“Don’t worry, Sammy,” he said, smiling reassuringly. “You shall have another wheel, and I will buy it for you—a wheel just as good as this one.”
“Pardon me,” said a voice that startled Dick and caused the boys to stare as June Arlington herself came from the hotel and tripped down the steps. “I claim the privilege of buying another wheel for him. No; it is right, Mr. Merriwell! My father will gladly furnish the money when he hears how this wheel came to be broken. I’ll write him all about it this very day.”
“Hush!” grunted one of the boys doubtingly, speaking in a low tone to a companion; “that’s a big bluff! That’s jest so Sam won’t raise a row about it.”
“She’s trying to make Sam think her father has money enough to buy a fifty-dollar wheel every day if he wants to,” said the other, joining in the doubtful derision.
June was forced to smile. Sammy had risen and taken off his cap when Dick lifted his.
“It’s plain your friends haven’t much faith in my promise,” said June.
“That’s all right,” declared the owner of the wheel. “I believe it, anyhow. Of course, I feel pretty bad over my wheel, but I’m glad the horse was stopped before you was hurt.”
June’s expressive eyes glowed.
“Thank you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of D. Roscoe Arlington?”
“No; I—why, do you mean the big railroad man?”