THE ELECTION
Room F was one of the larger recitation rooms in Oxford, a rectangular,
high-ceilinged apartment, with tall windows along one side and a
dismal expanse of blackboard occupying most of the remaining wall
space. There were some thirty seats, and a small platform at one end
supported a desk and chair. On Wednesday, at a few minutes before three
in the afternoon, Room F was well filled and the corridor outside was
noisy with the sound of voices and the tramping of feet. The First
and Third Classes were holding or were about to hold their elections
in neighboring rooms, and there was quite a little excitement in the
air. It was the Second Class election, however, that aroused the most
interest. Usually the elections are cut-and-dried affairs, but Dan’s
appearance in the race had raised the contest out of the humdrum level,
and even Second Class fellows who were not Cambridge members had caught
the excitement and were waiting in the corridors to learn the result.
“First elects Rand and Derrick,” announced Arthur Thompson, entering
the room. “Isn’t it time to start things here, fellows?”
“It’s only two minutes of three,” objected Hiltz, who was doing a
little final electioneering over by the windows.
“Then your watch is slow,” retorted Arthur. “First’s closed her polls
and counted. What time have you got, Lowd?”
“Three-four.”
“Then let’s get busy. Is Chambers here?”
“Here and waiting,” answered Joe. “Got your slips ready?”
“They’re on the desk there, aren’t they? They were there when I came
in.”
“I’ve got them. Gentlemen, the polls are open. Please write the names
of two candidates and your own name on the slips, fold, and then hand
them to me.”
The fellows crowded up for the slips of blank paper and then retired to
the seats to prepare their ballots. Chambers took his seat at the desk
and laid the roster of voters’ names open in front of him. As usual
pencils and pens were scarce and had to be handed around from one to
another. Arthur sought Dan where the latter was filling out his ballot
on a window ledge.
“Are all your fellows here, Dan?” he whispered.
“I think so. I thought I’d check them off from Chambers’s list as they
voted.”
“I suppose that’s the best. If they wouldn’t keep moving around so we
could check them off now. Jake was trying to get Lowd back into the
fold awhile ago; did you notice? But I guess he didn’t succeed, for I
heard Lowd tell him to run away!”
One by one the voters handed their folded slips to Joe Chambers and
gave their names. Joe laid the ballots in an open drawer at his side
and crossed off the voter’s name on the roster, announcing it aloud
as he did so. Both Dan and Arthur got their votes in early, and Hiltz
was only a minute behind them. Then the first two, who had drawn apart
to watch and confer, noticed excitement in the Hiltz camp. Hiltz
compared the list he held with that on the desk, searched the room with
his gaze, talked vehemently with one of his supporters, and finally
dispatched that youth on an errand.
“Somebody’s missing,” said Dan in low tones. “What time is it?”
“Ten after. They’ll have to hurry if they want to get him.”
Hiltz was plainly nervous and anxious, passing from the window to the
door, disappearing in the corridor and hurrying back again.
“Well, our fellows are all here,” said Arthur. “Murdock is voting now,
and he’s the last one. Look at Hiltz, will you! I’m going to see who’s
missing.”
Arthur wormed his way through the group about the desk and leaned over
the list. While he was gone a sandy-haired fellow approached Dan.
“I hope you’ll win, Vinton,” he said. “It was funny about that letter
of yours. It came at about eleven one morning, and then at three that
afternoon I got a letter from Hiltz asking me to vote for him. I was
glad yours came first, though, for I’d rather you got it.”
“Why, thanks, Brewster,” answered Dan cordially. “That was funny,
though, wasn’t it? I’m glad I got there first.”
“So’m I. Hope you beat him.” And Brewster strolled away just as Arthur
Thompson came back with his eyes dancing with excitement.
“It’s that pill, Conover,” he said in a low voice. “Everyone else has
voted. And it’s fourteen minutes past,” he added, glancing at his
watch. “If he doesn’t come in the next minute you’ll win for sure,
Dan!”
“Jove!” muttered Dan, looking at his own timepiece. “Say, do you mind
asking to have the polls closed as soon as time’s up? It will look
better coming from you.”
“I’ll do it, don’t you worry.” Arthur kept his eyes on the minute hand
of his watch. Hiltz, surrounded by three or four of his friends, was
talking angrily, and referring every few seconds to the watch held in
his hand.
“Three-fifteen, Chambers,” called Arthur, stepping up to the desk.
“Let’s start the count and get through. Some of the fellows have got to
report for football in a few minutes.”
Chambers looked at his own watch.
“All right,” he said. “Has everyone here voted? Is Conover in the room?”
“He will be here in a minute,” called Hiltz. “It isn’t a quarter past
yet.”
“My watch says it is,” responded Chambers mildly, “but――――”
“So does mine,” interrupted Arthur. “It’s almost sixteen after. The
polls are supposed to close at three-fifteen.”
