“You’ll—what? What do you mean?”
“None o’ your business,” and Colonel Carson, with a dry chuckle, pulled out his watch. “I got you placed, Bob. You go right ahead and ’tend to business. I’m a-goin’ to help out one o’ my kin when I get the chance, that’s all.”
“But what influence have you with Captain Crockett and Coach Trayne?”
Colonel Carson gave Bob a look of commiseration. Was it possible that his own nephew was so green?
“Not much, I reckon. But I got some influence with Merriwell. There’s a train out o’ here in twenty minutes, Bob. It’ll get me to Carsonville before midnight. I reckon I’d better take it, to make sure. I got a heap o’ things to see to.”
Randall looked at him in astonishment.
“But I thought you’d be here for the game, uncle!”
“I reckon I will be,” laughed the colonel quietly. “Now, you lay mighty low, Bob. Don’t say nothin’ to any one about seein’ me, or about what I said. But as sure’s you stand here, nephew,” he went on impressively, “you’ll be the one to pitch in that game on Monday, mind my words!”
“I’d like to know how you’re going to work it!” said Randall, in some wonder. “If you do, you’re a wizard!”
“Well, some folks have called me worse’n that,” said Colonel Carson, with a chuckle, as he reached for his suit case. “You’ll be pitchin’, and I’ll be here, and I’m a-goin’ to lay some whoppin’ good bets, let me tell you!”