He glanced at me sympathetically. It was quite natural for me to wish to secure my position before the new president was elected--especially as there was a chance of the new president being Miss Smawl. "You are quite right," he said; "the Graham Glacier would be the safest place for you if our next president is to be the Lady of the Tigers." And he started across the park puffing his cigar. I sat down on the doorstep to wait for his return, not at all charmed with the prospect. It made me furious, too, to see my ambition nipped with the frost of a possible veto from Miss Smawl. "If she is elected," thought I, "there is nothing for me but to resign--to avoid the inconvenience of being shown the door. Oh, I wish I had allowed her to hypnotize the tigers!" Thoughts of crime flitted through my mind. Miss Smawl would not remain president--or anything else very long--if she persisted in her desire for the tigers. And then when she called for help I would pretend not to hear. Aroused from criminal meditation by the return of Professor Lesard, I jumped up and peered into his perplexed eyes. "They've elected a president," he said, "but they won't tell us who the president is until to-morrow." "You don't think--" I stammered. "I don't know. But I know this: the new president sanctions the expedition to the Graham Glacier, and directs you to choose an assistant and begin preparations for four people." Overjoyed, I seized his hand and said, "Hurray!" in a voice weak with emotion. "The old dragon isn't elected this time," I added, triumphantly. "By-the-way," he said, "who was the other dragon with her in the park this evening?" I described her in a more modulated voice. "Whew!" observed Professor Lesard, "that must be her assistant, Professor Dorothy Van Twiller! She's the prettiest blue-stocking in town." With this curious remark my confrere followed me into my room and wrote down the list of articles I dictated to him. The list included a complete camping equipment for myself and three other men. "Am I one of those other men?" inquired Lesard, with an unhappy smile. Before I could reply my door was shoved open and a figure appeared at the threshold, cap in hand. "What do you want?" I asked, sternly; but my heart was beating high with triumph. The figure shuffled; then came a subdued voice: "Mister, I guess I'll go back to the Graham Glacier along with you. I'm Billy Spike, an' it kinder scares me to go back to them Hudson Mountains, but somehow, mister, when you choked me and kinder walked me off on my ear, why, mister, I kinder took to you like." There was absolute silence for a minute; then he said: "So if you go, I guess I'll go, too, mister." "For a thousand dollars?" "Fur nawthin'," he muttered--"or what you like." "All right, Billy," I said, briskly; "just look over those rifles and ammunition and see that everything's sound."