CHAPTER IV.

OFF FOR THE CAMP.

“The time to which this meeting was adjourned has arrived, gentlemen, and you are requested to come to order,” said Tommy Toppleton, rapping on the table with the gavel, which he had been careful to bring with him.

“Mr. President,” said Barnscott, springing to his feet, with half a dozen others, all anxious to make the first motion.

“Barnscott,” replied Tommy, giving him the floor.

“I move you we proceed to the choice of officers.”

“Second the motion,” added Putnam.

“It is moved and seconded that we proceed to the election of officers,” repeated the president.

“Question! Question!” shouted the stockholders; for there was now no difference of opinion on this point.

The motion was carried without opposition. I had intended to make a little speech myself before any business was done. Indeed, it had been arranged by Tommy and his father that I should do so; but Barnscott was too quick for me.

“Mr. President,” I shouted, as soon as the vote was declared, “I have a word to say to the stockholders, if you will allow me to speak directly to them.”

“Go on! Go on!” yelled the students.

“Gentlemen, though what I have to say does not exactly belong to the business on hand, I hope it won’t be taken amiss,” I began. “By the vote of the stockholders this morning, the expenses of the supper to be provided for the company at this hotel were to be paid for out of the treasury of the corporation. It is well known that the company is in debt, that the interest on its bonds has not been paid. The president, therefore, in consultation with the munificent patron of the road, did not think it right to use the funds of the company in paying for a supper.”

“Are we to have no supper?” demanded Wetherstane.

“We are,” I replied, earnestly. “The liberality of the president of the road is well known to all of you, and I have the pleasure of informing you that he has decided to provide the supper at his own expense. It is my pleasant privilege, therefore, to invite you, in behalf of President Toppleton, to a supper at this hotel, after the adjournment. I wish the stockholders especially to understand that this invitation is extended by the president in his private capacity.”

Some applause followed my speech; but it was by no means as general and hearty as I desired. It was an electioneering movement, and with this invitation before them, I did not see how the stockholders could well avoid reëlecting Tommy. I saw the leaders of the opposition looking significantly at each other, as though they regarded my movement as a diversion against their scheme. A committee to collect, count, and declare the vote was appointed by the chair, and indorsed by the meeting; and I had the honor to be one of the three.

During the voting, intense excitement prevailed in the hall. It was a general jabber. As far as my duties would permit, I had been at work for Tommy. I had used all my powers of persuasion to induce certain large stockholders to vote for him; but, as fast as I made an impression, it seemed to be removed by the opposition, and when the meeting assembled I was not sure that I had converted a single share, for each of which a vote was given. But Tommy was reasonably confident of an election. He threw five hundred votes for himself to begin with, as the representative of so many shares; and one more than the same number, in addition, would elect him. If he could not get so many votes, he was more unpopular than any of his friends suspected.

“Have all the stockholders voted?” shouted Tommy. “If so, I declare the poll closed!”

The committee retired to sort and count the ballots, taking with us the stock book, in order to detect any illegal voting. I do not think any similar occasion among full-grown men excited more interest and anxiety than this election. Tommy Toppleton was really on trial for insolence and tyranny, and the result was to be his acquittal or conviction. We counted the votes; and Faxon, who was the chairman, and a friend of the president, led the way to the hall, with the result written on a piece of paper in his hand.

“Order, gentlemen!” called Tommy; and his unsteady voice indicated the anxiety with which he waited the issue. “You will listen to the report of the committee.”

“Whole number of votes, two thousand,” read Faxon, while breathless silence pervaded the hall. “Necessary to a choice, one thousand and one. Thomas Toppleton has eight hundred and eighty-two;” and the chairman read the rest of the names on the same ticket, who had nearly all the vote. “Edward Skotchley has twelve hundred and eighteen.”

The chairman then declared that Edward Skotchley, and the others on both tickets, except Tommy, were elected. Some faint applause followed the announcement; but most of the students appeared to be appalled at what they had done. The president’s face was as red as a blood beet, and I expected his wrath would boil over. Even the supper had not saved him, and certainly it was a hard case. I was sorry for him, while I could not approve of his haughty and overbearing manner. I went up to the desk with the intention of giving him what I considered good advice.

“Don’t get mad, Tommy,” said I, in a low voice, but so that he could hear me.

“It’s an insult,” added he, between his closed teeth.

“Never mind if it is. Don’t let them see that they are punishing you,” I added.

This last remark of mine had the desired effect; and, to my astonishment, he smiled as blandly as though nothing had happened. He did not relish the idea of letting his enemies triumph over him, and though he now looked like peace itself, I was satisfied that the punishment of the rebels was reserved for another occasion.

