“Leave me out, Charlie!” called Pete Girard. “I decline the honor!”
“Then two,” began Merriwell again. But Crandall was on his feet.
[313]
“I want to thank the fellows who nominated me,” he announced, “but I withdraw, too, please. And I’d like to make Burtis’s nomination unanimous!”
In the confusion of cheering that followed, Merriwell had hard work making himself heard. Finally, though: “Those in favor of the election of Kendall Burtis will stand up,” he announced. Every chair was pushed back save those of Merriwell, who was already standing, of Coach Payson and Andy Ryan, who had no voice in the proceedings, and of Kendall himself. Marion mounted a chair and called for “Three cheers for Burtis, fellows! Let her go!” The cheers came with a will and were followed by cries of “Speech! Speech!” Kendall, his eyes on the table, and his well hand nervously employed in the manufacture of bread pills, felt himself being lifted to his feet. It was an awful thing to have to say anything, for his voice was nowhere to be found at first; and when it did come it was so shaky and low that for a moment no one could hear it.
Finally, however, his halting words reached them.
“—Awfully afraid you’ve made a—a most horrible mistake,” he was saying, “and I wish you’d change your minds, fellows. Honestly—” and he[314] looked appealingly about—“I don’t think I could do it, fellows!”
A howl of delight and derision went up. Kendall faltered again.
“I—I’d like you to excuse me, please, and——”
“Not on your life! You’re elected, Burtis!”
Kendall turned questioningly, pleadingly, to Simms. Simms, laughing, shook his head. “No use,” he said. “You’re it!”
Kendall gulped, smiled wanly, started to sit down, reconsidered and went on: “Then all I can say is that I’m awfully much obliged and that I—I’ll do the best I know how. But I hope you’ll all help me a lot, because—because I don’t know much about my job!”
Merriwell, looking worried, went down the table and for a minute conversed in whispers with Coach Payson. The coach frowned and, nodding, finally arose and walked to the side of the room. Merriwell tapped Kendall on the shoulder.
“I say, Burtis, just come over here a minute, will you?”
Kendall, wondering, accompanied the other to where the coach stood. The rest of the team followed them with curious eyes.
“Burtis,” said Payson, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, “have you ever seen this before?”
[315]
Kendall looked at it in surprise. Then, “Why, yes, sir, I think so. I drew that diagram, but I didn’t do all that writing.”
“How did you happen to make the diagram?” asked Merriwell.
“Why, a fellow came to my room one night, and we got to talking about signals; the different systems, you know; he had some scheme of his own and wanted to know what I thought of it. I didn’t think much of it, though.”
“Who was this fellow?” asked Payson.
Kendall hesitated. “Is there—is there any trouble about this?” he asked.
It was Payson’s turn to hesitate, and he looked uncertainly at Merriwell. Finally: “Yes, this has made some trouble, or very nearly.”
“Then I guess I’d better not say who the fellow was,” replied Kendall.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, Burtis. This sheet of paper contains a full explanation of our signals for the Broadwood game, the original signals, you understand. It was sent to someone at Broadwood and got to the hands of the captain. He returned it to Merriwell. Now you see some explanation is necessary, Burtis.”
“But I only made the diagram. It was before we learned the new signals, Mr. Payson.”
[316]
“This other chap, whose name you won’t tell, took this paper away with him when he left?”
“Yes, sir. I never thought——”
“And you did not tell him afterwards about the signals for the Broadwood game?”
“No, sir. We never spoke of the thing again.”
“And you say this is not your writing?”
“No, sir; it isn’t.”
“And you know nothing more of this than you’ve told us, Burtis?”
“I really don’t. I’m awfully sorry I made that diagram, but—he said——”
“This other fellow?”
“Yes, sir. He said he wanted to work out a better system, and asked me to explain the one we were using then. That was all there was to it, Mr. Payson.”
Payson frowned. “I’m very much inclined to believe you, Burtis,” he said kindly, “but you must see that until this matter is cleared up you can’t—er—very well accept the captaincy. If I were you I’d see that other fellow right away and get him to tell what he knows, Burtis.”
“Yes, sir. And—and am I to—to tell them that I can’t be captain, sir?”
“No, that isn’t necessary. I think—Hello, Davis! Want to see me?”
“Why, yes, I guess so, Mr. Payson. Are you[317] talking about that business of the signals? Because if you are I can clear that up in a jiffy.”
“Well, for goodness sake, do it!” ejaculated Payson. “What do you know?”
“I know the whole story,” replied Perky importantly. “Here’s how it was. Cotton got Burtis to make that diagram for him. Then he sneaked into the gym that night we were having signal drill—I told you I saw someone, but you wouldn’t believe me!—and got the signals. Maybe he was there another time, but he doesn’t own to it.”
“Then he acknowledges this?” asked Merriwell.
“Sure! He had to; I made him!”
“How did you get hold of it, Perky?”
“Did a little detective work. Got a clue from George Kirk just by accident. Kirk saw Cotton and that fellow Gibson together in Greenburg the day he came back from the golf match with Broadwood. I put two and two together, found that Cotton was at Broadwood two years ago, and then went and told him I knew all about it. He thought I did and ’fessed up.”
“Where is he now?” asked Merriwell angrily.
Perky shrugged his shoulders. “Search me,” he said. “He left here this morning. That’s all I know!”
[318]
A half-hour later Kendall opened the door of Number 28. Outside there were still faint echoes of the cheering that had greeted the announcement of the election. Gerald, who had dined at home that evening, was in the room, and with him was Harry Merrow. Had Kendall been especially discerning just then he might have told from the expressions on their faces that they had heard the news. But he wasn’t; he was too excited for one thing. And, being excited, he tried not to show it. He said, “Hello” restrainedly, laid his cap down and took a chair.
“Hello,” responded Gerald carelessly. “Been to the banquet?”
Kendall nodded.
“Did they elect a captain?” asked Harry gravely.
Kendall nodded again. There was a silence. Finally and rather sheepishly Kendall said:
“What do you suppose those fellows did, Gerald?”
“What fellows?” asked Gerald, suppressing a grin.
Kendall nodded vaguely in the direction of commons. “Those fellows, the—the football team.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Raised rough-house, I suppose. What did they do, Kendall?”
[319]
“They—they”—Kendall found himself blushing—“they made me captain!”