“Hey, Chip! We got him!”
The players grouped about Coach Trayne in the clubhouse turned. They
had been waiting for the arrival of Clancy and Billy Mac, who was still
to vote on the new captain, as the coach had demanded a written ballot.
“By gracious!”
The exclamation burst from Merry. Between Clancy and Billy was a
drooping figure which he recognized as that of Colonel Carson. The
man’s clothes were torn, and by the fierce glances he cast around it
was clear that he had not been captured without a struggle.
“We knew he was somewhere,” explained the panting Clancy. “So we went
to the gate and grabbed him. Let’s tar and feather him, fellows!”
“Stop!”
Merry stepped out as the yell went up. He flung Billy and Clancy aside,
and faced the frightened Colonel Carson.
“Colonel,” he said quietly, “I think you’d better get out of town at
once. You tried dirty work, and I fancy that you’ve paid up for it,
since you intended betting on Franklin. Fade away, and do it lively.”
Colonel Carson faded.
“He plunged pretty heavily, I hear,” said Trayne, holding back the
indignant Fardale men. “Let him go, boys. Merry’s right. Get in here
with your ballots, you fellows, and quit delaying things!”
“Hold on a minute, please,” said Chip. “I only want to say that the
fellow to be elected is Owen Clancy----”
“Pho! Shut up, you rube!”
“Yah! Listen to der peesness! Go vay und talk mit yourselluf, Frankie!”
“Clan didn’t knock the home run!”
Coach Trayne quieted down the yelling mob, and roared for ballots. When
he had written out his, Merry turned to the silent and unhappy figure
of Bob Randall and held out his hand.
“Bob,” he said, smiling, “I want to congratulate you on your game
to-day! That Franklin chap, Peters, seems to have been a general
surprise, and with a smashed-up infield behind you, I think you did
remarkably well to keep them down!”
Randall hesitated, then accepted Frank’s hand. There was a quick
glitter in his dark eyes as he searched Merry’s face.
“Do you mean it?” he faltered. “You--you’re not sarcastic?”
“Well, I should say not!” cried Merry warmly. “Old man, if you’d had
Clan and Billy in their regular positions to steady things down, you’d
have won in a hand down!”
“Thanks,” said Randall, and turned away. “It’s--it’s mighty good of
you, Chip.”
There were fifteen men present, counting the substitutes, who, of
course, each had a vote. When the last ballot had been handed in, Coach
Trayne read them one by one. Then he held up his hand.
“Men,” he said, “I received fifteen ballots in the vote for a captain
of the regular team to succeed Captain Ted Crockett, who leaves Fardale
to-night. The results are as follows: One vote for Randall, the other
fourteen votes are all for Merriwell, so I guess we can claim that the
new captain has been unanimously elected.”
A shouting mob surrounded Chip, who had, in truth, been surprised. His
thoughts had all been with Colonel Carson, and he had failed utterly
to consider the captaincy. Through the crowd pushed Randall, his eyes
shining.
“And I want to congratulate you, Merry,” he said simply, holding out
his hand to Frank. “You’re the man for the job!”
“Thank you, old man,” said Merry, as he met Randall’s eyes. “I’m proud
to have you behind me!”
And their hands met, amid a renewed storm of cheers.