“Will Lieutenant Gray please call the names of those standing, and all who choose can count as the names are called,” said Gordon.
Not even Coyle could deny that forty-one boys acknowledged that they had voted for Graham. He dropped into his seat looking furiously angry; nor was this feeling lessened when Gordon quietly remarked:—
“It is singular that you should be so surprised at this result when, a few days ago, you yourself announced, right here in this room, that thirty-three of Company C were pledged to vote for Graham.”
Coyle cast a vindictive glance at nine of those thirty-three who had stood to be counted a moment before, but his reply was muttered too indistinctly for any but Barber to hear.
The moment the doors were thrown open, the room was filled with a crowd of eager boys, and the cheers that greeted the new captain were as gall and wormwood to Coyle. He had burst into a flood of angry blame against the nine whose change of vote had carried the election so differently from what he had planned and expected.
“But, Coyle,” one of these said, as soon as he could make himself heard, “we promised to vote for Graham, and we did.”
“Much you did!” shouted Coyle; “I call it right down sneaky to go back on your word like that.”
“And what do you call it to lie about a fellow as you did about Graham?” asked another. “Hamlin says there wasn’t a word of truth in it.”
“Oh, Hamlin!” retorted Coyle scornfully. “You fellows’ll get enough of Hamlin, and of your precious new captain. Won’t he make you toe the mark, though—and I hope he will!” he added, viciously grinding his teeth as he thought how the tables had been turned on him.
But how completely his boomerang had rebounded, he did not know until two months later.