"Homans, will you please see to the election of the new captain?" said Worry.
Homans stepped out briskly and placed a hat, twelve folded slips of paper, and a pencil upon the table.
"Fellows, you will follow me in our regular batting order," directed Homans. "Each man is to write his name on one side of a slip of paper and his choice for captain on the other side. Drop the paper in the hat."
Homans seated himself at the table and quickly cast his vote. Raymond hobbled up next. Reddy Ray followed him. And so, in silence, and with a certain grave dignity of manner that had yet a suggestion of pleasure, the members of the varsity voted.
When they had resumed their seats Homans turned the slips out of the hat and unfolded them.
"These votes will be given to the athletic directors and kept on record," he said. "But we will never see but one side of them. That is Wayne's rule in electing captains, so the players will not know how each voted. But this is an occasion I am happy to see when we shall all know who voted for who. It shall be a little secret of which we will never speak."
He paused while he arranged the slips neatly together.
"There are here twelve votes. Eleven have been cast for one player--one for another player! Will you all please step forward and look?"
In an intense stillness the varsity surrounded the table. There was a sudden sharp gasp from one of them.
With a frank, glad smile Homans held out his hand.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Pitcher, by Zane Grey