“No, nor tomorrow,” added Steve Walker, the football captain, “for tomorrow’s Sunday. It’ll have to be Monday, I guess. Who’s going?”
“The three of us,” answered Dolph.
Walker made a grimace of distaste. “I don’t think I agreed to that, did I?” he laughed.
“Of course you did!”
“Did I? Well, let me tell you one thing, Dolph: I don’t propose to get bitten by that old dog of Finkler’s. I shall carry a good-sized club.”
“I tell you what, fellows,” Prentiss suggested. “Let’s get a carriage. That’ll look business-like, and—er—important, and the dog can’t get us!”
“Not a bad idea,” agreed Dolph. “Not that I’m worrying about the dog——”
“Oh, certainly not! Perish the thought!”
“But it will make Finkler realize that we mean business.”
“Maybe we can get Chesty Harris to take us over in one of his turnouts.”