“That’s all right,” said Sammy. “I’ve seen them fellows play before. I saw them play last Saturday, and they crawled out of a worse hole than this. You can’t keep Dick Merriwell from winning.”
“You seem to be stuck on Dick Merriwell?”
“I am. He’s all right, you bet! I’ll bet a hundred dollars he wins this game!”
“I’ll take you,” said the man. “Put up your hundred dollars.”
Sammy gasped.
“I—I ain’t got a hundred dollars,” he said; “but I’ve got a brand-new bike that cost pretty near that, and I’ll bet that.”
The man laughed.
“I don’t want to rob you of your wheel,” he said, “so we won’t bet.”
“Don’t you be afraid of robbing me!” exclaimed the boy. “But I think you need your money, so you hadn’t better bet.”
Dick had looked in vain for June Arlington. She had said she would see him that afternoon, but he was sure she was not in the stand where most of the ladies were assembled.