“Nerve!” cried Clancy. “After you went over to Carsonville, picked up a team, and beat them! After Colonel Carson and his son tried to keep you out of the Franklin game last Saturday by kidnaping you! Nerve’s no name for it, Chip. Tell ’em to go to thunder.” “That fellow’s a pirate!” cried Billy Mac excitedly. “Wire him a hundred words collect with a kick at the end, Chip!” “There’s something crooked behind this,” declared Clancy hotly. “The Clippers are crooked clear through, Chip, and we’d better not mix up with them.” “They’re an amateur team, though,” said Coach Trayne doubtfully. “It’d be a good game, boys.” “Sure it would,” added Billy Mac scornfully. “Colonel Carson wants to recoup for his losses, Mr. Trayne. He has the reputation of being a dirty gambler, and there’s something behind the challenge, you can be sure of that!” Frank smiled. “His crooked work doesn’t seem to have won for him, just the same! Look here, fellows, there’s no game Saturday, so we might accept this. It will be lots of fun to pound Bully Carson out of the lot.” “I guess Bully won’t pitch,” declared Clancy, with a grin. “It’d take him more than a week to get over what I did to him, Chip. “That’s one thing that looks queer to me,” continued the red-haired chap. “You can bet a fistful that Colonel Carson isn’t out for sport, Chip. He’s out for revenge and boodle, and he doesn’t care how he gets either, so long as he gets it.” “Let him come after it,” said Coach Trayne. “There’s no prospect of getting another game for Saturday, and the athletic association can use the money. That game would draw a big crowd, Clancy.” “We don’t want to let him yell that we had cold feet,” said Frank. Billy Mac grunted. “But what’s the sense in playing him, Chip? We ought to have that shyster put in jail for kidnaping you, and we could do it, and his son, too. Everybody knows his crowd is crooked and----” “So much the more glory in beating them squarely,” said Frank. “What do you think about it, Mr. Trayne?” “It looks all right to me,” returned the coach. “I’d say to take the game, and then lick the stuffing out of those fellows. We’re playing the Clippers, you know, not Colonel Carson himself. They could certainty raise a holler if we refused, for they’re the crack team of the Amateur League. We’ve no good reason for turning them down, except on the score of crookedness, which we can’t raise against the team as a whole. Carson’s private dirty work doesn’t blanket his whole team, remember.” “That’s true,” said Clancy, “but the team is a bad lot, too. They tried to beat up Chip, Billy, and me down at Carsonville, after our pick-ups licked them. But you suit yourself, Merry. I’ll stand back of you.” “Same here, Chip,” said Billy. “I’d just as soon help to do the bunch up brown, anyhow.” “All right, then,” said Frank. “I see the practice game is over, so I’ll trot across to the office and phone down a telegram of acceptance.”