"Fellows," shouted Butch, despite Hicks' protest, rising to his feet on the roof of the "jit."--"T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., today won the game and the Championship! Listen--" The vast crowd of erstwhile clamorous youths stood spellbound, as Captain Butch Brewster, in graphic sentences, described the game--Don Carterson's failure, Ichabod's sensational pitching, Hicks' errors, and--the wonderful manner in which the futile youth had won the Championship! As little Skeet Wigglesworth and the five substitutes, who had returned that afternoon, had spread the story of Hicks' bonehead play, old Bannister had turned out to ridicule and jeer good-naturedly the sunny youth, but now they learned that Hicks had been forced by his own mistake into the Big Game, and had won it! Of course, his comrades knew it had been through no ability of his, but the knowledge that he had been knocked senseless by Forsythe's great speed, and had suffered so that his college might score, thrilled them. "What's the matter with Hicks?" thundered Thor, he who at one time would have called this riot foolishness, and forgetting that the nine had just chanted the response to this query. "He's all right!" chorused the collegians, in ecstasy. "Who's all right?" demanded John Thorwald, his blond head towering over those of his comrades. To him, now, there was nothing silly about this performance! "Hicks! Hicks! Hicks!" came the shout, and the band fanfared, while the exultant collegians shouted, sang, whistled, and created an indescribable tumult with their noise-making devices. For five minutes the ear-splitting din continued, a wonderful tribute to the lovable, popular youth, and then it stilled so suddenly that the result was startling, for--T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., swaying on his feet arose, and stood on the roof of the "jit." With that heart-warming Cheshire cat grin on his cherubic countenance, the irrepressible Hicks seized a Louisville Slugger, assumed a Home-Run Baker batting pose, and shouted to his breathlessly waiting comrades: "Fellows, I vowed I would win that baseball game and the Championship for my Alma Mater by my headwork! With the bases full, and the score a tie, the Ballard pitcher hit me in the head with the ball, forcing in the run that won for old Ballard--now, if that wasn't _headwork_--" CHAPTER XIX BANNISTER GIVES HICKS A SURPRISE PARTY "We have come to the close of our college days. Golden campus years soon must end; From Bannister we shall go our ways-- And friend shall part from friend! On our Alma Mater now we gaze, And our eyes are filled with tears; For we've come to the close of our college days, And the end of our campus years!"