"What! I thought you understood—" Then a crafty grin touched his lips. "Just a minute," he said cannily, "I presume that you imply by this that if you lose, you'll never try to see Diane again?"
I wanted to shout "No!" so bad I could taste it. But I was just the party of the third part. Biggs' reply was just the opposite.
"Yes!" he said.
I groaned. Love's young dream—twenty points away!
Let's get the agony over with. We returned to a control room full of madmen. For in our absence the Rocketeers had intercepted a desperate Wrangler pass, and the score was now 26-0. Just one point different from that licking they had given the U.S.S.A. boys last year. And as we listened glumly they kicked the extra point.
And that was about all. For three plays after the next kickoff a gun boomed, the crowd screamed, and the announcer howled, "—and there's the end of the game, folks! The Rocketeers win a great ball game, 27-0. You have been listening to this program through the courtesy of Hornswimble's Robot Corporation, makers of the world-famous 'Silent Servants.' Why be lonely? A Robot in the home is a constant companion—"
Chief Garrity squealed his tight-fisted glee. His palm waved simultaneously beneath the noses of three sorrowful Wranglers—including me. "Pay up!" he demanded. "Pay up, ye benighted rascals—!"
And Cap Hanson was one big grin on legs. He said to Biggs triumphantly, "Well, Biggs, I hope you've learned a lesson today! Two hundred and fifty credits, if you please. I'm minded to be kind with you. I'll not accept your space claim, my lad. But that third bet—" He beamed on Diane. "That one I'll hold you to! And now—"
Biggs moved. To the radio bank. As he moved, he spoke.