“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.