“Well, it will do no harm to look for it without delay,” said Frank. “Come, Mr. Madison, will you go with us?”
Madison looked surprised, doubtful, hesitating. He did not seem able to make up his mind at once.
“You have your chance to get square to-night, Billy,” said Herrick. “Mr. Merriwell can help Jack look for his money. We’re here; let’s play the game.”
Merriwell touched Madison on the shoulder.
“You had better come with us,” he said.
“Get out!” hissed Herrick, scowling. “What are you trying to do, Merriwell? Let him alone, will you!”
“You see, Mr. Madison, that your friend is very anxious for you to play. Perhaps he has a reason. You know there are ‘stools’ for places like these.”
Herrick jumped up and thrust himself between Merry and Madison.
“Look here!” he panted; “if you mean to insinuate that I am a ‘stool,’ you’re a liar!”
Then, quick as a flash, the young Yale athlete grasped him by the collar, lifted him, gave him a whirl and swept the faro-table clean with his body.