“But wait a moment,” said the manager of the local team. “I want to tell you something. I hate to be fooled, and it makes me very disagreeable. In case I accompany you to the bank and find this is what I believe it to be—a bluff—you’ll be very sorry. I warn you that you’ll leave Cartersville in such a condition that you’ll require medical attention for some time to come.”
“Come on, man,” said Doom, with curling lips. “You are wasting your breath. You’ll find I am in earnest, although I fancy you are the one who will squeal.”
Together they left the hotel and started for the bank.
The man who had sold Doom a cigar and overheard this conversation ran out after them and told what had happened to a number of loiterers who were in front of the hotel. Immediately these loiterers hustled away after Cameron and Doom, greatly excited over what they had heard.
“Ten thousand dollars!” exclaimed one. “Cameron will make a fortune off this first game!”
“I don’t believe it!” declared another. “Nobody is fool enough to bet Cameron ten thousand dollars.”
“The man is joking,” was the opinion expressed by a third.
“Then it will be a mighty poor joke for him when Carey Cameron is done with him,” said the first.
Outside the bank they lingered and waited. Cameron and Doom were inside a full quarter hour, but finally they appeared. Immediately the crowd besieged the manager of the local team to know if such a bet had really been made.
“Sure thing,” nodded Cameron, with a smile of confidence. “This gentleman had a certified check that was good, and I covered it. There is a wager of ten thousand dollars on the result of the game to-day.”