“He was trying to force me into wagering money with him over a ball-game to which he has challenged me. He is the manager of the Denver Reds.”
“Well, I don’t often bet against a home team, but I know you, and I’ve seen your men play ball, so, if he wants to plank down five hundred, I judge I can accommodate the gentleman. I believe I have that amount of money about my clothes.”
“Then you’re the man I’m looking for!” exclaimed Morley. “Mr. Elrich is my backer, and he will put up the money.”
“Who’ll hold the stakes?”
“Why, Mr. Jordan here is a good man to——”
“I allow I don’t know anything about Mr. Jordan, but I do know Charley Gans, down at the Metropole, and he’ll suit me to a T.”
“Gans is all right,” nodded Elrich, who seemed eager to get the bet.
“Then I’ll meet you there at six this evening, and we’ll put up the dust,” said Mr. Carson, with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Good day till later.”
“Hurrah!” cried Dick, flinging his hat into the air. “That’s the stuff!”
“Slang, my boy—slang!” said Ready, severely. “You’re catching on altogether too quick. I’m afraid you have been associating with bad company lately.”