“We just won’t have Graham or Raleigh,” cried Coyle, positively. “You and I must see the fellows we’re sure of before to-morrow night, and find some way of putting Griffin in.”
“I don’t see how we’re going to do it, if some of the company vote for Graham, and you see they will, from what they said to-day,” replied Barber.
“I see that they mean to now,” said Coyle, “but it does not follow that they will be of the same mind next Friday. It’s our business to make ’em change their minds. Now go home and think hard, Barber, and I’ll set my wits to work, and see if we can’t fix up some plan that will win the day for ‘we, us and Company’ C,” said Coyle, as he stopped at his own home.
Usually Coyle was asleep two minutes after his head touched his pillow, but that night he lay awake more than an hour or two, his thoughts busy with plots and plans to accomplish his purpose.
He was at Barber’s door soon after eight o’clock next morning, and that young gentleman, swallowing the last of his breakfast with most unhealthy rapidity, joined him in response to his impatient whistle.
“I’ve thought of a way to spike Graham’s guns,” Coyle began, and while his companion listened with eager interest, he proceeded to unfold his scheme.
“That’s fine,” Barber exclaimed, slapping Coyle on the shoulder, as the latter ceased speaking. “I’m sure our crowd will catch on to that little game, and I believe we can rope in most of the Grahamites without much trouble.”
Coyle looked pleased at the other’s hearty approval.
“You and I must let the fellows we’re sure of into our scheme, and then we’ll tell the doubtful ones enough to secure their votes, and no more,” he said.
Before school, at recess, and after school that day, Coyle and Barber were busy boys. Barber gathered in a corner of the playground, at recess, all the members of Company C whom he knew to be strongly in favor of Griffin, and to them unfolded Coyle’s plan.