Merriwell stated it, saying that he understood the Clippers had an open date on Saturday, and that he would like to meet them with a pick-up Carsonville team. The colonel tugged at his goatee suspiciously.
“What’s your object?” he snapped. “Want to play for the gate receipts?”
“Not at all,” said Chip. “We just want to play the Clippers off their feet, and we intend to do it.”
“Humph!” grunted the other. “Got a mighty good opinion of yourself, hey?” His face cleared suddenly. “Mebbe you’d like to make a little side bet, you or Billy?”
“No, thanks,” returned Merriwell. “I don’t gamble, and I don’t think Billy does.”
“Well, look a-here,” went on Colonel Carson wheedlingly, addressing Billy. “I know you’ve got some insurance money, McQuade. You put it up on this game, and I’ll give you odds, two to one. How’s that? Ain’t that fair?”
“Fair enough,” grinned Billy Mac. “Only, I’m not in your class as a gambler, colonel. No, we’re in this just to show up that club of yours, and do it proper. That’ll satisfy us.”
“But if you won,” persisted the other, taking no heed of the taunt, “you’d have enough to pay off that mortgage, and some over!”
Billy wavered, but only for an instant.
“Nothing doing,” he declared firmly. “If you want to play us, we’ll make your old team hump itself. If you’re scared of getting beaten, all right. Just say so.”