“I’m right glad you did,” he said, as they went down the steps. “You’ve given me some valuable information.”
He paused and looked at Dick shrewdly.
“I only wish I’d seen you pitch inside of two years. I expect you’ve developed a lot of new tricks in that time.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the Yale man smiled.
Orren Fairchilds sprang into a big gray car which stood near the steps, while Dick hurried forward to get the Wizard out of the way. He sprang into his seat and started the engine, which was still warm, and as he did so, he heard the voice of the older man behind him.
“Just the same, my boy, don’t think you’ve got a cinch, to-morrow. Good night.”
“Good night,” Merriwell called back.
The Wizard shot down the drive and into the street, with the gray car close behind. Dick waved his hand in response to a salute from the other man, who turned in the opposite direction and quickly disappeared. Merriwell drove slowly back toward the hotel.
He was much taken with the enthusiastic mine owner, whose simple, straightforward manner was a pleasant contrast to the airs affected by some wealthy men he had met.
“You’d never imagine, to look at him, that he was burdened with overmuch coin,” the Yale man thought. “Yet Gardiner says that he and his brother are sole owners of the mine, and must have four or five million a piece. He certainly is a baseball crank, and yet I should think it would be great fun, if a fellow had plenty of money, to see how good a team you could make out of ordinary material.”