“What was he doing?”
“Guess, and I’ll give you a prize.”
“Talking football.”
“No, talking to Jim Hooker.”
“What?” Diamond was astonished.
“It’s on the level,” grunted Browning, dropping on an easy chair and producing a pipe. “That’s what Merriwell is doing.”
“Well, why in the world should he talk to a fellow like that?” cried Jack.
“Ask us!” said Bink Stubbs, bringing out a package of cigarettes and sprawling in his accustomed place on a handsome rug.
“Why, that fellow Hooker has a jailbird for a father!” said Diamond.
“And there is a report that he’s light-fingered himself,” said Rattleton.