“That’s all right,” said Wallingford. “I’m for the National Clockers’ Association, and I’m going to play their picks straight through.”
“Here’s a match,” offered Larry scornfully. “Set fire to your money and save yourself the trouble of the trip.”
“Maybe you’d like to save it from the flames. What odds will you give me?”
This being an entirely different proposition, Larry began to think much better of the horse.
“Five to one,” he finally decided, after studying over the entries again. “Don’t know whether that’s the track odds or not. But you can take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” agreed Wallingford, and tossed his money on the bar.
Mr. Teller drew a check-book from his pocket, and Wallingford, glancing at the top of the stub as Larry filled out the blank for a thousand, noted with satisfaction the splendid balance that was there. Evidently the gang was well in funds. They had, no doubt, been quite busy of late.
“Of course you’ll cash that,” requested Wallingford, not so much on account of this particular bet as to establish a precedent.
“Sure,” agreed Teller; “although I’ll only have to deposit it again.”