“Ten thousand!” Johnny whistled through his teeth.
“We—ll,” Professor George said slowly, “that’s a fair price, William. But you’ll have to give us time to think where we can get it.”
“All right.” Big Bill suddenly put on a business-like air. “Two weeks. Time enough for anybody.” At that he strode away.
“Might as well make it two years,” Doug grumbled gloomily, “for all we’ll ever make it!”
“Now, now Doug!” Professor George admonished. “It’s a worthy cause, a very worthy cause. Nothing better for the boys than good, clean baseball. God loves boys, I’m positive of that. So, just like as not He’ll show us the way.” Professor George was religious but he was not what you call pious. His religion, like the blood that coursed through his veins, was a real part of him. Every boy who came to know him respected him the more because of his religion.
“Well, boys,” the good old professor said as he left them at his own door, “don’t let William trouble you too much. We’ll get round him somehow. Used to trouble us in school, William did, but we always got round him, somehow.” He gave forth a cackling laugh. “Always got round him somehow.”
“Bill went to school when Professor George taught,” Doug explained as he and Johnny went on down the street. “Dad says Bill cheated something terrible, but Professor George always caught on to him. That’s why he don’t like Professor George, even now.
“He’s been cheating ever since,” he added gloomily. “He’ll cheat us out of our ball park if we don’t watch out.
“A thousand dollars,” he murmured thoughtfully. “We’ve got half that much in the bank—been saving it for new bleachers. Took two years to save it. Fine chance to gather up that much more in two weeks!”
“Got to advertise,” said Johnny. “This mysterious new pitcher now. He ought to draw a crowd if we only had him advertised.”