Tom was banging away with his gavel, but he managed to make his voice heard above the tumult. "Mr. Bascome has the floor!" he cried. "Put him out!" "Who is he, anyhow?" "Whoever heard of Bascome?" Again the cries; again the banging of the gavel, and at last Tom succeeded in producing quiet. "Mr. Bascome has the floor," the chairman announced. "Do I understand that you ask that as a point of information?" and Tom gazed at the wealthy freshman, who, through all the tumult, had maintained his place, sneeringly indifferent to the threats made against him. "That's what I want to know," he stated. "I'll let the entire college answer that if necessary," declared Tom. "Mr. Bascome has asked a question----" "Don't answer him!" yelled Dutch. Bang! went the gavel. From his corner where he had been seated, doing some figuring, Ed Kerr arose--his face white. "Mr. Chairman! A question of personal privilege!" he cried. "Go on!" answered Tom, forgetting his parliamentary language. "I beg to tender my resignation as manager of the Randall baseball nine!" cried Ed. "No! No!" "We won't take it!" "Make him sit down!" "Don't listen to him!" "Let's haze Bascome!" "Fellows, will you be quiet?" begged Tom. "I won't recognize anyone until you're quiet!" and he banged away. Gradually there came a hush, while both Bascome and Kerr remained on their feet. "There is a question before the house," went on the captain, "and until that is settled I can't listen to anything else. Mr. Bascome wants to know whether the present financial trouble of the nine is not due to the manager. How do you answer him?" "No! No! No!" came in a great chorus. Tom turned to Ed Kerr. "Are there any who think otherwise?" asked the chairman. "Yes," called Bascome, and he was supported by half a dozen, including Ford Fenton. There were groans of protest, but Tom silenced them. "I think Mr. Bascome has his answer," declared the chairman. "You have an almost overwhelming vote of confidence, Mr. Manager, and I congratulate you. Is there any further business to come before the meeting. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. How are you making out, Mr. Treasurer?" "Fine!" cried Snowden. "All we need and more, too." "Good! Then the meeting is adjourned. We don't need any motion," and Tom started to leave the little platform. "Look here!" blustered Bert Bascome, "I'm a member of the athletic committee, and you can't carry things in this high-handed manner. I move that we go into executive session and consider the election of a new manager. Mr. Kerr has resigned, as I understand it." "Forget it!" advised Dutch Housenlager, and he stretched out his foot, and skillfully tripped up the noisy objector, who went down in a heap, with Ford Fenton on top of him.