"Nothing doing, Hickey."
"Guess again," said Hickey, cheerily. "We're not asking you to hang us up this time, Al."
"You haven't got any money," said Al, the recorder of allowances; "not unless you stole it."
"Al, we don't come to take your hard-earned money, but to do you good," put in Macnooder impudently. "We're bringing you a little sporting proposition."
"Have you come to pay up that account of yours?" said Al. "If not, run along, you Macnooder; don't waste my time, with your wildcat schemes."
"Al, this is a sporting proposition," took up Hickey.
"Has he any money?" said Al, who suddenly remembered that Smeed was not yet under suspicion.
"See here, Al," said Macnooder, "we'll back Smeed to eat the jiggers against you—for the crowd!"
"Where's your money?"
"Here," said Hickey; "this goes up if we lose." He produced a gold watch of Smeed's, and was about to tender it when he withdrew it with a sudden caution. "On the condition, if we win I get it back and you won't hold it up against my account."