“Mountfort? Nonsense!” jeered Peterson. “Why, Mountfort’s only a high school!”
“All right; you wait and see. As you say, Mountfort’s only a high school and consequently we ought to beat her by two or three scores; isn’t that so?”
“Well, two scores, maybe,” hedged Peterson. “After all, Langton, it’s pretty early yet and we haven’t got under way.”
“It’s early for Mountfort, too, isn’t it? But we’ll say two scores, then, Peterson. Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If Riverport wins from Mountfort this afternoon by a margin of two scores—no, by Jove, by one score!—neither Jelly nor I will eat any supper to-night!”
“What!” shrieked Jelly in alarm. “You speak for yourself, Rob. I’m not coming in on any silly arrangement like that. I need my supper.”
“Oh, be a sport, Jelly,” Evan laughed. “What do you care about supper if we win?”
“We won’t win,” answered Jelly. “Pass the gravy, please.”
“Then you’re safe, aren’t you? I mean your supper’s safe.”
“I don’t believe in taking risks,” replied Jelly with a wise shake of his head.
“Well, if Jelly throws me down,” said Rob smilingly, “I’ll go it alone.”