The stage, propelled by dozens of vigorous hands, went up the hill on a run.
Mamie Reilly, being discovered on the roof and selfishly claimed below, was thrust kicking and wriggling over the side and into the ready hands at the window.
_And then the Second Form received me, Where I displayed such genius rare, That they begged me to refrain, It was going to my brain. About five miles away from anywhere!_
Meanwhile, at the approach of the astounding coach, which looked like a drunken centipede, the farmers stopped their plows or came to the thresholds, shading their eyes; while the cattle in the fields put up their tails and bolted, flinging out their heels, amid triumphant cheers from the students.
All the while, the bulk of the school in two seaters, and three seaters, the Fifth Formers, the new Lords of Creation, in buggies specially retained, went swirling by exchanging joyful greetings.
_Hallegenoo, nack, nack! Hallegenoo, nack, nack! Hooray! Hooray! Lawrenceville!_
"Next verse," shouted Doc Macnooder. "Legs at attention. More action there! La-da-da-dee! One, two, three!"
_In course of time, I reached the Third Form, But was caught in examination's snare. Reassignment played its part, And it almost broke my heart, About five miles away from anywhere._
"What house are you in?" said the Coffee-Colored Angel to Stover, between breaths.
"Yes, he reached out and nabbed me," said Stover, who was persuaded that his new assignment was a special mark of malignant interest.
A shout burst out from the back of the coach.
"Here come the Tennessee Shad and Brian de Boru."
Two runabouts came up at a gallop, neck and neck, four boys in each, the Tennessee Shad standing at the reins in one, Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan in the other, each firmly clutched about the waist by the boy on whose knees he jolted and jostled.
But at this moment, when it seemed as though the race was to go to the Tennessee Shad's nag, which had that superiority which one sacrificial horse in a Spanish bullfight ring has over another, Dennis de Brian de Boru suddenly produced the remnants of a bag of cream puffs and, by means of three well-directed, squashing shots on the rear quarters of his coal-black steed, plunged ahead and won the road, amid terrific cheering.