“Only what Sam told me, and I don’t suppose he wanted me to repeat it. But as the bet’s made I don’t see that it matters. He told me that he covered fifteen miles with the horse yesterday in less than three-quarters of an hour, and he landed it fresh as paint; hadn’t turned a hair.” “Gee whizz!” ejaculated Slippery, in dismay. “I’m a goner! I don’t know what I’d better do. I’ve a note to meet at the bank to-morrow, and if Sam wins my money I sha’n’t be able to come up to time on the note, and it’ll go to protest. Everybody’ll know it and my credit will be gone. What a fool I was!” “Well, Dick,” said Steve, “I’m sorry for you, but it’s your own fault; nobody asked you to bet. Say, Sam’s not a bad sort when he’s treated right; couldn’t you tell him you forgot an important engagement for to-morrow, and ask him to agree to draw the bet? Maybe he would if you put it to him right.” “Think he would, Steve?” asked Dick, doubtfully. “Wonder where I could find him?” “I think I know where he could be located, and if you like I’ll send my boy Jim to bring him along.” “Thanky, Steve. I wish you would,” said old Dick. Soon after the boy returned, and close behind him came Sam. Looking round, and seeing old Slippery and nearly all the boys still there, he asked, “What’s up? Want to double the bet, Dick? If so, you can be accommodated.” Steve, pretending to side with old Dick, explained that the old man had forgotten a particular engagement and had to go away for some days. As accidents might happen, he thought it would be better to cancel the bets and arrange a fresh match later on. But Sam took it badly, angrily demanding what sort of idiot they took him for. “Draw bets? Not much!” he cried. “I’ll double it, if you like.” Then he turned upon Dick Small, who was looking mighty miserable. “You old rascal,” he went on, “I know what it is--you’re afraid you’ll lose your money. Serve you right! You wanted to back your old mare, didn’t you? No one asked you to. Draw bets, you say? No, siree, not by a jugful!” “Look here, Sam,” said Steve, “don’t be too hard. You think you’ve got a sure thing, but accidents might happen even on your side. Why don’t you two compromise? Supposing Dick allows you something for your trouble and sets up drinks for the crowd?” “What do you mean by a compromise?” demanded Sam. “If Dick forfeits half his bet, that would be about fair, I should say.” “Oh, I couldn’t do that, really,” cried old Slippery, in great distress. “Very well,” said Sam, “then the bet stands. Good-bye; I’m busy.”