The crowd was certainly a gay one, and the Rovers lost no time in joining in the festivities.  One student had a bugle, and another had an old base drum which boasted of only one head.  These two succeeded in forming a crowd of their fellow-students into marching order, and, singing gaily and tooting horns and sounding rattles, and with numerous torches flickering, the collegians tramped around the college buildings and over the campus and then back to the bonfires.

“Whoop!  Hurrah!” came a sudden yell, and from one of the distant barns rushed half a dozen students, dragging behind them a buggy.  On the seat, wearing an exceedingly tight jockey jacket, and likewise a jockey cap, sat old man Filbury, the general caretaker of the dormitories.

“Hurrah!  Here the conquering hero comes!”

“It’s a race—­ a race for a thousand dollars!”

“I’ll bet on Filbury, every time!”

“Now, see here, gents, I don’t like this at all.  You lemme out o’ this here kerridge,” wailed the old man-of-all-work.  “I ain’t doin’ none o’ this celebratin’.  I got some work to do.  You let me go.”

“Oh, we couldn’t think of it, Filbury,” cried Stanley, who was one of the students at the shafts of the carriage.  “Now then, boys, together!” And along the turnout rattled, past the various bonfires.

“Speech!  Speech!” came another cry.  “Filbury, can’t you say something about Brill and this glorious victory?”

“Never mind the victory,” came from Tom.  “Let him tell us about how to pass our examinations without studying.”

“And how to get credit down in town without paying any bills,” put in another student, who, evidently, had hard work making both ends meet.

“I tell you, I ain’t a-goin’ to make no speech,” wailed old Filbury.  “I’ve got work to do.  You lemme go.”

“Sam,” whispered Tom, catching his brother, by the arm, “what’s the matter with giving William Philander a ride with old Filbury?”

“Just the cheese, Tom!” returned the young Rover.  “But how can we do it?”

The matter was talked over for a short minute, and Spud and Bob were called in to aid.  William Philander Tubbs sat on a small packing case which had not, as yet, been fed to the flames.  He was, as usual, faultlessly attired, even down to his spats.

Passing the word to those who had charge of the carriage and who were doing their best to get some fun out of old Filbury, Tom and Sam and their chums worked their way to a position behind William Philander.  Then came a sudden rush, and the dudish student found himself caught up and carried bodily over to the carriage, where he was unceremoniously dumped on the seat beside the old man-of-all-work.

“My gracious me!  What does this mean?” gasped the astonished William Philander.  “I don’t want any ride, I want you to leave me alone.”

“All aboard, everybody!” sang out Tom, and gave the carriage a shove from behind.  Before the dudish student could attempt to leap to the ground, the turnout was once more in motion and dashing along the campus roadway as fast as the students could pull and push it.