"Oh, yeou git some of the fellers stirred up, and they kinder fergit Frank's prejudice. Rub 'em agin' the fur, and they'll chuck up their last dollar."
"That's good sporting blood," nodded Bearover. "I don't suppose you ever bet?"
"Oh, I don't go raound lookin' for bets. I 'low it ain't jest good sense for anybody to resk money on onsartinties. Speckerlation and gamblin' has ruined lots of folks."
"But a little wager on a baseball game, or any game of chance or skill, adds spice to it," suggested the manager of the Rovers. "It makes it all the more interesting."
"There's interest enough in any good clean baseball game without betting," declared Ephraim. "I suppose your team is made up of clean players? They play the game on its merits, don't they?"
"Oh, yes," nodded the manager, "they play the game on its merits. At the same time they're good scrapping players, and they're out for every point that belongs to them. That's the only way to win. None of the boys like to be robbed."
"Waal, they ain't to blame for that."
Bearover produced a cigar case.
"Have a smoke," he invited.
"Don't keer if I do, thank you," said Ephraim, as he accepted a cigar.