“That’s right, Chip. Do you honestly think we’ve got a show?”
“I do,” replied Frank earnestly. “Our fellows are fine on base-throwing, and when they get to work on a decent diamond, the results will be astonishing. I really think we’ve an excellent chance, old man.”
“Then that takes a load off my mind,” said Billy, with a sigh. “I thought you’d be pretty disgusted with us.”
Frank smiled and patted him on the back cheeringly. But in his heart he felt that, while the Clippings might have a chance, it was a terribly slim one.
CHAPTER IX.
COLONEL CARSON MAKES A BET.
On Friday morning, the day before the game, Colonel Carson was standing in the lobby of the Carsonville Bank. He appeared extremely discontented.
“Not a one,” he said disgustedly. “Everybody in town is scared to bet on them Clippings.”
“I don’t wonder,” sneered Bully Carson derisively. “They’re a bunch of pick-ups.”
Bully Carson wore his most flamboyant attire, for he would not go to work-out with the Clippers for another hour. From one corner of his mouth drooped a limp cigarette.