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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 33. The Voice Of The Tempter |
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_ CHAPTER XXXIII. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER Gallup grinned. "That was a hoss on yeou, wasn't it, mister?" he said. "Would have been if I'd bought the beast," confessed Bearover, with seeming good nature. "Your Mr. Merriwell must be a very clever chap." "I guess he's all right, by gum!" nodded Ephraim. "They don't git ahead of him much." "He's been very successful, hasn't he?" "You bet." "Too much success is liable to swell the head of so young a man. It does him good to be taken down a notch now and then." "I ain't never seen nobody that could take him daown." "Well, we'll have to let him down a little to-morrow." "Don't yeou believe it. Yeou fellers are caountin' on carryin' off that game, ain't ye? Waal, by jing! ye'll have to go some if ye do." "Our boys can go some. In order to give you a show, I think we'll put in our second pitcher against you." "Yeou take my advice and put in the best pitcher yeou've gut. He won't be none too good." "You have a lot of confidence in your team." "I've gut confidence in Frank Merriwell. I know what he can do on the slab, and, with Bart Hodge behind the bat, he'll show yeou some twists and shoots that'll make ye blink." Bearover laughed gurglingly, his fat sides shaking. "Why," he said, "they tell me in this town that Merriwell has some kind of a curve which twists like a snake. They say it curves in and out. Whoever heard such rot!" "Didn't yeou ever hear before this abaout Frank Merriwell's double shoot?" "Ho! ho! ho!" laughed Bearover. "Double shoot? Ho! ho! ho! Is that what he calls it? Come, now, young man, don't try any more talking-horse tricks. There isn't no such thing as a double shoot. The spit ball is the nastiest thing to hit that ever was invented. It's the only new thing except Mathewson's 'fade-away.' I don't take any stock in the stories about Mathewson's fade-away. According to the yarns told, he has something that might be called a double shoot or a double curve, but I notice the batters are hitting him this year the same as usual. I think we'll make Mr. Merriwell very weary with his double shoot to-morrow afternoon." "You kin think as much as yeou like. There ain't nothing to prevent yeou from thinking. We've heard all abaout your players. Happened to meet old Stillness a while ago at the bank. "Old Stillness?" "Yep. Ain't that his name? Stillness, Stillness--I mean Silence. He's sort of a betting gentleman, ain't he?" "Oh, he's always looking for good things. He's ready to risk his money backing his team." "He come mighty near losing a hundred to-day." "How was that?" Gallup explained. "Then Frank Merriwell doesn't countenance betting?" questioned Bearover. "He's plumb sot agin' it," answered Ephraim. "He don't believe in any sort of gambling." "But evidently some of his friends are inclined to take a chance." "Oh, yeou git some of the fellers stirred up, and they kinder fergit Frank's prejudice. Rub 'em agin' the fur, and they'll chuck up their last dollar." "That's good sporting blood," nodded Bearover. "I don't suppose you ever bet?" "Oh, I don't go raound lookin' for bets. I 'low it ain't jest good sense for anybody to resk money on onsartinties. Speckerlation and gamblin' has ruined lots of folks." "But a little wager on a baseball game, or any game of chance or skill, adds spice to it," suggested the manager of the Rovers. "It makes it all the more interesting." "There's interest enough in any good clean baseball game without betting," declared Ephraim. "I suppose your team is made up of clean players? They play the game on its merits, don't they?" "Oh, yes," nodded the manager, "they play the game on its merits. At the same time they're good scrapping players, and they're out for every point that belongs to them. That's the only way to win. None of the boys like to be robbed." "Waal, they ain't to blame for that." Bearover produced a cigar case. "Have a smoke," he invited. "Don't keer if I do, thank you," said Ephraim, as he accepted a cigar. "You're a pleasant sort of chap," said the manager of the Rovers, as he bit off the end of a cigar and slipped the case back into his pocket. "Wait a minute, I have a match. Here you are." He held the light for Gallup. "Purty good weed that," observed Ephraim, as he puffed at it. "'Spect that ain't no five-center. Must be ten straight or three for a quarter, anyhow." "These are Silence's special cigars. He buys them by the box. They cost him twenty dollars a hundred." "Whew!" breathed Gallup, taking the cigar out of his mouth and looking at it admiringly. "That's twenty cents apiece. I've paid that price out West now and then, but I never heard of any one paying it in this part of the country, where cigars ought to be reasonable. Guess this is just abaout as good a piece of tobacker as I ever stuck in my face." "I'm glad you appreciate it. We're pretty near the hotel. Let's drop in and have a drink." "Much obleeged," said Ephraim, "but I don't drink. That's one of the bad habits I ain't never picked up." "Well, you can come along and take something cooling. It's pretty hot to-day. There'll be some of the boys in the billiard room at Priley's. You can meet them and look them over. If you don't care to drink, that's your business, and I'll guarantee you won't be urged." "Waal, that's pretty decent of you, Mr. Bearover," said Ephraim, permitting the stout man to take his arm and lead him away. In a few minutes they arrived at Priley's Hotel, known in Wellsburg to be the "hang out" of the sporting class. "We're stopping here," explained the baseball manager. "The Franklin Square is said to be the best place in town, but it's a little too stiff for the boys. They can enjoy themselves here without feeling it necessary to put on style in the dining room. You know some of the fellows are inclined to eat with their knives. Such manners might shock the aristocratic patrons of the Franklin Square." In the billiard room they found a number of young men playing pool or looking on. Several of these proved to be members of the Rovers