“There’ll be a jolly crowd here!” cried Kenneth. “There’s a party from Cloverdale. We’ll have no end of sport, fellows!”
There was a flush in Diamond’s cheeks, and it was plain he was eager for the fray, although he said very little.
Just as they were on the point of entering the stable, Stephen Fenton rode out on a handsome pony with four white feet and a general smart look.
St. Ives halted in astonishment.
“Hello, there!” he cried. “What are you doing with that horse, Steve?”
“I’m going to ride him in the match,” answered Fenton, grimly.
“I guess not!” exclaimed Kenneth. “I have promised Liner to Mr. Merriwell.”
“Can’t help that,” retorted Fenton, with a sneer. “I rode him in the last match.”
“And so you should be willing to let somebody else have him to-day. Don’t be piggish, Steve.”
The man scowled.