Yielding to the outcry Waters was thrust upward.
"The cowboy orchestra, ladies and gentlemen."
With a wave of his hand he organized the room into drums, bugles, and trombones, announcing:
"The orchestra will tune up and play this little tune,
"'_Ta-de-dee-ra-ta-ra-ta-rata,_ _Ta-de-dee-ra-ta-ra-ta-rata-ta!_'
"All ready? Lots of action there--a little more cyclonic from the trombones. Fine! Whenever I give the signal the orchestra will burst forth into that melodious refrain. I will now give an imitation of a professional announcer at Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show and Congress of Rough Riders. Orchestra:
"_Ta-de-dee-rata-rata-rata_ _Ta-de-dee-rata-rata-rata-ta!_"
While Waters, with his great comical face shining above the gleeful crowd like a harvest moon rising from the lake, continued endlessly drawling out his nasal imitations, the crowd, for the first time welded together, rocked and shouted out the farcical chorus. When he had ended, Buck Waters sat down, enthroned forever afterward master of song and revels.
Bain began to cast estimating glances, calculating on the moment to leave. At the other end Waters was fairly smothered under the rush of delighted comrades, patting him on the back, acclaiming his rise to fame. The tables settled down into a sentimental refrain led by Stone's clear tenor.
Dink's glance, traveling down the table, was suddenly attracted by the figure of a young fellow with a certain defiant yet shy individuality in its pose.
"Who's the rather dark chap just beyond Dopey?" he asked Hungerford.
"Brockhurst--Sidney Brockhurst," said Schley, not lowering his voice, "from Hill School. Trying for the _Lit_. Clever chap, they say, but a little long-haired."
Stover studied him, his curiosity awakened. Brockhurst, of all present, seemed the most solitary and the most self-conscious. He had a long head, high, thin cheeks, and a nervous little habit, when intent or conscious of being watched, of drawing his fingers over his lips. His head was thrown back a little proudly, but the eyes contradicted this attitude, with the acute shyness in them that clouded a certain keen imaginative scrutiny.
At this moment his eyes met Stover's. Dink, yielding to an instinct, raised his glass and smiled. Brockhurst hastily seized his mug in response, spilling a little of it and dropping his glance quickly. Once or twice, as if unpleasantly conscious of the examination, he turned uneasily.