Durant grasped Edward by the arm. “Look here,” he said, “did you hurt yourself?”
“Not so that I notice it,” answered Edward.
“That’s lucky. While you’re on my crew don’t you ever do anything like that again.”
Edward grinned and said nothing, and then Durant stooped and caught him by the leg.
“Put him up, fellows!” he cried. “Give a lift.”
So, before Edward knew what was happening, he was again up and riding on the shoulders of his friends, with flags and hats tossing about him and the band parading just ahead, blaring out a march, and the rest of St. Timothy’s School falling into column behind. So they swung about the field, zigzagging, “serpentining,” while the St. John’s boys looked on gloomily.
At last Edward begged to be put down. He stood for a few moments confused by the rush of boys round him who wanted to tell him how wonderful he was; then he saw Charles waiting near by. So he broke away from his admirers and went to his brother; and then
