Hooker choked. "You know; don't pretend that you don't know. I hope you're not going back on your word. If you do——" He stopped, unable to continue.
"Oh, yes," said Herbert slowly, "I think I know what you mean. Of course I'm not going back on my word to a pal."
"Then give me the money I let you have to bet on Barville."
"Why, that money's gone. We lost it."
"Yes, but you pledged yourself to make good any loss I might sustain. There are reasons why I must have that money back—right away, too."
"I'm sorry," murmured Herbert, regretfully returning the empty cigarette case to his pocket; "but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while. I went broke myself—haven't got a whole dollar left in the exchequer."
"But I've got to have it," insisted Roy huskily. "I depended on getting it back to-night."
Herbert laughed and snapped his yellow fingers. "When a thing is impossible, it can't be done, old fellow. You don't need money in this dead hole, anyhow. Why, a profligate couldn't spend ten dollars a week here, if he tried. You'll simply have to wait until my old man coughs up another consignment of the needful."
Roy sat down again, his face wearing such a look of dismay that Herbert was both puzzled and amused.
"To see you now," observed the city youth, "any one might fancy you a bank cashier who had speculated disastrously with the funds of the institution. Four dollars and sixty-five cents—that was the amount of your loss; and you look as if you had dropped a thousand."