baseball nine, and Bearover introduced them to Gallup. The bar opened off the billiard room, and Ephraim was finally led to it, but he persisted in his resolution to drink nothing intoxicating. A seltzer lemonade satisfied him, while his companion took whisky. When they returned to the billiard room they found Casper Silence there. The backer of the Rovers was telling, with a great deal of disdain, how he had nearly induced Barney Mulloy to make a wager, but had been baffled by Merriwell's interference. "I've heard a great deal about the nerve of this youngster Merriwell," said Silence, "but it's my notion he's got a yellow streak in him. His courage is mythical." Instantly Gallup bridled. "Yeou ain't gut no right to say that, mister!" he cried hotly. "Yeou don't know what yeou're talking abaout! I've had dealings with all sorts of human critters in my career. I've handled niggers, dagos, Scandinavians, Turks, Chinamen, Swedes, French-Canadians, and Heaven-knows-what. I've seen Western bad men and gun fighters galore. I happen to know that Frank Merriwell has gut more nerve than any hundred men I've ever run acrost, if they was all rolled into one. There ain't no squealer abaout him, you bet. He didn't bet, and he didn't 'low Barney Mulloy to bet because it is ag'inst his principles. It wasn't because he was afraid Barney would lose that hundred." Silence smiled wisely. "I wouldn't be impolite enough to contradict you, my friend," he said. "At the same time, you must permit me to have my own opinion of the matter. It strikes me that Mulloy was mighty willing to hide behind the fine principles of Mr. Merriwell. He was a little hot when he so rashly proposed to bet, and he gladly took water as soon as Merriwell spoke up. It saved him a hundred. We're going to trounce your team to-morrow in handsome style. We won't leave you in shape to do any boasting for some time to come." "Yeou git aout!" shouted Gallup. "You couldn't beat us in a year with Frank Merriwell in the box. You ain't built right!" At this the ball players present joined Silence in a burst of laughter. "We'll rub it into ye, Mr. Gallup," said Mike McCann. "We'll wipe up the earth with ye." "I'd like to find some one who had nerve enough to make a little bet on your team," said Silence. "Of course I don't expect any of you fellows will dare risk a dollar." "Dad rap ye!" snapped Gallup. "I'll make a bet! Yeou needn't go tell Frank nuthin' abaout it, but I'll bet yeou something. I'll bet anything yeou want to bet, and I don't keer a hang haow much it is! Yeou jest name the amount, and I'll kivver it!" He smashed his fist down on a billiard table as he made this announcement. "Why, you're a real sport!" chuckled Silence. "You're a reckless chap, aren't you! If I should say a hundred dollars, you'd wilt in your boots." Ephraim's blood was boiling now. "You kin say one hundred dollars or ten hundred dollars or ten thousand dollars!" he almost yelled. "I've gut the money, and I tell ye I'll chuck it up! I know yeou've gut a wad in your pocket, for I've seen it. Pull it out! Put it up! I'll go ye!" "Drive him into his boots, Mr. Silence!" hissed Mike McCann. "You'll see him squawk in a minute." Silence produced his pocketbook. "As long as you're such a courageous young man," he said, "we'll test you. I am carrying quite a roll with me. It's a little habit I have. I might accidentally drop into a good warm poker game and need it. What was that highest figure you named? Did you say ten thousand dollars? I believe I have something like that right here. We'll make it ten thousand. Will you call the proprietor of the hotel, McCann? I think he's in the office. He'll hold the money for us." Even then Gallup did not believe Silence in earnest. He took it as a bluff and continued to "make a front." "Put it up, put it up," he nodded. "I'm right here. I'm waiting to see that money stuck up." Mike McCann hurried into the office and returned directly, followed by Fred Priley, the hotel proprietor. "Mr. Priley," said Silence, "this young man has been making some betting talk. You know we're going to play Frank Merriwell's team to-morrow at Bloomfield. It's doubtful if the gate money will cover our expenses. For that reason I've been looking around to make a little wager on that game. This chap says he'll bet anything from one hundred dollars to ten thousand dollars. Let me see if I can dig up ten thousand." With perfect coolness, he opened a pocketbook and counted out ten one-thousand dollars, which he handed to Priley. "That leaves me a hundred or two," he said, "which will carry me over until I get my roll back and this gentleman's long green with it." With a sneering smile, he turned and regarded Gallup. "I've put my money up," he said. "Now let's see you do the same thing--or squeal." Gallup swallowed down a lump which had risen in his throat. "Derned if I ever squealed in my life!" he snarled. "I've gut ten thousand right in the Wellsburg Bank, and I'll draw a check on it jest as soon as I kin make it aout!" "Oh, no," laughed Silence, "that won't do. I can't accept your check. I want to see the money." "Mebbe yeou think the check ain't no good? Didn't yeou come into the bank and see me deposit the money?" "Yes, I saw it. But you're aware, I presume, that the law would not enforce the payment of that check in case you lost your wager and I attempted to collect. You might stop payment at the bank, and I could whistle for my money." "Yeou don't think I'd do anything like that, do ye?" "I don't propose to take any chances, Mr. Gallup," said the man, as he glanced at his watch. "There are now exactly ten minutes before the bank closes. If you're earnest we'll accompany you to the bank, and you can draw your money." "Mebbe they won't have ten thousand on hand to pay a check of that bigness." "Then you can exchange your own check for a bank check. If you do that, you can't stop payment on the bank's check in case you lose. Let's have all these little matters properly arranged in advance. Will you do that, or are you going to squeal?" "I never squealed in my life!" repeated Ephraim, with a snarl. "Come on--come on to the bank! We'll fix it!" _ |
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