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The homeward journey was a triumphal march. On our way back we met within the first mile five additional buses, reinforcements for the first bus-load no doubt. Every time we met a new bus we yelled and the newcomers yelled back. The whole five buses then got into line behind the dirty wagon which held the precious prize, our bus leading the others. We yelled and we sang and jollied up in general. The rustics along the road looked over the fence at the long caravan and wondered what Stanford was up to again. At Mountain View we met bicyclists from the University five miles away who told us that ever since the first bus left in teh morning the University had been in a turmoil, and