“Yes, I withdraw Walker’s name,” Sam repeated.
“Why—why—I hardly know——” the president began.
“Wait a minute, Carson—Mr. President, I mean,” interposed Zorn. “Let Walker speak for himself.”
“He isn’t here—as you mighty well know!” cried Sam hotly.
The chairman rapped sharply with his gavel. “Order, please! Let’s do this according to the rules. Zorn has the floor.”
“I won’t need it long,” said Zorn coolly. “My point is a simple one. When a fellow has been nominated and seconded, he has to be voted on unless he himself withdraws. And if Walker doesn’t want to be considered, he ought to have been willing to take the trouble to come here and say so. Everybody knows his crowd has been booming him for this job. If he’s changed his mind, why isn’t he here to let us know about it?”
Now, as it chanced, Sam had not urged the Trojan’s attendance, and, indeed, had deemed it wiser that he stay away from the meeting. This was hardly a matter for public discussion, however. Step saved the situation by creating a diversion. Up he shot like a jack in the box.
“This is a shame!” he shouted. “It’s a set-up job! I won’t stand for it! Everybody knows Zorn’s a trouble maker, but I didn’t know till now he could bamboozle nearly the whole class into helping in his dirty work!”
The chairman’s gavel was beating a tattoo on his desk. Sam caught Step’s coat and dragged him down into his seat. Zorn scowled, but kept his head.
“I say that in Walker’s absence nobody is entitled to speak for him without his authority—ought to be in writing, at that.”