Danny told a story, and it proved to be hilariously funny, as it was all about a “horse” on a student well known to them all. More punch was absorbed. Then Creighton mounted upon a chair and made a flowery speech, which was vociferously applauded. More punch was disposed of by the merry crowd. The sophomores were reckless in their hilarity. They were out for a racket, and they had it. They seemed to forget the barrier between them and the freshmen. Freshmen and sophs could be seen hanging on each other’s necks and pledging eternal affection over the flowing bowl. Fellows were friendly who would not recognize each other on the morrow. The freshmen were fearless of the older classmen. They addressed them familiarly, talked to them in a familiar manner, joked them and toasted them. Sidney Gooch seemed trying to drown his grief with punch. Once in a while he would break out about his watch, but everybody else seemed to wish to forget all about that. Newton Billings had a brannagan on. He slapped sophomores and juniors on the back and told them they were the “right kind of stuff.” He applauded Danny’s story and Charlie’s speech. “’Ray!” he cried. “Whazzer matter wi’ us! We’re all ri’! What comes nex’? ’Sit Merriwell? ’Ray fer Merriwell!” “This is getting pretty swift,” thought Frank. “I’ll sing, and then I’ll watch for an opportunity to skip in a hurry. Some of these fellows will have to be taken home on shutters.” Browning seemed happy. There was a calm, sweet smile on his weary face as he ladled out more punch. At last the deadly stuff was getting in its work. Frank sang “Those Evening Bells,” an old-time college song. He rendered it beautifully, assisted by several voices on the chorus, and a dozen fellows were extravagant with their praise. “’S great!” declared Billings, getting beside Frank, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. “’S beautiful! You can shing, Merriwell! ’S w’at! Give us ’nozzer.” Others urged Frank to sing again, and he saw they would not be satisfied if he refused. He struck into “Stars of the Summer Night.” “Stars of the summer night, Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light, She sleeps, my lady sleeps.” This was another of the old-time college songs, seldom heard at Yale in these modern days, but the music of Merriwell’s voice, and the mellowing influence of the punch, moved one of the freshmen to tears. “’S great!” murmured Billings, getting his arm about Frank’s neck and seeming to sob. “Merriwell, you’re a brick! Give fi’ hundred dollarsh ’f I could shing shame’s you can.” “Make it something lively next time,” urged Irving Nash. “Do!” cried several. “Give us something so we can come in on the chorus and bear down heavy.” Bink Stubbs started to sing “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,” but that had seen its day and Bink came near getting himself killed.