“Well, I’m going to get it down to six and a half before I’m done,” went on the new student. “I can do it.”
“Better take it easy,” advised the trainer. As he spoke he saw a change come over Shambler’s face, and there was a light in his eyes that told of someone approaching to speak to him. Holly wheeled about to confront a rather shabbily dressed man—a stranger, walking toward Shambler.
“Hello, Shambler,” greeted the newcomer. “At your old game, I see. I thought I’d find you.”
The change that came over Shambler was surprising. Even as he turned away, to look after some of the other contestants, Holly was aware of it. It seemed, he said afterward, as though Shambler was afraid, or ashamed of being spoken to by the shabby visitor.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” went on the man. “I came a long way to see you, and——”
“Of course,” broke in the runner. “Come on over here where we can talk. I didn’t expect you.”
“You never can tell when I’m going to show up,” was the answer, and Holly, hurrying away, thought that the words contained a half threat.