"Lesard," I said, hoarsely, "you don't suppose that they could
possibly elect Miss Smawl as our president, do you?"

He looked at me askance and bit his cigar.

"I'd be in a nice position, wouldn't I?" said I, anxiously.

"The lady would probably make you walk the plank for that tiger
business," he replied.

"But I didn't do it," I protested, with sickly eagerness. "Besides, I
explained to her--"

He said nothing, and I stared at him, appalled by the possibility of
reporting to Professor Smawl for instructions next morning.

"See here, Lesard," I said, nervously, "I wish you would step over to
the Administration Building and ask the trustees if I may prepare for
this expedition. Will you?"

He glanced at me sympathetically. It was quite natural for me to wish
to secure my position before the new president was elected--especially
as there was a chance of the new president being Miss Smawl.

"You are quite right," he said; "the Graham Glacier would be the
safest place for you if our next president is to be the Lady of the
Tigers." And he started across the park puffing his cigar.

I sat down on the doorstep to wait for his return, not at all charmed