“Oh, that be hanged!” exploded Niles. “You’re too blamed modest. You can do it if you want to. Come ahead, old fellow, and save me from making an ass of myself by disappointing this crowd.”
“When you put it that way, Niles, I can scarcely refuse,” Dick smiled. “I’ll be very glad to do what you want, only you mustn’t expect too much of me.”
Jack Niles was overjoyed.
“That’s bully!” he exclaimed. “You’ve helped me out of a deuce of a hole and saved the day. It’s just my luck to find a substitute as good or better than the original.”
Brose Stovebridge stood near, a slight sneer on his face.
“It’s lucky I’m not the one who didn’t show up,” he drawled. “Merriwell seems to think such a lot of this fellow Layton that I don’t suppose he could possibly have been induced to run against him, if our positions were reversed.”
Apparently his words were intended for the man next to him, but they were quite loud enough for the Yale man to hear.
The latter turned and surveyed Stovebridge with a cool, disconcerting glance.
“I happen to have run against Layton several times, Mr. Stovebridge,” he said quietly. “If he were here to-day, I should be very glad to do so again. I hesitated just now—for another reason.”
To the guilty man, his meaning was obvious; and though Stovebridge shrugged his shoulders with affected indifference, his face flushed, and he made no reply.