Dick Hamilton's Football Team Or A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Part 16

"I hear you won't have one vote, 'Ham,'" laughingly declared d.i.c.k's former enemy.

"That's right," half-seriously a.s.sented our hero. "I told all my friends to vote for you."

"So I heard. Kind of you. Come on over and I'll buy you a soda."

"No. They're on the forbidden training menu now."

"That's so, I nearly forgot. Well, come on up to the Sacred Pig, and we'll have some toast and tea," for there was a lunch room in the society house. The two rivals went off arm in arm, watched by an admiring throng of cadets, for they were both great favorites with their schoolmates.

At the close of the first day it was generally admitted by the workers on both sides that the two candidates for captain had about the same number of votes. Rutley was "not in it," as Paul said, and the lad himself laughingly admitted this. Still Porter and his particular set were working in his interests, not so much because they really wanted him, as that they did not want d.i.c.k to win, and they took this means of deflecting votes from him. At the last minute, it was rumored, the Rutley votes would be swung to Dutton.

"But you've got heaps of chances yet, d.i.c.k," declared Paul, "and there's lots more time to canva.s.s."

But not much electioneering could be done on the next day, for a compet.i.tive drill was ordered and after that was to come artillery practice. There was barely a chance for some football work, and it had to be cut short.

What little was done, however, demonstrated that the team was shaping up well, and the coaches were more than pleased.

"We'll have them play the Dunkirk Military Academy next Sat.u.r.day,"

announced Mr. Spencer, "and we'll see what they can do in a real contest."

"I have great hopes of them," declared Mr. Martin. "Of course they ought to beat Dunkirk, for it's a smaller academy than this, but if they roll up a big score, bigger than Blue Hill did against the same team last year, Blue Hill can hardly refuse to play our boys, and I understand that their refusal to meet Kentfield is a sore point."

"It certainly is. Oh, we'll whip our lads into shape yet, and then Blue Hill can look to her laurels."

The two coaches walked over to the gymnasium, for they kept themselves in condition by hard physical work on the apparatus, as well as by out-door practice.

All through the academy that night went the buzz and hum of talk about the election. Several votes changed hands, so to speak, though it could not be said that d.i.c.k's chances were increased thereby. In fact Paul was a little downcast as he reckoned up the number he was sure of for his chum, and thought of the number needed.

"But I'll get them!" he told himself fiercely as he looked at the list in his hand. "There are some new fellows I haven't seen yet."

"Oh, go to bed," advised d.i.c.k, who was tired with the day's duties, but Paul would not.

The young millionaire was sleeping soundly when Paul came in a little later.

"Well?" asked d.i.c.k, half awake.

"Not very well," answered Paul dubiously, "but it may be in the morning.

Dutton certainly has lots of friends."

"All right," announced d.i.c.k as cheerfully as he could.

It was after midnight when the two chums, as well as several other cadets, were awakened by an alarm wildly shouted.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" came in startled tones from a voice they recognized as that of Toots. "Fire in the ammunition house!"

Paul and d.i.c.k were out of bed in the same instant, and rushed to the window. They saw a red glare, and the cry of Toots was echoed by other janitors.

"By Jove! The ammunition house is blazing!" cried Paul aghast. "If that goes up----"

"It's far enough removed from the main buildings," cried d.i.c.k, as he began hurriedly to dress, "but it may damage the Sacred Pig. Besides, there are some valuable guns in there--and Paul--I forgot--Grit is in there! Come on!" and d.i.c.k raced from the room, half attired as he was.

CHAPTER XIII

THE RESCUE OF DUTTON

"What do you mean? Grit in there--in the ammunition house?" cried Paul, hurrying after his chum. He wondered whether he had understood d.i.c.k rightly.

"Yes, he's there," came the reply, and the young millionaire never turned around as he sped down the corridor that was rapidly filling with half-dressed cadets who had been aroused by the cries of the janitors.

"They're repairing the stable where I keep him nights, and as it was unlocked I put Grit in the powder house so no one would steal him. Now it's on fire!"

"We'll get him!" cried Paul. "Come on, fellows, d.i.c.k's dog is in there!"

The flames were now more plainly visible, and they were gaining rapidly.

Two of the janitors, one of whom was Toots, had pails of water and were dashing the fluid on the fire, while others were unreeling a hose.

The ammunition house was a large one, made in the main of concrete, but there was built on it a small, wooden shed under which some empty packing boxes and cases were stored, and where some garden tools were kept. It was this shed which had caught fire, and unless it was quickly put out the flames might communicate to the wooden door of the powder house proper. There could be but one result then--an explosion.

Everyone realized this as he rushed on to fight the fire. Some of the professors were now up and were issuing orders, but there was so much excitement that no one paid much attention to them.

"Is there a good water pressure?" panted Paul.

"I don't know," answered d.i.c.k, as he ran on. "There was the other day when we had fire drill, but maybe just when we want it there won't be any."

"Hurry! Hurry!" shouted Toots, as he and the others dashed pail after pail of water on the fire.

"Use the hose! Turn on the water!" cried Ray Dutton, who was just ahead of d.i.c.k. "Why don't you turn on the pressure?"

"Guess they don't know how to do it," answered the young millionaire.

"One of those men is a new hand. Come on, boys, I can't see Grit burned to death!"

"He's howling now," cried Paul.

Indeed the frightened yelping of the imprisoned animal could be heard above the roar and crackle of the flames, and d.i.c.k increased his speed.

"I'm coming, Grit! I'm coming!" he shouted, but it is doubtful if the dog heard him.

The burning shed was in front of the only door to the ammunition house, and the fire must first be extinguished before the portal could be reached. To go through the flames now was out of the question.

"Keep back, boys! Keep back!" cried Major Webster. "There may be an explosion any moment. Keep back!"

"But my dog is in there!" shouted d.i.c.k. "I must get Grit out!"

"You can't. It's madness to go too close!"