"Fair Brighton" was sung, and the familiar
old Brighton yell chorused over and over, with three long 'rahs for
Jack Hammond and three for Ted Wainwright.
"Makes a fellow feel kinda chokey, don't it, chum?" stammered Ted as he
and Jack finally grabbed their bags and edged out through the campus
gate.
They turned for another look at old Brighton. The boys were still
assembled on the dormitory steps singing "Fair Brighton." Up in the
dormitory windows lights were twinkling and the hour hand on the chapel
clock was nearing seven.
"Come on, chum, let's hurry," suggested Jack. They walked in silence
for a moment.
"Pretty nice send-off, Jack," sniffed Ted, finally. "We'll not forget
old Brighton in a hurry."
"And you bet we'll do our best for Uncle Sam and make old Brighton proud
of us," added Jack.
At the recruiting station all was lively. The boys were told they must
be at the depot ready to leave on the seven-thirty express. A score or
more lads were waiting for the word to move, some of them taking leave
of their loved ones, others writing postcards home.
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