His name was not on the register. He did not seem to be with the strangers from Uniontown. Those strangers were the “sports” who followed the U. A. A. games and bet on the Uniontown team. They were looking for bets, and they hailed the appearance of Dick Merriwell.
“Tell us where we can get some of our good money up,” said one of the team. “We’re betting two to one on U. A. A. Have you children at the academy got any dough you wish to lose?”
“No,” said Dick quietly. “Few of us bet on these games. When we do bet it is for sport, not for profit. Can any of you gentlemen tell me where I can find Mr. Kennedy?”
“Kennedy? Kennedy? What Kennedy?”
“Fred Kennedy.”
“From our place? Oh, he isn’t with us.”
Kennedy was not found, but Buckhart was still certain he had arrived in town, even after they turned back toward the academy.
“He’s here, pard,” asserted the Texan. “I never make a mistake in faces. That onery whelp stepped off the train, or I’m a Chinaman! You hear me chirp!”
“I should like to meet him!” said Dick.
“And I’d enjoy being with you, pard. There would be something doing, you bet!”