Russell soothed him with news of Stick’s new attitude, and Jimmy glowed with delight. Then he chuckled. “I’d like to be there when Patterson talks to Throgmorton,” he said wistfully.
“Well, there won’t be any bloodshed,” replied Russell. “Stick usually calms down before the battle begins! And Throgmorton, you tell me, is fairly sizable.”
Jimmy grinned. “That’s so. I guess Patterson is too wise to start anything he can’t finish. Well, I’m awfully glad it’s turned out so well. I’m sort of sorry, though, that I’m not to get a finger in the pie after all. I believe you and I, Rus, could have made the Sign of the Football pay real money.”
“Yes, Jimmy, I guess we could have, but it’s going to pay real money as it is, I think, for Stick’s as stubborn as a mule, and now that he’s decided to work instead of growl I believe we’ll make a success of it.”
“Hope so,” said Jimmy. “You’ve got my best wishes, old son, if they’ll do you any good. By the way, I’m glad you kept me from making a useless trip to New York last night. Wouldn’t I have been sore when I got to the office this morning and found dad wasn’t there? Still, I’ll bet I’d have dug that money out of some one before I left! Well, so long, Rus. Come over to-night and tell me what happens.”
Not very much did happen. Stick kept his engagement with Throgmorton at the latter’s room and found Billy Crocker with him. The money was there, too, seven nice new twenties and a ten. There was, too, a very official looking paper awaiting Stick’s signature, and Billy Crocker explained his presence by stating that he was there as a witness. Stick took the money and counted it slowly, prolonging the agony, as he put it later to Russell. Then he laid it down and shook his head.
“Anything wrong with it?” demanded Billy.
“No, it looks all right,” replied Stick. “May be counterfeit, but I can’t tell.”
“Not likely,” said Throgmorton, who was a large and rather heavy-mannered youth of nineteen. “Put it in your pocket, Patterson, and sign on the dotted line.”