“My watch says three-thirteen,” said Hiltz angrily, “and I know that it
is right. Besides, if it isn’t, you didn’t open the polls until four
minutes after three. You’ve got to allow fifteen minutes, Chambers.”
“Well, I guess there’s no objection to that, is there?” asked Chambers,
glancing around.
But it seemed that there was much objection, and things began to get
noisy and disputatious in Room F. And just when Chambers was insisting
on silence there was a knock on the door.
“He’s come!” groaned Arthur.
But when the door opened it was only the messenger that entered.
“Did you find him?” called Hiltz, hurrying across the room. “Is he
coming?”
“Couldn’t find him anywhere, Jake. I’ve been all over the school!”
Hiltz glared a moment at the boy and then turned on his heel and walked
to the window, and――――
“Polls closed!” announced Chambers.
Arthur clapped Dan on the shoulder.
“You’ve won!” he whispered gleefully. But Dan shook his head.
“Better wait and see. You can’t be sure yet.”
The room quieted down while Chambers opened the ballots and tabulated
the votes. It didn’t take him long, and after he had been over the
ballots a second time, he rapped on the desk.
“Here’s the result, fellows. Quiet, please.
THOMPSON, 26.
VINTON, 15.
HILTZ, 13.
“Thompson and Vinton are elected.”
Pandemonium broke loose for a minute, during which Dan, striving to
hide his satisfaction under a quiet smile, was congratulated by friend
and foe alike. Only Hiltz kept away and, a moment later, left the room,
frowning darkly, perhaps in search of the renegade Conover.
“Glad you won, Vinton,” was the remark of several of Hiltz’s
supporters. “I didn’t vote for you, you know, because I’d given my word
to Hiltz, but I’m glad you beat.”
Then the room emptied and Dan and Arthur followed the others out
through the corridor, where the news had already spread. Dan had to
stop many times to be shaken by the hand or pounded on the back, but
finally he was free to hurry to the gymnasium and get into his togs for
afternoon practice. Arthur went with him.
“But what I don’t see,” said Dan perplexedly, “is how I got fifteen. I
had only fourteen that I knew of.”
“I can tell you,” answered Arthur. “The fifteenth was Simms. He stopped
me on the way out a minute ago. ‘I concluded you were right, Thompson,’
he said. ‘I don’t like Dan Vinton much, but I guess he’s a heap better
than Jake Hiltz. So I voted your way.’”
“Simms! Well, I’m much obliged to him, although, as it happened, I
didn’t need his vote. I wonder what became of Conover? I’d hate to be
in his shoes when Hiltz finds him!”
“Oh, Conover’s a pill, anyway. He probably forgot all about the
election. For my part, I don’t care what Jake does to him!”
The mystery of Conover’s disappearance was explained later, however,
when between the two short practice halves Dan shared Tom’s blanket on
the side-line.
“They tell me you won, Dan,” said Tom. “Glad to hear it; glad you
licked Jake Hiltz. Close, was it?”
“I got fifteen to his thirteen.”
“Fifteen! I thought you said you were sure of only fourteen.”
“I did; and I was. But a fellow named Simms came over to me at the
last moment.” Tom chuckled.
“That’s a joke on me, then. Know a chap with rusty hair and spectacles
named Conover?”
“Only by sight. He was one of Hiltz’s fellows and didn’t show up. I
don’t know what happened to him. Hiltz is crazy mad, I guess. He sent a
fellow out to hunt Conover up, but he wasn’t to be found.”
“Guess they didn’t look in the right place,” said Tom with a grin.
“Why? What do you know about it?”
“I know where Conover was from a quarter past two to twenty minutes
past three,” replied Tom with a twinkle.
“You do? Where?”
“In Number 7 Dudley.”
“_What?_ In your room? Look here, Tom, what have you been up to?”
“Well, I _thought_ I was up to helping you get elected, but it seems
that I might just as well have spared myself the trouble.”
“Do you mean that you――you――――”
Tom nodded.
“Exactly. I knew Conover was a chess fiend, and so this morning, after
you told me how you stood, I called on him and invited him to play a
game with me after dinner. He was pleased to death. I let him have
things his own way, of course, and at three I told him that I hated to
spoil the game but that it was time for him to go over and cast his
vote. I guess he thought I was trying to rattle him. Anyway, he said he
didn’t want to vote and wasn’t going to. So I thought he knew his own
mind, and didn’t say any more about it. And then, at twenty after, I
started in and did him up. He can’t play chess any more than――than Alf
can!”
“Tom, you’re a wonder!” laughed Dan. “That’s the best joke I’ve
heard in a year. It was mighty decent of you, though,” he continued
seriously, “and I appreciate it.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I had my fun, too.”
“But, just the same, I’m rather glad I got Simms’s vote, for I don’t
think I’d have liked being elected that way.”
Tom only grunted.