Brad Buckhart disappeared at once. When Dick reached his room he found
Brad there, sitting like a wooden image and staring at the wall.
"Well, old man," said Dick pleasantly, "that was what I call a hot
meeting."
The Texan did not stir. From his appearance, it did not seem that he was
aware Dick had entered the room.
"In a trance, Brad?" asked Dick.
Still Buckhart remained motionless, staring at the wall, a hard look on
his face.
"What's the matter?" asked Dick, stopping in front of his roommate.
"What ails you, old man?"
Brad looked at Dick, and there was a mingling of reproach, shame, and
anger in that look.
"Why didn't you let me alone?" he demanded. "That dirty dog won!"
"You mean----"
"Arlington--you know whom I mean! He's on the committee now, and he will
show you in short order that he has power there. Just you wait and see
what he does!"
"But he was fairly elected, Brad."
"Was he? I'm not so sure of that."
The Texan's voice was harsh and his manner toward Dick new and strained.
He felt deeply the shame of his position. More for Dick's sake than his
own, he had sought to keep Chester Arlington from getting on the
committee. Dick had detected him in the act of filching the two ballots
that gave Chester the position, and had compelled him to put them back
while the votes were being counted again. No one else knew of this, but
Buckhart felt that he had lowered himself in the eyes of his friend and
roommate.
"I'm not so sure his election was fair," he repeated.
"What do you mean? Why wasn't it?"
"What made Savage pull out just when he did? What made him try to throw
his votes to Arlington? There was something behind it, and you know it."
Although Brad had not noted the incident observed by Dick, when Savage
was approached by a fellow who seemed to make a demand on him, against
which he rebelled at first, but to which he finally succumbed, still the
Texan had sense enough to reason it out that there had been an unusual
cause back of the action of Savage in stepping out in favor of Arlington
at that critical juncture.
"What do you think there was behind it?" asked Dick, curious to learn
Buckhart's opinion on the matter.
"Crookedness, crookedness!" exclaimed the Westerner, rising to his feet
and beginning to tramp up and down the room. "I know it! I'm sure of it!
I was sure of it all the time," he went on, eager to say something to
make his own act seem less heinous. "That is why I was determined that
Arlington should not win if I could help it. I could have prevented it."
"Dishonestly! Look here, Brad, I don't think you realized just what you
were doing."
Dick attempted to place a hand on Buckhart's shoulder, but it was
brushed aside, and the Texan continued his excited striding up and down
the room.
"Yes, I did!" he declared grimly. "I knew I was cheating--I knew it! I
meant to cheat! I meant to beat Chet Arlington at his own game!"
"Which would have placed you on the same level with him."
"No! I would have beaten him! Look here, Dick, when you go against a
slugging football-team, when the other side plays rough-house, how do
you meet them?"
"I try to call the attention of the umpire."
"What if the umpire will not punish them?"
"Well, as a last resort, I give the boys instructions to make the game
hot in the same fashion as the other fellows."
"As a last resort! That's it! Do you think I'm a fellow to choose to do
a dishonest thing?"
"I know you would not choose it because your inclination was that way."
"But, in a case like this, I would choose it as a last resort. It was
the last resort! It was the only way to keep Arlington from winning."
"Then, Brad, if a man robs your chicken-coops persistently, you know he
robs it, yet you cannot get proof to punish him by the aid of the law,
you think it just that you should turn about and rob his chicken-coops,
thus making yourself a hen-thief, just to get square with him?"
Buckhart was staggered for a moment, but he recovered quickly.
"Oh, that doesn't apply! That is a different degree of retaliation."
"Then your application does not fit a football-game. Brad, you know it
is not right to meet dishonesty with dishonesty. That is not the way to
combat it."
"It's about the only way to combat it successfully."
"I don't know about that."
"You'll find it is."
"I don't believe any fellow can afford it, Brad."
"Afford it?"
"Yes."
"Why, what----"
"Every little dishonest thing a chap does weakens his moral nature. It
is not often a burglar becomes a burglar at a single step. He descends
to that level by degrees. He does some little crooked act in the first
place; then he does something worse, and step by step he goes down the
hill, until at last he is a thorough criminal."
"Great goodness!" exploded Brad. "You didn't fancy I was taking my first
step in crime, did you?"
"No; but I knew it was not right, even to defeat an enemy. I knew you
would regret it afterward."
"Not by a blamed sight! You were plumb wrong there, Dick!"
Dick shook his head.
"I was right," he said, with positive assurance. "I sought to save you
from the secret shame you must have felt in future when you thought of
it."
"Secret shame. How do you know I----"
"I'll tell you how I know. Any fellow is liable to slip once. I did,
Brad."
"You?" gasped the Texan incredulously. "What are you giving me?"
"Straight goods, old man. Once on a time I did a mean and dishonest
thing."
"I can't believe it!"
"It is true. I did it impulsively, and no one but myself ever knew about
it. It was not anything of great importance, but, when my blood had
cooled and I came to realize just what I had done, I felt like a
criminal. I suffered such intense shame and anguish as I have never
known at any other time. I resolved to make reparation, but
circumstances placed it beyond my power to do so, and to this day I have
the unpleasant memory of wronging a fellow being. It taught me my
lesson, Brad. It does not pay for a fellow to stoop to anything of the
sort, no matter how petty."
This confession from Dick's lips made Brad feel better. Why, here was
Dick, who had detected him on the point of filching the votes--Dick had
been tempted and had fallen. Dick was not holding himself coldly above
Brad as his moral superior; instead, he freely acknowledged that he had
stumbled.
Buckhart's feelings about the affair began to undergo a change. A little
while before he had been thinking of his roommate as looking down on him
in pity from a moral height far above him; but now Dick had made it
plain that he had no thought or desire to exalt himself in the least.
"You may be right," said Brad.
"I know I am," came positively from Dick's lips. "You will see it in the
same light when you are cooler. Besides, there was another reason why I
could not afford to let you get rid of those votes."
"What other reason?"
"I saw you--I knew what you had done."
"Well?"
"With that knowledge, had I permitted you to work the scheme, I should
have been just as guilty as you. It was to save myself from regret and
shame, as well as you, that I told you you must put the votes back."
This confession drew Brad still closer to his friend. In all these
things Dick was perfectly honest with his companion, and the Texan
trusted and relied in him.
"I never thought of it that way," he said.
"But you see I am right," said Dick. "I was compelled to ask you to put
the votes back in order to save my own feelings."
"Then, if you had not seen me----"
Dick interrupted with a laugh.
"Why, I should have known nothing about it. But," he added soberly, "I
am glad I saw you, even though Arlington won."
"Well," acknowledged the Texan, brought round at last, "I believe I am
glad of it, too; but it was a howling shame to have that greaser get on
the committee! It was, I know!"