Andy at Yale | Page 9

was not carried to
the extent it is in the big universities.
"What are you fellows going to do?" asked Harry, as he pushed back
his chair. "I'm feeling pretty fit now. I haven't an enemy in the world at
this moment," and he sighed in satisfaction. "That rarebit was sure a
bird! Are you fellows out for any fun?"
"Not to-night," replied Andy. "I'm going to cut back and write some
letters."
"Forget it," advised Harry. "It's early, and too nice a night to go to bed.
Let's take in a show."
"I've got some boning to do," returned Frank, with a sigh.
"And I ought to plug away at my Latin," added Chet, with another sigh.
"Say, but you fellows are the greasy grinds!" objected Harry. "Why
don't you take a day off once in a while?"
"It's easy enough for you, Swipes; Latin comes natural to you!"
exclaimed Tom. "But I have to plug away at it, and when I get through
I know less than when I started."
"And as for me," broke in Chet, "I can read a page all right in the
original, but when I come to translate I can make two pages of it in
English, and have enough Latin words left over to do half another one.
No, Swipes, it won't do; I've got to do some boning."
"Aw, forget it. Come on to a show. There's a good movie in town this
week. I'll blow you fellows. Some vaudeville, too, take it from me.
There's a pair who roll hoops until the stage looks like a barrel factory
having a tango dance. Come on. It's great!"
"Well, a movie wouldn't be so bad," admitted Tom. "It doesn't last until
midnight. What do you say, fellows?"

"Oh, I don't know," came from Andy, uncertainly.
"I'll go if you fellows will," remarked Frank.
"Oh, well, then let's do it!" cried Tom. "I guess we won't flunk
to-morrow. We can burn a little midnight electricity. Let 'er go!"
And so they went to the moving picture show. It was like others of its
kind, neither better nor worse, with vaudeville acts and songs
interspersed between the reels. There was a good attendance, scores of
the Milton lads being there, as well as many persons from the town and
surrounding hamlets.
Our friends found seats about the middle of the house. It was a sort of
continuous performance, and as they entered a girl was singing a song
on a well-lighted stage. Andy glanced about as he took his seat, and
met the gaze of Link Bardon. He nodded at him, and the young farmer
nodded back.
"Who's that--a new fellow?" asked Harry, who was next to Andy.
"Not at school--no. He's a hired man we found being beaten up by an
old codger of a farmer when we walked out this afternoon. We took his
part and made the farmer trot Spanish. I guess Link is taking a day off
with the wages we got for him," and he detailed the incident.
The show went on. Some of the students became boisterous, and there
were hisses from the audience, and demands that the boys remain quiet.
One lad, who did not train in the set of Andy and his friends, insisted
on joining in the chorus with one of the singers, and matters got to such
a pass that the manager rang down the curtain and threatened to stop
the performance unless the students behaved. Finally some of the
companions of the noisy one induced him to quiet down.
Following a long picture reel a girl came out to sing. She was pretty
and vivacious, though her songs were commonplace enough. In one of
the stage boxes were a number of young fellows, not from Milton, and
they began to ogle the singer, who did not seem averse to their

attentions. She edged over to their box, and threw a rose to one of the
occupants.
Gallantly enough he tossed back one he was wearing, but at that
moment a companion in front of him had raised a lighted match to his
cigarette.
The hand of the young man throwing the rose to the singer struck the
flaring match and sent it over the rail of the box straight at the flimsy
skirts of the performer.
In an instant the tulle had caught fire, and a fringe of flame shot
upward.
The singer ceased her song with a scream that brought the orchestra to
a stop with a crashing chord, and the girl's cries of horror were echoed
by the women in the audience. The girl started to run into the wings,
but Andy, springing from his seat on the aisle, made a leap for the brass
rail behind the musicians.
"Stand still! Stand still!