“Why not? Who is he?” breathlessly asked the boys. “He’s Chester Arlington,” said Brad; “and that is answer enough why he should not have the position. You hear me whisper!” Naturally Buckhart was excited. The thought of having Chester on the athletic committee, where he could use his influence in running the affairs of the eleven, was enough to arouse the Texan. Dick heard Brad’s words without the quiver of a muscle. His lips were pressed together, and there seemed a hardening of his jaw, but that was all. An excited discussion started at once, but every fellow present seemed to feel that it would be a serious misfortune to have Arlington get on to the committee. “He can’t git there anyhow,” squeaked Obediah Tubbs. “He can unless the right influence is brought to bear against him,” declared Brad. “He’ll do anything to make the position. He’ll spend money like water, and he seems to have a barrel of it to spend.” “But it cuc-cuc-can’t be the fellows here will be bub-bub-bought!” exclaimed Jolliby. “Wait and see!” said Brad. “This galoot, Arlington, is mighty slick, and he’ll play his cards fine.” “If he ever gets on the committee,” said Singleton, “there is going to be trouble for this football-team. He is sore because he did not make the eleven, and he will raise thunder. Merriwell, it is for your interest to see that Chet Arlington is defeated in this scheme of his.” Still Dick was silent. He was thinking of his promise to Mrs. Arlington not to interfere with the ambition of her son, a promise that had been made in the presence of June and the gathering of plebes about the carriage. The keenly interested boys decided to go forth immediately and find out “what was doing.” They soon left the room, only Buckhart remaining with Dick. Merriwell sat on a chair, gazing at the floor, a strange look on his handsome face. The Texan walked over and dropped a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Pard.” Dick looked up. “Well, Brad?” “This yere is no time to squat on your haunches. You want to get right up and hustle.” “What for?” “What for? Whoop! Great horn spoon! Didn’t you hear me say that Chet Arlington is laying pipes to get on the athletic committee in place of Warwick, who has resigned?” “Yes.” “Well, burn my hide and brand me deep! Are you going to squat and let that onery varmint get on?” “I don’t think he will succeed.” “Then you don’t know him as well as I thought you did.” “He’s not a truly popular fellow.” “Is Phil Warne?” “No.” “Warne is chairman of the committee. Is Olf Stone?” “No.” “Stone is on the committee. Is Had Burrows?” “I don’t think so.” “He’s on the committee, and he was chairman last year.” “But it is different with Chester Arlington.” “How?” “He is a thoroughbred cad.” “Sure thing; but you saw how he stood with his own class.” “The plebes alone cannot elect him to the committee.” “They won’t be alone.” “He has no popularity outside his class.” “But he’s got money, and he’ll use it.”