“It’s like this,” smiled Coach Trayne: “Frank has done a whole lot for the school, and for the baseball team. It’s not settled that he’s to leave, remember; but I think that whether he does or not, the school ought to avail itself of the chance to give him honors while it can.”
“You’re right,” assented Captain Crockett quickly. “Yes, I get your angle now, sir. I suppose he’ll go in the box for us on Monday? That’ll cinch the game, and it’ll throw everything his way when I mention to the boys that he ought to be captain.”
“I’m glad that such is your opinion,” said the coach, with a breath of relief. “I happen to know that Randall is moving heaven and earth to get the election, and—— Hello! What’s all this?”
From in front of the house had risen a sudden burst of cheering. Coach Trayne went to the window and flung it open. Instantly a renewed shout went up.
“Merry for captain! Whoop-ee!”
A crowd of students was gathered before the windows. They had been hastily marshaled by Chester and others of Merry’s adherents, and more were assembling at every moment. On the edge of the crowd, hidden by the darkness, stood Bob Randall. He was flushed and angry, but he knew better than to give way to his inclinations before this gathering.
“Vot’s der matter mit Randall?” shouted the voice of Villum Kess.
A chorus of groans answered, mingled with jeers and catcalls. The dark-haired lad in the shadow clenched his fists and muttered wrathfully, but he kept himself under control. A roar went up.
“Chip Merriwell! We want Chip for captain!”
Coach Trayne slammed down the window and turned to Crockett with a smile.