ild burst of flowery
eloquence and placed in nomination "that triumphant football captain,
that best of good fellows, Paul Dunlop Gale!"
The applause which followed was flattering, though, had Paul but known
it, it was rather for the speech than the nominee. And the effect was
somewhat marred by several inquiries from different parts of the hall as
to who in thunder Gale was. Neil secured recognition ere the applause
had subsided, and seconded the nomination. He avoided rhetoric, and told
his classmates in few words and simple phrases that Paul Gale possessed
pluck, generalship, and executive ability; that he had proved this at
Hillton, and, given the chance, would prove it again at Erskine.
"Gale is a stranger to many of you fellows," he concluded, "but, whether
you make him class president or whether you give that honor to another,
he won't be a stranger long. A fellow that can pilot a Hillton football
team to victory against almost overwhelming odds and through the
greatest of difficulties as Gale did last year is not the sort to sit
around in corners and watch the procession go by. No, sir; keep your eye
on him. I'll wager that before the year's out you'll be prouder of him
than of any man in your class. And, meanwhile, if you're looking for
the right man for the presidency, a man that'll lead 1905 to a renown
beside which the other classes will look like so many battered
golf-balls, why, I've told you where to look."
Neil sat down amid a veritable roar of applause, and Paul, totally
unembarrassed by the praise and acclaim, smiled with satisfaction. "That
was all right, chum," he whispered. "I guess we've got them on the
run, eh?"
But Neil shook his head doubtfully. Cries of "Vote! Vote!" arose, and in
a moment or two the balloting began. While this was proceeding
announcement was made that the annual Freshman Class Dinner would be
held on the evening of the following Monday, October 7th. When the
cheers occasioned by this information had subsided the chairman arose.
"The result of the balloting, gentlemen," he announced, "is as follows:
Livingston, 97; Gale, 45. Mr. Livingston is elected by a majority
of 52."
Shouts of "Livingston! Livingston! Speech! Speech!" filled the air, and
were not stilled until some one arose and announced that the
president-elect was not in the hall. Paul, after a glance of
bewilderment at Neil, had sat silent in his chair with something between
a sneer and a scowl on his face
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