“Sure; that is the last two games. We only had a dollar on the first. We never played for more than a dollar before, and I guess Les was sort of scared. Gosh, that fellow had luck to-night, didn’t he?”
“He seems to be a pretty clever lad at it,” said Bert.
“Oh, he plays a good game, all right,” assented Chick, “but he makes some pretty punk shots, too; generally when he can’t afford it. In the pinches he gets kind of nervous, I guess.”
“Do you usually beat him?” asked Bert.
“Yes. Well, anyway, I win oftener than he does. He has his lucky nights, like to-night.”
“Seems to me, Chick, two dollars is a good deal to play for, supposing you’ve got to bet at all. What’s the idea? You and I always have plenty of sport with nothing up except the price of the game.”
“Oh, well, a fellow plays better if he has a bet up. He started it. Offered to bet me a quarter one night and I took him up. Then I came back at him with fifty cents and then, first thing I knew, we were playing for a dollar. Well, if he can stand it I can, I guess. Bet you he doesn’t make more than twenty a week.”
“I wish you’d cut out the betting,” said Bert. “You can have just as good fun, Chick. Besides, if Faculty heard about it—”
“Pshaw, don’t be a Woeful Willy, Bert! How the dickens would Faculty get hep? Besides, there’s no school rule saying you mustn’t bet a dollar on a game of pool, is there?”