! about time, too," thought Dick, as he raised his voice in a defiant
cheer. He'd like a quiet five minutes with the fellows who had dared to
pass his chum by in the voting. But, at any rate, Georgia was safe,
and, if only Coote came next, the "Firm" could afford to snap its
fingers at its constituents.

"Cazenove."

What! fat Cazenove jammed in between the "Firm" and its junior partner!
Dick and Georgie glared at him, scarcely able to repress a howl at the
sight of his smiling expanse of countenance. It had never occurred to
any of them that the ballot may part friends whom not even a sentence of
transportation could have severed, and they looked on, now more than
half bewildered, as the scrutineer read out the sixth name.

"For the sixth place," said he, "there appears to be a dead-heat.
Calverly and Coote have both the same number of votes. What's to be
done, mighty Lycurgus?"

"Say you retire!" shouted Dick to the astonished Calverly, on whom the
announcement had fallen with as much surprise as it had on his friends.

"Don't you do anything of the sort," shouted Gosse; "you're are as good
as that lot. Stick in!"

"Of course he will," shouted others.

So Calverly announced he would stick in, and Coote had better retire, a
suggestion Coote did not even condescend to notice. He was in his
"Firm's" hands, and the "Firm" were determined to fight the thing out
till they had not a toe to stand on.

"The simplest way," said Freckleton, "is to vote again for the two.
What do you say, gentlemen of the Den?"

"All right," roared the Den.

"What's it to be: ballot or show of hands?"

"Show of hands," shouted most of them.

"Do you agree to show of hands, you two," said Freckleton, "or would you
sooner have ballot?"

"I'd rather have show of hands," said Calverly.

"So would Coote," shouted Dick and Georgie.

"Then those who vote for Calverly hold up one hand," said Freckleton.

It was a big show, and the scrutineers, as they went from bench to
bench, counted 141.

"Now for Coote."

Every one could see it was a terribly close affair. As Dick and Georgie
scanned the benches, their hearts sank at the sight of so many not
voting.

"Another dead-heat, I expect," said Pauncefote.

The suggestion drove Dick almost frantic. Coote _must_ come in, or the
consequences would be awful.

"Now, you fellows," he cried, starting up and addressing Templeton
generally, as the scrutineers started on their rounds