The last thing he remembered through his swimming vision was Joe Hungerford, hatless and swinging his arms as though he had gone crazy, leading a cheer, and the cheer was for Bones. That night, even before he went to the Storys', Stover went out arm in arm with Hungerford, across the quiet campus, so removed from the fray of the afternoon. "Joe, it breaks me all up," he said at last. "You and I waiting there--" "Don't speak of it, old fellow," said Hungerford. "Now let me talk. I did want to make it, but, by George, I know now it's better I didn't. I've had everything I wanted in this world; this is the first I couldn't get. It's better for me; I know it already." "You were clean grit, Joe, cheering for Bones." "By George, I meant it. It meant something to feel they could rise up and know a man, and you've hit pretty close to them, old boy." "Yes, I have, but I've believed it." "It shows the stuff that's here," said Hungerford, "when you once can get to it. Now I take off my hat to them. I only hope you can make your influence felt." "I'm going to try," said Stover solemnly. "The thing is so big a thing that it ought not to be hampered by bug-a-boo methods." Brockhurst joined them. "Well, the smoke's rolled away," said Brockhurst, who likewise had missed out. "It's over--all over. Now we'll settle down to peace and quiet--relax." "The best time's coming," said Hungerford. "We'll live as we please, and really enjoy life. It's the real time, every one says so." "Yes," said Brockhurst, rebel to the last, "but why couldn't it come before, why couldn't it be so the whole four years?" "Well, now, old croaker," said Hungerford with a little heat, "own up the old college comes up to the scratch. We've surrendered the sophomore society system, and the seniors showed to-day that they could recognize honest criticism. That's pretty fine, I say." "You're pretty fine, Joe," said Brockhurst to their surprise. "Well, it's good enough as it is. It takes an awful lot to stir it, but it's the most sensitive of the American colleges, and it will respond. It wants to do the right thing. Some day it'll see it. I'm a crank, of course." He stopped, and Stover felt in his voice a little note of bitterness. "The trouble with me is just that. I'm impractical; have strange ideas. I'm not satisfied with Yale as a magnificent factory on democratic business lines; I dream of something else, something visionary, a great institution not of boys, clean, lovable and honest, but of men of brains, of courage, of leadership, a great center of thought, to stir the country and bring it back to the understanding of what man creates with his imagination, and dares with his will. It's visionary--it will come." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stover at Yale, by Owen Johnson