“Mr. President!”

Both Tommy and myself looked to see who had the audacity to break the impressive silence that still reigned in the hall. It was Skotchley--Edward the Silent, as he was often called, on account of his quiet way.

“Skotchley,” said Tommy, who, though he did not regard his successful rival very favorably, was hypocrite enough to smile sweetly upon him.

“Mr. President, I wish to say that my name was used without my knowledge or consent. I voted for the old board myself, and am so well satisfied with the president, that, even if I considered myself qualified for the position,--which I do not,--I could not accept it.”

“Toady!” snuffed some of the students.

Skotchley glanced at the knot of stockholders from whom the offensive word had come. The quiet dignity of his manner silenced them.

“Under no circumstances could I, or would I, accept this office,” added Skotchley, as he seated himself, amid the applause of Tommy’s friends.

The speaker was not excused; but he adhered to his purpose, and the students were obliged to ballot again. Tommy’s singular conduct in not getting mad made a sensation. The students could not comprehend it. While the second ballot was in progress, he sat at the table, cool and smiling. I am satisfied it was this conduct alone which created a reaction in his favor; for on the second ballot he was elected by a majority of one hundred and eleven. He accepted the position, and thanked the stockholders for their continued favor, as coolly as though nothing had occurred to disturb the current of his thoughts.

The present incumbents of the other elective offices were chosen without opposition, and the flurry was over; but it was clear enough, if Tommy did not mend his ways, he would never be elected again. The affairs of the railroad were finished, and those of the battalion were taken up. Tommy was chosen major by a small majority, and the other officers were elected. The location of the encampment caused considerable discussion. Those who had been the leaders of the opposition in the railroad company were in favor of pitching the tents on the Horse Shoe, an island on the lake, opposite Grass Springs, and two miles from the west shore.

Tommy’s party advocated the Sandy Bay Grove, because the railroad passed near it. They urged that the Wimpletonians usually encamped on the Horse Shoe. One of the other side was bold enough to say that was the reason why he wished to go there. I do not know how long the discussion would have lasted if the landlord of the hotel had not given the president a broad hint that the supper was ready. This brought the matter to a crisis, and when the vote was taken, there was a large majority in favor of the Horse Shoe. A committee was appointed to wait upon the owner of the island, who was a resident of Grass Springs.

The landlord of the hotel did justice to himself, and to the great occasion with which his house had been honored. Tommy sat at the head of the middle table, and presided with dignity and discretion. Some very good speeches were made, for boys, and the festival was a decided success. I left the table before the party broke up, in order to have the locomotive ready for the return. At six o’clock we started. Faxon informed me that the Horse Shoe had been engaged for the encampment, and that the sum of ten dollars was to be paid for the use of the island.

“But I can tell you one thing, Wolf. There will be one of the jolliest rows over there that you ever heard of,” added Faxon.

“I hope not.”

“The Wimpleton fellows were going there; and if there isn’t a fight before the week is out, I never will guess again.”

“Well, do our fellows know it?” I asked.

“Know it!” exclaimed Faxon. “Of course they do, and that is the particular reason why they want to go there.”

“Have the Wimps engaged the island?”

“No; there is where we have the start of them. They have always used it without leave or license.”

It did look like an exciting time for the next week. As soon as Tommy Toppleton understood the reason why his battalion had selected the Horse Shoe, he joined heartily with them; for no one hated the Wimpletonians more thoroughly than he did. He entered heart and soul into the project, and issued his order for the march at seven o’clock on Monday morning, so as to reach the island before the enemy could take possession of it. I was directed to have the train ready at that hour.

Though it was rather late when we arrived, the boys went to work in making the preparations for the camp, and before they retired, the tents, baggage, and cooking utensils were loaded upon one of the platform cars. Neither the major nor the principal opposed the plan, and at the appointed time on Monday morning, I had the train drawn up on the road at a convenient point near the Institute, ready to furnish the “transportation” for the battalion.

Major Tommy, intent upon being ahead of the enemy on the other side of the lake, was on time with his force. The battalion was to be reviewed by the principal of the Institute before its departure, and the two companies marched by the train, on their way to the green where the ceremony was to take place. As they passed me, I saluted them with the steam whistle, and in return the warlike heroes cheered the train. I witnessed the impressive formalities of the review, and having moved the cars forward, I heard the speech of the principal at the close of the performance.

The students then entered the cars. I gave a tremendous whistle, and off we went, the students, true to their noisy natures, yelling like madmen. As we moved on, we discovered a fleet of boats, loaded with Wimpletonians, sailing down the lake.

[Illustration: THE TOPPLETON BATTALION.--Page 55.]