“The first and most important is that it seems to me to be a poor way in which to checkmate a scoundrel like this Colonel Carson. I have made inquiries about him, and find that he had a reputation as a plunger on ball games, and is wrapped up in the success of his own team.
“I think you have done well in raising a team to defeat the Clippers, as intimated in your wire to Clancy. I was going to suggest that very thing. If you and Billy can beat his club, it would be an ideal way in which to punish him. I only wish that more of the Fardale boys were here, so that they could come down and help, but vacation has scattered them.”
“That’s all very well,” interrupted Billy mournfully, “but licking the Clippers isn’t going to save this house for mother, Chip. I wish—I wish we’d taken a chance on it, and taken up that bet he offered!”
“No, you don’t,” exclaimed Merriwell. “Hold on, Billy. I haven’t finished yet.”
“Go ahead and whip Carson’s team, Frank. You and Billy and Clancy can do it if you try, and remember that I’ve every faith in all of you. Do it, and I will see that Billy and his mother do not lose the roof over their heads.
Your loving father,
Frank Merriwell, Senior.”
Merry looked up to meet his friend’s startled gaze.
“What does he mean by that, Chip?”
“Search me,” said Merry, as he stowed away the letter. “But you can be sure that father means something, all right.”
“I guess he does,” rejoined Billy, new hope dawning in his eyes. “My eyes! It’s a promise, Chip! I’ll bet he means that if we beat the Clippers he’ll lend you the coin!”