“It wouldn’t be fair to Artie though, after him saving my life like he did,” Westy chokingly remarked.
“It would be more fair to the boy not to ask him, after what has just happened, and allow him to take any more risks in your interests. You can go if you decide wisely and ask Archie; he can look out for you best. Think it over!”
That night as Westy lay in his bed the thoughts flashed like code messages in his brain and he wondered....
CHAPTER XIII—WESTY MAKES A DECISION
Two weeks had passed by and still Artie was unable to return to school. His foot was slow in mending and he still limped about painfully.
“I ought to be able to get out by spring at least,” he called cheerfully to Westy, who was on his way home from school.
“Aw, don’t get discouraged, Art,” Westy returned feelingly, as he walked up to the Van Arlen residence and seated himself alongside of Artie in the porch swing. “You’ll be out before Thanksgiving, I bet.”
“Gee, I hope so anyway!” Artie doubtfully exclaimed. “Still, I’d be worse off if I was dead.”
“Now you’re saying something!” Westy put in, feeling a pang of conscience, for before he had reached Artie’s home he was wondering how he would tell him of the proposition his father had put up to him. It wouldn’t be sporting to tell him now, he thought. It would be better not to tell him at all—that is not until his foot was entirely better and by that time perhaps he would have considered the matter thoroughly and decide to the contrary.
Not that Westy had contemplated anything definite as yet. Oh, no! But he had pondered it over until he couldn’t think of anything else and was at his wit’s end between wanting to go and the debt he owed to Artie.