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Updated: May 22, 2025
To-morrow I will have a little talk with Put about this matter." "That's right," grinned Harry; "and Pierson is liable to have a little talk with you. You'll be on the regular team inside of a week." On the following day the great topic of conversation for the class of 'Umpty-eight was the recent ball game.
But that was not the end of the excitement. The speed of the freshman boat was something wonderful, and it was overhauling the sophs, despite the fact that they were pulling for dear life to hold the lead. And now the shouting for 'Umpty-eight was heard on every side. The sophs were encouraging their men to hold the advantage to the finish, but still the freshmen were gaining.
At last they were given an opportunity to use their lungs, after having been comparatively silent for several innings. "Whoop 'er up for 'Umpty-eight!" howled a fellow with a heavy voice. "What's the matter with 'Umpty-eight?" "She's all right!" went up the hoarse roar. "What's the matter with Merriwell?" "He's all right!" again came that roar.
The triumphant freshmen felt like shouting and singing in jubilant mood. Indeed, Rattleton could not refrain from "letting off steam," as he called it, and he gave one wild howl of triumph that made the streets echo: "'Umpty-eight! 'Umpty-eight!" "Break it off!" sharply commanded Frank. "Want to let the sophs know we're up to something?" "I don't care."
'Umpty-eight! Whoop 'er up! 'Rah! 'rah! rah!" It was another great victory for the freshmen and Frank Merriwell, and that night a great bonfire blazed on the campus and the students made merry. They blew horns, sang, cheered and had a high old time. The freshmen made the most noise, and they were very proud and aggressive. Never had Yale College freshmen seemed happier.
"'Umpty-eight is in it; she will catch 'em in a minute," sang the freshmen. "She is crawling on them!" "All she can do is crawl!" yelled a soph, but his remark was drowned in the wild tumult of noise. "'Umpty-six is up to tricks!" shouted the juniors. "'Umpty-six, they are bricks! Whoop 'er up! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah!"
Evidently the sophomores had been informed about this banner in advance, for they carried one which declared: "'Umpty-eight isn't in it, She'll be beaten in a minute." How they shouted and taunted each other! How they raced along the road! How sure everybody was that he could pick the winner!
With cries of amazement the alarmed sophomores broke and scattered before the oncoming freshmen. Crash! The timber struck the gate, bursting it open instantly, and the triumphant freshmen swarmed into the park, cheering wildly. "Hurrah for 'Umpty-eight!" yelled Bandy Robinson, turning a handspring. "We are the boys to do 'em!"
As the hack rolled along toward East Rock the freshmen sang: "We belong to good old 'Umpty-eight, For she's a corker, sure as fate, sure as fate. We have met the sophomores, And they're feeling awful sore; So hurrah for good old 'Umpty-eight! 'Umpty-eight!" "Begobs! ye're th' quarest gang av softmores Oi iver saw!" cried the driver.
"Oh, think of the beautiful beers that V would have paid for!" sighed Robinson, with a doleful shake of his head. "This is a disgrace on the famous class of 'Umpty-eight!" shouted Lewis Little. "We can never wipe it out!" "I fear not," said Easy Street. "It is really awful!" "And to think Merriwell should have done it. It would have served him right if that spring gun had filled him with shot!"
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