“Oh, he’s all right except for being a lot luckier than the law allows.” “Maybe, but I don’t crave to entertain him. I’ll be over in Lykes around five o’clock, so--” “What are you going over there for?” interrupted Chick. “I told Ted Ball I’d be over. He seemed to think my presence would add to his happiness. Better come along.” “I’m going to play some golf with Dozier at three. I suppose Ted’s going to tell you how good you are, eh?” “If he does I promise not to believe him,” answered Bert good-humoredly. “Oh, yes, you will! You’ll get a swelled head like all the rest of the heroes; like Ted himself for that matter. What’s become of the sports section?” “Here you are.” Bert pulled a portion of the Sunday paper from beneath him and tossed it across. “That was some game at Lakeville yesterday. Have you read it? Kenly fairly mowed ’em down, eh?” “Just as she’ll mow us down a couple of weeks from now,” growled Chick. “If you want to make a killing, Bert, put up some money on her. I know where you’ll be able to place it when the time comes.” “Bet against my own team?” asked Bert. “I’d be likely to, wouldn’t I?” “I suppose you wouldn’t risk a dollar either way,” said Chick pityingly. “When it comes to betting, old scout, one team looks just like another to me. I’d as soon pull down a ten dollar bill on Kenly as on Alton.” “I don’t believe it. Anyhow, you’re not thinking of doing it, I hope.” “Why not?” demanded Chick impatiently. “You bet to win, don’t you? Think I’d back Alton if she was certain to get licked?” Then, as he caught the troubled expression on the other’s face, he added: “Oh, well, I’m not likely to have much money to bet on football games, I guess, the way the luck’s running.” “I hope you don’t have a blamed cent,” replied Bert shortly, “if you’d use it that way!” “Well, I guess you’ll get your wish,” Chick grunted.