With half the collegians giving the yell, a number shouting indiscriminately, the Bannister Band blaring furiously, "Behold, The Conquering Hero Comes," with the youths a yelling, howling, shrieking, dancing mass, old Dan Flannagan, adding his quota of noises with the Claxon, brought his bus to a stop. This was a hilarious spectacle in itself, for on its sides the Bannister students had painted: HENRY FORD'S "PIECE-OF-A-SHIP," _THE DOVE_! ALL RIDING IN THIS JIT DO SO AT THEIR OWN RISK! TEN CENTS FOR A JOY-RIDE TO COLLEGE HILL! YES, IT'S A _FORD_! WHAT DO YOU CARE? GET ABOARD! On the roof of "The Dove," or "The Crab," as the collegians called it when it skidded sideways, perched precariously that well-known, beloved youth, T. Haviland Hicks, Jr. He clutched his pestersome banjo and was vigorously strumming the strings and apparently howling a ballad, lost in the unearthly turmoil. As the jitney-bus stopped, the grinning Hicks arose, and from his lofty, position made a profound bow. "Speech! Speech! Speech!" A mighty shout arose, and Hicks raised his hand for silence, which was immediately delivered to him. "Fellows, one and all," he shouted, a mist before his eyes, for his impulsive soul was touched by the ovation, "I--I am _glad_ to be back! Say--I--I--well, I'm glad to be back--that's all!" At this masterly oration, which, despite its brevity, contained volumes of feeling, the Bannister students went wild--for a longer period than any political convention ever cheered a nominated candidate, they cheered T. Haviland Hicks, Jr. "Roar--roar--roar--_roar_!" in deafening sound-waves, the noise swept across the campus; never had football idol, baseball hero, or any athletic demigod, in all Bannister's history, been accorded such a tremendous ovation. "Fellows," called T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., climbing down from his precarious perch, "stand back; I have brought to Bannister the 'Prodigious Prodigy.' I have rounded up a full-back who will beat Ballard all by himself. Behold the new Gold and Green football eleven, 'Thor'!" From the grinning Dan Flannagan's jitney-bus, like a Russian bear charging from its den, lumbered a being whose enormous bulk fairly astounded the speechless youths; Butch Brewster, Beef McNaughton, Tug Cardiff, Bunch Bingham, Buster Brown, and Pudge Langdon were popularly regarded as the last word in behemoths, but this "Thor" dwarfed them, towered above them like a Colossus over Lilliputians. He was a youth, and yet a veritable Hercules. Over six feet he stood, with a massive head, covered with tousled white hair, a powerful neck, broad shoulders, a vast chest. To a judge of athletes, he would tip the scales at a hundred and ninety pounds, all solid muscle, for that superb physique held not an ounce of superfluous flesh.