“Well?” said Sam inquiringly. Poke’s debts, as earlier accounts of the affairs of the Safety First Club have related, followed an unhappy episode, in which a costly vase was destroyed. With the help of his chums, Poke had paid the bill, but the contributions had taxed their resources.
“Well, I mean to pay you fellows back, and I think I see a way to do it. I’ve told Step, and he’s strong for the scheme.”
“Oh, is he?” Sam’s tone was not enthusiastic; Step was more likely to be a sympathizer than a coolly calculating counselor.
“You bet he is! And Step’s all right.”
“Of course he is—he means well. But what’s the idea?”
“The bulliest ever! It’s the chance of a lifetime! But I say, Sam!” Mr. Haskins was limping toward the Parker car. “Sam, I can’t let him go till I find out if the thing can be worked. But, if you haven’t any money, who in the crowd has?”
“Lon might have some. He generally——”
Poke waited to hear no more. He sprang to Lon, caught his sleeve, began to plead with all his eloquence:
“Do me the biggest favor a fellow ever asked you to do! Lend me some money. I’ll pay you back, sure, and I’ll be your friend all my days. Oh, but I’m in dead earnest, ’deed I am!”
“Does look that way,” Lon admitted. “But what do you want money for, out here? How you goin’ to manage to spend it?”