“Well, he wouldn't do it more than once. A few days in the calaboose would bring him to his senses.”
“Who would put him there?”
“The club would.”
“Where's the club's authority for such a proceeding?”
Lester lifted the constitution and tapped it with his forefinger by way of reply.
“I think I had better have nothing to do with it,” said Don, who could scarcely refrain from laughing outright.
“We intend to make you our president,” said Lester.
“I am obliged to you,” replied Don, but still he did not take any more interest in the Sportsman's Club than he had done before. He did not snap up the bait thus thrown out, as Lester hoped he would. He was not to be bought, even by the promise of office. Lester saw that, and arose to take his leave.
“Well, think it over,” said he. “Sleep on it for a few nights, and if at any time you decide to go in with us, just let me know. Good evening!”
“I'll do so,” answered Don. “Good evening!”