"Hurdler up at Andover, I believe."
In a moment Gimbel was back, engaging them in eager conclave.
"See here, there's a combination being gotten up," he said impersonally, "a sort of slate for our class football managers, and I want to get you fellows interested. Hotchkiss and St. Paul are going in together, and we want to organize the other schools. How many fellows are up from Lawrenceville?"
"About fifteen."
"We've got a corking good man from Andover not in any of the crowds up there, and a lot of us want to give him a good start. I'll have you meet him to-night at supper. If you fellows weren't out for football, we'd put one of you up for secretary and treasurer. You can name him if you want. I've got a hundred votes already, and we're putting through a deal with a Sheff crowd for vice-president that will give us thirty or forty more. Our man's Hicks—Frank Hicks—the best in the world. Say a good word for him, will you, wherever you can. See you to-night."
He was off to another table, where he was soon in animated conversation.
"Don't mix up in it," said Stover quietly.
"Why not?" said McCarthy. "A good old political shindig's lots of fun."
"Wait until we understand the game," said Stover, remembering Le Baron's advice not to commit himself to any crowd.