“And they have nearly witched his ping off—I mean pitched his wing off,” from Rattleton.
“It is not the Giants,” decided Merry. “But it’s a hot team, and I’ll bet almost anything on it. I understand there is betting on the game. Somebody must know the kind of a bunch we’re up against, else there’d be no taking chances.”
“I understand,” said Carson, “that the odds are against us.”
“Who is flashing all the boodle?” inquired Ready. “If I can find the sports, I may venture a mere bagatelle of eight or ten thousand dollars.”
“Gambling is a vicious thing,” declared Greg Carker. “It is the cause of no end of poverty and suffering. The rich man gambles, and the poor man follows his example. Thus the rich man pushes the poor man still lower. It is the duty of all who have at heart the welfare of their fellow creatures to frown on the vice.”
“Lecture by G. Carker, promoter of earthquakes!” chirped Ready. “Unplug your ears and listen.”
“How is your arm, Merry?” asked Hodge, in a low tone.
“Rather poor,” confessed Frank. “I’ve never recovered from that sprained wrist.”
“But you can pitch to-day?”