“What! The Clippers scared o’you!” Colonel Carson laughed scornfully as he eyed the two. “Well, I guess not! It’s a go. The reg’lar umpires will be here, anyway, so I guess we can use ’em?”
“Certainly,” said Merriwell. “We may have the ball park for practice?”
“Not much,” retorted Colonel Carson. “Get your own practice ground. Mebbe you had a notion I’d lend you uniforms!”
“No, we’d hate to play in Clipper uniforms,” returned Merry gravely.
Colonel Carson was not quite sure how to take that remark, so he let it pass.
“Too bad you’re scared to bet on yourself,” he said cuttingly. “Got any battery picked out yet?”
“We’ll be it,” said Billy, with a grin. “Merriwell pitches for Fardale, you know.”
“Humph! And you’ll do the ketchin’, hey? Well, I don’t wonder that you fellers don’t want to bet, then!”
Merry flushed a trifle.
“You’re wrong, Colonel Carson. I don’t believe in betting on principle. And especially where baseball is concerned. It’s an unhealthy element to drag into the game, and the big baseball men have no use for a gambler, any more than good business men have.”