a success of his life, had two things back of him. First, he was in love with his work, and second, he had high ideals about his work. And he said you couldn't talk with Mr. Fenton for five minutes, without seeing what an interest he took in his school, and in his boys, and that more than making scholars out of them, or athletes out of them, he wanted to make them into men. And I guess that's about what we were trying to put in words, and couldn't."

Dick thought hard; then nodded. "Well, I guess so, too," he answered, and then, after a pause, "But now look here, Jim, if that's so, what do you think about this business of class president? Because that's an awfully important thing for the school. It shows people at graduation the kind of fellow we want to put forward to represent the class; and the honor sticks to him in college, and really, you might say, in a kind of way all through his life. And you can't tell me that you think Dave Ellis is the fellow Mr. Fenton would honestly like to see elected president, now can you?"

Putnam shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered; "but that isn't up to Mr. Fenton, Dick; he never would interfere in anything like that. And I'll tell you why. I met a fellow last summer who was quite prominent here in the school four or five years ago. We got to talking about different things and finally I told him about Dave and the presidency. He said that the year he graduated there was a lot of feeling in his class over the election and that finally some of the fellows went to Mr. Fenton and asked him if he wouldn't use his influence to try and get the right man in. He told them that was something he couldn't do; that if school life did anything at all it fitted fellows to meet some of the obstacles they'd have to run up against later in their lives and that this was just one of the things they would have to do their best to work out by themselves without coming to him. And, of course, you can see, when you come to think of it, that he was right. It's just like a republic and a monarchy; we wouldn't want even as good a man as Mr. Fenton to rule us like a king. It's his part to get as much sense into us as he can, and if he can't make us smart enough to tell a good fellow from a bad one, why, that isn't his fault. We've got to take the responsibility for that ourselves."

"Yes, I see," Dick assented; "but it's too bad, just the same, if we elect Dave. Because he isn't in it with Allen as a fellow. Harry's white clear through. But it's funny about Dave. He's certainly got an awful following; and I suppose he's dead sure to win."

Putnam nodded. "Yes, I think he is," he answered; "and really you can't wonder at it, either. Athletics count for such a lot nowadays--too much, I think--and somehow if a fellow is a star athlete, that seems to blind every one to his faults. And then you know what they say--that nothing succeeds like success. And Dave's really done a lot for the school in an athletic way. And they all think he'll be the big winner this spring; they think he'll land the Pentathlon, and help win the track meet, and of course that all helps. And then he's got that kind of a don't-give-a-darn manner. It jars a lot of the fellows, of course, just as it does you and me, but then, on the other hand, with a lot of the younger boys, it goes in great style. I think they imagine it's just about the sort of air that a really great man ought to have. It's funny to see some of them trying to imitate it. No, Dave's got the inside track.

"Allen's the better fellow, of course--Harry's about as nice as they come--but I don't see how he can win. And it's queer, too, you know; but his being such a corker in a literary way hurts him just as much as it helps him. He doesn't mean any harm by the way he's quoting his old poets all the time, but it doesn't go with the crowd. You know how it is. If you don't know a thing, and the other fellow does know it, and you have kind of a guilty feeling all the time that you ought to know it and don't, why then you sort of square up with yourself by getting to dislike the other fellow for knowing more than you do. That's sad, but it's true. And yet, of course, as I say, right down at the bottom, there's no comparison between the two fellows. Allen's as fair and square as a die, and the most kind-hearted chap that ever stepped, nice to everybody, big boys and small. And Dave--well, I don't know. I wouldn't slander a fellow for anything, but I don't think I'd trust old Dave very far. Did I ever tell you about Ned Brewster and the daily themes?"

Dick shook his head. "No, I don't think you ever did," he answered. "What about it?"

"Why," said Putnam; "it happened like this. There's an English course in college, you know, where they have to write a theme every day. We have the same thing here, for a month, second half year--English Fourteen. Well, Ned Brewster was talking to a crowd of fellows one day about a letter his brother had written him from college, telling quite a lot about this daily theme business--all about the good ones, and the funny ones, and a lot of things like that. Ned never thought anything more about it, but a little while after that Dave came to him, and asked him if he didn't think it would be an awfully good scheme to get Ned's brother to have copies of all his themes made and sent down to Ned, so they'd be all solid for that month of English Fourteen. Bright idea, wasn't it?"

Dick whistled. "Well," he ejaculated; "the mean skunk! What nerve! What did Ned say?"

Putnam grinned. "Not very much," he answered. "He told me he thought at first Dave was joking, but when he got it through his head that he was really in earnest I guess his language was quite picturesque. Dave hates him like poison now, and it makes it hard for Ned, being captain of the track team, you know, and Dave being the star athlete. It gives Dave all sorts of mean little chances to try to make the fellows think Ned isn't being square about the work, and all that sort of thing. You know what I mean. He keeps grumbling all the time, and saying that Ned shows favoritism to fellows he likes, and a lot of rot like that. And it hurts, too, because there are always some fellows foolish enough to believe it, and the first thing you know, you've got a split in the class. However, we're none of us perfect, so I suppose we can't be too hard on Dave. Maybe we can elect Allen, anyway. Something may happen in the next six weeks. I know one thing, anyway; Dave's got to hustle like a good one if he means to keep up in his work. I understand that he's right on the danger line now, and the mid tears are always pretty stiff, harder than the finals, I always thought. If he shouldn't pass, he wouldn't be eligible for the presidency--and as far as that goes, he wouldn't be eligible for athletics either. Wouldn't that raise the deuce? I suppose the track team would crumple like a piece of paper without Dave in the weights and the Pentathlon. Golly, though, that reminds me, Dick. Ned Brewster says you're the coming man on the track. Is that straight? Did you really do five six in the gym?"

Dick nodded. "Well, yes," he answered; "I believe I did. Only once, though. You know how it is. A fellow will get in a lucky jump, once in a while."

Putnam laughed. "Don't be so ashamed of it," he said good-naturedly. "That's a corking good jump for any one. Some fellows go plugging along half their lives, and don't get that high. Who can beat it, besides Johnson?"

Dick pondered. "Well, I can't think of any one," he said at last; "still, there may be a lot of fellows I don't know about--"

Putnam cut him short. "Oh, nonsense," he cried; "don't we get all the gossip from the school papers, and from the fellows we see? Didn't we know, the very same day, when Johnson broke the Clinton record, that time he did five eight and a half? No, sir, you're good for