“What’s the odds? A field goal is a field goal, and we won. And we’ll do it again this year.”
“Bet you don’t!”
“Bet we do! That is, I might bet if betting was allowed,” continued Gerald with a chuckle.
“Well, what will you bet?” Cotton demanded eagerly.
“Not allowed,” responded Gerald. “Betting is barred.”
“You know you’d lose,” taunted the other.
Gerald’s eyes snapped. “Wait a bit, Mr. Cotton! Seems to me you are pretty certain, considering that the game is a month away.”
“I am certain. Broadwood will make your team——”
“Why mine? Why not ours?”
“Well, our team, then! Broadwood will make it look like—like a bunch of has-beens!”