Scott’s face grew dark. “Let up on that!” he grated. “I won’t take it from you! I hate him just as much as I ever did!”
“Well, they’ll kick me off the team now,” said Bentley. “You’ve helped him carry out his plan to do that, anyhow. I never thought it of you,” he again declared, with unspeakable reproach. “Anyhow, I’ll bet my money on Highland, and I’ve got some to bet, too.”
As he made this statement, Leon produced a roll of bills, which he flourished before Don, grinning triumphantly. The doctor’s son was surprised to see so much money in the possession of Bentley, but he made no comment, not a little to Leon’s disappointment.
“Why don’t you ask me where I got it?” he demanded. “My aunt’s been keeping it for me, to make me a present on my birthday that comes next Tuesday. She was going to get me a suit of clothes, shoes, hat and full rig with it, but I got the old lady to cough it up to me and let me buy my own stuff. If I can catch any suckers, I’m going to bet the whole pile on Highland.”
“And I hope you’ll lose it!” exclaimed Don.
“That’s nice!” sneered Leon. “But I won’t. Highland will have a snap, same as she did before, and it won’t make any difference if you are on the team.”
“It’s not Rockspur I’m sore on,” declared Don. “It’s only that cad, Renwood.”
“And still you’re going to play with him.”
“I have a reason for that. You know my father doesn’t suspect I left the team, and I don’t propose to let him know it. He’s going to see the game, Saturday.”
Leon whistled. “Oh, that’s your little game! Well, I didn’t think you’d go back, even for that. What do you care if he does find out?”