“And don’t forget, Dick, Mr. Holwell was particular to say the prize would be in gold. Why, for one, I don’t believe I ever saw that much money in gold, outside of a bank. It’s worth working for. I only wish I was a better hand at composition, and getting up jokes.”
“Why not try, anyhow, Leslie?” urged Dick. “The more there are in the competition the better Mr. Holwell will be pleased. And for all your modesty it might turn out that your farce was the best of the bunch.”
“Oh! well, p’raps I may try it, just for fun,” agreed the other. “But if it reads as silly as I’m afraid it will, you’ll find me putting a match to it in a hurry.”
“Let some one else be the judge before you do that,” suggested Dick. “No fellow knows what he can do till he tries his level best.”
“I won’t make any promises,” was the way Leslie modestly “hedged,” for he happened to be one of those boys who shrink from being laughed at.
So the two chums separated, Dick calling out at the last:
“If your face smarts a whole lot, Leslie, bathe it in cold water, and then lay a rag saturated with witch hazel on it when you’re in bed. It’ll pay to look after it tonight.”
“Guess I will,” came back from the semi-darkness; and then Dick, whistling a strain or two of a favorite melody, started across the field toward his house, which was not so far away from that of his chum but that they had a home-made telephone connecting the two, over which many an interesting confab was held from time to time.
CHAPTER X
NAT ENTERS THE LIST
The days passed, and November was half gone.