"You've mentioned only eight fellows in all," reminded Dick Starbright. "Eight will not make a football team."
"That's all right," assured Frank. "Received a message from Buck Badger this morning. He'll join us at St. Louis, and he thinks Berlin Carson will be with him. If Carson is with Badger when we get there, we'll have ten men. I expect to hear from two or three more of the old gang at any time. Don't you worry, for I'll have eleven men and three or four substitutes. Leave it to me, fellows—leave it to me."
"I'm perfectly willing to do that," nodded Starbright, beaming in anticipation of the pleasures to come.
"So am I," said Morgan, who had cast off his despondency and now seemed much like his old self. "But I wish one of you would stick me with a pin or something. I want to make sure I'm not dreaming. It's too good to be true."
"It's true, Dade," laughed Merry. "The troubles I've been through in the last few weeks have been enough to make me feel the need of a little relaxation. Why, it will be old times over again!"
Dade suddenly stared upward over Frank's head at the transom above the door. His manner caused Merry to glance up quickly.
The transom was open, leaving an aperture of about three inches.
Through this aperture could be dimly seen the upper part of a face, with a pair of coal-black eyes, which were fixed with an ominous and steady stare upon Merry.
In those midnight eyes there was a gleam of unspeakable hatred, savage malevolence, and deadly rancor. They were the eyes of one who longed to do murder.
The awful look in those terrible eyes seemed to freeze both Morgan and Starbright and turn them to stone. For some moments they remained motionless and breathless.