Randall trembled with anger, and seemed on the point of a violent outburst. Then he made an effort and curbed himself. Forcing his voice down, he spoke slowly and with apparent calmness, which did not deceive Frank.
“That’s quite right, Merriwell. You fooled me at the time, but I’ve been thinking it over since then, and I’ve seen how you jockeyed me out of that election. Naturally, it looked like anything but gentleman’s work.”
Chip flushed a little.
“I think you’ve made a big mistake, old man,” he returned. “I thought you understood me better than that, and I can’t see how you imagine that I didn’t play fair.”
“Perhaps you did, from your viewpoint. You kept Clancy and Billy Mac out of the game and smashed up the team. Then, when I was beaten, you sailed on the field, slapped the team together, and won out. That’s why you got elected. I’d have won with the whole team behind me, and you know it!”
“Keep your temper,” Chip said crisply. “You’re away off, Bob. I was kidnaped, and those two fellows pulled me out. If you’d won the game I’d have been the first to congratulate you. As it was, I had already proposed you for captain, if you’ll believe it.”
“You had?”
“Yes. Ask Coach Trayne or any of the fellows. I don’t think you’ve given me a square deal in this, Bob, and yet I can see how you look at it. I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you before and have it out frankly, but I’ve been pretty busy, and didn’t understand just what was behind it all.”
Randall was not at all convinced. He stared down at the table, and his eye fell on a tiny folded paper inserted in his Cicero. His cheeks flushed a trifle, and he gave an imperceptible start.
“In that case,” he said slowly, his clenched hands at his sides in self-repression, “I—I may have been wrong. But it seemed to me that you hadn’t been the one to hand out a square deal, Merry. I was helpless in trying to fight you for an elective office. Everybody around here seems to toady to the Merriwells——”