"But you, as president, ought to have a great deal of influence," suggested "Crackers," slowly pacing the floor. "I tell you plainly, the fellows are getting worked up; they won't stand for any dictatorial methods. Aren't you going to use your influence to prevent the explosion that one more defeat would certainly bring? It might blow nearly every member of the organization out of his job." "Ah!" said Sam. His keen eyes showed no sign of wavering. "You know how to take a hot proposition very coolly," said "Crackers," in soft tones. "Is there any use of arguing the matter?" "I don't think so." "Neither do I. But, to make sure, I'll hunt up the rest of the officers, and see what they think about having the match shoved so close to the gunpowder." "Remember this," retorted Randall: "Some one has just said that the fellows won't stand for any dictatorial methods. You must include yourself as well as the rest. So-long." "Crackers" immediately reported to his lieutenants outside the gymnasium. "Well?" queried Lawrence, eagerly. "He won't listen to reason," said Brown, shaking his head gravely. "His abruptness almost pained me." "Why not call all this thing off?" asked Earl Roycroft, with a disturbed expression. "Suppose we give 'em another week?" Owen Lawrence eyed him scornfully. "That's a fine way to talk," he growled. "If you're going to back down at the very start we'd better know it now." The big captain of the "Hopes" flushed. "Of course I'm not," he answered, hastily. "All I want is to see everybody get a square deal." "That stout gentleman who poked his delicate frame into the gym this afternoon about typifies the actions of the Ramblers," remarked Brown. "He has an idea that every one must bend to his will. So do they. Why, in that room back there, I began to think I was talking to the head of some big corporation doing business in a dozen states." "There's no use chirping all day. Let's get busy," broke in Lawrence, impatiently. "What's the first move, Brown?" "A poster announcing our intentions would be about the proper caper," answered Brown, reflectively. "I'll consult my special artist, Mr. Benny Wilkins." "What! Can he draw?" "He may not have Dave Brandon's a-mazing talent, but, at any rate, his sketches don't need explanations to go with 'em. I'll jolly him into making one--that is, unless the other High Moguls of the association overrule the iron hand back there." Before supper time Dan Brown had managed to interview Harry Spearman, Dick Travers and the others. As Sam Randall had predicted, he got no encouragement. "That settles it," murmured "Crackers." "The next thing is to see Benny Wilkins." Benny was decidedly surprised when the coach of the "Hopes" called upon him that evening. He was also much pleased. "Gee whiz, Brown, this is going to boost me into a person of national importance. Of course I can make the poster; I can draw even with my eyes shut." "And color, too?" asked Brown.