“Me! I am nobody but a rover of the briny deep. I am a sailor, and to me baseball is an unknown quantity. I never saw a game in my life, but I am willing to take any kind of a bet—almost—when the odds are two to one. So, Tommy, my dear, pick out the honorable gent who will hold the stakes and stick up as much cash as you like. I will cover it with half as much, and my bet goes that Fardale beats you to a crisp to-day.” Wiley’s words and manner seemed to amuse the boys in the car, for they laughed uproariously and urged Tom to get after the money. Tommy was not really anxious to bet, but thus encouraged by his comrades, he placed his money in the hands of his companion. “Now make good!” he cried, nodding at Wiley. “I don’t believe you have ten dollars in your clothes.” “It’s plain you are of a skeptical disposition,” said the sailor. “However, I will soon alleviate your skepticism.” Saying which, he plunged a hand into his pocket, and drew forth a wad of bills. “How much have you ventured, Tom?” he asked. “Thirty dollars,” boldly retorted Tom. “Only thirty? Dear me! I was looking for a hundred or so from you. Why, fifteen dollars doesn’t begin to make a hole in my pile. Here it is, and just gaze on this package I have remaining. Now, my sporty young gentlemen, if there are others among you who wish to help along the good cause by similar bets, I will be delighted to take everything offered as long as my money lasts. Smoke up, youngsters—smoke up!” He stood laughing at them in a manner that was most provoking. “Is it possible?” he exclaimed. “Can it be that the betting is all over and I am to win only a measly thirty plunks! It is a shame! I had fancied you fellows had more nerve. Can’t you scrape up a few coppers among you?” Thus challenged, the boys felt their pride assailed, and straightway they began forming a pool. By doing this they raised nearly fifty dollars, which was placed in the hands of the stakeholder, and Wiley put up an amount equal to half of it. “This is assuredly a snap!” he declared. “To-morrow I will celebrate on my winnings. I will open a bottle of sarsaparilla and buy a pint of peanuts.” “You must be a dead-game sport!” sneered one of the boys. “Where do you hail from?”