“But they say he’s Frank Merriwell’s brother.”
“What of that?”
“These Merriwells are hard to beat.”
“What’s the matter with you? Are you squealing?”
“No, but I feel like hedging. Trouble is I haven’t a dollar to hedge with.”
“You would be a fool to hedge! That boy isn’t strong enough to last a whole game.”
“But I’m stripped if we lose—and you’ll be to blame!”
“Your nerve is failing.”
But, in spite of his placid outward appearance, Hank Dowling was not quite easy. Being a gambler, he was nothing if not superstitious, and the appearance of the old redskin on the field had filled him with strange forebodings.