“No.”
“Well, you see——”
“We might play you for nothing!” interrupted Frank. “In Hoboken, too. There will be eight or ten thousand people out to the game, if the weather is good. Eight thousand paid admissions will mean two thousand dollars in gate money, if only twenty-five cents is charged. Mr. McGann, I am overwhelmed by your generous offer of one hundred dollars!”
“Oh, but you know expenses will be heavy. We must pay a round sum for the grounds, to say nothing of advertising and other expenses. Besides that, our players are high-priced men—all under salary. It costs like fire to run the sort of team we have.”
“I’ve heard that you started out with every player under an agreement that your men should not be paid unless you made money. You took small chances at the outset. You have made money hand over hand. It’s been a great thing for you. I don’t wonder, if you pay the teams with which you play as liberally as you have offered to pay us!”
Frank’s sarcasm was biting now, and McGann squirmed under it somewhat.
“Well, what do you want?” he asked sharply. “We have the reputation. The people will turn out to see us play.”
“Oh, I think our team has some drawing power,” retorted Merry. “We haven’t failed to get out fairly good crowds wherever we have appeared. No, Mr. McGann, we’ll not play you in Hoboken on the terms you have offered.”
“You can say what you want, can’t you?”
“Yes.”