“That’s right; Defarge must be the man. Look how cool he is. He knows he will be chosen, even though there is only one more choice. He’ll get it.”
“Sure thing. Who’s the man he’s talking to?”
“Oh, that’s Mason.”
“So it is! What a chump I am not to know him! He can play ball.”
“Merriwell brought him out. Nobody ever suspected there was much in him till Merriwell took hold of him. He never did cut any ice.”
All at once Defarge stiffened up. Moving through the crowd, looking right and left, he had seen a well-known senior.
It was Merriwell!
Frank was the last of the “Bones” men to come forth in search of a candidate. His was the fifteenth man. All eyes were turned on Merriwell, and a great hush fell on the watching throng.
In and out, here and there, Frank moved. As he came near, the heart of many a man rose into his throat; as he turned away, those swelling, fluttering hearts seemed to drop back like lead.
The mouth of Defarge was dry as a chip now, and he felt cold shivers running up and down his spine. He almost feared to watch Merriwell’s movements.