“Say!” broke in Ready indignantly, “did you ever know Merry to lose his nerve and back out of anything? Go hence with thy base insinuations! He’ll be on hand, with the crowd, to give you a hot run for the gate-money. And I’ll bet you a peck of sweet potatoes that we beat you! Dost dare take me?”
“There is conceit for you, Mr. Merriwell!” laughed Robinson. “If you are not troubled with it, your friend is.”
“Nay, nay, gentle stranger,” denied Jack, with a queer flirt of his hand; “I deny thy allegation. It is not conceit, but it is confidence. The two words are hardly synonymous.”
“Call it what you like, we’ll take it out of you to-morrow,” nodded Robinson.
“Wait,” from Frank. “How am I to know that this deal is on the level? I am not anxious to run into any April-fool business.”
“If you’ll step inside with me,” said Robinson, “I think we’ll find somebody to identify me and convince you that my word is good. We can also draw up agreements in regard to the gate-money.”
Merry at once agreed, and they entered the office of the hotel. The proprietor happened to be in the office, and he readily assured Frank that Robinson was the manager of the Athletic team and that his word was good. Then an agreement was drawn up, which both Robinson and Frank signed, with the proprietor and Ready as witnesses.
Ready was holding in repression his feeling of satisfaction and delight, for this was just the sort of game Jack longed to get into.
When everything had been arranged satisfactorily, Robinson suggested that all adjourn to the bar and “take something.” He was surprised and offended, at first, when Frank declined with politeness.