"So it is!"

"What's eating you?"

"Who's the goat?" came the cries. Bert flushed but went on:

"Closing the nominations before more than one name----"

"The nominations have not been closed," suggested Mr. Leighton.

"Then am I out of order?" inquired Bascome sarcastically. He seemed to know parliamentary law.

"No," answered the coach. "You must speak to the point, however. Have you a name to place in nomination? Mr. Parsons' motion was lost for want of a second."

"I _have_ a name to place in nomination," went on Bert deliberately, "and in doing so I wish to state that I am actuated by no sense of feeling against Mr. Kerr, whom I do not know. I simply wish to see the spirit of sport well diversified among the students, and----"

"Question! Question!" shouted several.

"Name your man!" demanded others.

"I believe Mr. Kerr is highly esteemed," continued Bascome, holding his ground well, "and I honor him. I believe, however, that he belongs to a certain crowd, or clique----"

"You're wrong!" was a general shout.

"Mr. Chairman!" shouted Kerr, springing to his feet, his face strangely white.

"Mr. Bascome has the floor," spoke Mr. Leighton quietly.

"Name your man!" was the cry from half a score of youths.

"I nominate Ford Fenton for manager!" shouted Bascome, for he saw the rising temper of some of the students.

"Second it," came from Henry Delfield, who was the closest chum of the rich lad.

"Move the nominations close!" cried Tom quickly, and this time Phil Clinton seconded it. The battle was on.

"Two students have been nominated," remarked Mr. Leighton, when the usual formalities had been completed. "How will you vote on them, by ballot or----"

"Show of hands!" cried Tom. "We want to see who's with us and who's against us," he added in a whisper to Phil and Sid.

"I demand a written ballot," called out Bascome.

"We will vote on that," decided the chairman, and it went overwhelmingly in favor of a show of hands.

"We've got 'em!" exulted Tom, when this test had demonstrated how few were with Bascome--a scant score.

A moment later the real voting was under way, by a show of hands, Kerr's name being voted on first. He had tried to make a speech, but had been induced to keep quiet.

It was as might have been expected. Possibly had the ballot been a secret one more might have voted for Fenton, but some freshmen saw which way the wind was blowing, changing their votes after having declared for a secret ballot, and all of Bascome's carefully laid plans, and his scheming for several weeks past, to get some sort of control of the nine, came to naught. Fenton received nine votes, and Kerr one hundred and twenty. It was a pitiful showing, and Fenton soon recognized it.

"I move the election of Mr. Kerr be made unanimous!" he cried, and that did more to offset his many references to his uncle than anything else he could have done. Bascome was excitedly whispering to some of his chums, but when Fenton's motion was put it was carried without a vote in opposition, and Kerr was the unanimous choice.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," said Phil with a sigh of relief, as he and his chums drifted from the gymnasium.

"Yes, now we'll begin to play ball in earnest," added Tom. "Come on, Sid, I'll take you and Phil down to Hoffman's and treat you to some ice cream."

"I--er--I'm going out this evening," said Sid, and he blushed a trifle.

"Where, you old dub?" asked Tom, almost before he thought.

"I'm going to call on Miss Harrison," was the somewhat unexpected answer.

CHAPTER V

RANDALL AGAINST BOXER

Tom and Phil stood staring at each other as Sid walked on ahead.

"Well, wouldn't that get your goat?" asked Tom.

"It sure would," admitted Phil. "He must have made up with her, after all."

How it came about Sid, of course, would never tell. It was too new and too delightful an experience for him--to actually be paying attentions to some girl--to make it possible to discuss the matter with his chums.

Sufficient to say that in the course of two weeks more there was another photograph in the room of the inseparables.

Baseball matters began to occupy more and more attention at Randall. The team was being whipped into shape, and between Tom, Ed Kerr and the coach the lads were beginning to get rid of the uncertainty engendered by a winter of comparative idleness.

"Have you arranged any games yet?" asked Tom of Ed one afternoon, following some sharp practice on the diamond.

"We play Boxer Hall next week," answered the manager. "And I do hope we win. It means so much at the beginning of the season. How is the team, do you think?"

"Do you mean ours or theirs?"

"Ours, of course."

"Fine, I should say," replied Tom.

"You know who'll pitch against you when we play Boxer, I dare say,"

remarked Mr. Leighton, who had joined Tom and Ed.

"No. Who?"

"Your old enemy, Langridge. He's displaced Dave Ogden, who twirled for them last season. But you're not frightened, are you?"

"Not a bit of it! If there's anything that will make our fellows play fierce ball it's to know that Langridge--the fellow who almost threw our football team--is going to play against them. I couldn't ask a better tonic. Will they play on our grounds?"