The Friday afternoon preceding the game 32 students, dressed in their oldest clothes, assembled at the freight yard. Four more soon arrived, the honor guard for Mr. Kleinheintz's sow, who had a stout rope around her neck. They had brought the pig from the farm in the back seat of an old Model T.
The freight agent, a stickler for the rules but delighted that there was a way to beat them, made out the waybill. It had the high simplicity of all classic language: "One car of stock and tenders, Madison to Minneapolis and return."
The pig was tied securely in one corner of a well-ventilated stock car. Two bushel baskets of food—pieces of cabbage, carrots, celery tops, stale bread and potato peelings salvaged from the garbage can of a fraternity house—and a big milk can of fresh water were placed near by.
Francis of Assisi could hardly have improved on the cosseting given the pig, whose every little whim was catered to. It was a fast freight and made only three or four stops, each of which gave the tenders (but not the pig) time to get out and jump around to get warmed up. Some of the lads had blankets, some had overcoats. There were three lanterns, which helped a few to play cards on the floor. Everyone brought a paper bag of lunch; leftovers went to the pig, who was not proud. Nobody slept. A Chi Psi had brought along a ukulele; everybody sang, and the pig felt at home.
The freight train rolled into Minneapolis. The sportsmen went to a restaurant for a 45� breakfast of hot cereal, ham and eggs, toast and jam and coffee. A few of the purse-proud and greedy spent 90� on two breakfasts. The pig breakfasted in the car.
It was a happy caper, even though Wisconsin was swamped by Minnesota in the football game.
Back in Madison at 5 o'clock Sunday morning, the pig was returned to Farmer Kleinheintz, who refunded $3. The railway freight agent had been paid in advance, and when the cost was prorated it figured out to $4.60 each.
Since 1916 I have not missed a Wisconsin-Minnesota football game either at Madison or Minneapolis. Once I traveled 1,500 miles to get back for the game. Even during World War I service, while on leave, I saw the game.
Today the boys go to the game by train or plane or convertible. So do I—but it is not the same without a pig.