“A fat chance,” jeered Clif. “One of the old fellows will get it, of course. Henning ought to take it. He’s a First Class fellow. Either he or Ames.” “I don’t see that it matters what your class is,” Tom demurred. “I’m not saying I’m expecting to get it, of course, but if some one nominated me I’ll bet I’d get four or five votes. It would be fun to see, eh?” But Clif didn’t enthuse greatly. “That may be your idea of fun, Tom, but it isn’t mine. To stand for election just to see yourself licked is crazy.” “Heck, what’s the difference if you are licked? Say, if any of the crowd should put me up, vote for me once anyway, like a good guy, will you?” “I’ll second the nomination, if it’s done,” laughed Clif, “but I’d like to know who you think’s going to put you up!” “Well, some one might. You can’t tell. Some one might do it just to be funny.” “I don’t think it would be so blamed funny,” said Clif, slightly indignant. “If it comes right down to brass tacks, I guess you’d make a good enough captain――with me to help you!” Mr. Babcock had declined an invitation to be present on the momentous occasion, and so it was Clem Henning who coughed loudly, and said that they were there to elect a captain, and he guessed they’d better get at it, and that so far as he was concerned, he was out of it entirely because he didn’t know how to be a captain, and it was too pesky much trouble anyway! Much protestation followed, some of it perhaps polite rather than sincere, and several fellows tried to talk at once. “Wink” Coles finally got a hearing, and declared that Clem was the man for the job, and why not elect him, and pay no attention to what he said. Gillespie, known as “Gilly,” got quite eloquent, and reminded them that they should elect one of their number who possessed the gift of leadership, and placed in nomination Pat Tyson. The applause was rather for the eloquence than the nominee, it seemed. Then Jackson proposed “Babe” Ridgway and “Babe” declined in a panic. After that proceedings slowed up. Clif, observing Tom, laughed to himself. Although Tom seemed to have not a care in the world, Clif thought he could detect anxiety. Evidently it occurred to no one to nominate Tom, even as a joke, and Clif was wondering whether to do it himself when Thayer was offered as a candidate. The applause was flattering, but the meeting had certainly not been stampeded, and Johnny, himself, was rewarding his sponsor with a malignant scowl. Clem spoke again from his precarious seat on the radiator――which, fortunately, was not radiating to-night――and suggested that they get busy and do something, because it would be study hour in about ten minutes. “Maybe we’d better ballot. Jimmy, tear up a couple of sheets of paper from my block, will you? So far the candidates are Tyson, Ridgway――” “Nothing doing!” protested “Babe.”