"Doctor Slamper!" cried Sam. "Oh, I remember him. He's the fellow who came here with Mr. Fogg at the time we put in our claim for damages on account of the wrecked biplane."
"Ah, indeed! I remember," and Dr. Wallington nodded knowingly.
"And what does Mr. Fogg want us to do?" questioned Sam.
"At first, as you know, he wanted fifty dollars. Then he came down to twenty-five, and at last to fifteen. Then we brought to his attention the fact that the snowballing contest had taken place on the college grounds, and that it was his own fault that he had become mixed up in the affair. This brought on quite an argument, but in the end Mr. Fogg agreed to accept six dollars, which he said would pay for three consultations with Dr. Slamper at two dollars per consultation," and the good doctor smiled rather grimly.
"And did you pay the six dollars, Doctor?"
"Not yet, Rover. I expected, however, to send him a check for that amount to-morrow, provided you are satisfied."
"I think I'll have to be, Dr. Wallington. I suppose it's rather a cheap way out of the difficulty, although as a matter of fact I don't believe he is entitled to a cent."
"You may be right, Rover. But six dollars, I take it, is not so very large a price to pay for so much fun—I mean, of course, the fun of the snowballing contest in which, so they tell me, you were the one to capture the banners of the opposition."
"You're right, sir. And I'm satisfied, and you can place the amount on my bill," answered Sam; and then he bowed himself out of the doctor's office.
Another day passed, and still there came no word to Sam from Hope. He was very much worried, but did his best not to show it.