Then he stepped down, but he had exploded a bombshell, and there was consternation in the meeting. Brad Buckhart had shot to his feet as he heard Savage speak Arlington’s name, and now he dropped back, gasping: “I’ll—be—shot!” “Arlington, Arlington!” was the mad cry that went up. Brad turned to Dick. “Partner, am I dreaming?” he asked. “Did I hear straight? Did that onery galoot say Arlington?” “That’s what he said,” nodded Dick. “And he pretends to be your friend! Well, he ought to be lynched like a horse-thief!” Dick had been astonished, but he was master of himself, and he did not show his surprise. “It was worked somehow,” he said. “I don’t believe Savage really wanted to withdraw in favor of Arlington, but he was driven into it.” “Driven? Driven how?” “I can’t say.” “He’s just an onery, two-faced——” Dick’s hand fell on Brad’s arm. “Careful!” he said. “Don’t raise your voice, old man.” “Give me a gun,” growled the Texan, “and I’ll sure go out yon and shoot him up some!” The balloting had begun, and Arlington’s friends were working harder than ever. “We’ve got them now!” they sang joyously. The voting was rushed along at a lively rate, and there was no delay to drag in any one. In a short time the chairman declared the balloting over, and then the counting of the votes began. As the members of the committee separated the votes into two piles it soon became apparent that the vote was nearly a tie. Not all of those who had voted for Savage had swung to Arlington on the recommendation of Savage. Finally the votes were sorted, and a recount was made. Brad Buckhart was pale. “He’s got it, pard!” he whispered. “Got it by one vote! No, by thunder! He shall not have it!” Then Dick saw Brad, in running over Arlington’s votes, cleverly slip two of them into his palm. Ned Stanton, however, did not detect the trick. “What do you make it, Stanton?” asked Dick. “One hundred and twenty-three for Arlington.” “That’s right,” said Buckhart huskily. “And Hardy has one hundred and twenty-four.” “Then Hardy wins!” said Stanton, with satisfaction. “Wait,” said Dick. “Let’s be sure of this. Let’s count them over again.” “What for?” asked Brad. “Because I want to make sure.” Dick carried his point. “Brad,” he whispered in Buckhart’s ear, without looking toward his roommate, “I want you to put back those two votes. Put them back, or I shall have to expose you!” The Texan turned like chalk. His hands shook a little, and the counting went on. “By George, we were wrong!” said Stanton, as they finished. “Arlington has one hundred and twenty-five! He wins by one vote.” “Correct,” said Merriwell, and he gave the figures to the chairman, whose announcement of the result was followed by a mighty cheer for the victor. CHAPTER XIII—THE PROMPTINGS OF CONSCIENCE Brad Buckhart disappeared at once. When Dick reached his room he found Brad there, sitting like a wooden image and staring at the wall.