up an uncle of mine I haven't seen in years. I hear he has a big farm, and I thought I'd like to work for him."

"Where is it?" asked Andy.

"In a place called Wickford, Connecticut."

"Wickford!" exclaimed Andy. "Why that's near New Haven, and Yale--where I'm going this fall. Maybe I'll see you there, Link."

"Maybe," a.s.sented the young farmer, and then, declining Andy's invitation to sit with the school lads, he pa.s.sed on down the car aisle.