"Come in!"
Sam Porter entered, first looking around the apartment to see that Dick's roommate was not present.
"Are you busy, Hamilton?" he asked, and there was that in his voice that caused Dick to wonder at him. There was a thickness and a sort of leering familiarity that was unusual.
"No, I'm not busy. Come in and make yourself comfortable. There's an easy chair," and Dick knocked a pile of books from one to make room for his visitor.
"I want to ask a favor of you, Hamilton, and I want you to grant it—understand?" and Porter looked sharply at the captain. "I want you to promise."
"I can't promise, until I hear what it is," said the young millionaire good-naturedly.
"Yes you can—if you want to—un'stand?" Sam Porter leaned forward.
"You want to grant me this favor—un'stand," went on Porter, "or you'll be sorry. Sorry, see?"
"What is it?" asked Dick, trying not to show the disgust he felt.
"I want to play in that Mooretown game to-morrow—play full game—un'stand? I don't want to sit on side lines like some poor Indian wrapped up in a blanket—I want to go in from start an' wallop them fellers. Un'stand? I want to play. You can put me in as well as not. Will you? It's favor, Ham, an' if you don't do it, you'll be sorry!"