CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
HOW NEMESIS MAKES HER FINAL CALL.
Our heroes, as they returned arm-in-arm from the trial of Tom White, were conscious that in proportion as the troubles behind them diminished, those ahead loomed out big and ominous.
They had escaped transportation; at least, so they told one another; and although, when all was said and done, they had not done much towards righting Tom White or recovering the _Martha_ still, somehow, Nemesis had been "choked off" in that direction.
But when they turned their faces from what lay behind to the immediate future, their hearts failed them.

They had staked high for the "Sociables." Their run with the Harriers had been no trifle: and far more important was the general attention it had drawn to themselves, and to their efforts to get into, the select company.

Their candidature was a master of public notoriety, and if Pledge should at the last moment carry out his threat, their fall would be sad in proportion.
When they reached Templeton they found the place in a ferment.

Fellows were going about with pencils and paper, making up their lists.
"I say," said Pauncefote, waylaying our heroes as they entered the Den; "vote for us, I say.

I'll vote for you." "Oh, ah!" said Dick; "that means we give you three votes, and you only give us one.