“I decline to speak of this matter further, sir, as I——”
“You’re a big bluffer, Merriwell. I do not take any stock in your romance of millions.”
“And I care not a snap whether you do or not.”
“If you had so much money at your command, you’d not hesitate to put up a few hundred to back your ball-team—that is, if you really believe your team capable of playing ball.”
“I have reasons for not gambling in any way,” said Frank. “I do not expect men like you to respect my scruples, so all this talk is wasted.”
“Well, we can’t fool with you!” angrily sneered Morley. “I’ll bet you five hundred dollars, even money, that the Denver Reds can defeat your ball-team. If you will not cover the money, we’ll fool away no more time.”
“If he will not cover your money, I reckon I will!” exclaimed a voice, as a man, who had approached without attracting notice, pushed into the excited group.
“Father!” exclaimed Berlin Carson.
“Mr. Carson?” came from Merry’s lips.
“That’s me!” nodded the rancher, extending his hand and giving Merry a hearty grip. “Forgot to tell Berlin to attend to one little piece of business while in the city, so I decided to follow him. Heard over at the hotel that you were here, Merriwell, with a ball-team. They told me where to find you, and I came right out. What sort of a game of talk was this man giving you?”