“How?”
“I don’t know yit. Wait.”
“I like to steek him wiz ze knife!” softly snarled the vicious Canadian.
“If ye do, you’ll git life fer it. Don’t be a chump!”
Then Sullivan turned and came toward Frank, saying sourly:
“Well, you beat me, though it was a big streak of luck fer you. You shell have my wages when I’m paid off.”
“I don’t want your wages, man,” said Merriwell, quietly, “and I will not touch them. I had to break that jam, or squeal—and I broke it. That’s all. Keep your wages, and forget we made such a bet.”
This generosity brought murmurs of approbation from the men, but, for some moments, Sullivan was silent, his face flushed.
“You won ther bet,” he muttered.
“Neither of us put up anything,” smiled Frank. “If you will forget such a bet was made, you may be sure I shall not remind you of it.”