“How dare you talk to me like that, you little——”
Tommy was on his toes in a twinkling.
“Cut it out, Ting-a-ling-ling,” he interrupted, “or I’ll hand you the spanking myself, and I’ll guarantee that I can do the job to the queen’s taste.”
“Sic him, Tommy,” gurgled Bigelow delightedly. “For once in my life I’ll bet on you.”
But the lanky young man backed away.
“It’s evident,” he spluttered, “that you’re a set of young ruffians. I shall inform the management what I think of you.”
“If you try to think too hard you may get a pain in that upper story vacuum of yours.”
Ling retired, still muttering, and reported to the watching guests, some of whom seemed amused, while others betrayed sympathetic indignation. Neither Dick nor his friends, however, gave any one of them further attention.
“I’ll have to get suits for the bunch,” said Merriwell. “Brad, Tommy, and I have ours, which we brought along with us on the tour. I’ll find Loring and see if he can fit the rest of the crowd out with uniforms.”
In this he was successful, and ere the dinner hour he had procured uniforms enough for ten men, one of which, according to Loring’s statement, was fully large enough for Bouncer Bigelow. He likewise learned that Loring had set about advertising the game in a manner which promised to leave no one at the Springs uninformed concerning it.