Rah!  Rah!  Monastery,
Biggest Lion of them all,
Albertson and Mack and Quintin,
  Rah!  Rah!  Rah!

A full moon made it almost as light as day, and even dignified Albertson joined in the jovial song, while Billy Sparrow, dressed in his best blue broadcloth with its bright brass buttons, joined lustily in the chorus:  “Rah!  Rah!  Rah!  Albertson, Mack, and Jerry Quintin.”

Quintin’s team stood at the gate, and its owner told the driver to drive to the farmhouse and wait there.  Quintin himself was somewhat nervous, knowing that he had something more to accomplish before he slept.

The leader in this carnival of pleasure and song was Joe Elliot, a next year’s senior.  He was a stalwart man, the largest in the crowd, six feet four inches in height, broad-shouldered and clear-eyed—­a leader in everything he undertook.  He stalked in front, bearing a United States flag, setting the pace in both step and song.

Quintin after some effort succeeded in reaching Joe’s side, and said to the leader:  “Joe, get to the farm as soon as you can and set him down, I want to speak to him as soon as possible.  Stop with three cheers for Mack.”  Joe took the hint, and with march and song, he halted his men in front of the farmhouse, and setting McLaren down, took off his cap, an example which was immediately followed, and they gave three tremendous cheers for the new president of the Monastery and dispersed.

Immediately, grasping McLaren’s arm, Quintin said:  “We must find Tom and learn whether he has cabled to London.”  They entered the house and found Nancy at once, as if she had been awaiting their coming, who, without being asked, remarked:  “Tom waited until the president was elected, and then started to Centerville, taking Leon with him to cable to London his acceptance.  It is about half an hour since they started.”

“How did he go?” asked Quintin.

“On foot; he took the boy with him for company.  It is such a beautiful night, and the lad wanted to go.”

“That is enough,” exclaimed Quintin.  “Jump in, we may catch him yet.  Now, Cyrus, let them go,” and they did go.  In ten minutes they were in front of the telegraph office at the wharf at Centerville Landing.  Just as they began to ascend the stairs a man and a boy came out of the office—­Tom and Leonidas.

“Tom, what have you done?” exclaimed McLaren.

“I have just sent my acceptance to London,” and, thinking that perhaps he had done wrong in bringing the boy, added, “and it was such a beautiful night, I brought Leon for company.”

“But, Tom, why were you so hasty in the matter?  Why did you not consult your friends?”

In the meantime Quintin pushed past them into the office, where Reid, the operator, sat.

“Reid,” asked Quintin, “have you sent Dr. Sparrow’s message?”

“No, sir,” was the prompt reply, “but two minutes more and it would have been on the wires; here it is,” holding up the yellow paper.